#she just ignored me instead of talking about it and had me sign the paper which felt GREAT

[rainbadinosaur]

We are NOT doing well tonight fam 💃🏼 Crying in the club? Nah, we got a fucking monsoon up in this bitch

Reasons in tags, but it's long so buckle up chucklefucks 😎

[miley1442111]

Hi sorry to bother you but can you make a spencer reid x reader with the mute!reader and he helping her with everything.

Thank you so much sorry to bother you.

this is so cute! I did some research but I am nowhere near well-versed enough to know everything so please someone tell me if i've made a mistake !!!

mutism- s.reid

a/n: intended for fem reader, but as always imagine what you like:)))))))))

summary: how you and spencer met, the first time spencer heard you speak, and a look into your life together :)

pairing: spencer reid x mute! reader

warnings: none

You were mute. You knew sign language and could talk to specific people on very specific occasions. You’d had it since you were diagnosed at 4 years old and it truthfully wasn’t the end of the world, but it did suck to not have had a date at the age of 22. Not that you weren’t beautiful, not that people hadn’t tried, you just… didn’t speak. 

But, CalTech was amazing, you were a biology student and you loved it. You could just lock in, ignoring the world around you and spend time in the lab for hours on end. Though, you couldn’t exactly investigate the growth rate of organisms in a crowded college bar. 

“I’m getting another drink!” Your very drunk friend shouted over the voices in the bar. You nodded your head, staring down at your half-empty drink as you sighed. You wanted to be anywhere that wasn’t here, at this stupid bar. Your friend, Maria, was a party-animal. You two had been dorm mates for the last 3 years and she had started learning sign language from the first week. She’d brought you into her friend group, allowing you a group of about 7 girls who all had your back. 

Well, they usually had your back, just not while they were all drunk and hooking up with their partners in the bathrooms or in their dorms, which is what all of them were doing right now. 

A tall and lanky boy sat beside you on your left and your body went rigid, silently begging him to not try and talk to you. 

“Spencer, come on!” One of his rowdy friends shouted. Spencer. Spencer was very cute. He had long-enough hair, brown trousers with a tie and shirt on. He looked far too overdressed for a simple college bar and you smiled. 

He was more than cute, he was gorgeous. You were shocked you’d never seen him modelling.

“No, I’m tired,” he laughed at his friend. “Go dance without me!” His friend gave up, walking off to a group of equally lanky and nerdy boys, all attempting to dance. 

Another man sat on your right, the seat where Maria had sat and you were instantly filled with anxiety again. Maria was nowhere to be seen and there were two men beside you, either of them could easily start trying to talk to you and what would you do? Just write it down on a napkin? On your phone? 

You hadn’t had this problem in a very long time. 

“So, you come here often?” The guy on your right asked, a soft smile on his face. He seemed to be the typical frat boy, kind of asshole-y but nicer than others you’d met. You tried to ignore him, pulling out your phone and texting Maria, saying you were going home instead of staying out longer, but he persisted. “What’s your name?”

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------- Spencer had been attempting to make conversation with you all year. He knew you were the smartest in your class, since he and your professor were friends and he often read over your papers. He thought you had the most beautiful mind, he didn’t even care what you looked like, he just wanted to know you. 

But, he had found out what you looked like from your photo online and he fell harder. You were gorgeous, smart, and interesting. He also knew you were mute. Back in your first year at college most people had just assumed that you were rude or too prideful to speak to certain people, and that you were getting special treatment from teachers by them letting you not present your projects. This meant your facilitators had to make an announcement to most of your classes, explaining why you didn’t speak. He saw your face one day as your professor explained to the class that you were mute, you looked so embarrassed and ashamed and he felt his heartbreak. He'd been embarrassed of his intelligence his whole life (but trust me, he knew that these were VERY different things) and he felt an uncertain connection to you. 

“She’s my girlfriend,” he tried to sound intimidating to the guy but he knew he wasn’t exactly a beefy 6 '2 frat boy.

The frat boy got the message. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You felt sick, Spencer was speaking for you and all of it could’ve gone to shit if that frat boy hadn’t gotten the hint. You quickly got up, looked at Spencer and signed ‘thank you’ and practically ran through the door, just wanting to get back to your dorm, 

“Umm, wait!” Spencer followed you out to the car park and you turned to face him, feeling hot under his gaze despite the cold, dark night around you both. “I’m S-Spencer, sorry if that was really weird but I wanted him to l-leave you alone, I-I know who you are a-and… yeah.”

He knew who you were? You looked at him confused. 

“Professor Monk! I help with his corrections sometimes, I’ve read your papers, they’re really good,” he smiled. “C-can I get your number or something?” Something like panic flashed over his features, clearly shocked at his own words. 

You took out your phone and wrote out “I seriously doubt I’d be much fun, I don’t talk,” you showed it to him, and he chuckled. 

“I know sign language,” He smiled and your heart swelled. You didn’t know it now, but on your wedding day, he would admit that it was a very big lie. 

You held out your hand for his phone and he handed it over, you punched in your number and that was the start of your beautiful love story. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Through your life together, Spencer was always there for you, there to calm you down, speak for you, be there for you, and to love you.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The first night he heard you speak was a year and half into your relationship, it was purely accidental on your part, genuinely comfortable enough to just speak and you did. 

“You’re so funny,” you quietly said between his and your own laughter. His own smile grew, while your face heated. 

“You spoke,” he observed, holding you from behind, his taller figure engulfing yours. “You have a nice voice.”

You whispered a meek “thank you” and he could’ve sworn that his heart grew three sizes. He didn’t want to push you, he just kissed you on the cheek and continued on with his cooking while he internally freaked out. Despite being together so long, you still found ways to fluster and surprise him. The majority of the time, he spent feeling like a schoolboy with how smitten he was with you. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

So, you knew Spencer would always have your back, always love you, and always care.

He promised you so on your wedding day.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------

criminal minds masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, marvel, top gun, obx+)

[miwiheroes]

Byler + Closet Imagery

Just wanted to show just how much closet imagery and references there are in stranger things and how it's super obvious, that it's kind of insane that it goes over the GA's heads so much. It's mostly with Mike as well, funnily enough.

Closet imagery has been used in media over the years to show that a character might be gay but the audience/the other characters just don't know it yet.

For example, it was used here in Paper Girls (2022) for KJ who was not out as gay yet.

It was also used for Eyewitness (2016) with Lukas who also has internalised homophobia and we already know that Byler has had a parallel to Eyewitness before.

So, it's interesting that this closet imagery has been used for Mike and Byler ever since the show began in Season 1. Let's look at all the ways it has been used and how insane these are that some people deny them because UHHHH....

1. Mike hides El in his closet

Karen: "With all this that's been going on, with Will, I can't imagine what it's been like for you... i just-- want you to feel like you can talk to me. i never want you to feel like you have to hide anything from me. i'm here for you. okay?"

Mike: *is hiding El in the closet* *a noise comes from the closet after Karen says these things* *he lies about it* *Karen then hugs Mike later on when Will 'dies' HADGSJHDG*

2. Argues with El in a closet

I find it so funny how the framing here is El literally between Mike and some male dummy and then she grabs it from him LMAOO i love cinematography.

Mike: 'You are the most important thing to me in the worl-'

El: *interrupts him* 'What if [Hopper's] right?'

Mike: *feels attacked as she questions the legitimacy of their relationship while she holds a male dummy in the closet* "No, no no no. He's just some angry old man who hates joy."

Why are you questioning the sanity of someone instead of using actual arguments for your relationship?? Oh that's right, you're in the closet <3

3. Kisses El in front of a closet

Particularly, this is Will's closet as well.

El: "I love you too" *kisses Mike*

Mike: *makes disgusted/ confused face* *doesn't kiss back and has his eyes open* *has the light coming from the closet framed on his head as if he's realised something.*

El: *walks away smiling*

Mike: *looks to the side confused with an open closet next to him* *thinks What is wrong with me?/ What just happened here? (original script)*

Also the music is "The First I love You" which is the same music they use in a scene where Robin comes out of the closet.

4. Mike reads a letter from El in front of a lit up closet

Bro is reading a note with RAINBOWS ON IT and then the camera pans to him reading with a literal open closet which is lit up right next to him. How is this not blatant queer-coding??

Also Mike: *panics in front of a closet which has a ray of light shining on him* *has a one-way sign pointing into the closet which is revealed when he bends down*

I am going insane at this it's so funny

5. Argues with his bestie bro when a song called "In The Closet" plays

aka arguing with Will about how he sabotaged your day by ignoring you instead of your gf getting bullied x

Will: "Well we used to be best friends!"

Mike: *looks devastated as a song called "In The Closet (at Rink O' Mania)" plays when the camera goes back to him* "Well maybe you should've reached out more, I don't know. Why is this on me? Why am I the bad guy?"

El: *is hiding from Mike in a closet*

Why are you suddenly switching the blame Mike??? Oh girl you're a little too defensive

6. Mike and Will have a heart-to-heart in front of an open closet

Mike: "No, no you didn't deserve anything... Hawkins isn't the same without you... Maybe I was worrying too much about El... felt like I lost you or something... Friends, 🥺❤️ best friends."

All while Will is tearing up in front of a closet (also the picture here on the left literally has them framed on either side of an open closet WDYMMM)

Anyways,

Byler Endgame

[imbored1201]

Can I send a request of barca teen reader who is very mischievous and tries to prank everybody

Piggy

Barcelona Femeni x Teen reader

A/N: I though of a situation of pranking someone then causing trouble with another situation👍

Word Count: 1,344

"Give me that." Ingrid snatched away the sharpie you had. "Hey! I'm using that for my notes.

"A sharpie for your notes, really?" She put her hands on her hips and gave you a mom look. You were sitting in the trunk of her car doing the remainder of your 'school work'. At least that's what you told her you were going to do.

"Yes, people do that; you haven't been to school in like 15 years, so you wouldn't know," you shrugged. Ingrid shook her head. "You always complain about the smell of sharpies, and you’re calling me old; this is such an old prank.

She was talking about the sign you had; 'kick me' it read, and it was supposed to go on Patri's back. "So, it will still be funny to see.

You took the paper back, applied tape to it, and shoved all your material back into your bag. "Don't be a snitch," you told Ingrid, and skipped away.

————

"Hey, Patri," you said joyfully as you hit her back, applying the note. "You're happier than usual," she said suspiciously. "Of course I am; I'm officially on Christmas break." She smiled at that; now you were off the radar.

—————

"Ay!" You turned as you heard Patri yell, seeing Claudia there giggling as Patri held her butt. "You said to do it." Patri looked confused at what Claudia said but just went on with training.

It kept happening as training went on. Aitana, Ona, Lucy, Salma, Oshoala, Mapi, Jana, Cata, and Gemma all kicked her.

Ingrid would just shake her head at you when you walked or ran past her. All the older girls, too, knew you were the reason for that sign on Patri's back. Everyone did, but they decided to ignore it and let you have your fun.

It was a harmless prank anyway.

—————

"Okay, what the heck is going on?!" Patri demanded as she entered the locker room after a long training session. You held a smile as everyone turned to her, confused. You looked down as Alexia gave you a look, and you were surprised she didn't say anything about it.

You were already changed and only waiting on Alexia; you were the first one in the locker room, knowing you would have to make a quick escape.

"Why is everyone kicking me today?" Everyone shrugged at Patri's question; she scowled and got changed.

You stared at her as she took off her shirt. You quickly grabbed your bag, grabbed Alexia's hand, and dragged her outside.

"Y/N!" You heard Patri yell, and you bolted. Alexia sighed as she ran with you, already used to this.

It happened every training, and she just went along with it now since it put you in a good mood instead of a crappy teenager attitude.

—————

"Are you ready?" Alexia knocked on your door, "wait, I'm packing." "For what? It's just a gathering." You rolled your eyes as you fed Piggy and put her into your bag, leaving it a little bit open.

"Okay, I'm ready." Alexia gave you a look; she knew you were up to something. "Why are you taking a bag?" "I always carry a bag with me," you said.

The team was having a little gathering to celebrate the last game of 2023.

"We're already late because of you; I told you to be ready by 4; it's already 6," she scolded. "I fell asleep; Lucy says I need my rest to grow," you tried defending. "Get in the car."

—————

When you got to Frido's place, you rushed to find Patri and sat next to her. She gave you a little glare and went back to watching the movie Frido had put on. Everyone else was too busy drinking and talking outside or in the kitchen about the upcoming games.

"Patri," she turned to you, "yes." "Can you help me prank Aitana and Ona?" She smiled a bit; she was happy it wasn't her again.

"What's your idea?" You grabbed your backpack and took out the tiny box. A tiny box that had a tiny spider. The "tiny spider" was a tarantula.

"How the hell do you have that?!" She said in shock, and you shushed her. "Her name is Piggy, and I got her yesterday." Patri looked terrified as she scooted over a little bit.

"Does Alexia know?" You shook your head. "I need to tell her because I need to get Piggy a home." "Then how did you get her?" "Mapi took me; I told her I was getting fish food, and she didn't question why I had a box or if I even had a fish." Patri shook her head.

"You have to promise me you won't prank me anymore for a month," she said, holding out her pinky, and you took the deal.

Patri went up to Aitana and Ona, who were in conversation and drinking together in the kitchen. She grabbed them by their shoulders and dragged them outside.

You followed but got run over by Lucy. You dropped the box, and Piggy automatically crawled away, sick of being in that tiny box. "Jeez, sorry kid." Lucy helped you up. You looked around on the floor, and your heart dropped when you realized you couldn't find Piggy.

"Lucy, Piggy is gone," you said in a panic. "Who's Piggy?" She questioned, but you guys heard a scream. A loud, loud scream. "Shit," you cursed as you ran to the kitchen.

"No!" You yelled, seeing Frido holding a shoe in her hand, ready to destroy Piggy. "Piggy!" You yelled as you ran and picked her up.

"Why do you have a tarantula!?" Keira yelled as she stood on the counter. "I adopted her," you told them, and they both looked at you in shock.

"Alexia let you get a spider?!" Lucy said surprised. Alexia walked in; her eyes widening when she saw what you were holding.

"Where- how did you. You're returning that." She let out a sigh as she shook her head and walked away. "Great, I'm in trouble now. Good going, Lucy," you said, sticking out your tongue at her.

You walked outside, looking sad. "What's wrong, Amiga?" Patri asked, confused. "Alexia said I have to return Piggy." Aitana's jaw dropped as she saw what you had in your hand.

"Nope," she simply said as she went back inside, dragging Ona with her. Patri looked at you and patted your shoulder in sympathy, but quickly backed away when you lifted Piggy up to her.

You had a plan, though, and you knew Alexia would let you keep Piggy.

—————

For having to return your pet Tarantula you were already attached to, you were quite happy. Alexia was just glad you weren't going to throw a tantrum about it.

She was leaving to pick Olga up from the airport, and you were waiting to put on your class act. "I'll be back in a bit; please don't break anything." You nodded, and she left.

You sat patiently by the door, working up your tears. You rushed to your feet once it opened. Alexia walking in first with Olga's luggage. Then Olga walked in.

"Olga!" You cried out, running straight into her arms. Alexia looked confused on why you were crying. "What happened?" She asked, confused.

"Olga, I got a pet Tarantula, and Alexia is trying to make me take her back," you cried, and Olga glared at Alexia. "Bebe, you can't have a tarantula," Alexia tried explaining.

"Yes, I can! I bought her, and I love her, so she's mine," Alexia groaned as Olga smacked her on the shoulder.

"Okay, you can keep her, but she's your responsibility, and I want you to keep her far away from me." You nodded.

"Okay, now that's sorted, let's go out to eat, yeah?" Olga said as she wiped your tears. You nodded happily and skipped off to your room.

You grinned as you texted Patri the good news and got ready. With the look Olga kept giving Alexia, you knew Alexia was sleeping on the couch tonight.

[kquil]

JAMES POTTER | 16:49 ⏤ FREE GOODIES

SUM. : you had more baked goods than you were able to sell and decide to give them out for free to the firefighters at your local fire station to say thank you

TAGS. : fluff ; modern au ; muggle au ; baker reader ; firefighter james ; james being a love sick puppy ; he hides it well though ; remus and sirius begin scheming ; everyone knows james is in love ; it's obvious to everyone but you

LENGTH : 1.6k

NOT PROOFREAD OR EDITED

“No! Don’t tell me!” you giggle as the man behind the counter grins widely and laughs along with you, his hazel eyes carefully watching as you bring up a brown paper bag and a steaming take-away cup of coffee, “Our special BLT sandwich and a dark roast, cocoa blend to go,”

“All ready for me, huh?” James teases as you smile innocently. He pays for his order and goes to inspect the contents of the brown paper bag as you move behind the cash register and file away his notes, “And a mini treacle tart!” James’ voice lights up in cheerful surprise when he sees the unexpected treat but hurriedly goes in search for more payment in his wallet. 

“Don’t you dare, James,” you scold light-heartedly, “it’s on the house,” his movements stop and he meets your eyes, ready to retaliate. However, sensing your seriousness, his shoulders slacken and his expression eases into a grateful smile instead. 

“Thanks, you’re an angel,” of course, he couldn’t help but send you a wink. His words spread a heat across your cheeks but you pay it no mind, hoping that any signs of your flustered state can be ignored as long as you didn’t draw attention to it. 

“I know I am~” 

“Take care, angel,” with a toothy grin and a wave, James turns and leaves, his day already looking as bright as could be. 

James has been visiting your little bakery and cafe for the better part of a year now; he’s become one of your beloved regulars, maybe one of your most beloved. He was just too handsome and charming for his own good, cute and sweet and always gentleman with you. His uncontrollable dark curls and round glasses gave him this boyish appeal that you couldn’t help but fall for. His voice is smooth and comforting, his eyes a mesmerising hazel, his lips a pretty shape—

“Hey!” snapping out of your daze, you turn to your co-worker in shock.

“Wh-what?”

She smirks and wiggles her brows at you, “I knew you had a thing for him,”

“Oh shush Leona!” you huff and fold your arms but burn hotter in the cheeks when she laughs at you. 

“No need to deny it, I can see why you’re so head over heels~”

“Is that any way to talk to your boss?” making your way over, you playfully nudge her side as you plant yourself beside her and help with the cupcake decorations. 

Gasping, Leona grasps at her chest in mock offence, “I never believed you were that kind of boss! I was tricked—!” her mock ramblings were cut off with another nudge to her side that sent the both of you into a fit of giggles. 

“What should we do with all this?” you ask with a huff, staring in disappointment at all the leftovers in your display cases. Most would only end up in the trash and it broke your heart to see such goodies go to waste. 

“Why don’t you donate them at the local police station or fire department?” Leona suggests with a smile as she wipes down surfaces, “The fire department isn’t too far from here so you can go there first and do the police station on another day we have extra leftovers,”

Smiling brightly, you nod and get to work, “Brilliant idea Leona! How come I’ve never thought of that before?” 

“Maybe because you’re too busy all the time?” with a light-hearted pout, she faces you and presses on about how you need to consider yourself as a priority for once and actually go home on time. She had a point; the bakery was consuming your life. But you worked hard on the things that mattered to you and that was always a trait you were proud of. Every day you return home with pride and fulfilment in your heart; you loved that feeling despite the ache in your limb. Sighing, your enthusiasm slows considerably but you keep on packing up a random selection of baked goods, “Just think about it at least, boss,” Leona comes up behind you and gives you a quick but heartfelt hug, “we want you to be our boss forever so you have to stay healthy,” just like she always does, she brings a smile to your lips and slowly helps you with packing up the rest. 

With the bakery closed up, you head out with your packaged leftovers piled high in the passenger seat of your car and wave goodbye to Leona before pulling away. She was right in saying that the fire station wasn’t too far, it was a short five-minute drive from your bakery with parking close by too. 

It was a little unnerving. You had never done this before. And, even though you knew there was nothing wrong with doing this, your nerves still caused a stir in your chest and stomach at the thought of facing such brave and dedicated workers. However, it was that simple thought that pushed you forward. These men and women deserved free baked goodies and more for all of their hard work, there was no need to be shy about it. Balancing the stacked packages in your arms, you push the front door open with your back and carefully turn around as you step into the space. 

“Whoa, you need help with those?” someone calls from your left and you turn to see a handsome brunette, standing tall with an almost invisible dusting of freckles on his nose and a faint scar across his cheek and jaw. 

“Good afternoon!” you chirp happily and sheepishly accept his kind assistance, “I— umm, I wanted to give you guys some of the baked goods from my bakery. We made a little too much today,”

He grins widely as he appraises the tall stack of packages before turning to you with gratefulness in his eyes, “So that’s what smells so delicious,” the two of you share a laugh, “Thank you so much for this, it’s very kind of you,” a warm heat coats your cheeks as you shyly wave off his praise, which he shakes his head at discreetly but still maintains his happy grin, “come,” he tilts his head to one direction, “lets go feed everyone,” 

Remus introduces himself as he leads you down a hallway to the lounge room, where he suspected most of his colleagues congregated to. When you give your name in return, he tilts his head and mutters something unintelligible under his breath.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” 

“Oh nothing,” he chuckles softly, “I just thought it sounded familiar,” you had questions but shrugged and shrugged them off as unimportant when the two of you finally made it into the lounge area. Entering the space, you see the firemen scattered around the wide room, a group were playing cards around a table with several spectators, one or two were reading a book while another small group stood by a small kitchenette with steaming mugs, chatting between themselves. 

“Remus!” a dark haired man with a visible neck tattoo walks up from where he stood observing the card game, just so he could sling his arm over the brunette’s broad shoulders, “Who’s our cute guest?”

Remus introduces you and the purpose of your visit but his voice slowly fades into the background as soon as you meet eyes with a very familiar pair of hazel pools. 

“James?” blinking in surprise, you tilt your head and observe the man in his fireman uniform, minus the heavy jacket, leaving him in a black compression shirt to showcase his muscles. It made your cheeks heat up again but hotter. You had no idea how brawny he was with his soft charm and sweet face. But this was a very pleasant surprise. 

The man in question stands up, staring at you as if in a trance and makes his way over as Remus and his raven-haired friend step away with devious grins on their faces. They weren’t the only ones however, everybody else in the room looked on with a similar grin stretching across their lips, slightly leaning forward in their interest. 

“Wh-what are you doing here?” he sounds like he’s choking on air, breathless and in complete disbelief at the sight of you. 

“I uh– there were some leftover goodies at the bakery so I thought I could give them to you guys…as a thank you for all your good work,” you admit softly, staring up at him with timid eyes and watching with a gradually racing heart as a toothy grin takes over his features. His eyes sparkled with mirth under the fluorescent light and your heart skipped a beat in your chest. How does he do that? 

“You’re really too kind,” and so perfect James wanted to finish, ignorant to his friends’ snickering. Please be mine! It was a desperate wish and one that he had been making for a long time but he needed to keep his cool. He understands how overbearing and clingy he could be at times and didn’t want to frighten you.  

“You guys deserve it,” you return and silently hold up your packages with a smile. Happily, he takes the load and leads you to a table where he helps spread them out for his friends and colleagues to take as they please. Everyone around you gushes at the array and sings your praises in between their gratitude for the kind gesture. Amongst all the chatter, you also manage to hear soft whisperings that didn’t quite fit the rest of the words at the forefront of surrounding conversations. 

“That’s the cute baker Jamesie has been gushing about for months now, huh?”

“Seems so. Finally, we can put a name to the face,”

There was some laughter, “He looks like a love sick puppy,”

From the corner of your eye, you observe James and the goofy grin on his face, trapped in a daze as he stares down at you with adoring eyes and a soft blush on his cheeks. In your head, you make a mental note to visit the fire department more often. 

A/N : it just feels right that James is a firefighter, right? i'm not the only one who thinks this? nevertheless, i hopefully managed to convince you lovelies otherwise hehehe~

NAVI.

TAGLIST : @melinajenkins @aastonishment @until-i-found-you @corp0real @sageskisses444 @celestcies @lovelydoveval @inlovewithremusjohnlupin @calums-betch @futurecorps3 @hihihi1112 @simpingforthe80s @yrluvjane @chaosofmanyfandoms @storyofaromance @loving-and-dreaming @somewereinthegalaxi @fortheeeefics @cassandra-nerezza-black @stray-bi-kids @ttkttt @notasadgirlipromise @ghostgardn @rosalyn-s @seungtelevision

[pitchsidestories]

mirrors II Jenni Hermoso x Reader

masterlist I word count: 938

a/n: hi, the inspiration came from the request here. We'd love to hear your thoughts on this one. <3

It was October. And everyone, football players and fans alike, knew what that meant.

The best of the best were about to be honoured at the Ballon d’Or Award ceremony.

Even as a sports journalist, this was a very special night and you felt honoured to be invited amongst all those big names in the audience.

There was just one face that you could have done without seeing. And of course you were seated right next to each other.

You let your gaze wander across the room, trying not be intimidated by the amount of men in suits surrounding you. Majorly to ignore her.

Someone on stage was about to hold an acceptance speech and you hoped that it would shut her up but no, of course not.

“Come on, you know we’d look cute together.“

You didn’t even have to look at her, the smirk basically vibrated in her voice. You sighed. Apparently she couldn’t behave anywhere. Every time you met, she tried to flirt with you.

Slowly you turned towards her and whispered: “Jennifer. We’re at an award ceremony.“

“Yes, and you look gorgeous in that suit. It goes well with my dress.“, she replied quietly and casually slipped her hand onto your thigh.

For a second you cursed yourself for choosing your dark green suit. The colour was too similar to Jennis floor-length gown and made it look like you intentionally matched.

You slapped her hand away and glared at the football player: “Shh, I’m trying to listen here.“

Turning back towards the stage, you tried to follow what the laureate had to say while jotting down notes for yore next article into a small notebook on your lap.

You shivered as you felt Jennis warm breath against your ear.

“As if they had anything important to say anyway.“, she complained, rolling her eyes.

You gave up on listening and instead considered Jenni. “Men love to talk. But so do you.“

She shrugged: “At least I have something useful to say.“

“You’re flirting.“, you stated, unimpressed by her attempts at maintaining a conversation.

“And?“

“And I really need to write that article.“, you replied, your voice rising with slight anger.

When she leaned over to snatch the notebook from your lap, you had to stop yourself from yelling at her. Instead you hissed at her: “Excuse me?!“

Jenni waved the book around nonchalantly and pouted: “Now you’re just making excuses to ignore me.“

“I’m not.”, you disagreed heavily while simultaneously trying to get your working utensils back.

Maybe it was time for you to abandon your scribbling on paper in exchange for only writing things down on your smartphone or laptop you thought to yourself as the forward wasn’t showing any sign to hand the notebook back to you.

“What do you want?”, you sighed tired of her childish behaviour.

“For you to finally acknowledge that we look hot together.”, she revealed with a devilish grin on her lips.

“You don’t give up easily, huh?”, you replied, your voice couldn’t hide the growing frustration you felt towards her.

“I never give up actually.”, Jenni admitted in a serious tone.

Abruptly you stood up from the chair. The intensity of her green eyes looking at you was getting too much to handle.

“I’m going to the bathroom.”, you announced.

Much to your own surprise the Spaniard decided to follow you. “Coming.”, she responded giddily.

“Fine.”, you muttered.

“Go.”, Jenni said, while brushing your back with her hand. Normally you would say this was purely an accident, but the Spanish footballer certainly did that purposeful.  

Once you reached the bathroom you let out an impressed whistle.

“This is really fancy here.”

Your gaze wandered around the interior: the mirrors were large, and everything looked like marble with golden highlights. It screamed expensive. Something you were still not used to as you grew up under rather poor circumstances.

“It’s a bathroom.”, Jenni chuckled amused.

“Still. Besides I don’t remember inviting you inside with me.”, you remarked.

“It’s a public bathroom. I’m allowed to be here.”, she reminded you smiling smugly.

“You’re lucky you’re hot. Although your big mouth.”, you begun.

“This mouth can do even more.”, the forward claimed, closing the gap between the two of you confidently while swaying her hips in a suggestive manner.

“Yes, I’ve heard about it, you’ve got quite a reputation.”, you answered cooly.

“I do?”, Jenni raised an eyebrow, pretending to be scandalized.

“Yes.”, you affirmed.

“Want to find out if it’s true what they say?”, she gave you a challenging look impatiently waiting for your response.

“I always want to know the true story behind a rumour.”, you confessed playfully, her glances almost left you breathless.

“Then don’t move.”, the forward demanded.

“I won’t.”, you assured her.

“Good.”, Jenni nodded satisfied while brushing her lips first against your cheek before wandering down to your lips until she finally kissed you.

There was an intensity and hunger to the kiss which almost knocked off your feet if you haven’t been sitting next to the luxurious water taps.

The older woman knew what she was doing, the rumours turned out to be an understatement in your opinion.

 For a second you caught the reflection of the two of you kissing in the big mirror. You both were breathtaking as a couple.

“Maybe you’re right.”, you mumbled against her mouth.

“I told you we looked good together.”, Jenni smirked triumphantly.

In this case the mirrors didn’t lie it reflected the desire you both had for each other. While the men held their speeches and felt very important you had found something much more meaningful.

[seravphs]

ੈ♡˳·˖✶ — TEEN DAD! GOJO SATORU x FEM READER

The Zenins want Megumi. Gojo isn’t having it.

wc — 1.7k

tags — one suggestive line after “those girls are better off without you” if you want to avoid it, set after 棠, part of teen dad gojoverse, in which you and Gojo raise Megumi together

Gojo’s been in the doghouse since last night. Not literally, obviously - though he might have preferred it if you were there with him, at least. He’d take anything over being kicked out of your shared bedroom and being forced to sleep on the couch. 

If you had it your way, you’d prolong his punishment, but you can’t. Not when, as he told you last night, the Zenins are coming today to wrest Megumi from your custody. 

Fat chance. 

You’d die before you let that happen. 

Gojo’s not too keen on either of those outcomes. For the first time in his life, he’s taking the pacifist’s route and talking it out, though you’re sure his version of talking involves more insults than most people’s. 

He thought about simply having it out with the elders, but it’s not worth it. Not when he has a plan for the future of Jujutsu Society. Not when he has you, Megumi, and Tsumiki. He’s playing the long game. He can’t afford to screw it up now. 

Being a family man really has ruined him. 

Zenin Keiko is a tall woman with a severe black bob and the characteristic Zenin look of perpetual contempt. She’s Naoya’s cousin, alright. 

“Twice-removed,” Gojo whispers to you. “Or illegitimate. Something like that, I can’t remember.” 

“Shut up,” you whisper back out of the corner of your mouth. “She’s going to hear you.” 

Welcoming a Zenin into your home feels like blasphemy, though you suppose Gojo is the closest thing Jujutsu society has to a god. 

Gojo’s unimpressed by her, mostly because he feels like the Zenins are mocking him. It’s not like anyone can take him on, but to send someone who has no battle capabilities feels like an insult.  

Keiko is an auxiliary manager with no cursed technique to speak of besides a weak barrier. It’s a wonder she has the nerve to speak to Gojo. The Zenins truly did not care about her if they sent her as the proxy to undermine your roles as the Fushiguro children’s guardians. In fact, you suspect that’s the precise reason she was chosen - because she’s expendable. 

Keiko, to her credit, shows no sign of fear. 

“I’d like to meet the children, Mr. Gojo. It’ll give me a good grasp of what the situation is.” 

“Hell no,” Gojo outright laughs in her face. “I’m not letting a Zenin near my brats. Your-“

“Gojo.” You squeeze his knee. Cooperate. 

“I’ll go get them,” he says begrudgingly.

The two of you sandwich the children between you on the couch. Tsumiki sits on Gojo’s left. Megumi sits on your right. That way, the two that are most likely to fight are separated. It’s a strategized united front. 

“Megumi, do you like your guardians? Do you like staying here?” 

Megumi looks at you. You smile at him encouragingly - and there Keiko goes, scribbling away in her notebook. She’s probably saying something about how Megumi is so scared of you he won’t answer the question unless you give him permission. 

“Are you sure? Forgive me, but Gojo seems a little…immature for a parent.” 

A direct attack right out of the gates. Gojo objects to this very accurate assessment of his character. 

“He’s fine, I guess,” Megumi says. There’s more scribbling. You’re starting to hate the sound of pen on paper. “I like-“ 

He looks at you. There’s a tiny blush on his cheeks, just the faintest hint of red. More quietly, he says, “It’s fine, cause she takes care of us.” 

Gojo stares at him, slack-jawed. “Are you kidding me? You are one ungrateful brat. Who found you? Who took you in?” 

Tsumiki chimes in, “We like Gojo a lot too! He’s fun.” 

Keiko ignores her completely, focusing on Megumi instead. Your distaste for her grows. 

“Would you say that Gojo has an active role in taking care of you?” 

“Why aren’t you asking Tsumiki anything?” Megumi interrupts. “Her opinion’s important too.” 

Keiko gives him a strained smile. Gojo reaches behind Tsumiki on the couch to ruffle Megumi’s hair. He only tolerates this for five seconds before he shakes his head to get him off. 

“He loves me,” Gojo says. 

“I have Stockholm syndrome,” Megumi says. ‘Help,’ he mouthes. 

“He’s joking,” Tsumiki says nervously.

You’ve given up on making them behave. It’s just not happening. 

Keiko seems to have given up too. Rather than continue prodding Megumi, she turns to Gojo. 

“How often are you home?”

“Basically every day,” Gojo lies. He does try his best, but it’s more like every other day. Such is the fate of the strongest sorcerer. 

“Don’t want my baby all alone, poor little thing.” 

He catches your look and cackles. “No, the other one. My other baby,” and the kiss he presses to your knuckles is so tender it melts your heart. 

Keiko makes an uncomfortable expression. “Please try to stay focused, Mr. Gojo.” 

Megumi gags loudly. Tsumiki pinches his arm to get him to shut up and he yelps. Keiko narrows her eyes and makes another note. 

“I understand how Gojo might take responsibility for the children,” Keiko says, directing her attention to you, “but how did you come into the picture. Are you a girlfriend-“

“Wife,” Gojo interjects. 

Keiko’s entire body does an approximation of what it would look if a human had a screenshot function. 

“Aren’t you children?”

You don’t like Keiko at all, but you respect the balls it takes to talk to Gojo like that. All the Zenins seem to have that death wish of wanting to mouth off to the strongest. Maybe it’s a genetic thing. 

Gojo shrugs. “If I’m old enough for the missions you send me on, I’m old enough to take care of kids, right? How hard can it be?”

You pinch his thigh. “Gojo.” 

“What? It is easy. You just give them a bunch of lollipops and call it a day.” 

Keiko’s writing is now background noise to you. “Are you still doing that? I told you-“

“It’s fine! All kids need sugar to grow. I had a sweet tooth when I was their age.”

“And that’s probably the reason why you still have one now! Except it’s rotting your teeth-“

“It’s not-“

“It is!”

“Don’t be so uptight!”

“How does it look if I’m always saying no to him and you’re always saying yes? It isn’t fair, Satoru. Parenting has to be a team effort.” 

“What are you talking about?” 

“I’m talking about you playing good cop, bad cop with him!” 

“Have you gone insane? We went over this! He likes you more than me! There is no good cop, bad cop when he just takes your side every single time.” 

“Excuse me,” Keiko says. She’s somehow managed to look a complex combination of perplexed, annoyed, and satisfied. “Please take care of your lovers’ tiffs outside of this interview. I will say that this doesn’t seem like an environment particularly conducive to raising children, however.” 

“What do you know?” Gojo says rudely. “The only reason you’re even doing this interview is because I’m letting you.” 

Normally, you would tell him off, but in front of the Zenins? You’re a united front. You place a hand on his forearm and look down your nose at the woman in front of you as best as you can when she’s taller than most people you meet. 

“I think you’ve overstayed your welcome,” you say. 

“You agreed to an interview,” she says. 

“An interview, not an inquisition.”

“You can’t refuse a request from the elders without consequences,” she says, as patiently as she would speak to a child. It’s condescending. 

“Are you threatening my wife?” 

When you look to your side, Gojo’s face is shadowed. His eyes are storm dark and frightening. Keiko can’t hide her visceral reaction. 

She forgets her coat on her way out, she’s in such a hurry to leave. Gojo takes it and disappears. 

While he’s away, you let Megumi and Tsumiki return to their rooms. They’re muttering amongst themselves, but you don’t pry. Children need their space, too. You’ll talk to them about it later. 

He’s back within a minute. 

“What did you do with it?” You’re bracing yourself for the answer. 

“I just sent a message,” he says, as cheerily as if nothing had happened. “Think we passed that?” 

“Gojo, I think that’s the first test you’ve ever failed. Did you see the way she was writing during the last twenty minutes? And Megumi and Tsumiki! Every time they said something, she made a face!” 

Gojo shrugs, still so certain of his place in the hierarchy. One day, the elders will get tired of him throwing his weight around like Jujutsu’s one and only tyrant, but not someday soon if they want to keep their heads. 

“It’s fine,” he says. “I’m not going to make Megumi and Tsumiki act like repressed little puppet children just so that they can find some way to snipe them out from under us anyways. Who knows, maybe we’ll teach the Zenins a thing or two about healthy child raising. I hear they have two girls now. One of them has no cursed energy. Should we kidnap some more children?” 

“Like you know anything about healthy parenting,” you snark. “Those girls are better off without you.” 

“Does being mean to me get you off or something?” 

“Do you want to find out?” 

“I would love to,” he purrs, sliding a hand under your shirt just so slightly so his nails prick at your lower stomach. You grab his wrist. 

“Sorry,” you say, your stomach churning at the joke gone wrong. “I can’t.”

He stops immediately. “What’s wrong?” 

“I just- They want Megumi badly enough to go to the higher ups. I know what they do to their children. I can’t let him go there, Satoru. I can’t.” 

“I won’t let that happen.”

“I can’t stop thinking about those girls.”

“Come here,” he says. 

You lean closer to him. He lifts his arm so easily, without thinking. When you slide under it, you fit into him perfectly. 

Now that you’re safely tucked under his arm, you feel sheltered from anything that could happen.  “I don’t want to give the kids to the Zenins. They’re monsters. And they would make monsters out of them.” 

“That’s only if they take them away,” Gojo says, his smile fanged and vicious. 

“And if they do?”

“I hope they try.”

You trust him. 

You know he’ll keep his word. If Gojo says Megumi and Tsumiki won’t be going to the Zenins as long as he’s alive, then they won’t be going at all. 

[deanbrainrotwritings]

— and their name was treason

SUMMARY : with the help of charlie, sam and Dean have become prolific con artists. but after losing his work, dean’s left wondering how do you con a con artist?

PAIRING : dean winchester x fem!reader

CHARACTERS : sam winchester, charlie bradbury (mentioned), bela talbot

WARNINGS/TAGS : explicit(18+), lazy writing, dirty talk, implied sub!dean my beloved, implications of sex

WORD COUNT : 2k

A/N : title from a day to remember. this one fills the con artist au square on my @jacklesversebingo card. the reader is inspired by the beautiful river song, lmao. i had big daydreams about this fic, they were as big as the inside of the tardis and now it’s only like the outside of the tardis 😔 xx

“Dean,” Sam whispered over Dean’s shoulder, getting his attention off the flirty bartender for a few seconds. Dean's laugh slowly faded as he turned to look at his little brother instead of the woman who was making them their drinks. “Did you get the signatures?” 

Dean rolled his eyes.

“Sam, you’ve asked me that six times already,” he responded quietly and with irritation. He shook the metal case containing the signed forms. “Yes, I got the fucking signatures.” 

“I'm just making sure,” Sam lifted his hands with a playful smile, “I don’t wanna waste Charlie’s time when we give her the papers we got signed.” 

Dean squinted his eyes at him before he turned to smirk at the brown-haired woman when she placed his drink in front of him. Sam cleared his throat when she bit her lip and Dean blindly took his drink while licking his own.

Dean turned hesitantly to glare at his brother. 

Sam’s eyes went big and innocent. Dean sighed and hung his head low, caving in to the puppy-dog eyes he was prone to seeing more often than he liked when Sam wanted to get his way. 

“Okay, okay,” Dean gave a final, longing glance at the woman who was preparing drinks. She batted her lashes flirtatiously at him before turning around and swayed her hips sensually as she handed a drink she prepared to an old man across the bartop. Dean groaned internally at what could have been and memorised the curves of her body in her blue cocktail dress. “I’ll finish this drink and we’re outta here.”

Behind Dean, Sam walked away and murmured an “excuse me.” 

Dean turned with his drink in hand, about to tease his brother with an insult about him being lame, but instead he hit a much smaller, softer body with his own so his drink spilled over a beautifully red dress and soft skin. 

“Son of bitch!” Dean exclaimed under his breath, embarrassed and surprised. He fumbled with the glass and somehow caught the woman by her waist to balance her as she gasped. 

“I'm so sorry,” they said in unison and even laughed together sheepishly. 

Dean stared at her dumbly, captivated by her appearance. His eyes quickly moved from the top of her pretty head and down to the sexy black heels that told him she was a boss-lady. Dean’s stomach fluttered excitedly, only partially anxious. 

Sam snickered next to Dean.

Dean’s cheeks turned pink with a heat that spread to his ears. 

“I really should’a been more careful,” Dean apologised to her. She laughed again, dismissed his apology with a reassuring smile, and shook her head. Dean blindly shoved his glass into Sam’s chest and pulled out a handkerchief from inside his jacket for her to clean herself up. 

Dean ignored the quieted groan of annoyance from Sam, entirely focused on the flustered woman standing before him. 

He sent a charming smile her way and she bit her lip before she took the white cloth with a shy bow of her head in gratitude. Her painted nails brushed delicately across his calloused palm, but she looked away before she could see him become tense at her mere touch.

“I should’ve been more careful, too.” 

She wiped at her chest and her dress to soak up as much of the liquid as she could. Dean's eyes traced the movement of the cloth sliding across her cleavage. He cleared his throat to undo the sudden knot in his throat and blinked away the mesmerised expression on his face. 

“Dean, we should get going.” Sam’s words snapped Dean out of his daydream. Except Dean’s pathetic reaction to a beautiful woman cleaning herself was a reminder to him that he hadn’t blown off steam in months. 

Their workload has been a constant wave that was drowning him. 

One job where he has fun won’t do any harm to his, or Charlie’s, or Sam’s profit.

“Wait,” Dean pulled his keys out of his pocket and took a moment to think before handing the keys to Sam. Sam’s mouth dropped slightly. He scoffed, looked at Dean, then at the woman who was busy blinking at both of them—confused. “Why don’t you go, uh…?” Dean clicked his tongue, then smirked at Sam.

Sam snatched the keys from Dean and shook his head, instantly understanding the unsaid words of his big brother. He smiled after considering Dean for a few moments and sent a much more polite smile to the woman. 

“Whatever, dude,” Sam turned around to exit the bar. 

Dean’s stiff fingers loosened around the handle of the case he’d been carrying for most of the night. He’d completely forgotten about it and was pretty sure Sam left it up to him on purpose. He gripped it tightly before relaxing and facing the woman. 

She readily handed him his handkerchief, but he closed her small, cold hands around it with his own. She smiled at him, her brows rose, and she glanced down at his large hand around hers. Her lush lips opened to speak, but Dean interrupted her with a flirty smirk before she could say something first.

“I’m Dean.”

From her quietness at the bar, Dean assumed she’d be shy to some extent.

When they entered the cab, she’d pointed out the metal case he was carrying out and questioned him about it—small talk. He answered honestly at first, it was for work, and then lied by saying he was a real estate agent.

She didn’t seem too interested in small talk because as soon as he answered, she pressed her soft lips against his. Her cool hand slid up his scruffy jaw and her fingers slipped into his short hair. 

His hands found her elbow and her waist. He could feel her other hand travelling down his chest, her nails gently raking against his green tie and his suit jacket. 

He tilted his head slightly, broke the kiss to breathe, and returned to her sweet mouth. His hands wandered upwards, one stopped at her jaw and the other clung to her soft dress in the back. His fingers carefully weaved through her hair, the soft strands rubbed against his fingertips. 

He could feel her tongue against his lips, arousingly tracing the shape of them. He moaned involuntarily at the wetness and warmth of her tongue and the way her small hand cupped his hardening cock through the flimsy cloth of his pants. 

He pulled away, flushed and feeling hotter than he was before. His heart was thudding loudly in his ears, banging against the bone door of his chest to escape into her hands—well, at least into her free hand which was caressing his cheekbone.

She was looking at him curiously through her curled lashes. 

He shamelessly laid his hand over hers and pressed down. She smirked and looked down to watch the way his hips rolled up into her hand. He watched her thighs press together tightly and imagined—instantly—all the things he wanted to do to her. 

She leaned forward and Dean’s lips parted slightly, ready for her kiss. His eyes pleaded for her to inch even closer, but she kissed his cheek instead. Fucking tease. 

“Are you going to touch me at all?” She whispered near his ear. The warmth of her breath made his skin prickle, followed almost simultaneously by a shiver through his body. 

Dean’s eyes flickered to the man driving the can. The man was clearly trying not to look too interested, and if he had a problem, he would’ve kicked them out. But something was just not sitting right with Dean, he didn’t look uncomfortable—and most people would be when facing a similar situation. 

“I just-I’m…” Part of Dean was flustered by the apparent audience and the other part of him was aroused by the way she rubbed and squeezed along his cock. The way he’d restlessly shifted allowed his length to move so she could feel all of him.

“Trying to be polite?” She completed his question, smiling knowingly. 

“Well, yeah,” he murmured and shrugged half-heartedly.

“That’s cute,” she hummed. Her mouth was back on his, taking his breath away and making him dizzy before he could get flustered under her intense gaze. She pulled away and he chased the high of her kiss. She dodged him and returned to his ear, where her breath tickled his sensitive skin. “But I don’t want you to be polite. I want to feel your fingers in my pussy and your lips on my tits.” 

Dean choked on needy whine and she kissed him hard for it. Her fingers were focused on the sensitive head of his cock over his dress pants and boxers. He managed to wrap his fingers around her hand to stop her from making him cum in his pants.

“I prefer to fuck you hard in bed and make you cum on my cock,” he mumbled against her lips. She pulled away to smirk at him, her wicked finger traced his lip, then her hand fell to his lap where she playfully brushed her fingers against his dick.

“Can’t say I hate that idea.”

“Dean, Dean!” 

Dean woke with a jolt, his hand around the gun pointed into the darkness the instant he gained consciousness. His finger rested on the trigger, but he stopped himself upon recognising Sam’s dishevelled hair and unkempt clothes.

“Heh, you got laid, too?” Dean teased as he cuddled his pillow, feeling light and elated, naked beneath cool sheets. 

“Shut up,” Sam snapped. “Where is the case, Dean? Don’t tell me you left it over there at the bar!” Sam scolded, practically ripping around his shaggy hair when he buried his fingers into it anxiously. 

Dean's stomach fell. He froze, then relaxed and closed his eyes. “Left it by the table,” he mumbled.

“Dean,” Sam said through gritted teeth, “it’s not fucking there. I’ve looked everywhere. Who else was in here besides you and that girl from the bar?” Dean sobered up quickly, he knew Sam wasn’t going to miss a gigantic metal case in a tiny hotel room. 

He sat up and looked at the table where he’d left it, hoping Sam was still punishing him for choosing fun over work. Dean hastily picked up his pants from the floor and put them on as discreetly as he could.

The case wasn’t there. It wasn’t anywhere. 

He helped Sam tear the whole place apart and reassured his little brother that no one else besides the woman he slept with had been inside the room.

“Okay, well, unless she took it from you, we need to figure out who else came into your room. When did she leave?” 

Dean became flustered. 

“Dude, I don’t know. Okay?! I just… passed out. The sex was-” Dean suddenly smiled with a dreamy look in his eyes. “It was awesome. She did this thing where she-”

“I really don’t wanna hear it.” Sam grimaced and Dean snickered, but a blush still heated his face at the memory of her. Dean recomposed himself when Sam continued to look bitchy.

“Whatever. Look, we can always check the cameras.”

“Bela,” you looked out the cab window, your phone pressed against your ear. 

“You’ve got something else for me?” Her voice was surprised— impressed, even.

“Met those Winchester boys,” you smiled to yourself. Your body still felt warm and sensitive in the places Dean had been. 

“And?” You had a feeling she rolled her eyes. 

“They conned drunk people at a bar,” you began, “I was watching them. They’re good. I don’t know why you hate them so much, they could make you loads of money.” Bela scoffed. “Anyway, I stole their work,” you added casually, tapping the cold metal case that rested against your thighs. “I bet these real estate papers are worth a lot.”

She was silent. You smirked. “How… how did you do that?”

You thought back to watching Dean stare longingly at the attractive brunette bartending once he’d finished scamming all those drunk, trust-funded idiots. Sam visibly killed the mood and forced Dean to leave the bar empty-handed— with nothing and no one to celebrate a job-well-done with.

You purposely bumped into him to find a way in and steal the “hard work” from him and his brother. His drink would spill on your dress, you had a feeling he’d get all dopey—and you were right. 

The plan was simple at first. But instead of knocking him out once you were both alone outside in order to steal the case, you went with him to his hotel room in a cab. You had sex with him because you thought he was pretty and you really needed some release—as much as or more than Dean, you imagined (from the way he made you cum four times). Then, you stole the case when he was dead asleep, did the walk of shame out of his room, and out of the hotel. 

Currently, you were in a cab that had suspicious stains, torn leather seats, and a crusty floor. 

“Disgracefully.”

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do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or republish my work on another platform

[milqueandsugar]

🌼☕` Green With Envy `☕🌼

Gen / hurt-comfort if your like ten feet away and squinting, Fluff

Includes / Charlie , Alastor , Adam

| CHARLIE |

Charlie is never really jealous, alright, she has complete trust in you

That being said, it definitely happens!

Charlie is really, really emotionally intelligent and picks up on subtleties alot of others don't, she may be naive and trusting but she's not stupid and her vibe check has yet to be off

Ignore alastor that was a calculated risk

So when the two of you decide to take a break from promoting the hotel to share some greasy, cheesy food at a pub

Most food places were groceries, cannibalistic or bar and grills, so it wasn't uncommon for the two of you to go out for food and have a few drinks while you were there

She had just returned from the bathroom when she spotted the sinner chatting you up at the bar counter

Something about the sight, maybe the lighting, maybe how close the stools were- therefore how close you were, or something about how you played with the straw of your drink absent-mindedly set her off

She's not- proud of what she did per se

She slides in next to you, interlocking her fingers with your hand resting on the counter top, squeezing it affirmingly

"Hey hon, whose this?" Tone too cheery, smile a little to calculated

It's then she saw the hotel flyer in the sinners hands, aw, whoops

"Oh this is-"

"Travis."

They extended their hand too shake and still a little embarrassed about her initial take she took his hand, fumbling slightly before he squeezed her hand a little too hard

Oh

She wasn't the only one jealous here

She was VERY quick to get you two out of there, some emergency at the hotel or with nifty, or something, she doesn't like feeling like this and she doesn't like being in a situation that might make you uncomfortable, and to be very, very honest she did NOT want that demon anywhere near you

| ALASTOR |

He's a very confident man, he knows you love him, he knows that you know he'd do anything for you, he's comfortable with you

That being said when he finds the letter inviting you to an interview on 666 NEWS by Vox he felt all the jealousy he mocked others for having rise in his throat like bile

"It's some sort of trap, I don't want you going."

He sets the letter down in front of you, let's you read it, digest it before shrugging

"I don't know why'd they want to interview me anyways, I don't even think Angel has an interview with him."

"Oh I can think of a few reasons. "

He runs his fingers along your jaw, tilting your head up to look at him

"Maybe I should go then."

"What."

He didn't have time to register your teasing tone before your giggling at his expense

"If the people love me as much as you do maybe I should go on."

"Oh no one could possibly do that, no one who wants to live anyways."

Now it's his turn to tease, and he takes the letter from you, tearing it up

"Though since you seem so keen on fame why don't you join me on my radio show?"

| ADAM |

Jealous all the time

Doesn't bring it up because he wants you to believe he's confident but bro he's dying inside

The only time he ever, ever directly told you he was jealous or uncomfortable was in his early days in his band, back when he was newbie to the group and was working to gain his name in the industry

It was just after the show and the lot of you were hanging back stage, signing shirts and breasts and having a few drinks

You were talking about something inconsequential when a fan came up and started talking to him, you took your cue and peeled off to get a beer for the both of you

That fan came and went, and another, and another and he thought first you stopped to use the restroom, i mean hell he kinda needed to piss too

When he caught a break between fans he headed to the restrooms, now worried you didn't have toilet paper or accidentally locked yourself in (not speaking from personal experience at all, he doesn't want to talk about it)

Instead he found you backed up by some sound tech guy

"I uh- I should really get going, my boyfriend, uh is my ride and I gotta get home-"

"Why going so soon? I saw you behind stage waiting for him, I gotta say cutie, your worth far more than that ass."

"Haha, yeah, he's definitely an ass but he's my ass, yknow?"

Something about your nervous laughter burned that jealousy straight to anger

"Yeah, speaking off assholes."

He practically tossed the guy off of you

"Take a hint."

He was angry for the rest of the day, not at you, not ever at you, but damn, he needed to blow some steam off, mostly by angry ranting to you in your apartment

"What was that guy's fucking problem!?"

"That guys NEVER going to be on set again, fuck what if it was someone else who didn't have someone looking out for them yeah?"

[qu1cks1lversb1tch]

Hi! You wrote Lucifer so beautifully I was wondering if you'd do a request? I keep wanting to see a really cute fic where either reader or Lucifer is nervous to make a move on the other because it's Charlie's friend or dad (depending whose perspective it was written from) and she finds out somehow and gives her blessing wanting them to be happy together. Thanks for hearing me out regardless and have a great day! :D

A/N — Oh you have no idea how much I love this request! Your kind words on my post made me so happy! Sorry it took so long, it's been a hectic week. I hope this is okay for being written in my half awake state :)

Nervousness | Lucifer x Reader

Warnings: Fluff, slight angsty theme, Luci being Luci (aka babygirl)

Word Count: 1,024

You were going to lose your mind.

If it wasn't from the knowing glances he sent you from across the room at any event, it would be the way he made it his mission to talk to you whenever he came to the hotel to make sure the place was still standing.

You did your best to ignore the way you had felt because that was your friend's dad — your best friend's dad at that.

You hated the way you were reduced to a blushing and stuttering mess in his presence, something that no doubt made Lucifer puff his chest out like a prideful peacock.

You hoped Charlie was too occupied with the hotel to notice any exchange.

Even if she did somehow notice, there was only so much that you could do, so you did what you do best: you avoided him. You avoided him like the fucking plague.

Not because you hated him, no. . . You just wanted to keep some shred of dignity. If Charlie told you he was coming (she always did), you found something to do literally anywhere else; grocery shopping, visiting your family, dragging Angel out for lunch — anything.

And then things began showing up.

At first it was your favorite flowers on a random Wednesday with a note attached, delivered right to the receptionist desk that you spent most of your days at.

Heard you've been feeling down, hope these can lift you up :) — L.M.

Then it became notes with cheesy pick-up lines that you'd randomly find between stacks of papers or in your purse.

Even when he wasn't physically there to make you blush, he somehow managed to, just by writing silly little notes and signing his name.

I don’t know much about astrology, but I do know how the universe started. It started with u n i ;) — L.M.

Are you a magician? ‘Cause every time I look at you, everyone else disappears! — L.M.

Do you believe in love at first sight, or should I walk by again and again until you do? — L.M.

If you were a fruit, you’d be a fine-apple. — L.M.

You'd be a liar if you tried to tell yourself that you hated it — you didn't hate the notes or him, you enjoyed both the notes and his presence (when he wasn't staring at you so intensely that you became a stuttering mess).

Then one day, the notes stopped.

Instead, they were replaced by lunch from your favorite restaurant in the Pride Ring and the King of Hell himself, sitting in your chair when you returned from the bathroom.

Charlie hadn't told you he would be coming. . . Maybe she didn't know?

"You can't avoid me forever, you know?" Lucifer questioned in a low tone, a lazy smirk adorning his face as you reached for the bag of goods.

"I'm not avoiding you." You stated as if it were the absolute truth.

"You're avoiding eye contact with me right now, [Y/N]. . . You know she wouldn't care, right? Well, she would care, but she wouldn't be mad."

You shook your head and laughed slightly. Charlie was unbelievably understanding, especially for someone who grew up in Hell, but even understanding people had their limits.

You had your limits.

"I can't." You whispered, momentarily glancing towards the doors. "She's my best friend and you love Lilith."

The words made your heart hurt, but you had to say them.

Someone had to.

"Is it the ring? Because I can lose the ring!" He stood from the chair and placed his hand in front of your face, making a small show of removing the singular piece of jewelry that bound him to his past lover.

It wasn't just the ring.

You were scared of the worst that could happen, the unspoken boundaries that dating your best friend's dad would inevitably cross. It didn't help that nervousness was eating away at your being with every note or longing glance from across the room.

What helped even less was the effect his voice had on you. Not only his voice but his general presence, his aura, his ethereal beauty that seemed to be only reserved for his pleasure.

"I can't." You repeated once more.

It had been a week since the conversation took place and you were flooded with more notes and flowers than before.

The pick-up lines increased in cheesiness, which ironically enough, only made you want him more.

You were in the middle of working when Charlie walked in carrying a vase full of your favorite flowers. You hadn't noticed until she spoke.

"My dad sent another one for you. . . You should give him a chance [Y/N]. I think it's nice that he's trying to get out there after my mom."

You paused, looking up at Charlie. Did you hear her correctly?

"What?" You asked.

"Well, my dad's been sending you flowers for a while now and he seems to really like you. I think you'd be good for each other — I mean, he looks at you like you put the stars in the sky! Which is soooooooo sweet! I know you feel the same way about him, so you should go for it!"

You gaped at your best friend.

"What — how?"

"I have my ways. . . Besides, he only met you six months ago and I'd rather him date you than someone who only cares about his status. I want you both to be happy, and if you're happy with each other, I'm happy for you!"

"I mean, are you sure? There has to be someone —"

"He loves you!" Charlie blurted out, immediately covering her mouth with wide eyes.

You only stared with wide eyes and uncertainty gnawing at you.

"It's true, and I'm taking you out tonight, [Y/N]." Lucifer's voice said from behind you.

You turned around and before you could utter those four words in return, or even anything to question what just happened, he kissed your cheek and disappeared, leaving a note where he had just previously been.

Hey, tie your shoelaces. I don’t want you falling for anyone else. — Lucifer

When had he stopped signing L.M.?

[honeypiehotchner]

Will you be my Valentine? (Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- one shot

Happy (belated) Valentine’s Day! This one shot turned out to be a lot longer than I was expecting, hence why it’s being posted today instead of yesterday 😭 (Also the first scene with Garcia is 100% inspired by a TikTok I saw and the idea just spiraled from there)

Summary: Each time a new member of the BAU figured out Hotch had feelings for you...and when he finally told you.

Warnings: tooth-rotting fluff babes. It’s vile how cute this is

WC: 3.6k

Everyone knew Hotch had it bad from the first day you started working at the BAU.

There was a case on your very first day, so introductions were sparse before you boarded the jet. You met with Hotch, and the two of you talked briefly about how things work in general, though he said you’ll pick most of it up from actual experience.

The case was in Arizona, and it was a long one. But it didn’t take long for Garcia to see right through Hotch.

“So, um. How’s it going with the new agent?” Garcia asked, twirling her feathery pen back in Quantico.

Hotch shrugged. “Why are you asking me?”

“What is that in your voice?” Garcia said. She grinned. Say it ain’t so, she thought. Hotch, the Unit Chief, having a crush? This is too good. “Oh my god, you think she’s pretty.”

“Penelope--” he tried to stop her, to tell her she had it wrong because that would be wildly inappropriate, plus, his thinking that you were pretty had nothing to do with--

“Oh, you totally do!” Garcia giggled, ignoring his protests because he was deep in denial. Finally! A crush! “PG out, lover boy.”

He shook his head as she hung up on him, but he knew the blush was evident on his cheeks. He could feel it, so he knew everyone could see it.

Even you, who walked in a second later to ask him a question.

You saw the red tint on his cheeks, but thought nothing of it as he steeled his face once more before listening to your question.

+++

A few months passed since you began at the BAU, and still Garcia was the only one privy to Hotch’s secret. He thought.

“Have a good night,” Hotch said quietly as he passed your desk. You were gathering your things to head out for the night.

“Don’t stay too late,” you teased, shouldering your bag. You noticed he had a fresh mug of coffee in his hand. “You need sleep too, you know.”

“I’ll try,” he said with a smile as he bounded the steps up to his office. “Sleep well.”

Rossi watched (and heard) this interaction from his office. He waited until he saw you disappear into the elevator before he knocked on Aaron’s door.

“Come in,” Hotch said, not looking up from the paperwork at his desk until he realized it was Dave. “Hey, heading out for the night?”

“Not yet,” Rossi said, sinking down into one of Hotch’s chairs. “So…what are your plans for the weekend?”

Hotch eyed Rossi suspiciously. Every time Rossi began with that, it meant one of three things: 1. He genuinely wanted to know what Hotch had going on this weekend, 2. He wanted Hotch to do something with him, or 3. He was digging.

Digging for what exactly, Hotch never knew. Until Rossi caved and outright asked.

“What do you think of Y/N?”

Hotch shrugged. He continued working on the paperwork to distract himself. “She’s doing really well. She adapted quickly. I’ve been very impressed. Strauss has too.”

Rossi hummed. “Well, that sounded rehearsed.”

Hotch looked up from the papers, giving Rossi a tired stare. “What?”

“I asked what you think of her,” Rossi repeated, smiling smugly. “Not how she’s doing at her job.”

“What’s the difference?” Hotch returned to signing off reports.

“Oh, come on, Aaron,” Dave sat forward, tapping the desk. “I’m not that dense. And neither are you. You think she’s cute.”

“She’s very pretty,” Aaron answered without hesitation, regretting it immediately because it only gave Rossi more ammo.

“I knew it,” Dave grinned, sitting back again and clasping his hands together. “Well?”

Finally, Hotch put his pen down. “Well what?”

“Are you going to do something about it?”

Aaron grimaced. “You make it sound like it’s a problem.”

“It is if you never tell her,” Rossi pressed. He had lectured Aaron many times on the dangers of never telling a woman how you feel about her. Especially when it was clear she felt the same way.

“It’s inappropriate,” Hotch said, reverting to his usual defense.

“You’re both adults, clearly capable of making your own decisions,” Rossi replied with a shrug. Aaron knew that Rossi was the reason the No Fraternization rule existed, but he also knew Rossi was the first to say how much bullshit that rule was ladened with. “I don’t see the problem.”

Hotch glanced back down, scribbled a signature on Morgan’s report and tossed it aside, opening yours. He paused. “For one thing,” he started, flipping open your folder. “I don’t know how she feels.”

Dave stared at Aaron, wondering if the man across from him was being serious. As it turned out, Aaron was.

“If you saw what I did earlier, then you’d know she does,” Dave said.

Aaron shrugged again. “She’s nice to me because I’m her boss.”

“She’s civil toward you because you’re her boss,” Rossi clarified. “She’s nice because she feels the same way you do.”

Aaron sighed. He knew Dave meant well, but it was exhausting to listen to him. Aaron wanted to say something to you, but at the end of the day, he was your boss, and you his employee. It didn’t sit right with him. And if he ever did say something, that would be the first topic of conversation. It was too complicated.

Not to mention, he had only known you for a few months, and all of that time consisted of work settings -- save a few nights at bars or restaurants with some of the team.

“Ah, I see,” Dave said, nodding slowly. He stood up to leave.

“See what?” Aaron asked before Dave made it to the door.

“You’re too far in your head about this,” Dave said quietly. “Once you get out, you’ll know what to do.” And he left.

Aaron stared down at your report, your perfect handwriting. It looked far better than his, and miles better than Reid’s. It was very clearly yours, too. It fit your personality.

He closed the folder. The rest could wait until morning.

+++

Not long after Hotch’s talk with Rossi, Morgan was the next to put the pieces together -- and say something about it.

On the jet returning home from yet another case, everyone slept, except Hotch, Morgan, and Rossi. Reid curled up on the couch. Emily and JJ fell asleep in their seats, and you had taken over two other seats to stretch out. No one minded. Morgan gave you his jacket, against your protests. Hotch wished he had given you his, but Morgan had beat him to it.

Morgan noticed Hotch watching you wistfully while you slept, looking up every now and again from his tablet to check on you. Hotch’s eyes shot toward you impossibly fast every time you moved, watching for a moment to be sure you were alright before he looked away again.

After watching this for an hour, Morgan moved from his spot by Rossi to sit in front of Hotch.

“Hey,” Hotch said, nodding to Derek. “Can’t sleep?”

Morgan shrugged, biting back a grin. “I got a cat nap in. You?”

“I’ll sleep better in my bed,” Hotch replied. “I’m a little too tall for these seats.”

“Yeah, you always looked scrunched up,” Derek teased, jokingly mimicking the position Hotch once tried to sleep in. He woke up with one hell of a catch in his back. “Can I ask you a question?”

Hotch looked up, suspicious and a little scared. “Sure.”

Derek opened his mouth to speak and you shifted in your sleep again, causing Aaron’s eyes to shoot over toward you. His eyebrows drew together as he watched you, waiting for you to settle back down.

By the time Hotch looked back over, Morgan was smirking.

“What was your question?” Hotch asked.

“That right there,” Morgan replied, lowering his voice a little just to be sure you wouldn’t catch any of it. “What’s goin’ on?”

“What?” Hotch asked, feigning innocence, but he could feel the heat rising in his cheeks, and the smile he wasn’t able to hold back. “I don’t, uh-- What do you mean?”

“You should tell her,” Morgan said, starting to grin. “You really should.”

What Hotch didn’t know is that exactly two days before this, you confessed your feelings to Morgan. Only because he caught you smiling at Hotch, and you knew he wouldn’t give it up. Also because you were starting to go a little crazy, holding it in. But you called it a stupid crush and said it would go away. Derek didn’t believe you.

“No,” Hotch said, but he kept smiling. “I can’t.”

“Why not?” Derek shrugged. “What’s the harm?”

Hotch stayed quiet, looked back down. He shook his head.

“Hotch, you gotta put yourself out there,” Derek whispered. “And you gotta do it before you’re too late.”

Hotch nodded slowly. He should’ve known you’d have someone else on your horizons. You’re much younger, far prettier than he ever thought to be real. No wonder someone else took notice. No wonder someone else was ahead of him.

“Seriously,” Morgan pressed a little further. “Valentine’s Day is coming up, y’know. Perfect timing.”

Hotch chuckled softly, shaking his head at Morgan’s wicked grin. “Alright.”

+++

Emily and JJ realized it at the same time you did, though you told yourself you were overthinking and making it all up.

Hotch had bought your coffee.

It didn’t seem that strange, or romantic even. You happened to be at a coffee shop down the street, waiting in line to order when Hotch got in line behind you.

The two of you talked while you waited. What a happy coincidence, both of you were there before work. Your heart fluttered with every word he said, every smile he showed and laugh he let slip. Even his jokes, you were flustered beyond belief.

And then he got your coffee for you.

He asked, and you were so shocked that you said yes. You couldn’t stop smiling and neither could he.

Truthfully, Aaron was over the moon. His heart was beating like crazy, and he wondered if you noticed his nervous laughter. (You did.)

When you got back to the BAU, walking in together caught Emily and JJ’s attention. Reid was in the middle of a book, and Derek was nowhere to be found (probably off with Penelope). But Emily and JJ immediately tuned in.

“Hey you two,” you smiled, walking around to your desk.

“Hey yourself,” Emily grinned, keeping an eye on Hotch as he walked up to his office, smiling to himself. “You’re in a good mood.”

“A very good mood,” JJ echoed, propping herself up on the corner of her desk. “You and Hotch got coffee?”

“Yeah,” you replied, thinking nothing of it. “I just ran into him at my usual place.”

Emily and JJ shared a look, raising their eyebrows.

“Just ran into him?” JJ asked, shrugging her shoulders.

“…yeah?” you laughed. “What about it?”

“Did he buy your coffee?” Emily asked quietly, biting back a grin. “That’s…” She cocked her head, giving you a look.

“It’s what?”

“It sounds like he likes you,” Reid piped up, eyes still focused on his book. “It was a romantic gesture.”

Reid had known for a while. He kept it to himself, though, because nine times out of ten, when he first picks up on these things, no one else has yet. And if he mentions it, it’s often invasive and people get defensive, because it’s something they don’t want to think about.

So, he’s kept it quiet. But he has noticed. And now it’s getting obvious.

Your mouth remained open in shock. Hotch? Having a crush on you? That seemed ridiculous. Impossible, even. He’s your boss, for crying out loud. Not to mention, older and…does he even date? He doesn’t talk about his personal life. You know he’s divorced, but that’s it.

“No,” you laughed awkwardly. “I mean, I buy my coffee for my friends all the time. I’ve bought you guys coffee,” you gestured to Emily and JJ. “It’s fine, right?”

“It’s fine,” Emily shrugged. “Yeah, it’s fine, it’s not anything serious.”

“Just a coffee,” JJ agreed, although both of them still didn’t fully believe you.

It was friendly, sure, but the kind of friendly that had romantic undertones and intentions.

But you didn’t want to think about that because it felt impossible. They were reading too far into it, that’s all.

It’s a running joke that joining the BAU is a death sentence for your love life, so it’s a regular conversation, that’s all.

That’s all, you told yourself. That’s all.

+++

The BAU rang in February with a new case, this one in Alabama. It took a week or so to solve, and by the end of it, you were all exhausted. Yet you needed to eat, so the team went out for dinner.

Somehow — you never really know how this happens — the conversation veered toward Valentine’s Day. Derek brought it up, purely because he and Penelope are planning to spend it together watching the worst rom-coms imaginable.

“I don’t know, it just kinda bums me out. I never look forward to it,” you said, expecting to be in the majority at the table, but you weren’t.

“What?” Derek said. “We’ve gotta change that.”

You smiled at him, though it felt like he was pitying you.

“Why does it bum you out?” Hotch asked earnestly.

You hadn’t expected him to say anything, let alone to ask you a question. “Because,” you started. “I guess I just see all these happy couples, and the cards and balloons and flowers and chocolates and it’s— It’s just too much to look at.”

“You know, most of the happiest couples on Valentine’s Day are actually struggling in their relationship,” Reid said, mid-chew.

“What statistics back that one up, pretty boy?” Morgan teased.

“Just an observation,” Reid shrugged, swallowing.

“I know,” you replied. “I know statistically — also just from experience — that they’re not that happy, but still. They still look it. And it’s, you know, it’s sad.” You paused, not wanting to finish your sentence but you knew you had to because you dug this hole for yourself. “Because…I know that I’ll never have that.”

“What makes you say that?” Hotch asked, his voice quiet with concern.

“Yeah, Y/N,” Emily said, her face sad as she shook her head solemnly. “You don’t know that.”

“But…I do.” Your smile was a soft, sad one born from acceptance. “I never have had it, and it just seems so unlikely for me. Besides, I don’t want to be pretending to be happy and in love. That would be worse than being single.”

“Not everyone is pretending,” Hotch said, his eyes soft.

“Maybe,” you shrugged. “I didn’t mean to take over the table, guys. Let’s— JJ, what are you and Will doing?”

The conversation went back into safer territory, as JJ told the table that her and Will would probably do something small after Henry went to bed. Or maybe a dinner, after Spencer offered to babysit.

“Yeah, or I could babysit,” you offered. “You guys should have a date.”

“Uh, you should too,” Emily said. “You’ll find someone.”

“Considering Valentine’s Day is in three days, I doubt it.”

The table was silent for a moment, but Rossi broke it. “You’ll find someone,” he said with his small smile. “You’ll see.”

You rolled your eyes. It wasn’t unlike Rossi to talk like a fortune cookie.

+++

Aaron wanted to throw up.

Well, he wouldn’t go that far, but he certainly was nervous. He didn’t even know if you’d show up.

But he waited. Inside the coffee shop, at a table by the window, he waited. The barista kept giving him this look, like she pitied him because it was Valentine’s Day and he was sitting at a table for two. Alone.

He texted you and asked if you wanted to grab coffee, but you hadn’t texted him back — yet. Still, he needed something to do today, so he came anyway.

Why did he give everyone the day off? He felt ridiculous.

What Aaron didn’t know was that a few miles away, you felt even more ridiculous.

“It’s not even a date!” you cried over the phone. “What the hell am I so worked up for?”

“Because you like him!” Penelope gushed. “And he clearly likes you. Oh, I knew it, I knew it, I knew it!”

You laughed at her as you worked your boots over your heels. “Relax, Pen.”

“I won’t!”

“Okay, well, I need to go because he texted like…an hour ago and I’m not even on the way. God, what if he’s already left? I bet he—”

“Shush! No more! You have a hot date and no room for self-doubt, now go!”

“Fine, fine, I’m going. Let me text him that I’m leaving— Penelope.”

Your heart dropped out of your ass. There, staring back at you, was your text message that you meant to send an hour ago. You forgot to hit send.

“I forgot to hit send!” you screamed, flying toward the front door. “I’m such an ass!”

“No you’re not!” Penelope yelled back. “Call him!”

“I can’t!”

“I will literally add him to this call right now if you don’t—”

“Don’t you dare!” You promptly hung up with her and called Aaron. “Come on, pick up. Pick up, please, pick up—”

“Hello?”

“Hi!” you sounded out of breath. “Hi, I’m so sorry. I’m such an idiot. I meant to text you back, but it didn’t send, and I know that sounds like a stupid excuse, but I swear it’s true—”

“Y/N—”

“If you’ve already left, that’s okay, God I feel so bad—”

“Y/N,” he said again. He sounded like he was smiling. “It’s okay,” he chuckled. “I haven’t been here that long.” He had. But you didn’t need to know that, because it was irrelevant. He would wait years for you.

“I’m on my way now, I swear to god,” you said, laughing a little. “Give me five minutes and I’ll be there.”

“Do you want your usual?” he asked.

Your heart skipped a beat. He knew your order. Your usual. “Yeah,” you said. “Please. Thank you.”

“No problem,” he replied, still smiling. “I’ll have it waiting for you.”

Relief. “You’re the best.”

By the time you made it to the coffee shop, Aaron did, in fact, have your coffee waiting for you. Along with your favorite pastry from their bakery. Today, it had a pink heart on it.

He stood to his feet when he saw you come in. You looked flustered, yes, but beautiful beyond measure. He didn’t know if he was going to be able to stop himself from fainting.

You felt the same way. Seeing him out of the suit never ceased to amaze you. He wore a nice black button down today with jeans. He still looked unbelievably handsome, his hair fluffier than usual, not as slicked down as he does it for work.

“What’s all this?” you asked, sheepish. A red rose laid across the table, your favorite pastry sat next to your coffee. It was all so…sweet. “Aaron, you didn’t have to…”

He shrugged. “I wanted it to be special.”

He sat down after you did, his stomach doing somersaults. He didn’t want to point you in the direction of his question so blatantly, but he was getting impatient. He just wanted to blurt it.

Before he could, though, you turned your cup toward you and saw the writing on the side. There, in Hotch’s unmistakable all-caps handwriting, was one question: Will you be my Valentine?

You gasped, then pouted, shocked by it all, but so, so happy. Deep down, you wanted this to happen, but you never let yourself believe that it really could or that it really was.

“Really?” you asked him, looking up from the writing.

He nodded slowly, a soft smile spreading across his lips. “I know you said you don’t like the holiday, but I thought you at least deserved to have a happy one. At least once.”

You didn’t know what to say. “That’s… That’s so sweet, Aaron, wow, okay. Yes.”

His eyebrows furrowed. “Yes what?”

You grinned. He’s so cute. “I’ll be your Valentine.”

“Oh!” he laughed. “Right. Sorry, I’m so nervous.”

“Me too,” you confessed. “I was on the phone with Garcia before I came-- She knows, by the way. She insisted this was a date, but I told her not to be delusional and-- Is this a date?”

“If you want it to be,” he said. “I’d like that.”

“I’d like that too,” you murmured. “A lot.”

“Would you like to…” his voice trailed away. “I am so bad at this.”

Instinctively, your hand reached across the table and rested on his. “No you’re doing great!”

He smiled, his cheeks flushing red at your touch. He turned his hand over and clasped his fingers around yours. “Would you like to do this again? I don’t want this to just be today. I’d like to…see where this goes.”

“Me too,” you breathed, so relieved you could almost cry. “I’d love that.”

“And,” he added, enveloping your hand in both of his. “Penelope was the first to know. She saw right through me.”

“When?” you laughed. It was hard to imagine Penelope Garcia cornering Aaron Hotchner on something like this.

“I think it was your first case,” he admitted, the blush seeming permanent on his cheeks now. “I guess how I spoke on the phone gave me away.”

“The first day?” Honestly, it gave you a bit of an ego boost.

He nodded. “The very first.”

“That’s…adorable.” There was nothing else to it.

[clarisse0o]

Camp Wiegman-Part 20

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternative Universe : Military School

Words: 6k

Masterlist

———————————————————————

Tuesday, November 24; 3:15 PM - School.

It’s the first time since I’ve been here that we finish classes early. I never thought it was possible. It’s rare to see a teacher absent, but that’s the case today. The whole class decided to leave after ten minutes, seeing that he would never arrive. Especially since he’s usually already waiting for us in his classroom.

" I’m joining the girls in the common room. Want to come? " Alexia proposes.

" Sorry, I told Bronze I would come after my classes. "

" She doesn’t know we finished early. You can go afterward. "

" The sooner I go, the sooner I’ll be free from this obligation. "

" I could almost believe you’re becoming serious, " she laughs.

" I don’t think so, no! "

" Come on, go enjoy your time with Bronze now that she’s talking to you again. "

" Stop it, " I roll my eyes. " You’re really something! "

" Oddly, you’re not denying it, " she replies with a wink.

I giggle, rolling my eyes. Alexia has been making inappropriate remarks since last night, saying I’m addicted to Bronze. Well, it’s true that I was sulking when she ignored me, but I wouldn’t go as far as to say I’m addicted to her. I just missed her. She was so much on my back lately that it was weird when she suddenly disappeared. Alexia understands that I appreciate Bronze more than I let on. I stopped contradicting her when I realized my arguments were becoming ridiculous. She could hold hands with Mapi. The latter keeps asking about the progress of my relationship with Bronze since she heard me call her "baby". I’ve been teased and received the same remark as Ale. I’m starting to think I’m glad they don’t know each other. I can tolerate them individually, but I’d go crazy if I had them together. We finally reach the ground floor. I was getting tired of Alexia’s remarks. I quickly excuse myself before slipping away to Bronze’s office. The door is wide open today. I knock lightly to announce my presence, which earns me two surprised faces looking at me.

" What are you doing here already? Aren’t you supposed to have classes until five o’clock? Don’t tell me you got kicked out again? " Bronze bombards me, frowning.

" Thanks for the trust, " I roll my eyes. " My literature teacher is absent. "

" Mr. Johnson absent? " Engen repeats. " Weird… "

" Anyway, he didn’t come. We waited fifteen minutes, and my class started to disperse, so we left too, " I shrug.

The two instructors exchange a look as if silently communicating. Bronze finally shrugs, inviting me to sit. I smile at her and settle in front of her. Engen, on the other hand, stands up.

" I’ll find out what’s going on. Do you know where the rest of your class went? "

" All over, I’d say. Many are in the common room, and the others are probably in their rooms, I guess. "

" Hmm, thanks. "

She leaves, letting me alone with Bronze. She’s already making room for me on her desk. I take out my stuff, prominently displaying the exercise she gave me to complete last night. I had to do and redo it several times before succeeding. It was one of the hardest she’s given me. There’s even an equation I couldn’t solve.

" Did you do your math? "

" Yeah… Well, half of it. "

" What do you mean, half? "

I prefer to hand her my paper rather than give explanations. She immediately checks my work. She raises an eyebrow at my draft filled with scribbles. Maybe I should have rewritten it instead of leaving my mistakes, but at least she can see that I worked hard to get there. She can’t say I didn’t work.

" And the answer to my question about the sign? "

" You need to put a plus because it follows the sign of ‘a’. Since the number is positive, my answer was correct. "

" You seem much more confident than yesterday, " she smiles amusedly.

" I almost dreamed of math all night, going over your sheet you made me. "

She chuckles as I cross my arms and sink into my chair. During her explanations last night, she made me a sheet summarizing all the important formulas to know. She added the sign rules since I was stuck on them. Needless to say, I spent my whole evening revising it. It’s much more effective than all my course notes. It’s short, clear, and precise.

" At least it was useful. "

" That’s for sure… "

" So, what didn’t you understand about the second function? "

I was about to answer, but Engen startles me by speaking up. I hadn’t even noticed she was back.

" Am I dreaming, or are you giving her lessons? "

" She’s struggling since she’s missing two years, " Bronze’s spontaneous honesty surprised me so much that my foot automatically kicked her under the desk. I would have preferred that detail stay between us. I’m already ashamed enough. Bronze raises an eyebrow at my gesture.

" Why was that? "

" You didn’t have to shout it from the rooftops, " I mumble, embarrassed.

She laughs softly. I jump when Engen hugs me from behind, resting her head on mine. I tense up at her unexpected closeness.

" Oh, come on! You don’t need to react like that for so little, Ona, " Engen says. " It’s good that you’re asking for help. "

" Hmm… "

" Wiegman is stupid for putting you at such a high level if you have difficulties, " she comments.

I shrug. I could actually keep up, but the problem is that I quickly lose interest and disengage. I would have caught up long ago otherwise. Plus, if I had reacted differently when I arrived, I wouldn’t have so much material to catch up on.

" Anyway, Mr. Johnson is really absent, " she informs me, letting go of me. " I have to gather your class in a study room to work, by Wiegman’s order. "

" Do I have to go too? "

" Well, I came to get you, but you came here willingly to work with Lucy. So, I guess you stay here. "

" Yes, she stays here, " Bronze intervenes. " Do you have to supervise the class? "

" Yeah, " Engen sighs. " They’re starting to get on my nerves. She could have let them have free time, but no, " she grumbles. " We’ll have to meet up to eat. "

" No worries, " Bronze laughs. " See you later. "

We say goodbye before she leaves. I get the impression she doesn’t like Wiegman at all. Last time, she didn’t hide her hatred towards her either. One thing is certain, she’s frank and direct, like Bronze. That’s probably why I like her too.

" Alright, back to our sheep, " she pulls me out of my thoughts. " What didn’t you understand then? "

" Is Wiegman that bad? " I ask.

" Why this question? " she frowns.

" I don’t know. Engen doesn’t seem to like her much. "

" Let’s just say she’s attentive to all our actions. She’s starting to get fed up. "

" Seriously? Why would she monitor the instructors too? "

" She doesn’t want another student-instructor relationship to happen again. "

" Oh… So, are you being monitored too? "

" Yes, like all my colleagues. Can we get back to the main topic, which is math? "

" No, wait… Are you talking about me? "

Bronze sighs in annoyance. This question is important to me. With what Alexia thinks, I’m afraid Wiegman will start thinking we’re too close. I don’t want her to risk her job because of me. And does she tell her what I confide in her? I hope not, because I tell her quite personal things.

" Why this question? "

I bite my lip. I don’t know if I should be honest with her. She gives me a hard look to encourage me to continue. I decide to play the honesty card.

" Alexia thinks we’re close. She keeps teasing me about it. Do you think you could get in trouble if Wiegman thought the same? I don’t want to cause you any problems. "

" Well, I’ll explain to you if it can reassure you. Every instructor has to see Wiegman at the end of the day for a debriefing. I’m not more monitored than the others because I’m in charge of you, if that’s your question. "

" And so… Do you ever talk about me? " I ask again.

" Of course we often talk about you. I’m the one supervising you, so it’s normal for her to ask me questions about you. "

" Do you tell her what I confide in you? " I ask with some fear.

«  We mainly talk about your progress, your reactions. I would never repeat what you confide in me. If I do, it will only be with your permission, to defend you, or if it’s a very important matter that can’t be kept. "

" A matter that can’t be kept? Like what? "

" Well, something that could harm you or put you in danger, for example. "

" Okay, " I sigh. " You promise not to talk about it otherwise? "

" Ona, the only thing I’ve told Wiegman since I’ve been supervising you is the events you told me about the night you ended up drugged. If I hadn’t done that, you could have had a lot of trouble with her. "

" Is that all? " I ask with a hint of surprise.

" Of course. I would never tell her your personal or family problems. Those things only concern you. I’ll always be here to listen, comfort, or support you, but I’ll never repeat anything to her. Only the results matter to her. Do you understand? "

" And for you? Do only the results matter to you too? "

" I should, yes, " she begins. " That was the case with all my former students under my care, but not with you. "

" Why not? " I laugh bitterly. " Don’t tell me that to please me, please. "

" That’s not the case. None of my former students confided in me like you do. It’s the first time I’ve had such a close relationship with a student, and it’s only because I want it. "

" What do you mean? "

" Usually, I remain cold and impassive in my work. It’s not for nothing they call me the commander. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I was never like that with you. « 

I lower my head, realizing it is the truth. She was strict at the beginning, but our relationship quickly evolved. She became understanding, and I almost want to say she became caring. I'd like to know the reasons why, but I doubt she would tell me.

- The results are important, of course, but I enjoy learning who you really are. I care about you, whether you believe it or not.

I have no doubt about her words. She has no reason to lie to me after all. I lift my head to smile at her timidly. She returns the smile, tilting her head slightly as if she knows what I'm thinking.

- Do you have any more questions you’d like answered, or can we get to work now?

- We can get to work... Unless you’re busy. I wouldn’t want to disturb you either.

- I don’t have that much work. Your test tomorrow is more important. Let’s go back to the exercise. What was your problem then? she says, picking up the paper.

- I think you didn’t give me all the formulas. I couldn’t do it even though I went over everything.

She looks at my draft again. I blush at the idea that she's once again wasting precious time on me. I still don’t understand why she does all this for me.

- We can stop if it bothers you, I begin again.

- Are you done? You don’t need to be embarrassed because I’m helping you study. Let me look at your exercise now.

I stay quiet to avoid disturbing her further. I wonder where her math skills come from. She has good logic and had no trouble finding my mistakes yesterday. She’s not very old. Maybe she just recently left school. That would answer my questions. Honestly, who remembers things like this? It’s not like it’s useful every day!

- How old are you?

- We never ask a person’s age, Ona, she replies. It’s rude and inappropriate, especially since I’m your supervisor. For your math problem, you just need to factorize the function.

- What? Seriously, I have to factorize again?

- Yeah. It’s exactly the kind of case you might have tomorrow. Just think a little. Pen, she says, holding out her hand.

I hand it to her, and she starts explaining while twisting in all directions to find a good position. She eventually comes around to sit beside me. She helps me factorize the function, then gives me the formula to use. In the end, it wasn’t so complicated with her help.

- When you can’t do something, you need to find other solutions. There are always some.

- Alright, I sigh.

- Do you want to do another one on your own?

- That’s okay, thanks. I’ve bothered you enough with my math. I’ll review tonight.

- We have more time today, so let’s make the most of it. You’re going to do another one on your own; I want to make sure you’ve understood.

I groan in frustration, which makes her smile. I thought I could escape, but she doesn’t seem to agree. She rewrites a formula similar to the one we just did. She already made me redo what I couldn’t do yesterday. It’s quite an effective method because I manage it each time afterward. She gives me three more, which I finish in half an hour.

- Well, it looks like you’ve understood. I think we can stop.

I sigh in relief, collapsing against my chair. She laughs and offers me a glass of water, which I gladly accept. I put my brain on pause while I drink from the cup she hands me.

- It’s only five o’clock. Do you want to look at your choices tonight or tomorrow?

I think about it. My brain is mush. I’m tempted to say tomorrow, but I want to get this problem resolved as quickly as possible. I’m afraid it will take longer than it should. Neither option really interests me, so I need to decide.

- Tonight, if you don’t mind.

- Not at all. Let’s see what we have. You have the forms, I hope?

- Of course.

I put away all my math stuff and replace it with my registration form and the list of available options. She takes the latter and sits comfortably in her chair, crossing her legs. She studies the sheet while finishing her drink.

- Alright. There are already a few we can eliminate, right?

- Yes, like sports.

- Yes, she laughs. It’s a shame because you have the potential to go far with the mental toughness you have. By the way, you’ve abandoned me for the runs.

I look at her strangely. Me, good potential in sports? What a joke!

- You’re the one who was sulking, I reply. You’re the first to know that sports and I don’t mix, and that I’m not motivated to do any.

- Hey! she says, hitting my arm. I wasn’t sulking! I was just giving you a taste of your own medicine. Anyway, let’s cross out sports, you’re right, she concludes. Maybe in an other universe you would have been an athlete.

I open my mouth as she crosses it out on the sheet.

- Hey! Why are you writing on it! I exclaim. You shouldn’t!

- This sheet isn’t to be returned, Ona, she giggles.

- Oh, I say, mortified under her laughter.

- Alright, let’s be serious. Have you already thought about a future career perhaps? Let’s start with that.

I think about her question. I never had the chance to seriously think about it. Choices for my studies were always imposed on me.

- You must have thought about it before, right?

- No, I remain honest, playing timidly with my fingers.

I feel ashamed. Who hasn’t thought about their future except me? I stopped school after my diploma, without thinking about what came next. I never studied something I truly liked. Bronze puts her hand on my knee, as if trying to reassure me.

- Hey, it’s okay, it’s nothing serious. It’s going to be more complicated than expected, but it will be sorted out. Better late than never, right?

I smile timidly, nodding. She smiles back. I’m glad I consulted her. If I hadn’t, I would have probably chosen an option randomly, without really thinking about it. At least now I won’t choose at random.

- I understand better why you come to see me, and you’re doing the right thing. Let’s start from the beginning. You were in high school, so you must have studied a specialty, right?

- Science and medicine. My mother is a surgeon. She wanted me to follow in her footsteps, I explain. My father convinced me to accept, but it’s not at all what I want to do.

- At least you already know what you don’t want, she says, crossing out the option with a small smile.

- You can also cross out engineering, I giggle.

- That’s true, she crosses it out. Do you want to do something related to art?

- There’s no option for that. It’s annoying because that’s what interests me the most.

- No, but we could find possibilities that are close to it, you see? You like literature too, right?

I smile and nod. What she said earlier was true. She listens and is interested in what I say because I had already told her about my love for literature.

- So, literature could be one of the three options, right?

- Yes, it could be, I nod again.

- Hmm, she smiles, putting a check next to it. We’re making progress. Don’t forget that the order is important too. If the first one is accepted, you won’t be able to fall back on the others.

- Yes, I understood.

She scratches her head with the back of my pen. She must be thinking as much as I am. I have already studied all my possibilities to be honest. I had come to the conclusion that it would be literature, but it would annoy me to fall back on this option knowing that it’s far from being related to drawing.

- I imagine we’re forgetting math specialty? she giggles.

- Are you mocking me? I pull an exaggerated face.

- Far from it, she mocks.

- Well… You’re not wrong anyway…

- That’s what I thought, she laughs. Well, let’s go back to art then. There are several possibilities. I imagine you prefer practicing?

- Well... Yeah. What else would you want me to do?

- Well, you could also run a gallery. That would be more about management in that case. Do you see what I mean?

- I never saw it from that angle... I admit.

- That aspect could be interesting for you if you plan to be self-employed in the long term. It’s never a bad idea to have a foundation in management.

I never saw my future that far ahead. To be honest, all I dream about right now is being able to make a living from my talent. However, Bronze has a very different vision from mine. She doesn’t only see the present moment, she sees the entirety of a professional career.

- It’s true that it’s a good idea... I never thought of that. Is there an option like that?

- Well, yes. But I doubt you’ll like it.

- What’s the option? I ask cautiously.

- Business management. It’s equivalent to an MBA in regular universities.

- Oh... Isn’t that difficult?

- It’s a mix of management, finance, and commerce. It requires a lot of logic and is very math-heavy, so it’s up to you.

I nervously bite my lip. This idea suddenly cools me down. I doubt I’d enjoy it. Bronze must have sensed it given the smile she gives me.

- I warned you that the idea might not please you.

- Indeed, I agree, sighing. Can I ask what you studied? Maybe it’ll give me an idea.

Bronze looks at me for a moment, as if deciding whether or not to tell me. I know she doesn’t like talking about herself and that my question is risky. However, nothing ventured, nothing gained.

- I was going for an athlete scholarship, but a knee injury at the end of the year prevented me from getting it. I was then offered to switch to a management program like an MBA in sports.

- What do you mean? I frown.

- It’s a special track that allows studying sports management instead of business management, she shrugs. Few schools offer it. I was lucky that the one I applied to as an athlete did. It was that or staying in Portugal with a lousy program and school.

-So… You have a good background in management, if I understand correctly?

- I suppose so, since I graduated, she replies with a smirk.

- No... Well, that's not what I meant... Is there a big difference compared to the program offered by the school? I’m being silly, you probably don’t know...

- I think I can help you study, if that's your question.

I nod slightly. I appreciate how quickly Bronze understands. Sometimes I wonder how she does it, because I'm far from being very explicit.

- It shouldn't be too bad then...

- As I said earlier, management is still a good foundation that will always be useful in life. However, I don't want to push you into it if you don’t like it. That's not the goal.

- No, but you're right. I can't pursue art here, so I might as well go for something that will be useful, right? At least I'll have a fallback option in any case.

- So, do you want to keep that option then?

- Yeah, in first position.

- Really? she raises an eyebrow. Wouldn’t you prefer to put literature first? It would be a bit more creative, even if it's not related to art.

- No. The goal isn’t to become a librarian or something. I'd rather put it as a second option.

- It's up to you. And for the last option then?

- I'm not too sure. I was thinking about foreign languages. I’m pretty good at them and I like breaking down international barriers. Do people usually get their last options?

- No, never in the final year, but it’s still good to have three options. It’s in the first year that class allocation is more challenging. Students are still figuring things out, like you right now, so there are always options that interest some more than others.

- How do they allocate students then?

- Well, based on grades. They take the best students to reward them. In the second year, some students switch options if the first one didn’t convince them. And since changes can only be made once, there’s hardly any class switching in the final year. So, the third option is rarely reached.

- I see. Well, it doesn't matter then. I could put languages, sports, or even engineering!

- I wouldn't do that if I were you, she laughs. You never know. Management and literature options might already be full.

- Do you think I have a chance in sports...? I ask hesitantly. Never mind, forget it, I say seeing her reaction. It's a ridiculous idea.

I lower my head, mortified with shame. Sometimes I should just keep my mouth shut. She already told me she wouldn’t take sports for me. I thought about it because I know half of my friends will choose that option. I felt my head being lifted by two fingers under my chin. Bronze smiles at me with such kindness in her expression.

- You have a serious lack of self-confidence, Ona. I think you have potential that you probably don't even notice. You don't even realize how you always push yourself to the limit when you get a bit of encouragement. You've never given up on my punishments, even though others would have certainly done so in your place.

- At the same time, you don't give me a choice...

- I might be nicer to you normally, but I’m stricter with my punishments.

I look at her with wide eyes at these revelations. I didn’t know it was the case. She clears her throat seeing the look on my face.

- Well, it was the case at the beginning. I stopped since you calmed down. Believe me, I've never seen someone with a mentality like yours. You weren't athletic, yet you accepted my punishments. By the way, I'd like to see you again during my morning runs.

I grimace at the thought. This girl is crazy. How can she keep running when it's freezing outside! I don’t know if she realizes that snow is about to fall soon. One thing she’s right about is that I have no self-confidence. My past experiences have a lot to do with it. She doesn’t realize that she’s the one helping me get better. She pushes me to do things I would never have accomplished before. It's only because I feel she believes in me. More than I do, more than anyone.

- It’s negotiable. It’s way too cold to run right now.

- Hmm, she smiles. You’re a wimp!

- You can’t use my pride against me!

- Yes, I can, she giggles. Alright, back to the options. I wouldn’t put sports. It doesn’t align with your plans and there’s no need to include it just to be with your friends for a semester.

I blush at her raised eyebrow. Damn, she got it all. She must know Alexia is taking that option.

- If you want to do sports, do it as a hobby. Like running, for example...

- I won’t change my mind, I chuckle. Well, you’re right. I’ll stick with languages then.

- Or you could put medicine, since it would be a continuation of your studies.

- No thanks. I spent my high school years studying something that doesn’t interest me. I don’t want to go through that again and especially not to please my mother.

- Alright, she nods.

What I appreciate about Bronze is that she never asks personal questions. Or very rarely. She’ll always let me come to her when I want to open up on my own. I sigh, massaging my temples. My brain is starting to overheat from thinking. I’m glad to see the end in sight.

- It’s only Tuesday. You still have two evenings to think about it calmly.

- I don’t need to think any more. It will be management, literature, and foreign language.

- Well, if you’re decided... You can also put history if you prefer.

- You’re silly, I chuckle. Is it from spending time with you?

- Definitely.

- Oh, I say, placing my hand on my heart. You break my heart, I add dramatically.

- Poor little thing, she laughs.

I pout with crossed arms. I try to keep the expression, but it’s difficult when Bronze is smiling so broadly. She then pinches my cheek to tease me.

- Oh, but look at the big baby pouting.

- Stop it, I giggle, wriggling my head to escape her grasp. I’m not a kid.

- Oh, but you are, she says bluntly. I’ll consider you differently when you prove it to me.

- I’ve already proven it to you!

- Hmm... No. Not enough.

- Tsss. It shouldn’t be someone barely older than me telling me that.

- How much are you willing to give me? she smiles.

Where’s the catch? I thought she was going to brush me off like earlier when I asked her age. Why is she playing along? Well, why not if it helps me get some information about her...

- Twenty-seven? I say randomly.

- Hmm... Interesting.

- Am I getting warm?

- You’ll never know, she laughs.

I roll my eyes. Missed it. Of course, she won’t tell me anything. And I’m the kid? I’m convinced she’s not more mature than I am if she lets loose outside the establishment. Unless she’s really uptight, but I doubt it. She really exudes a strong self-confidence.

- It’s not fair, I say, crossing my arms. By the way, when is your birthday?

- Why does it interest you?

- Well, it interests me! I’d like to be able to wish you a happy birthday like you did for me.

- You won’t be able to. You’ll already be back in Barcelona when I have another year.

- Who says I’m going back?

- It seems obvious. Aren’t those your intentions?

I think I’ve piqued her curiosity. I smile, thinking that I’m not the only one curious here.

- I don’t know. I’ve been asking myself a lot of questions lately.

- Why? You have your life over there.

- Yeah. My life with a lot of bad memories.

- Is it because you’re on bad terms with your family?

- Among other things... With what I’ve been through the last two years too.

I fall back into my memories. I still feel just as bad thinking about it. She places her hand on my shoulder to keep me from sinking into my thoughts. She gives me a smile that would reassure anyone.

- You’re not alone anymore. I’m here if you need it, just like Alexia and the others. I’ll never leave you, and if you ever need to confide, I’ll be all ears.

She puts a bit more pressure on my shoulder. I smile faintly. I just need a bit of support and she offers it willingly. I’m on the verge of speaking, but I can’t yet. It’s still too hard. Just thinking about it brings tears to my eyes. I try to control them to keep them from rolling down my cheeks. I know that if I ever feel the need to open up, it will be to her. I trust her. It won’t be Alexia or even Mapi, but Bronze. She’s the only one who has reached a level where she has influence in my life. I’m simply not ready yet. To avoid breaking down, I decide to change the subject entirely.

- I need to fill out the form.

She nods understandingly, removing her hand from my shoulder. I immediately miss her touch. It was reassuring. She pushes the form in front of me, placing my pen on it.

- Only fill it out if you’re sure.

I don’t hesitate at any moment when writing down my choices on the dotted lines. They can only be the right ones. Her advice has been valuable, and I know she’ll help me if I run into difficulties. I like all the options. Even the languages will be useful later if I work with foreigners. International communication is important. I just hope my first choice gets approved. Bronze and I exchange a smile when I put the pen down. I take a deep breath and slump back into the chair. I look at the sheet where the options are proudly written. I have no regrets. Now, we’ll have to wait for the results. I check my watch, which reads six o'clock. It took an hour for me to finally know what to do with my life. She really took her time with me. Three hours have passed since I sat in this chair.

- By the way, you didn’t answer about your birthday.

- October 28th.

I look at her in surprise, not expecting a real answer. She smiles with amusement.

- Alright, I’ll make a note of it.

- Well, I still have some work to do, she says, standing up.

- Thank you for your help.

- You don’t need to thank me, she smiles as she sits down across from me.

- Do you mind if I stay a bit longer to work?

- No. The door is always open, as you can see, she says, pointing to the door.

- Haha! I just want to review my math and then I’ll leave you alone.

- You have a lot of courage, she chuckles.

- Good grades are earned, and it saves me from doing it tonight.

- True. You’d better get a good grade after all this studying, or you’ll hear about it from me.

I nod with a smile. I hope so too. I could have met up with Alexia, but I don’t want to. I need to succeed in my test, and studying is the key to success. My smile doesn’t leave my face as I watch Bronze resume her work. I’m glad things are finally falling into place since yesterday.

[smallesthobbit]

The Hobbit & The Dwarf {P.II} || Thorin Oakenshield

Synopsis - The Company almost get eaten by Mountain Trolls.

Warnings - SFW.

Notes - Part One Here.

Word Count - 2k.

{Caffeinate Me}

It was early in the morning when you awoke. The dwarves were getting ready to leave and there was no sight of Bilbo, he was still fast asleep in his room, blissfully unaware of the carnage that was going on in his home. You had knocked on your brother’s door but hadn’t gauged a response, so, sighing you trudged to the dwarves. “He’s still asleep,” you mumbled, avoiding eye contact with them. “But he’ll join us when he wakes up.” 

“He will,” Gandalf reassured, placing a hand on your shoulder and squeezing slightly. 

The rest of the morning went by quickly as you got ready to leave for your adventure. Eventually you were riding on a pony next to Gandalf, out of Bag End and towards wherever your next destination was. You were talking to Dwalin, chatting about your life as a Hobbit and your life living with your brother when all of a sudden you heard a voice from behind. “Wait for me!” You turned your head to look over your shoulder and spotted Bilbo, running and shouting in the distance, waving a piece of paper above his head. “I signed it!” It being the quest contract that Thorin and Balin had proposed the night before declaring Bilbo would be the official burglar for the adventure. 

You all came to a halt on your ponies, turning to face the Hobbit who had finally caught up to the Company. “Bilbo!” Gandalf exclaimed. “I knew you would come.” 

“Well, when I realised you had taken my sister,” Bilbo started. “I had no choice but to come.” 

“Hey, she willingly came with us,” Fili piped up from near the front, patting his pony on the forehead. 

Bilbo frowned, his eyes wandering over to you in disappointment. “That’s besides the point. I had no choice, but I signed your document. I am now your official burglar.” Bilbo smiled widely as he handed Balin the fully signed document. 

“Aye, all appears to be in order,” Balin said as he looked over the document carefully. “Welcome aboard Master Baggins.” 

“We have one problem,” Gandalf mumbled, looking around at the Company. “We appear to be one pony short. Meaning Bilbo, or Y/N, will have to ride with someone.” 

“Oh no!” Bilbo exclaimed, his eyes wide as his hands fiddled inside his pockets. “I appear to have left without my pocket handkerchief! We’ll have to go back.” 

“You’ll have to do without a pocket handkerchief laddie,” a dwarf shouted from the front. “Amongst other things.” 

“Bilbo can have my pony,” you piped up, ignoring the pocket handkerchief debacle. “I’ll share with someone.” 

Gandalf nodded, a small smile of appreciation forming on his face. “Very well. You can ride with Thorin.” Your eyes widened slightly. You hadn’t engaged with Thorin at all since you had met him yesterday evening, so for Gandalf to suggest you ride with him instead of any of the other dwarves came as quite a shock to you. 

Gandalf climbed off his horse to help you off your pony before helping Bilbo up. You walked over to Thorin at the front of the Company who was gazing down at you, his eyes boring into your very soul. You cleared your throat and gave him an awkward smile. “Looks like I’m riding with you.”

“Aye,” was all Thorin said as Gandalf helped you onto his pony. 

The journey continued for hours, constantly moving at a steady pace throughout the forests and open world. Your hands remained by your side as you fought to stay on Thorin’s pony, when suddenly you hit a bump in the road. To stop yourself from falling off, your arms instinctively wrapped around Thorin’s waist tightly and a squeak left your lips. “Sorry!” You exclaimed. 

“It’s fine,” Thorin grumbled, trying to ignore the fact that his heart had skipped a beat at the feeling of your arms wrapped around him. Thorin looked around at the space you were at and nodded to himself. “We rest here tonight.” 

The other dwarves came to a halt on their ponies just before Thorin’s. Some were complaining that they were wet and hungry, while others were just excited to get some shut eye for the night. Thorin climbed off his pony and held his hand out to help you down. Hesitantly you took it and were pulled off the pony before you even had a chance to gather your thoughts at his larger hand in yours. Oin and Gloin were attempting to get a fire going, but the sticks and surrounding area were too wet from the rain for a spark to light. Then, some of the dwarves started arguing: they were all cold, wet and hungry – you couldn’t exactly blame them. “Wait, is that a light over there?” Kili asked, pointing to a warm glow in the distance. 

“It is!” Dwalin exclaimed, his eyes wide as he looked at the warm glow.��

“We should go over there,” Fili spoke up confidently. Some of the dwarves were for this idea, while some were against it. 

“It could be anything,” Bombur said as he furrowed his eyebrows. “It could be anyone.” 

“Better than being cold and hungry!” Nori replied, stepping foot in the direction of the glowing light. 

“Not so fast,” Thorin said, grabbing Nori by his collar and stopping him dead in his tracks. “We have a burglar with us. Master Baggins, care to find out what that glowing light is for us?” 

Bilbo’s eyes widened and he pointed at himself. “M-Me?” 

“Yes you,” Thorin said sternly. “Hoot twice like a barn-owl and once like a screech-owl if you find yourself in any trouble and we will do what we can.” And just like that, Thorin pushed Bilbo in the direction of the light. Your eyes widened as you watched your brother disappear into the forest – he had no idea how to hoot like an owl if he got into trouble! 

“We can’t let Bilbo go out there,” you said quickly, pointing in the direction he had scurried off in. “Where is Gandalf?” You asked, looking around to find that the wizard had all but disappeared. The dwarves looked around and also took notice that Gandalf had disappeared, some of them shrugged and some of them frowned. You shook your head, shaking the matter off before returning to the real matter at hand. “He’s going to get himself killed out there.” 

“You have little faith in your brother,” Thorin pointed out. 

You visibly frowned at his comment and shook your head. “It’s not that. We’ve lived a rather sheltered life, we don’t know how to screech like owls if we get into trouble!” Your voice came out in a hiss. 

“Maybe Y/N is right,” Balin spoke softly, interrupting Thorin’s train of thought. “Maybe we should go after Bilbo to make sure he’s okay.” 

Thorin clenched his jaw before rolling his eyes, sighing. “Fine.” He was beginning to regret bringing these Hobbits along on this quest. And so, the dwarves and yourself trekked off in the direction of Bilbo and the light hoping that your brother hadn’t found himself in any trouble. When you finally reached the light, you quickly came to realise that it was a fire and the wretched smell of flesh and cooked meat filled your nose. You scrunched up your nose and almost gagged. You would have gagged if it wasn’t for Thorin placing a hand on your shoulder and shaking his head, looking at you with a distasteful look. You nodded your head in acknowledgement before turning your attention back to the fire. It was then that you noticed three large figures hunched in the corner, trying to be out of sight while a sack lay on the floor near the fire with Bilbo’s head poking out. You knew these large figures to be mountain trolls and before you could warn the dwarves of their presence, they had all jumped out. One by one, they were all placed inside sacks and discarded to the side by the fire leaving you on your own in the bushes. You panicked as you watched the dwarves, and your brother, be inspected by the trolls as they muttered amongst themselves about the best way to cook them. With a shaky breath you stepped out of the bushes, the rustling of the leaves catching the attention of the trolls. 

“Now now now. What do we have ‘ere?” One of the trolls spoke, bending his head down to look at you. 

You felt your eyes widen and your body tense up under its gaze. Quickly, you lifted your hands up in a show of defeat and began talking. “You can’t cook them like that!” You said shakily, trying your best to sound as calm as possible.

“Oh? And why not?” Another troll spoke up. 

“Yeah, why not? We’re hungry!” The last one retorted, picking its nose. 

“I’m a good cook you know,” you said, looking at the dwarves. Their eyes showed confusion at what you were trying to do. 

“You can’t reason with them!” Dwalin shouted. “They’re halfwits!” 

“I’m just saying you can’t cook them like that,” you said. You were trying your best to think of a way out of this situation unscathed, that your adventure wouldn’t come to an end in the stomach of a mountain troll, when you saw a grey figure in the bushes… Gandalf. You let out a sigh of relief knowing that you were going to be okay when one of the trolls poked your shoulder with its large finger in an attempt to get you to continue talking. “I wouldn’t cook them at all, actually. Dwarves are known to have a rancid taste…” 

“You expect us to just let ‘em go?” The first troll spoke. 

“Well–” Bilbo started but the first troll turned to face him, flicking him harshly in the stomach and winding your brother.

“I think we’ll take our chances. We’re hungry and are sick of mutton!” The first troll exclaimed. 

“Yeah. Hungry we are!” 

Just as you were about to speak, to open your mouth and say something about mutton not being the worst thing in Middle-Earth to eat, Gandalf stood on a rock, his staff held high in the air as his voice boomed. “Dawn take you all, and be stone to you!” He slammed his staff down on the rock splitting it in half, the sunlight beaming through the cracks and turning the three mountain trolls to stone. You hadn’t even realised that it was almost daybreak, but you were thankful that luck was on your side… and that Gandalf had arrived when he did. 

You quickly ran to Bilbo’s side, helping him out of the sack before turning to help the dwarves. When you reached Thorin, he looked at you with eyes of confusion and yet said nothing. You helped him out of his sack and offered your hand to help him up but he simply ignored your kindhearted gesture and stood up on his own. “We almost died!” Kili exclaimed, resting against a tree and wiping some sweat from his brow. 

“Aye, we did.” 

“And if it wasn’t for Y/N’s quick thinking, you’d all be dead by now,” Gandalf explained, looking at Thorin and nodding slightly. “But where there are trolls, there must be a cave. Come, we must search for it.”  

You nodded your head and followed Gandalf, seemingly searching for the cave entrance. As you walked, the majority of the dwarves patted your shoulder and muttered a ‘thank you’ as they walked by; however, when Thorin walked by, he remained silent, his eyes fixed forward on the task at hand. Bilbo trodded up alongside you and smiled. “How did you know Gandalf was going to turn up?” He asked, his eyes scanning the cliffside for the entrance. 

“I didn’t,” you respond honestly, smiling awkwardly at your brother. “I’m just glad he did because… I didn’t have a plan to get you out of that.” 

You heard Thorin scoff at your comment, clearly listening in on your conversation and your eyebrows furrowed in response. You hadn’t the idea what his problem was: maybe it was just because you and Bilbo were Hobbits and not dwarves. Maybe one day, you’d find out.

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

BOY SCOUT CLARK SAYING FUCK TO BRUCE IS SENDING ME I LOVE THIS

(Also hi I’m still here lurking, just general life chaos keeping me offline rn)

I just like seeing Bruce squirm sometimes

Clark MIGHT have gotten his feelings hurt seeing his Ma so star-struck at the edge of the ice rink at the park but- even in jeans and a flannel, it was hard NOT to see the artistry at work.

And tried hard not to feel guilty. He'd egged his Ma on about it. And helped her cajole you into it. And now that there was a crowd. And pictures and videos being taken, he understood WHY you didn't skate in public. The whole damn town had turned out to watch. The local paper would be writing about it for days. Videos and little think pieces would be flying around on social media. Your every move would be scrutinized. And you didn't have an Alter Ego to hide behind until the heat died down if anything went wrong.

So now, instead of going around and looking at new curtains with his Ma, you'd have to spend a chunk of your day signing autographs and answering some (sometimes invasive) questions.

"Oh dear," Martha muttered, "Clark-"

"It's alright, Ma," Clark sighed. "She knew it was coming. She just didn't want to sound conceited about it."

"She should have," Martha huffed.

"This is partly why Bruce just built an ice rink," Clark snorted, watching you give a wave to the crowd and a stage bow before turning to mouth an apology.

"Lord give her strength," Martha sighed, "her come the gossips."

Clark refrained from asking which group with effort and instead watched you sign pictures and shirts for a group of little girls who were practically catatonic with joy. And then pointedly ignore a middle-aged man who had elbowed his way in front of a mousy little high school junior who wanted to do a little piece for the school paper and kindly answer her questions. He smiled a little. You knew what you were doing. And you knew how to work a crowd. Even without security and barricades. Though- in Smallville, no one was likely to trample you or anything. Just talk your ear off at the grocery store.

Still. It took a good while and Clark decided they'd better edge closer. Making their way nearer to you to try and help. Turns out, It didn't. But. At least he had the satisfaction of being close to you and keeping other men from trying to hit on you. And making sure you didn't get cold. You'd only planned to be out there long enough to let his Ma see you skate up close- not do a whole meet and greet and the wind was biting. Hot Chocolate would only go so far and he didn't like the thought of you not being taken care of. Or uncomfortable. It made him feel weird. Sick. Sad. It made him want to fix it. And if blocking he wind and keeping you close to him made that feeling go away, then so be it. Let the think pieces think about that.

[justanothersanjilover]

One Piece Modern Gym Au wip (Part 5)

They actually stared at each other for almost half an hour before something came to Sanji’s mind.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“I don't know, can you?”

Sanji felt the burning ache to roll his eyes, but that would mean losing the game, so he didn't. Instead, he narrowed his eyes to give Zoro an annoying look.

“There were two girls at the bar earlier…”

“I assure you I don't have their number, and even if I won't give it to you.” Zoro cuts in immediately.

“For fucks sake, can you not jump to that conclusion right away?!” Sanji sighed. “They talked about a girl who used to come here some years ago and then stopped only to come back now.”

This time, Zoro narrowed his eye, but Sanji didn't put much of a thought into it.

“Yeah?”

“So…I never saw a new girl come in these past days, and I wondered who it was.”

“Don't know; ask them if you want to know. I wasn't here for the past three years, too.” Zoro shrugged his shoulders but never looked away.

Sanji licked his lips while thinking about what else the girls had said.

“Oh, one of them talked about that this girl had her breasts removed - chopped off was what she said, but I don't think that's appropriate to say. You never know why she did that, could be a medical condition…Also, it sounded like she wanted to look more buff. At least that what they said and that she should have get steroids instead, because the effect is the same, and…”

Sanji stopped talking as he realized the shift in Zoro’s gaze. Next thing was Zoro turning on his heals and walked out the front door without a word, leaving behind a very confused Sanji. Did he say something wrong? Did Zoro know the girl? What had just happened?

The next day came and went without Zoro showing up…a strange fact considering he practically lived in the Gym after his return - he was the first to come in and the last to go. But no one thought about it too much. After the following day went by without a sign of him, Sanji felt worry nagging its way into his mind. Nami seemed unbothered, and so he ignored it.

After the fifth day without Zoro showing his mosshead in the gym, Sanji had to ask Nami if she knew something about him. Was it normal for Zoro to show up every day for five to six hours, training, casually hanging out, and making his work life some kind of a mix of heaven and hell - and then disappearing from one day to the other? Or maybe it had something to do with the question about that girl…

“Maybe it's my fault…” Sanji said, looking down at his feet.

“How should this be your fault?” Nami wanted to know.

“Remember the evening you and Vivi left us behind because we had this little staring fight?”

Nami nodded, now looking up from her paperwork.

“I asked him about a girl I heard someone talk about.”

And funny enough, Nami had the same reaction as Zoro as she heard that.

“What girl?”

Sanji described the whole conversation he overheard and that he just wanted to know if Zoro knew that girl. Also, he was sure now that he knew her and maybe wanted to avoid her because of reasons he couldn't think of.

“Now it all makes sense,” Nami mumbled and shook her head.

She let Sanji describe both girls and said if he saw them, he should send them to her because she needed to tell them something.

“And what about Zoro?” Sanji asked quietly - to be honest, he was worried to the point he thought about him every day.

“He surely just crashed at Luffy’s house. If you want, I can give you his address, and you can check?”

“Would that be okay? I mean, I’m a stranger. Wouldn't your friend be upset if you handed out his address?”

Nami laughed while scribbling something down on a piece of paper.

“Na, he doesn't mind, believe me. Actually, I think he’ll be quite happy to have a new victim for his rambling. He collects people like others collect post stamps,” she paused and grinned as she saw Sanji’s somehow irritated and scared face. “That sounded creepy…It’s totally not, believe me. He just likes to make friends.”

And so Sanji left after his shift to check out if Zoro was at that Luffy’s place or not.

prev | next

First part

[batterygarden]

pussy magnet denji x f!reader

m.list

Notes: Denji an oblivious pussy magnet? Unknowingly attracting a steady stream of hoes that he doesn’t even bag half the time out of pure ignorance? It’s more likely than you think…

cw: SFW but no minors on my page pls, college setting, weed smoking, period mention and blood, kinda ooc & silly but it is fluff, about 1.7k words

Thank u greatly for ur help w this @akicore

It seems like you and you alone notice the sheer number of girls Denji Hayakawa hangs out with. The sheer number to flirt with him and touch him and silently beg him to touch them back. You’ve watched women practically drop their panties after a one minute conversation with the guy, which makes you wonder—what is his deal? Why him?

When asked about him, it’s always oh Denji’s that guy I have a class with or I saw him at a party last weekend, he’s kinda funny. A little odd. That’s all you ever hear people say. And yet, everytime you look, Denji seems to be steadily pulling. It’s like it’s some kinda taboo for girls to admit their crushes on him for some reason, so you don’t get where they stem from—yeah he’s got a pretty face, but that can’t be all.

You started making these observations at a house party last weekend, when you pushed into one of the bedrooms—you found it sparsely inhabited by stoners, passing around a few lit joints. Denji was sitting on the bed, stuffing bud into a grinder and talking to some tall guy with a ponytail. Curled around his arm while he worked was some girl you didn’t recognize with a pretty face, her eyes were closed but you noticed she occasionally giggled at things Denji said in conversation. Another girl laid with her head on his lap, scrolling through something on her phone. Everyone’s casual touching seemed normal, nothing to write home about, but you kept watching Denji the rest of the night.

Later you saw something interesting—some short-haired girl crawled up to him while he was sitting on the floor, making a home for herself right between his outstretched legs. He furrowed his brows but let her, rubbing her back a bit after she said something. When you moved closer you could see that she was crying. You tried not to be too nosy, giving space instead of listening closer like you wanted to, but you did see her again right before you went home that night.

She was hooked around Denji’s arm and whispering in his ear—you’d have to be blind not to see she was flirting with him. But then Denji gracefully maneuvered out of her grasp, flashing a cute smile and holding up a peace sign before heading out the door with the ponytail guy—the girl looked devastated. You even heard her go up to her friend, saying “I kept dropping so many hints but he never kissed me!”

Maybe you had a false perception of the guy, but you thought he was a perv. And that girl was pretty! She was pretty and clearly into him. You couldn’t believe Denji didn’t try to take her home.

You start having some breakthroughs about Denji’s appeal the next time you attend your morning class—the only class you share with Denji. He walks in right on time, the professor has already started talking, and just your luck! The only seat left open is the one next to you. He shuffles in and plops into the chair, pushing his unruly hair out of his eyes, and you get a good look at him up close. His eye bags make it look like he hasn’t slept a proper 8 hour night in years and his lips look a little chapped, but you can’t help but note that he really is quite handsome. He looks grungy in a hot way. You try not to stare at him as your professor drones on.

After about ten minutes of talking, she reminds the class that you all need to have a study guide for the final, calling attention to a pile of papers on her desk for anyone who hasn’t gotten one yet. So you start to get up, but then you feel cool air and wetness on the bottom of your dress, gasping when you look down and see that blood has soaked through your underwear and started pooling into the seat of your chair.

Denji jolts up, clearly your gasp has interrupted his process of falling asleep during lecture. He sees the bloody mess on your chair before you can hide it—thankfully, he seems to be the only one to notice. You sit back down quickly, feeling your cheeks burn up while Denji drags air through his teeth—he seems sympathetic. You try avoiding his gaze, but then a giant sweatshirt is thrown over your shoulder, and you peek to see Denji adjusting his newly-exposed, wrinkled button up.

“Wh- is this for me?” you whisper.

“Yeah. I thought you’d wanna borrow it maybe.”

He isn’t looking at you while he talks, which feels considerate, like he’s conscious that you might be embarrassed.

Your cheeks burn even hotter as you slide it on, breathing in his scent–it smells like equal parts laundry detergent and weed.

The professor makes a final call for people who haven’t gotten the study guide yet to come grab one, and you weigh the pros and cons of leaving your stained chair to get it or just trying to make do without, but then Denji is rising from his seat and grabbing it for you, giving you an awkward grin when he slides the paper over.

He doesn’t say anything or really pay you any mind for the rest of class, until people start leaving and you start taking off his sweatshirt. Then he frowns.

“Wait, you can keep it on! I was thinking you’d wanna wear it till you could get a change of clothes or something.”

“No way, are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Denji slings his bag over his shoulder, “I do want it back some time though, that hoodie’s my ol’ reliable. I’ll see y’round!”

With that, he leaves the room, which you appreciate so you can wipe off your chair in privacy. Damn. You keep replaying the whole interaction in your head–how he was so nonchalant about helping you…just his whole attitude was… cool. Fuck. You think you have a crush.

The next time you see him you return the sweatshirt (which you’ve washed) and he effortlessly segues the conversation from thanking you to talking about class to inviting you to a “small” kickback his friends are hosting next friday. Of course you accept the invitation. Even discounting his looks, Denji’s charisma alone was impossible to say no to.

When next Friday rolls around, you find yourself high as hell–holding the wall when you walk as you stumble through some stranger’s house. You find a room with a lot of voices inside, and you push open the door to find air so thick and smoky, you’re certain a sober person would get stoned just walking past. The entire space feels like one big hot box, except it’s crowded–there’s so many people crammed inside this bedroom that you’re not sure where you’d even fit. You’re about to turn and leave when you hear your name called—Denji spotted you from the desk chair he’s sitting in by the wall—he’s sharing it with some girl who’s perched on the arm rest. He motions for you to come over with a huge smile.

You have to step around people, mumbling sorry’s and excuse me’s while your already cloudy brain tries to compose itself in all this haze.

“It’s packed in here, Denji, I feel like there’s no room for me,” you say once you reach him.

“What’re you talking about, there’s room right here.” He pats his leg.

You bite the inside of your cheek and look down at his legs–he’s got on some black sweatpants and patterned socks with little hearts on them, they look like they were borrowed from a girl. He rubs his thighs like he’s warming them up for you, pursing his lips while he waits for you to sit.

“Won’t bite, I swear.”

So you turn and sit on his knees while he’s giggling at how careful you are, quickly wrapping his arms around you and scooting you back further into him.

The pink-haired girl on the arm rest blows smoke into his face, looking at you.

“He’s lying about biting you–it’ll happen when you least expect it.”

You can’t see him stick out his tongue at her in response, but you watch as he reaches up to flick her forehead. You feel him shake with laughter at her annoyed reaction.

Then he’s reaching around your waist and hooking his head over your shoulder while he grabs a rolling tray, the same one you saw him using at the last party.

“Don’t listen to her, look, I’ll even share my weed.”

You wake up the next morning under the heavy weight of Denji’s arm; he’s spooning you. You turn your head to see that some other pretty girl is also spooning him. Somehow you're not jealous, just happy to be in his arms and happy he’s nice and cozy between you both.

God you have a crush on him, but you’re starting to realize you’d even take just being friends! You want to be around him more no matter what, you think, just to soak up his energy. You’re no better than every other girl in his orbit.

Once you shift a little, Denji and the girl spooning him wake up, and they both smile at you. Their smiles feel warm. Then he has to get up because one of the women hosting the party offered to give him a ride back to his apartment, and she says she’s ready to go. But he’s dragging you up with him, offering you a ride, too, on her behalf.

“C’mon you live by me right? This’ll save you from spending your entire life savings on an uber out here.”

Then he’s swinging your hands between you while this woman leads you to her car. Denji has this air about him that tricks you into thinking you’ve known him your whole life—it’s crazy comforting, so you grip his hand tighter when you slide into the backseat, ensuring he doesn’t let go for the ride. You even feel comfortable enough to ask him if you can just be dropped off at his place–only because it’d be easier for the driver of course! Denji’s eyebrows shoot up, he seems like he’s having a lightbulb moment, and his thumb starts rubbing softly over the back of your hand while he responds—his cheeks flooding with color. “Yeah! Totally, you should just come over, that sounds like a good plan.”

this is truly my dream and hc for him when he’s in college I want this man to have endless hoes idc.. I may make a smutty p2 some day we shall see! Thanks for reading 💘