charade-you-are

Ten Years (Part 8)

Summary: AU. When a major account is on the line at work, reader is forced to revisit some old connections at her ten year high school reunion for a chance at success. Will she let the past consume her, or will she see the future in her grasp?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 3,475 (minus the flashback) (yes I need to stop)

Warnings: language, sarcasm, fluff, mentions of past cheating, drinking, potentially anxious situations, confrontation, crying (every chapter has the same warnings because I’m melodramatic)

A/N: Tags are closed. I rewrote this whole damn thing again, and I’m an angsty bag of trash today, so it’s completely reflected here. I kept asking myself out loud, “Why are you like this?”

Part: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 -

Originally posted by sebjpeg

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anonymous asked:

prompt: future married sanvers run into maggie's parents while walking down the street

“I know you want to live close to work, but there’s no way you’re going to find a house with a yard in that neighborhood,” Maggie swung hers and Alex’s intertwined hands together.

Alex took a sip of her coffee and passed it to Maggie who took a sip as well. “I know, but…I just want something with some green space you know?”

“We could find an apartment across the street from a park.” Maggie offered. She finished off the coffee and tossed the empty cup into a nearby trash bin. “And there is always that open unit in Kara’s building. It’s two bedrooms so we can have that home office we’ll fight over.”

“Are you sure you want to live in Kara’s building?” Alex opened the door of the small diner, holding it for Maggie.

Maggie let go of her hand and walked in past her. “I’m sure. She’s over all the time anyway and she’s my sister-in-law now.” Maggie dropped a kiss on Alex’s cheek as she walked past. “Plus, I need a charades partner now that you have taken Winn as yours.”

“You’re good at a lot of things, babe,” Alex smiled, walking in after Maggie. “Charades is not one of them.”

“Sawyer, party of two,” the hostess spoke before they could even get to her.

“Wow you called ahead,” Alex put her hand on Maggie’s back. “You used her maiden name, but you still called ahead.”

“I didn’t call ahead,” Maggie looked to the metal chairs sitting against the window that served as the waiting area. Even as she did, her heart pounded in her ears. Getting up from the chairs were the two last people she every wanted to see, especially on her honeymoon.

“Maggie?”

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BTS REACTION TO YOU BEING AN ANIME FAN

JIN:

Seeing as he’s anime nerd himself he’d be totally be fine with it. you two would probably have long discussions about the plot and what you think is most likely to happen. Dates would most likely include binge watching anime series and LOtS OF FOoOoD!(and puns)

Originally posted by bwiseoks

SUGA:

suga wouldn’t really care whether you liked anime or not but I feel he a lowkey fan so he definitely wouldn’t be like ‘ oH nO plES geT mE ouT oF hERe’. He totally wouldn’t pass up the chance to use your pAsSiOn for aNimE as excuse for a cosy date.

Originally posted by minsecretsoul

JHOPE:

jhope would probably imitate anime characters on daily basis for you. i totally see him wanting to playing anime charades with you. watching anime with jhope would always be lively even if the anime you were watching was dull. Jhope is the type to scream and not be able to sit still when an episode gets intense but hey at least you have someone who’ll cry w/ you when it hits you in the feels. He’d probably be good predicting what happens, to the point where you get slightly frustrated.

“ Stop sPoiLiNG it fOR mE”         

“it’s not SpOiLinG if i haven’t WatChEd it”

Originally posted by myloveseokjin

NAMJOON:

Namjoon, like the others wouldn’t mind. He would totally watch anime with you. Namjoon would probably gravitate towards more supernatural/thriller animes. Puzzling storylines and complicated characters would be right up his street!

Originally posted by rapfluff

JIMIN:

Like all the members. HE. WOULDN’T.MIND. He would just simply enjoy watching you watch anime

Originally posted by okayoongz

TAEHYUNG:

ANIME NERD ALERT¡  He would totally love the fact that both of you share the same passion for anime. Seeing as he has said he likes to end his day with an episode or two, therefore this bunny would be v happy (probs. would be more episodes but their schedule is so tightT.T).

Originally posted by jeonthegreat


JUNGKOOK: 

Anime marathons E.V.E.R.Y.D.A.Y and not to mention a whole load of character impersonations (Probs. has sailor moon cosplay outfits overfilling his closet)… This kiddo loves anime and would be over the moon to know you do too. 

Originally posted by spicydim


DISCLAIMER: THESE ARE MY OPINIONS. IN NO WAY AM I SAYING ANY OF THEM WILL REACT LIKE THIS. I DONT KNOW THEM PERSONALLY(T.T time for me to swim to korea)

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It’s a Buck Girl Thing (4/?)

Based loosely on ‘It’s a Boy Girl Thing’ (2006)


Summary: You (female reader) pine after Steve Rogers whilst Bucky is being a little shit. One night after an argument on the rooftop you wake up in each other’s bodies.


Pairing: Steve x Reader


Word count: 3.3k


Need to catch up? Here’s PART 3 or IBGT MASTERLIST


Warnings: Okay… So it starts of with SMUT - I know it’s weird to imagine yourself in Bucky’s body but I can’t see a way round it - there had to be a hand job. There’s also sexual content and swearing.


A/N: Well, riding on a wave of inspiration that hit me like a train yesterday here’s another big chapter from me. I hope this fic is still making you smile and want more?

Originally posted by buckypupbarnes


After yet another awkward interaction with Steve, a cold shower sounded like a good option. You needed to calm down quickly, otherwise he’s only going to suspect something more serious is going on. And who knows how long you’d be able to keep up the pretences?



Physically - the cold shower seemed to help, but mentally - you still couldn’t shake off the constant dirty thoughts about Steve. Not sure how long this charade would continue, you needed to find a better way of managing your constant arousal. Maybe Bucky was right and you needed some release?

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Invisible, Chapter One

Summary: Cursed as a child, you have lived your entire life invisible and alone. When deaths start happening in your town, the Winchesters come rolling in to investigate. What will happen when Dean is the first one who has been able to see you since you were a kid? Will Sam believe that you’re real? Will Dean believe you when you tell him you haven’t killed anyone? And why, after all of this time, is Dean Winchester the only one who can see you?

Invisible Masterlist - Previous Chapter

A/N: No Dean&Sam in the series yet.  No warnings.  I hope you enjoy! :)

word count: ~1140

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Me Against You

PART 1, PART 2 

A/N: I turned 18 today, on the 10th of April, and as a birthday treat, here’s an extra long chapter!! I wanted a date with Tom Holland for my birthday present, but needless to say, I did not get what I wanted. Someone please tell me that he’d love me as much as I loved him if we ever met in this lifetime. 

Warning: Angst, mentions of torture.


Everything happens quickly.

One moment you’re staring up at a wide expanse of blue sky, watching the jet disappear; the next, you’re surrounded by a group of soldiers rushing onto the scene in combat fatigues, pointing their guns at you.

Realization sends you backpedalling, but you run into something solid. You turn, already swinging, and nail one in the chin. He stumbles to the side and would have given you a clear shot to your friends, but three other soldiers take his place.

Before you realize what’s happening, a metal collar is snapped around your neck, sharp electrical pulses shooting through you. Suddenly, you can’t move, can barely breathe. Panic fills you, joining the adrenaline rushing through your veins, and your body isn’t sure how to react. Keep fighting, or shut down.

“W-What are they doing?” You hear Peter ask. You can’t see him, but he sounds scared. Panicked. “That’s a collar. Mr Stark, you said they were only going to talk to her!”

Stop it,” Agent Barton snaps. “That’s a child, not an animal, get that thing off!”

Keep fighting. Definitely keep fighting. The idea of sending your SAT scores to Attica instead of Cambridge is not appealing. You unleash it all with a scream. A plane explodes in a ball of fire, shaking the ground beneath your feet. Screams of terror fill your ears. The shock wave hits everyone within a hundred foot radius, knocking them backwards. You hit the ground hard, and a wave of pain sweeps over you.

“Run!” You try to shout, but only gurgles escape.

And then that familiar voice says your name, taut with pain.

(Y/n).”

It’s him.

“(Y/n),” Peter tries again.

You slowly lift your head up to stare at him.

He’d known what would happen. He’d done this. He’d betrayed you.

Peter’s scrambled to his feet now, hands outstretched, almost as if he wants to touch you, but can’t quite bring himself to.

With a feral scream, you launch yourself at him. You and Peter slam onto the ground, hard. Volts of electricity shoot through you, sharp and hot and carnivorous. You open your mouth to scream. Peter takes the opportunity to shove you off of him, shooting webs to pin your hands and feet to the ground.

(Y/n),” Peter manages. He sounds closes to tears now, his tone as tormented as his expression. “(Y/n), please, I’m your friend.”

You stare at him, your eye wild and feral-looking, your breath coming quicker and quicker from your parted lips. The pain is crashing over you in waves, the shocks making your muscles twitch and seize painfully, but you manage to raise your head, glaring at Peter with such soul-deep hatred that the blood turns to ice in his veins.

“We were never friends!” Your screams come one after another, scraping along your raw throat without pause. “I have always HATED you!”

For the third time that day, Peter recoils. He goes incredibly still, so still that you notice how his hands are trembling. He’s wearing a mask, but you know that his face is contorted in misery. There’s a quiet whoosh of air, followed by the sharp stab of pain in your arm. You can only stare at the small darts in your shoulder before blackness pulls you under.


“– How is she?” A male is saying. You recognize his voice. It makes you angry. Angry enough to force you out of your deep sleep, the only thing protecting you from feeling the pain in your body.

You blink, looking through eyes glassy from the strain they’ve endured. Tony Stark peers in through the glass window, looking at you as though you are a particularly interesting specimen under a microscope. Dark half-moons ring his eyes, and his arm is in a sling. You can’t find it in you to feel sympathetic for his injuries.

The anger magnifies, giving you strength. Strapped to the cot with metal shackles, you fight for freedom. Snarling like the very animal you might be becoming, you twist and buck, half-crazed eyes staring at him, wishing that you could do so much more than try to kill him with your eyes. All you receive for your trouble is another jolt of electricity. The bed shakes with the force of your shudders, the pain acute, gut-wrenching and soul-zapping. They’re going to kill you. How could they not? After a while, even your skin begins to vibrate and it doesn’t stop when the electricity does. Your bones feel brittle, as if they’re going to break at any second. Your lungs have to be filled with glass rather than air. Every breath is agony.

Tony Stark only looks at you again once your screams have stopped. His head droops. With shame? “The Spiderling wants to see you. You hurt him pretty bad.”

Good,” You snarl, surprised at the sound of your voice. You’ve shouted, but only a whisper can be heard. “Tell him I hate him and that I lied.”

Tony Stark closes his eyes, releasing a heavy breath. “He was doing the right thing.”

You raise your head to stare at him, eyes narrowed to angry slits. “No. He was doing what you asked him to.”

Tony Stark’s mouth opens and closes, and you know he’s searching for a response. When he finds none, he turned on his heel and marches out of the room.

“Good riddance,” Clint mutters.

Scott’s the first to recover, a curious edge to his voice. “What exactly did you lie about?”

You let your head droop back onto the pillow. “Having a good time,” You dead-pan, your eyes flickering up to the ceiling. “We went out a lot.”

Scott’s the first to snort in amusement. Slowly, the others join in, Clint and Sam snickering right along with him. It’s even enough to rouse a weak and rusty-sounding laugh out of Wanda, who’s been silent for the whole week that you’ve been stuck here.

It feels good to laugh. Even for only a moment.


You wake with wet cheeks, and a warm, calloused hand tapping at your face. You hope this doesn’t mean that the doctors are back to draw more of your blood; but the doctors at the Raft would never be that gentle with you.

(Y/n)? (Y/n), can you hear me?” The voice is pained, and you think you hear a muttered curse of, “Damn it, Tony.”

The pain is a constant throb in your head and limbs, you shouldn’t move; it will only make everything worse. Wincing, you crane your head up to see who has called your name. Blinking several times, you focus as hard as you can on the only face you can see. It is contorted with anger. His eyes are the palest blue you’ve ever seen, and remind you of clear summer skies and languorous lagoons. He’s not in the red and blue uniform, but in a plain grey hoodie, a white shirt and a pair of jeans. But you would recognize that face anywhere.

“Captain,” You croak weakly. “How was Russia?”

“Cold,” He answers wryly. “I prefer a warmer climate.”

He kneels, you hear the tinkle of metal being ripped apart, and your hands and legs are free. It’s difficult to move; fatigue has added weight to each of your limbs and your eyelids feel as if they’ve been replaced with sandpaper. Captain America helps you sit up, draping his hoodie over your shoulders.

“The collar now. Okay?” He offers you a calm and steady smile, his eyes warm and kind. “One, two –”

Quick as a flash, he grasps at the collar around your neck. Your fingers dig into your palms, gouging crescent shaped marks into soft flesh. Bracing yourself for an electric shock, you nod tersely, and he breaks it apart with his bare hands. You exhale in relief, smiling faintly and wanly at him.

“We’re getting out of here, (Y/n),” Captain America says, smoothing back soaked and matted hair away from your forehead. “Everyone’s waiting in the jet.”

You’re unable to support your own weight; he has to half-carry, half-drag you for several paces at your insistence that you can walk. When what little strength you have drains out of you, you crumple into a heap on the floor. He gives up the charade of allowing you to walk on your own and unceremoniously lifts you up off the floor and into his arms, as if you weigh nothing more than a feather. Your head lolls against his chest as he carries you out of your cell. An alarm erupts, screeching through the empty room.

“I was mean to him,” You confess groggily, your voice strained. “Very, very mean.”

Him. That kid with the webs?” Captain America bends down, and rips a badge off the neck of an unconscious guard. “The one from Queens?”

“He’s called Peter Parker,” You confirm, tears springing into your eyes. “He’s got the warmest brown eyes, and the nicest brown hair. He’s funny, he’s smart, he’s nice. He always got picked on by Flash Thompson, but Peter never let Flash bully me. He’s – well, was – my best friend.”

“I’m sorry,” Captain America apologises, the pain naked in his voice. “I shouldn’t have gotten you involved in this. Tony shouldn’t have –”

You close your eyes on a pained sigh. “Tony Stark is responsible for many things. But he didn’t make me shove Peter out a window, or into a concrete wall. I did those. Me. I’m a horrible person.”

Captain America uses the badge to open the door to the hallway. The two of you enter a long, narrow, passage that you’re relieved to find is empty. Maybe he’s disabled all the guards already. You can only hope. You’re tired of fighting, of having to use your powers. All you want to do is curl up in a ball and fall asleep.

“Believe me, I’ve seen a lot of horrible people. You’re not one of them.”

It doesn’t make you feel any better. You close your eyes against the pounding in your head. “I said I hated him. I hurt him, really bad. Peter hates me now.” And I don’t blame him.

Down the hall. Around a corner. Another hall, another corner. In the stairwell, your breathing and footsteps echo off the walls. But these are the only sounds. No one is following the two of you. Others will be here soon, though. You’re certain the alarm’s already been reported to Ross, wherever that monster is.

A pained groan slips past your lips as Captain America carries you up, up the steps. As fatigued as you are, as undernourished, as wounded, your trembling seems to magnify with every new inch of ground the two of you gain. He opens the door to the landing pad, and you see the jet you’d helped to hijack sitting right in the middle of it.

It’s dark outside. Frigid air envelopes you, worse because you’re in thin prison clothes, with only a hoodie draped over your skinny frame. The cold sea breeze whips hair around your face, and, you think, slices at your skin. You huddle closer to Captain America, exhaustion glazing your moon-soaked features.

“Hold on,” Captain America says pleadingly, and you hear the worry in his voice as he practically sprints for the jet. “There’s a first aid kit in the jet. You’re going to be fine.”

Sam yanks the door closed as soon as the two of you are on the jet, strapped in and ready to go. Without a hitch, you’re shooting across the dark sky. Bucky turns, sympathy written in his eyes. He’s been through some horrible things, too. Wanda is curled up by Clint’s side, her face gaunt and her eyes closed. Scott’s already asleep, snoring like a jackhammer in the seat by the window.

“What if he hates me?” A sob escapes you, a testament to the still-fraying rope holding back your emotions. It won’t last much longer now. “Peter hates me, I hate me, I’m –”

(Y/n), do you want to know what I think?” Captain America asks kindly, kneeling down to look into your red-rimmed eyes, brimming with tears. He clasps your hands in his. It feels as though you’re holding the full blazing sun in your small palms, his so hot and yours so cold. “I have heard nothing but positives about Peter Parker. If this guy is as good a person as you seem to think he is, then I’m willing to bet he’ll forgive you when you apologize.”

Your chin trembles, a fresh round of tears threatening to fall. You lean forwards, pressing your face into his shoulder, and there is a sudden, hollow silence.

Peter Pan Imagine\I haven’t done it yet

You soon realize Peter hasn’t done “it” yet…

Warnings: Smut,cursing,virginity

You lay down with Peter just like every other night, it was date night so the lost boys were put to bed and it was just you and him.

You two were laughing the night away, telling jokes and stories, same old stuff but it never got boring with him.

“That joke was not funny.” he said 

“Shut up it totally was!” pushing him and he laughs

You loved his laugh, it brought you happiness, and made you feel warm inside

You kiss him and he kisses you back

“What was that for?” he asked

“Just because.” you said  as you smiled

“Well why thank you love.” he said

“Can we play a game?” you asked

“Like what?” he said a little taken back

“Like charades!” you almost yelled

“Charades?” he cocked a brow, smiling

“Please Peter…” you begged

“Fine fine, but you’re going first” he said

You guys played for about 30 minutes

“I feel like I’m dating a little girl.” he said

You pouted at that “Hey!”

“Oh I’m joking love.” he smiles

“Well it wasn’t funny.”  you folded your arms

“Hey hey hey, cm’ere, “ he said heavily.

Which made you giggle and feel warm inside

He grabbed you and put you on the bed with him and gave you a kiss, with that you kissed him back.

“Okay okay , let’s continue this horrid game.” Peter joked

“Actually Peter, I was kinda wondering..” you mumbled the rest

“We what? Did you want to do something else?” he asked

‘“Maybe like you know, it”  you looked down

“Oh!” Peter made an o shape with his mouth “Listen love maybe we should get some rest now , it’s getting late.” 

“Why do you always do this?” You ask , a little irritated 

“Well…”

“Well what Peter?” you say

“It’s just that…” he starts to mumble as well

“Am I not pretty enough?” you start to doubt yourself

“NO! “ He almost shouts, “It’s not you, it’s never you love, it’s me.”

“Well what about you Peter?”

“I’m a virgin! There I said it!” he shouts

Your eyes are blank, you had no idea, the Peter Pan, was a virgin, you couldn’t believe it.

‘“I must sound like a complete loser.” he puts his head down

“Peter no.. it’s cute really.” you smiled

“It’s cute?” he said as his face expression turns into disgust

“Why haven’t you old me ?” you asked

“Because it was never a big deal love, we never had to talk about it, until now.” he said

“So what have you done?” you asked

“I just kissed love, kissed, held hands, that’s it.” he looks at you.

“Could we maybe ?” you ask

“What “it” tonight? Love I don’t know…”  he scratches his head

“Peter..” you start to whine

“Love it’s quite intimidating knowing you have and I haven’t” he confessed

“I understand.” you hold his hands and smile

“I mean I really like you Y/n,like a lot.” he holds your hand even tighter

“I like you too Peter, this is why I want to do … it.” you shrug.

Peter looks at you and smiles, you were so damn beautiful to him, your hair was messy, in a bun, you were wearing one of his shirts and your booty shorts. Sure he wanted you, and he could have you, and if you were willing to give it to him,he was done denying it, after all Peter Pan never fails.

“I mean, I guess we could…” he cocks a brow

“Really?” you smile

“Y-yeah.” he said a little intimidated

“Are you sure?” you asked

“I am love.” he looked you in your eyes, and you knew he was being hones, he was ready, and you were too.

You go to the door and lock it.

“Lights on or off?” you asked

“On ?” he questioned

“We’ll dim them.” you giggle

You get on top of him and start to kiss his neck

“Y/n you’ve been the best thing, in my life.” he said

You head shot up and looked at him, “Really?” 

“Yes love. Really.”

You kiss him and he tenses up, you could feel his arms and his muscles , you rest your hands on his arms, signaling it was okay, he looks at you with a smile, and a nod.

You kiss his neck and start to pull up his shirt, you take it off and oh my fuck.

He body was gorgeous, it just as you would imagine, he had abs and his stomach was so soft, you ran your fingers up and down, taking it all in, what a sight to see.

You kiss more down to his stomach and you saw his partner get hard, you smiled at that, as you start to un buckle his belt he started to tense up.

“Do you want to stop?” you asked

“No love I’m fine.” he took a deep breath

“Tell me if you want me to stop.” you say

He nods, he never told you, but he loved that you were in charge, sure he was king of Neverland, but the fact that you were doing everything, turned him on.

After his pants were off you quickly took off yours, and he looked at you in disbelief.

“No fucking way are you that perfect.” he says

“You giggle and start to straddle him.

You’re kissing him hardcore now, make out session.

You running your fingers through his hair, and Peter starts to rub his hands all over your body, and his partner starts to poke your stomach, you look at it, and you looked at him

“What?” he said in a tired sexy voice

“I just hope you want me as much as I want you.” you looked down

“Hey.” he lifted your chin up with his finger “I’ve always wanted you, from day one, that’s why I made you my one and only lost girl, no one, and I mean no one can take that title away from you, do you understand?” he looked deep into your eyes.

You nod, “ Yes Peter.” with a smile

With that you push him down so that he is laying on the bed, you star to kiss and suck his neck, getting moans out of him, which made you happy.

“Y/n…” he would moan your name, wanting you second by second

You grab his dick and let it slide into you

Peter moth opened wide and you never heard him moan so loud in your life, it was so fucking sexy.

You start to grind on his slowly so that he can adjust himself if he needs to, you see his face, it’in complete pleasure, the way he bites his lips, the way he is grabbing your hips, it’s all such a turn on.

You start to bonce up and down,on him, he starts to bite his finger

“Fuck Y/n..” he would say, making you feel confident

He would rub his hands all over your body, rub your tits and play with your nipples making them  hard, he sucked on them as well, getting moans out of you. He would grab your ass and smack it,getting yells and screams, it brought him pleasure.

“My turn.” he said as he flipped you over and started to pound you, fuck he was good for his first time, but what do you expect from Peter Pan?

You dug your nails into his arms, making him feel like he was doing right.

Peter sucked on your neck , leaving hickeys and what not, marking his territory.

“Peter I’m close.” you moan

“I am too, what do I do?” he asked

“You cum!” you yell

“In you?” he asked as he’s still pounding you

“Yes Peter FUCK!” you yell as you cum

He quickly goes faster but gets sloppier and then comes in you.

His hair was a mess, he had beads of sweat drip from his forehead, you wiped them off and kissed him

“I love you Y/n.” he tells you, still on top of you and in you

“I love you too Peter.” you smile

the gang’s crush - imagine

requested by anon - (thanks for requesting! it’s dialogue heavy but i hope u like it!)
warnings: none rlly, stuff i write usually will contain cursing though

The dog days of early August had always been the absolute worst in Tulsa - both you and the gang knew that real well. Days like that, you and the boys would normally hang at the Curtises’. After all, you’d known the Curtis brothers for quite some time; you used to go to school with Soda before he dropped out and you graduated. If you weren’t at your house or the Dingo, you just happened to be with at Curtis house with the rest of the gang. This time, a lazy Saturday, your only fan had broken and you knew it’d be nothing but agony sitting in the endless heat without anyone entertaining to talk to. So you decided to haul ass over to the Curtis house in Tulsa’s 102 degree heat, grateful that their house is no more than 2 minutes away.

Wiping small beads of sweat along your hairline, you closed their house’s gate and headed up the walkway before opening both the screen door and front door - you knew they never kept it locked. 

“Anyone hom-“ you started, before catching sight of nearly all the boys languidly lounging about the living room, most of them with their eyes closed. That’s when you caught sight of Two-bit sitting in front of a fan, making noises in it so that he’d hear his voice sound funny. Well, that was Two-bit for you. “Well, look who it is, boys!” Two said into the fan in an attempt to the gang to stir.

“For cryin’ out loud, Two, would you get your head outta that fan? You’re hoggin’ all the air, man,” Soda responded, ignoring what Two had previously said, his chest gleaming with sweat.

Two-bit laughed a little bit, reluctantly getting out of the way of the fan. “Boy, you all look real glad to see Y/N!” At the mention of your name, you saw a few eyelids fly open and a few boys actually sit up. Semi-energetic ‘hello’s echoed throughout the small living room. Dally and Darry were upright in the armchairs, Steve sat on the couch with Soda and Johnny and Pony were sitting around the coffee table.

“Well, hi there, Y/N!” Soda said, getting off of the couch while Pony began furiously wiping sweat off of his face with his t-shirt. “Come an’ sit. Want somethin’ to drink? I mean, it sure is hot today.” Soda made his way to the kitchen only to find that Two had moved from sitting in front of the fan to sitting in front of the refrigerator. You sat in the spot that Soda left, a little wet with sweat, which didn’t seem to bother you.

“Looks like we got coke, water, milk and beer. Anythin’ you want, Y/N?” Two asked from the kitchen.

“Keith, if you don’t close that icebox door, I’m gonna be closin’ that icebox door on you, y’hear?” Darry called back to Two.

“Alright, alright, Dar.” Two rolled his eyes and got out from the cold, opened fridge with a beer in hand. He stood up and made his way back to the living room and popped the cap of the bottle with the edge of the coffee table.

“Get me a glass of milk, Soda,” Dally demanded, his voice gruff with what seemed like exhaustion. ((”some guys my age, man”))

“If there’s any chocolate cake left, would you grab me a slice?” Steve asked, wiping a droplet of sweat off his cheek with his shoulder.  

“Yeah, you mind gettin’ me and Johnny a bottle of co-“ Pony started, before being cut off by Soda.

“Any of your names Y/N? You all got a pair of workin’ legs now, don’t you?”

“Well, I’m pretty sure my legs work, too. I’ll get my own water, Soda. Don’t worry ‘bout it,” you responded, getting off the sofa and walking into the kitchen to pour yourself a glass, until you’re stopped by Soda.

“No, Y/N, I’ll get it. Just go on and sit,” Soda insisted, grinning at you, grabbing your shoulders and taking you back into the living room.

“No, it’s alright, Soda. I’ll pour her a glass,” Two said, pushing past Soda to get back into the kitchen’s fridge.

“C’mon, I said that I’ll pour it, Two.” Soda pushed his way back into the kitchen as well, fighting with Two to get the pitcher. Two rolled his eyes and let Soda pour the cold water out the pitcher and into the glass.

“Y’know, I was thinking, guys - we should all go do somethin’ today,” Soda announced to the gang, putting the pitcher back into the fridge and shutting its door.

“Are you outta your fuckin’ mind? Maybe the heat’s gettin’ to your brain, man,” Dal complained, rubbing his tensed eyebrows with his middle finger and thumb.

Soda had come back with the cold glass of water for you and sat on the armrest of the couch beside you. “Dally, we haven’t moved in the past three hours - we gotta do something.”

“No, Dal, Soda’s right. I could take you out for ice-cream if you’d like, Y/N,” Johnny offered, his head cocked to one side a little bit.

“We ain’t got the cash for that, Johnny. How ‘bout the pool, Y/N?” Pony suggested.

“The pool’s too far. But I think a barbecue sounds just right,” Steve butt in. “How ‘bout that, Y/N?”

“Well, how ‘bout we stay here with Y/N and just keep cool?” Darry finally said after a pretty deep sigh. Boy, you were glad that Dar had butt in. If you heard your name one more time, you thought you just might have exploded. But after weighing the opportunities, you decided that staying at the house was probably the best idea. You weren’t willing to make going outside and option, especially with the sun beating down like that.

“I gotta agree with Dally and Dar, here guys. It’s real brutal out there. The only pool we’d see today is the pool we’ll melt into, Pone,” you said, a small grin on your face about the joke you cracked. Pony seemed to find it pretty funny though what with his loud giggling.

“Although I sure wouldn’t mind seein’ you in a bikini, baby,” Dally said, looking at you with a faint smirk on his lips.

All the eyes in the room shifted to Dally who nonchalantly shrugged at their gaze. His little comment made your eyebrows furrow a little and it stopped Pony’s laughing. It wasn’t the first time Dal had said something like that, but it was almost never in front of the boys and never ‘baby’. “As if you jackasses weren’t thinkin’ the same thing.”

“C’mon, Dal, this is Y/N you’re talkin’ to. She ain’t just some broad,” Steve intervenes, clearly irritated that Dal would say something like that to you - which slightly surprised you since Steve already knew that this is just how Dally acts.

“‘Course she ain’t, Steve. Why are we all continuin’ with this charade?”

“What are you talking about, Dally?” you asked him. You didn’t have a clue as to what Dal meant. Unless he meant that the boys…

“God, Y/N, are you blind? They’re all droolin’ over you. Always have been. Told each other that no one in the gang is s’posed to go after you. Even Darry.”  

The guys are tripping over themselves for you? It took you a second to process this. All of these boys had been some of your greatest friends - and they’re drooling over you. It would explain why they’d been getting into so many arguments lately. How could have you not seen this? It all made sense, but you couldn’t believe it.

A roaring silence fell over the boys and yourself. That is, until you broke it.

“You guys…what? Is that true?”

“Well, c’mon, Y/N - is the sky blue?” Dal said.

Conviviality

T.O.P ft. Hoe G-Dragon | Smut | Completed

Requested here by @katythekitty​ (sorry this is literally five months late)

Warnings: Unspecified Age Gap, “Brother’s” best friend, Oppa Kink, Dacryphilia, Oral Sex, Love making (jk it’s really not at all), Jealousy, Hoe Jiyong, I h8 this

A/N: I did sort of a reinvention of Brother’s Best Friend plotline because I feel that most of those fics show a super clean girl but like nahh y’all hoes nasty as shit


You applied your best lipstick as you got ready to head out for the night.

This evening, you’d be accompanying Jiyong to a popular nightclub in an attempt to make his ex jealous. In turn, he was to hook you up with one of the Hitech twins for the night. It had been awhile since you’d gotten any and you felt sexually deprived.

Clicking the cap to the deep plum pigment close, you heard Jiyong call your name.

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About the alien in your garage... part 2

Now you’ve figured out some basics about the injured alien your protagonist has taken into their garage to try to help, they need to figure out how to actually help them.

But how do you do that? In a universe full of infinite possibilities, how can you possibly determine what is helpful and what is harmful to a completely alien species?

Fortunately, with some scientific method and some patience, this should be doable.

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Sweet Revenge

Anonymous said: “Can you please write an jackson wang imagine when I pull the I’m leaving you prank on him because he keeps pranking me Thank you”

I hope this was what you wanted! Thank you for the request <3 <3 </p>


Enough was enough. There was only so much you could take, and you had reached your limit. 

It was time for some sweet revenge. 

It had been funny when he rearranged everything in your kitchen cabinets so you couldn’t find anything, you had laughed when you had put your feet into your boots only to find them filled with water, you didn’t even get mad when you opened your bedroom door only to have a raw egg fall on your head. You weren’t phased when clingfilm was taped across the front door after a long day of work, and you forgave the time he replaced the hand soap with honey.

But as you pulled feathers from your hair, you knew this had to stop. By the time you realized that your favorite hat was full of them, it was too late. Feathers were everywhere, on the floor, in your hair, all over your clothes and some still floated around in the air.

You walked around your apartment, looking for ideas. You had never been one for pulling pranks, just watching them, and you didn’t know where to start. 

As you wandered into yours and Jackson’s shared bedroom, you noticed your suitcase sticking out slightly from the closet. Jackson must have bumped it that morning getting his clothes, and you made to put it away. That’s when the idea came to you, the ultimate prank that would put an end to this feathery, sticky, wasteful nonsense.

Now all you had to do was set it up and wait.

When Jackson walked through the front door several hours later, he wasn’t expecting to see you sitting on the couch waiting for him with a glare. He knew the moment he walked in that something was wrong. You didn’t great him with your usual kiss, didn’t ask how his day was, didn’t say anything for a full minute.

“Hey babe.” He said hesitantly. “Something wrong?” 

You looked up at him, and he noticed the glassy look in your eyes. “I don’t think this is going to work.”

He felt like the floor had been pulled out from under him, in an instant he felt like everything he had worked so hard for was gone. “Wh… What?” Surely you were talking about something else. You had to be. Maybe you meant that the trip the two of you had planned for next month wouldn’t work with your schedule?

“Us.” You clarified. “I don’t think we’re going to work. Who were we kidding anyway? This has to stop.”

You watched as Jackson dropped his bag, looking like he didn’t quite believe you. “Did something happen?” He asked, and his voice cracked slightly. “Babe, if I did something wrong, please just tell me, we can talk about this…” He walked over to where you were seated, sinking down on his knees in front of you. You could see tears welling in his eyes, and you felt a pang of guilt.

“It’s not that you did anything, we just… Jackson, we could never really work. Haven’t we been lying to ourselves for long enough?”

“I… No, you love me. I know you do.” There was a desperation in Jackson’s voice that made your heart feel like it was breaking, and seeing him cry made you cry too. You sniffed, telling yourself that you needed to stick with the plan. You stood, unable to look at Jackson anymore, and began walking over to the bedroom.

“If you’ll just talk to me, please, we can work this out. Is this about my parents? Your parents? People on the internet? Just ignore them, they don’t know us, they don’t know how much I lo–”

You turned around abruptly, facing Jackson almost nose-to-nose. “I’ve made up my mind, Jackson.” You opened the door, walking over to the bed where your suitcase sat.

“We’ll talk in the morning, it’ll be better then–” He stopped when he saw your suitcase, and his knees gave out. That was when you knew you couldn’t keep up the charade. 

You hurried over to his shaking form, kneeling down in front of him and putting your hand on his cheek. “Jackson, hey, look at me. Don’t cry, I’m sorry, it was a prank, I didn’t mean to make you so upset.” 

“It’s my fault, isn’t it? For being gone so much?” You realized he wasn’t even listening anymore, and leaned in for a kiss. He froze the moment he felt your lips on his, and looked reproachful when you pulled away.

“That’s not fair.” He whispered. “You can’t kiss me after dumping me.”

“Baby,” You said, feeling utterly horrible as you brushed a tear from his cheek with your thumb. “It was a prank, a joke, I didn’t mean it. I’m so sorry.”

“What?” His eyes were red, and he wiped his nose with his sleeve as he tried to understand. 

“I love you, I would never leave you.” You said, but he still didn’t look like he could believe you. “Look,” You said, standing to get the suitcase and bringing it back over to him. “It’s empty, see?” He watched as you opened it, and he took a deep shuddering breath.

“It was a prank?” He asked weekly, and you nodded. 

“Revenge for all the pranks you’ve been pulling on me. I think it might have gone a little too far, though.” Jackson sniffed loudly in response, pulling you close and burying his face in your neck. 

“I’m sorry.” You said again, and he let out a tired laugh.

“I guess I was asking for it.” There was a moment of silence between you before he spoke again. “So you’re really not leaving me?” 

“Never.” You said, and his grip on you tightened, as though he were afraid you might disappear if he let go.

“I think this was worse than feathers in your hat.” He pointed out, and you had to agree. “You know it’s my turn for revenge now, right?” 

You made a face, even though Jackson still couldn’t see it. “My plan was to get you to stop pranking me.” 

“You could have just asked.” You could tell from his voice that he was pouting, and you pulled away enough to peck him on the lips once again.

“I did.” You sighed. “And you responded with clingfilm across the door, remember?” 

He nodded slowly. “Oh, yeah.” He laughed, and you felt a wave of relief upon hearing it. “This was a pretty good prank, you know.” He said thoughtfully. “And you’re really good at acting, I even thought you were serious for a second there.”

“Oh really?” You snorted.

He nodded. “But your tears were totally fake, it was a dead giveaway.” 

You gasped dramatically, pretending to be hurt by the words. “I will have you know that those tears were one hundred percent authentic.”

He rolled his eyes, standing and pulling your to your feet at the same time. “Sure they were. Did you chop unions before I got here or something?”

You shook your head. “Nope, seeing you cry makes me cry.” He looked like he wanted to say something else, but then gave a slightly breathless laugh. 

“How am I supposed to be mad when you say stuff like that?” He complained as he tucked your hair behind your ear. You could tell that he wasn’t actually annoyed though, and decided that really, your plan had been a success.

Games

masterlist

pairing: john laurens x reader

word count: 1200

warnings: lots of teasing, john talking about sex, swearing

summary: it’s raining, it’s a saturday, and the power is out. being two adults in love, what is it that you choose to do to pass the time with - playing games, of course!

a/n: enjoy <3


It was raining.

“I hate the rain,” John pouted.

“Me too,” you grumbled, falling back down in bed.

It was a Saturday, which was good, because you really didn’t want to drive to work in this horrendous, almost torrential rain storm. This also meant, however, that you had next to no food and John would refuse to go (‘it’ll make my hair fuzzy’, he always said, and he would defend his locks with his life), and you had to eat whatever scraps you had left in the cupboard. Rainy days were both a blessing and a curse – it gave you an excuse to stay home, but there were so many things that could make it a terrible experience, such as the power going out…

Which is exactly, when you thought about it, what happened next.

“Fuck, babe, the power’s out,” John told you.

“Yes, Johnny dearest, I could tell.”

“Man, what are we going to do?” John groaned.

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anonymous asked:

Okay but what about a McKirk AU where one of them saves the other from an embarrassing situation even though they absolutely don't know each other?

  • Being a bartender is not so bad. The pay is decent, the company usually okay, too. Being a bartender in wedding venues? Not always as great. But the good thing about it is that mostly bridesmaids are easy, groomsmen are horny, general visitors are drunk, and Jim being attracted to mostly anything with a pulse; that works out pretty well. Plus, everyone dresses up nicely. Except maybe Leonard, who looks already drunk when he arrives at the wedding reception.
  • “You familiar with the bride or groom?” Jim asks, pushing a glass of strong whiskey in his direction; something Leonard gratefully accepts. “Yeah, you could say that. That’s my ex-wife and my ex-best friend,” Leonard replies, and Jim frowns. “Yikes. Why are you here?” “I’m the better man,” Leonard replies, “that, and my daughter asked me to be here.” “Ah,” Jim says, briefly hesitating to refill Leonard’s glass, but he does so anyway. “I’m sorry about that, man. Weddings are usually pretty great.” “Oh, it’s fantastic,” Leonard says, “I don’t have to wake up next to her anymore, nor do I have to care for a guy who’s pretended to be my friend for the last 20 years.” Yikes. This guy’s a downer. A shame, too, because Jim can sense such a caring person underneath all of that. Especially when Joanna rushes towards him. It’s like that whole, shitty situation is briefly forgotten - as is his whiskey, and instead he focuses on his girl for a while. Comments on her pretty red dress and the flowers in her hair, and promises they go out together again soon. 
  • They’re gone for a while and Jim doesn’t think much about it. But Leonard is most definitely drunk, a little annoyed, and clearly hurt, too, when he returns. “Do you want some water?” Jim asks him, but Leonard shakes his head. “No, something stronger.“ Jim is about to politely object to that, but another guy walks in and pats Leonard on the shoulder. “How about that ceremony, huh?” “Yes, congratulations,” Leonard says, “you’re sleeping with a witch for the rest of your life. But considering you did so behind my back while we were still married tells me you’re going to be very happy together.” “At least I didn’t drown myself in work because I don’t know how to be a husband or a father-” “You’re not a father,” Leonard interrupts. “What do you have going for you right now, huh? Poor job performance, no wife, a kid only every other weekend. What do you have that makes you so great? Nothing.” “Me,” Jim replies, so out of the blue both Leonard and his ex best friend (or whatever) look confused. “He’s got me,” Jim says, “Leonard and I. We’ve been together for a while.” Leonard looks even more confused now, especially when Jim leans in over the bar to press a quick kiss to the other’s lips, “and I don’t appreciate you talking to him like that. You use that tone on your wife, too? For your sake, I hope not.“ 
  • “Why’d you do that?” Leonard asks Jim once they’re alone again, and Jim shrugs. He shrugs, because honestly, he has no idea why he just said that. “I don’t like people talking down on other people like that. Plus, I figured, for the sake of tonight, what does a little lie matter? Not like you’re seeing a lot of these people on a regular basis. Let them think you date this handsome man,” he adds, gesturing at himself. Leonard laughs at that, and when he does, Jim knows it’s his personal mission to keep this man smiling. Because honestly, he looks so much more handsome like that. “Fine,” Leonard says, “I could date a bartender.” “A handsome bartender,” Jim corrects him, and Leonard smiles lightly. “Very handsome.”
  • There are other bartenders present, luckily, so Jim takes some time to just sit with Leonard and talk. Initially just for silly dating lies, but Jim finds that the two of them have a lot in common. They laugh at the same kind of jokes, drink the same drinks, and apparently go out in the same districts. “How come I’ve never seen you before?” Leonard asks, “seems like I would’ve remembered seeing you.” “Because of my strapping good looks?” “You know you get less attractive every time you say stuff like that,” Leonard replies with a grin, and Jim smiles. He reaches out, hand on Leonard’s arm. “Hey, but, maybe you would’ve noticed me if you weren’t so focused on your shitty choice of friends. Don’t let this charade keep you down, yeah? You know which couples stay the happiest? The ones with small, genuine receptions. Where it’s about uniting families instead of showing off the debt you’ll be paying off for the rest of your marriage - weddings are expensive,” Jim says. “You learn all that from being a bartender?” Leonard asks, and Jim shrugs. “I actually organize events. Like weddings. Birthdays. Anniversaries, etc. Bartending is something I enjoy doing because I meet interesting people.” “Handsome people,” Leonard comments, and Jim laughs. “Very.”
  • Jim uses up his break time to join Leonard on the dance floor, where they mostly dance closely together and continue to talk, joke, and laugh at the stupidest things. Leonard does get a few questions from family members. How long have you been together? “Three months,” Leonard replies smoothly, and Jim just rolls with it. “I was instantly smitten,” Jim says, “though he’s a bit grumpy from time to time, isn’t he?” “More like all the time.” “I can hear all of this, I’m right here,” Leonard replies to both Jim and the family member they’re talking to.
  • Jim dances with Joanna for a while, too. They don’t lie about their relationship to her. Instead, Jim says he’s a friend who’s only just discovering how great her daddy is. Because that’s the truth. There’s so much more to Leonard than that drunken miserable pile who walked in earlier. And when Jim returns to the bar, Leonard joins so they can talk more. Joanna sits at the bar next to them, quietly drawing or playing her game boy while sipping on an alcohol-free mocktail Jim has made for her. It’s just different kinds of fruit juices and sodas, but she loves it. Loves especially the tiny umbrella and pieces of fruit in it.
  • Surprisingly, Leonard stays almost to the very end of the night. Hes gone for a few minutes when Joanna leaves with her uncle and aunt, but he’s back for another drink and Jim’s company - something Jim’s happy to give him. “Hey,” Leonard says, when the others start cleaning up and it’s definitely time to leave, “I had a great time. I just wanted to thank you.” “Oh, that’s no problem,” Jim shrugs it off casually. “I’m serious. I know this was all pretend, but if you ever want to recreate some of those dates you told my family about-” Jim laughs at that, walking around the bar to face Leonard properly. “How about instead of those stories, we make a few of our own?” Jim suggests, reaching out for Leonard’s phone to put his own number in it. “When are you free?” Leonard asks. “This week?” “Or tonight,” Leonard says, “I noticed you haven’t eaten, and I know a great burger joint-” “Burgers,” Jim says, “I’m sold.” He smiles when Leonard leans in for another kiss. It definitely feels more genuine each time it happens. Which, probably, has been happening more than necessary this night. “Burgers and handsome company,” Leonard corrects him, and Jim laughs, again. “Very.”

livingtheobsessedlife  asked:

Hello! Could you please do 73 with Hotch please? Thank you, darling :)

Prompt: “You don’t have to stay.” 


It was supposed to be one time, an accident—a mistake, yet the way you found yourself falling back to him became a weekly occurrence. You were weak, in both a sense of love and your sense of resistance. Yet, you couldn’t help yourself, whether it be from the stress of the job or the indulgence of pleasure, you knew you were never going to give him up. It was inappropriate to say the least, he was your boss, and making out inside his office at least once a week was certainly not a smart move. There were protocols, the bureau enforcing strict policies about dating between employees. In your defense, there was never any mention of relationships between an employee and their superior.

You found yourself in such an odd yet thrilling position. The lingering touches, accidental brushes of the hand, every day it was as if he was trying to stir up something within you. Most of the time his flirtatious actions did the trick; however, you were a government agent and learned to compartmentalize your emotions and feelings. During the week you couldn’t control yourself, allowing yourself to indulge in certain types of pleasures. You never regretted the things you did, both of you consenting adults and were entitled to different ways of spending your time. Honestly, Aaron Hotchner was one of the best things that has ever happened to you, and you were certainly not willing to go back.

So far, the two of you managed to keep the team off your back. And with a team of profilers, it was certainly no easy feat. You could swear that he was much better at this whole secret thing than you were, and while he could manage to keep his composure around them, all you always seconds away from spilling the entire charade. But you kept your mouth shut, especially when his leg was gently brushing up against yours underneath the table. The case on the table in front of you was momentarily forgotten, as you attempted to fight the urge to slap him on the shoulder or kiss him. Taking a deep breath, you instead compartmentalized, and discreetly shot him a glare. Like many other cases you covered, this one was gruesome and the unsub highly sophisticated and intelligent. The unsub was based in a small town in the South, and was currently on a spree of decapitating his victims and disemboweling them, giving the entire team less time to catch him. Lives were at stake and you certainly could not afford distractions, especially one that was tall, handsome, and went by the name of Aaron Hotchner.

You worked tirelessly along with the rest of the time, restless nights and dreary mornings as you attempted to stop this serial killer. Following every possible lead and with some help from Garcia, you finally tracked down the unsub to a socially awkward male on the outskirts of the town. His next victim’s house was closest to your location with Morgan by your side, as you both raced to the scene.

Upon arriving, it only took a few seconds for the both of you to slip on your issued bulletproof vests and pull out your gun. Before either of you were able to approach the home, your phone suddenly rang.

“[L/N],” you answered into the cell phone.

“Don’t go into the house alone, Prentiss and I are almost at the scene,” he paused, “wait for our backup.” Hotch’s voice was low and dangerous, goosebumps running down your arms. And as much as you loved to hear his voice like that, using his superiority over you in a situation like this was simply uncalled for. There was a life at stake, and you could admit that it was sweet of him to care about your safety, but you both had agreed that your professional relationship and duties trumped your personal relationship. You thought the thing between the two of you was no strings attached, and for a while you were perfectly content with the way things were. But somehow you managed to catch these feelings of love, wanting to be more than friends with benefits with him. Yet, as much as you desired that, you knew there was simply no way you could make that happen. Between your stressful jobs and Jack, it was hard enough for him to have time for his son and his job, and there was also the issue of him actually having feelings for you as well. Just because the two of you enjoyed each other’s company once in a while did not classify you both as lovers, in the end, you both maintained a professional relationship. Even if you craved for more, pushing him surely wouldn’t do you any good.

“You know I can’t do that, with or without me Derek’s going to go into there. Her life is at stake and you know we can’t sit by and wait for you to get here,” you let out a sigh, “we’ll talk about this later, love you.” Before you could even realize your mistake, you had hung up the phone and nodded to Derek, gesturing for him to take the back while you took the front. Climbing the steps as quietly as you could, you tried the doorknob and upon noticing it was unlocked, you pushed the door open and raised your gun. The house was eerily quiet, not a soul in sight. Morgan had cleared the kitchen and the living room, giving you a slight nod as the both of you climbed the stairs.

By reaching the top of the staircase, you could hear the sound of someone whimpering and crying, before a sharp sound of a slap echoed through the open hallway. On your left lied the bathroom, and with a quick kick to the door, you cleared the room. Both you and Derek, each took a guest bedroom, finding them both empty and clear of any perpetrators. The both of you then proceeded to creep towards the master bedroom, the noises inside alerting the presence of the unsub and his next victim. In one swift movement, you kicked the door open and aimed your gun directly at the chest of the unsub.

“FBI, Thomas Martin, put your weapon down and back away from her.”

Instead of complying with your orders, he placed his arm around the woman and pressed the barrel of his gun to her head. You knew for a fact that he would not hesitate to shot her, since the profile discussed how he believed women to be nothing but disposable things to him. After growing up with a mother who would sleep around with sleazy men in order to get money; however, she would take her son with her to perform these types of business favors. From then on, Thomas Martin has had a deep seeded hatred for women—all types of women, which prompted him to kill his mother at the age of ten. You instead let Derek do much of the talking, since there would be no point if you even attempted to reason with him. As Derek kept him distracted and tried to reason with him, you glanced around the room—looking for anything that could possibly give you both an advantage against the unsub. Turning up empty, you instead refocused on the criminal in front of you, noticing the strange and twitching behavior he was exhibiting. You’ve seen this happen before, and the outcome was not pleasant. Before the unsub could pull the trigger, you leapt and pushed the woman flat against the ground, his bullet narrowly missing your ear.

For the next few moments all you could hear was an obnoxious ringing sound in your ear, and you were vaguely aware of your cell phone vibrating inside your pocket. You could vaguely remember a hand grasping your own and asking if you were alright, but you could barely hear them over the buzzing in your ears. Somehow you found yourself sitting on the back of the ambulance, a paramedic asking you questions while examining you for any injuries. You were perfectly alright and you knew that; yet, the near-death experience made you feel numb. The paramedics had placed a reflective shock blanket around your shoulders, and while the blanket did little for your state of mind, you felt a bit more protected against the chilly night air.

“Are you alright?” Hotch’s voice was the first clear one you’ve heard since the hostage situation. All you wanted to do was wrap your arms around his frame, and snuggle your face into his shirt—breathing in his cologne and the scent of home; however, you maintained your distance. The experience you faced before caused your body to tremor, shaking ever so slightly as your mind wandered, drifting off to what would happen if you had been even a second too late. You yearned to confess, tell him exactly how you felt. And you weren’t sure if it was the aftermath of the adrenaline coursing through your veins or fear, but in this moment, you were fearless.

“I love you, and I know we promised that this would only be a friends with benefits type of relationship but god dammit Aaron, I fell in love with you. I couldn’t die without telling you, and honestly, I don’t think I can be with you anymore if you’re only doing this for sex. You mean the world to me, and you don’t have to stay. I understand if you don’t feel the same way and I would understand if you wanted to forget everything that happened in the past few months—“ before you could even finish your speech, a pair of soft warm lips met your own. His breath, as always, was minty fresh and his lips a bit chapped, but nevertheless they tasted just as sweet and familiar. As he pulled away, you could only mutter, “but what about the team, I thought you wanted to keep it a secret?”

He merely gave you a small smile, “I think it’s a bit too late for that.”

Peering behind him, your hand still gripping his shoulder, you could see the team standing a few feet away. Garcia’s big smile, JJ and Morgan’s half smirk, Reid’s pleasant smile, and Prentiss’ wink, and you knew that everything would be alright.

In between the lines

Originally posted by whoeveryoulovethemost

Originally posted by moan-s

For @thing-you-do-with-that-thing‘s Anti-Valentine’s Challenge! 

My prompt was Between the lines by Sara Bareilles  

Dean x Reader     ANGST 

Word Count: 2718


The middle table in the bunker’s library was covered with books, files, and loose pages. You were sitting there in silence with an open book and your notepad in front of you just like you had done a hundred times before. Dean sat across from you, his head bent over the book he was reading while his leg just happened to brush yours under the table again.

How many times had you been in this same position? With the touches and looks that said all the things neither of you would ever speak aloud even when Sam wasn’t around. For some reason, that bothered you a lot more today. Every touch saying words you never really wanted to hear but today, god, today you needed it like oxygen. It did hurt that much and it was driving you mad.

You couldn’t even pinpoint the feeling, the urge to declare something that had been lingering under the covers for so many months without a problem. You had read the same page five times now and didn’t understand a damn word of it because your mind was already preoccupied with whatever was driving you to look at him, to say something you were fighting. You were either trying to gain the nerve or just completely lose it. You looked down at your glass and the amber liquid inside it. Scotch never affected you like this. Was it just the scotch?

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anonymous asked:

Thank you for your blog! It's so great! This is inspired by Yoosung's text to the wrong person: Can you please write headcanons where MC's cooking is very bad, but she tries to cook something special for RFA+V+Saeran for the first time.

Haha, thank you! Just for reference, the anon is talking about these sets of texts, Hope you like these headcanons!


Zen:

  • You wanted to cook him a meal as a surprise
  • He got home from work early, so the surprise was sort of ruined and he gets the gist
  • Luckily, you weren’t  the kitchen though…
  • So he sneaks a taste
  • Oh boy…it was bad
  • Not wanting to hurt your feelings, he quickly calls take out
  • You welcome him and announce dinner is done
  • He uses his acting skills
  • “Oh my gosh, babe! I was going to surprise you, so I ordered take out!”
  • He still takes a little bit of your food so your efforts are still appreciated
  • Thankfully, the next time you cooked for him, your skills had gotten better

Yoosung:

  • You found a recipe that you wanted to try
  • But you wanted to cook it especially for him
  • He had cooked with you before, and knew your cooking could be on the blander side
  • But he was really sensitive about your feelings
  • He let you cook alone, but when you disappeared or weren’t looking, he’d add some spices or some other things to fix it
  • The meal was pretty good and you both were happy
  • Although, he casually mentions that you two should cook together sometimes
  • You pick up a lot from him and your cooking improves

Jaehee:

  • You wanted to help out around the house a little more
  • So you offer to make dinner
  • You really haven’t cooked a meal like this before so you’re a bit skeptical yourself
  • You ask for Jaehee’s honest opinion
  • She tastes it and then reaches for your hand on the table
  • “Are you sure you want my absolute and honest opinion?”
  • You nod
  • She takes a deep breath, “It’s…really bland.” 
  • You don’t really feel bad about it though
  • Because she helps you fix it right away
  • Surprisingly, she knows a lot about cooking even though she seemed to never have time for it before
  • You guys cook together more often

Jumin:

  • When you said you wanted to make him a special meal, he was flattered
  • He’s excited so he watches you as you cook
  • He grows increasingly worried as you keep going as he’s pretty sure you don’t need that much salt and pepper
  • When he sneaks a taste, he’s pretty sure it’s not supposed to taste that way either
  • He discreetly asks his chef to make the same dish since he knew it was your first time and he didn’t want to hurt your feelings
  • Dinner itself is like a secret agent mission
  • Jumin had to distract you enough to have the chef swap dishes
  • The secret is out when you finally return the table
  • “I don’t remember potatoes in this dish….”
  • He sighs and is honest about the whole thing
  • You start laughing, but tell him just to be his usual honest self next time
  • He does have the chef give you a few cooking lessons, so the next time isn’t really a problem

Seven:

  • He doesn’t really cook himself
  • And he doesn’t have a full meal unless Vanderwood cooks something
  • So when you offer to cook something while he’s busy with work, he just smiles and nods
  • Then you hand him the bowl of soup of some kind
  • He eagerly takes the first bite….and it hits him
  • It’s really bad, but you looked so eager
  • So he just pretends to swallow and gives you a thumbs up
  • When you leave the room, he dumps it out into the sink
  • He acts like he ate the whole thing
  • You tasted it yourself and knew it was bad
  • After three or four meals, you just look at him “Are you done?”
  • He drops the charade and pulls you into a hug
  • “I’m so sorry! I tried!”
  • You devote yourself to watching more Grandpa Lamsey and Aimee Oliver to improve yourself

Saeran:

  • You called him over and said you were cooking and had made extra
  • When he sits down, it looks good
  • But looks are deceiving
  • He takes a bite and slowly swallows
  • He sets the chopsticks down  
  • “Did you look up a recipe online?” 
  • “No! I wanted to try my own thing.”
  • He just nods, “You should look up a recipe online.”
  • You scoff at him before you taste the food yourself
  • You clear your throat, “I’ll start Googling.”
  • Let’s just say you really needed those recipes

V:

  • He’s so happy when you surprise him with dinner
  • When he takes the first bite, it doesn’t taste so bad
  • But….it’s really spicy
  • It apparently didn’t affect you
  • Still, you seemed to put so much effort into it, he didn’t want you to feel bad
  • So he just discreetly drank a lot of water
  • When he got home, he had to take some antacids before bed
  • He drops subtle hints later that he can’t really handle spicy foods
  • You thankfully catch on and tone it down a bit next time 

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