Requested by anon: could you write imagine with Hotch,where the reader step-sister Penelope and helps her with her work (like an Intern).Once Hotch was asked to help the reader with something and she is trying to “quietly” seduce him.Aaron understands this and talks to her about it,but she continues to seduce him. Hotch tries to pull away,because she’s many years younger,but in the end loses,and it leads to hot sex in his office. Sorry if this is too much detail.Even if you do not accept,in any case, thank you :)
A/N: When I talked about having a naughty dream, another anon asked for some rough sex with Hotch, and this only seemed fitting to the matter. So major smut warning ahead. Features a ‘sir’ kink and a bit of spanking in case anyone isn’t into that…
“I know it doesn’t sound that exciting, but my dearest pineapple, you have to start from somewhere,” Penelope said to her stepsister, handing her a stack of files.
“I know, I know. Only way is up,” Y/N replied, grabbing the files and papers that she’d be instructed to organize in the filing cabinets. Being an intern at the FBI may not have been the dream job, but it was going to look good on the resume and slowly but surely, she’d be able to climb the federal ladder.
“Garcia, do you have your debriefing paperwork?” Aaron Hotchner asked from his office door. Y/N’s attention focused to the Unit Chief of the BAU. The man had actually caught her attention since the minute she walked into the bullpen, his dark and stern gaze giving her goosebumps, the good kind.
JUNGKOOK |BTS - MAGIC AU (HP ‘verse) 24k words | DRAMA/ACTION/ROMANCE warnings for language, gore, violence, death/murder (named OC)
best to read this on your browser or desktop, tumblr app doesn’t like long fics. Feedback on this would be so appreciated. This took a long time.
ps - happy birthday, jungkook, you one of a kind angel boy.
A crack sounds in the silence of his apartment and he jumps in his seat, whipping his head toward the direction from which the noise came, only to see her sitting on the floor, legs splayed out in a straddle. Her chest heaves with breath, skin sallow and sickly, eyes screwed shut and brows furrowed in pain.
“What the fuck?” he asks, and her eyes snap open to him.
She takes in a ragged breath, keeping her eyes on him as she starts feeling for the small leather pack she’s got around her hips, bringing the pouch to the front and unsnapping it.
“Sorry,” she says. “I just needed a safe place for a few minutes, I’ll leave and you’ll never know I’ve been here.”
“What the fuck?” he repeats, unable to ask anything else.
She lets out a rough laugh, the curled corners of her mouth giving him a sneer of smile, though not out of malice. Her skin is sticky with perspiration, the flyaways of her hair sticking to her face and pointing every direction as if she’d been through a wind tunnel, and her giant eyes are staring at him with the faintest glint. There’s life behind them, but only barely, and only when she reaches over to her left shoulder and raises her sleeve does he understand her expression, her pallid complexion, and harbored breath.
author’s note: i just want to thank @themadkingx for proof-reading this for me! i’ve been talking to her for a couple of days and she’s so sweet! also thank you @sarcasticallystilinski for the gif! (not my gif)
One bright sunny day, Steve sat in front of his tv with the sound
off. Stacks of books covered his coffee table. Picking up the next one, Steve
thumbed through a biography, only focusing on the photos. A knock at his door
startled him. He almost dropped his book. On his doorstep, a delivery man held a
Taking his small package inside, Steve set it on the
counter. Using a steak knife, he slit the tape on top. A single page sat across
the top. “I think these belong with you’ It said.
Beneath the paper were old photos, most bent and worn. All
were black and white and mounted on an archival backing. The photos were of his
father’s unit. Steve searched out the familiar face of his father. Joe was in
Later, he sat in the nice restaurant, when a tall beautiful
woman approached his table.
Straightening his tie, Steve stood and extended his hand,
“Ms. Prince, I wanted to thank you personally.”
She smiled, “I understand the emotional connection of having
the original Mr. Rogers.” She said, “and please, call me Diana.”
there’s a group of Overwatch players called “Team Hanjo” who have the goal of getting the lowest Skill Rating possible in the game by losing every single game. Two of them already have a Skill Rating of 1, the lowest you can get.
I’ve been sewing and watching them deliberately losing games accompanied by cheerful Christmas music and it’s really getting me into the spirit of the season.
My fave is when one of them said, “Man, I tried solo queuing yesterday and won five matches in a row. I’m going to rise back into Diamond by accident. :(” and another guy was like “That’s the struggle.”
Request: TJeff x reader modern AU? TJeff and Reader are in debate club and are secretly in love and just sexual tension and everyone at the debates gets rlly uncomfortable until one day someone (preferably Alex or Madison) walks in on the two MAKING out just idk dude debate club Jeff x reader AU
TW: Political (bc I live to make people uncomfortable), making out
You stand at the podium and clear your throat before you start your opening statement. Everyone in the room was terrified of you. You rarely lost a debate, and when you did, it was only because of your teammates. Today, you were doing a one-on-one debate over the Religious Freedom Restoration Act. As you go back to sit down, your opponent walks up. You scowl as Jefferson opens his mouth. You know that he didn’t choose the topic, but you still consider breaking up with him. He quickly cites his sources and leaves. You smile and walk back up. After restating your argument, you completely rip apart everything he just said. You quickly follow after you, trying to address every point you made. After his closing argument, he sits down.
Mr. Washington sends the next pair up before telling you your grades and next assignment. He smiles slightly. “No surprise to anyone here, (Y/N) won. She got a nearly perfect score. My only note would be for you to watch your temper.” He continues to tell the rest of the students their grades. “Alexander, please, for the love of God, you have a time constraint. Follow it. I’m sure John would have been able to address all your points if you made them clearer. Stop dancing around the issues. Get right to the point.”
Alexander grumbles in response and slouches. Mr. Washington ignores him and talks about your next debate. “In our third class, you will have this debate. It will be a two-on-two debate, followed by a rapid-fire debate. I will pick the teams, and, (Y/N), your team gets to choose the which side you want first.”
You nod slightly.
“Hamilton and Madison.” Alex looks across the room at Madison, each of them looks like they would rather be paired with anyone else. “Laurens and Burr. (L/N) and Jefferson.” You look at Jefferson. He winks at you quickly before turning back to the front of the room.
Mr. Washington claps his hands. “Now that you have your partners, your topic is over global warming. Is it an issue? (Y/N), since you got the highest score, you and Thomas get to pick first.”
You don’t consult your boyfriend before saying that you want to debate that it is an issue. Just as the last team picks their topic, the bell rings. You gather your stuff to leave, but Thomas grabs your arm. “I was thinking we should start researching. I could go get a study room.”
You nod slightly. “Alright.”
You head up to your locker and shove everything into it. Once you head back down to the library, where Thomas is waiting for you. You smile and pull your laptop out. “Let’s get started.”
He leans closer to you, causing your shoulders to touch. You send pages upon pages of research to the printer. While you wait for them all to print, Thomas compliments your debate.
You blush and push a piece of hair out of your face. “Oh, uh, thanks. You were really good, too.”
“I knew that I was going against the best. I had to prepare.” He smirks and rests his arm on the table, leaning in front of you.
You blush more. “I’m not-”
“You are Washington’s favorite because of your debating skills. There’s a reason you got that scholarship.”
You look down.
He places his hand under your chin, forcing you to look into his eyes. He pushes your hair out of your face before leaning closer to kiss you. You lean forward, catching him off-guard as you press your lips to his. He places his hands on your back, pulling you closer. Your hand’s tangle in his hair, gently tugging on it. You both are so distracted that you don’t notice the door open, or the gasps, or even the sound of the large stack hitting the ground.
As the two of you slowly pull away from each other, you see two people standing in the door out of the corner of your eye. You abruptly pull away from Thomas’s grasp and straighten your shirt.
“Uh, your research was mixed with ours,” Madison explains.
Hamilton looks ready to punch someone. “(YN), could I talk to you for a minute?”
You take a deep breath and walk out, leaving Thomas to explain what happened to his best friend.
“What was that?” Hamilton whispers.
“Thomas and I are dating,” you mumble, trying to keep this as short as possible.
“Why didn’t you tell me that you were dating that-that-”
You sigh. “Because, I knew you would react like this. We wanted to keep this a secret.”
He looks hurt. “But, I’m your best friend, and he’s well him.”
“You haven’t had a real conversation with him.”
“That may be true, but-”
You cross your arms. “Nothing you say will change the fact that I love him.”
He groans whether it’s from the fact that you said ‘love’ or the fact that he knows you’re right, you will never know. “Just stop making out in front of me.”
“I would like to point out that you walked in.”
“It was Madison’s idea!”
You roll your eyes and walk back to the study room where Madison and Thomas are laughing. Thomas thanks him for the research as Madison and Hamilton leave.
The debate goes well. You and Thomas win, of course. During the debate, Hamilton makes kissy faces at the two of you, causing him to losing points, which is even worse because he was paired against you.
I'm in dire need of a fluffy scene where Claire tries to read the lines on Jamie's palm and she ends up failing miserably.
Liv says: So this isn’t fluff, so to speak—but I hope it’s still fun! Set about 2-3 years before puir Frank the Mailman died in the Three Witches AU. No worries if you haven’t read it. This one stands alone! :)
Intersection: A Three Witches Story
Claire knew this was against coven rules. Like, totally outside the realm of acceptable witch behavior.
To dole out one’s magical talents—particularly at the county fair—was a bit manipulative (in regards to the customers), a bit sad (in regards to Claire). Still, she liked to think she was working for a kind of greater good. Ensuring the happiness of all mankind! And that was almost admirable, wasn’t it? Giving hopeful glimmers of adulthood to the stork-like teenagers, comforting the mopey singletons who trudged around, heads bent? She’d offered such assurances as:
“A new man will come into your life. A handsome one—with a huge prick! His name…I think his name begins with a ‘T’.” (This to the recent divorcee, clutching her naked ring finger like a burn. She hadn’t known what a “prick” was but was no less forthcoming with her money.)
Or this, to the bucktoothed 16-year old picking at his acne scars: “You’ll be the coolest person in college. Captain of the ultimate frisbee team!” He’d been disappointed at that one, enormous chompers clamping over his bottom lip. “Ho ho ho there, young man!” she’d said then. “Ultimate frisbee is cool where you’re going. The coolest cool.” And then he’d smiled, a patchwork of teeth and holes, which Claire hoped someone might find endearing. A nice and wholesome blind girl, maybe.
And then this, to the both of them: “For just $5 more, I can guarantee it! All you have to do is buy this magical rock and carry it with you wherever you go.” Nevermind that said magical rock was actually from Claire’s backyard. Nevermind that several of them were speckled in bird shit. Maybe some cicada guts.
But that was the thing about desperate Mortals. Metaphorically speaking, their whole lives were a succession of bird shit plops and smeared bug guts. So they didn’t even notice when it was covering their $5, not-magical rock.
“Yes please! I’ll take two!” the divorcee had cried, handing Claire a ten dollar bill. (Did she think this would bring two men into her life? Because that’s not how Claire’s bird shit rocks worked.)
“Um. Yeah. That’s sounds pretty sick,” said Beaver Bobby. “I’ll buy a rock.” He’d paid in all quarters but, hey, beggars can’t be choosers.
If her best friend Gillian were here, she would likely call this “an exploitative farce,” two terms she would’ve picked up from her beloved Word of the Day calendar.
“Claire,” she would hiss, “this is such an exploitative (Wednesday’s word) farce (last Friday’s word).” And then she’d pull out her Moleskin, update her word count with a self-satisfied tick. Her record, she claimed, was sixty words in a single morning, and Claire imagined a horrible plague descending upon their town, zombifying everyone until they could only grunt “verisimilitude.” Gillian thought an expanded vocabulary made her smarter but, really, it just increased her smart-assedness to a barely tolerable level.
Luckily, Gillian wasn’t here to offer one of her impressive synonyms because she’d bailed on their plans. If Claire could place money on it—and she couldn’t, with only $7 to her name, the very reason for this “manipulative/sad/exploitative farce”—Gillian was protesting GMO’s one county over. Perhaps arguing for the rights of beluga whales. Or, and this was the most likely, she was loitering at the Creamy Whip, breasts thrust at a very specific angle so that customers’ cones would find their shirts and not their mouths.
Psh! Now if that wasn’t an “exploitative farce” then Claire didn’t know what was. Gillian had mosquito bite boobs and a push-up bra more magical than her own powers.
But here was the thing: Claire wasn’t completely faking it. She wasn’t, so to speak, wearing a bra with three inches of padding. She could read palms, see futures unfurl, weblike, across strangers’ skins. Forks, divots, complex branches—each had such a distinct voice, that Claire had no doubt as to whether or not, say, Mr. Duncan over there would choke on a hot dog and die very suddenly. Or whether young Malva—that girl with the cotton candy and ruffled socks—would pop out a kid by the time she was 17. Claire, being a witch, knew precisely what would befall her clients by simply looking at their hands.
But of course, teenage pregnancy and death by synthetic meat logs weren’t exactly good for customer satisfaction. And so Claire would read Mr. Duncan’s palm, and she would see Mr. Duncan’s red face, gasping on a particularly troublesome bit of hot dog, but say he’d live until he was 85. A little white lie for a happy client. And a happy client meant A) money, B) a potential second visit, and thus C) more money. The $5 rocks weren’t scams, just for-profit business cards.
So she was lying, but not, y’know, totally lying. She’d deal with the prevention of hot dog-induced deaths later, when it better benefitted her monthly budget. (Because just as she wasn’t a complete liar, she wasn’t a complete asshole either.)
The fair had died down to a trickling of stragglers: mostly drunks, a couple of junkies who’d staggered into Nayawenne County for cheap-rate smack. Sighing, Claire stood to begin packing up, turned off the moody sound effects, gathered Gillian’s stack of Tarot cards (all hand-painted variations of herself: man Gillian; tree Gillian; Gillian with bigger-than-mosquito-bite boobs).
In the five hours since Claire had arrived, she’d made $120. Not a terrible turnout if one compared it to last year’s fair, when an angry swarm of Bible-thumpers had tossed her earnings into the funnel cake fryer. Sally Bain—or, as Claire called her, Sally Bane-of-Her-Existence—had rallied her troop of Jesus warriors and thrust crucifixes into Claire’s face, chanting things like, “Begone Satan!” and “This is God’s land!”
Which was kind of funny when you thought about it. If God wanted to claim ownership of Nayawenne—out of every other place in the universe—then he was pretty damn stupid.
Fortunately, Claire had suffered no further Bible-thumping, crucifix-wielding disturbances. Sally Bane-of-Her-Existence had fled town once she’d discovered her husband had fucked the organ player up in the ass. And in the church rectory, no less. (Such irony! Claire’d had absolutely nothing to do with it. Ha.)
It had been a windy afternoon, and Claire’s crystal ball was now coated in a fine layer of dust. Though it was only for decorative purposes—for customer satisfaction!—Claire decided she ought to give it a nice shine, make it look at least halfway capable of revealing visions of tomorrow.
Witch Tip #1: Unbeknownst to Mortals, crystal balls were like kisses from a true love. Which was to say, not powerful in the slightest. The most a kiss could do was give you mouth herpes. And, at its highest power, a crystal ball would fly across a room, break a window and the pinky toe of an irritating significant other. Not that Claire had experience with either situation. Certainly not the mouth herpes.
Claire ripped off a paper towel and went to grab the Windex, only to realize she’d left the Windex at home. Had, by a stroke of poor planning, only brought the herbal tonic she sometimes had to spritz into her eyes when they got a bit cloudy.
Witch Tip #2: Seeing the future had its drawbacks. Your eyes would get all crusty if you did it too much. As if your body was punishing you with goopy morning blindness. Honestly, it was pretty gross.
Well shit, Claire thought. She spat on her hand and rubbed the ball, hoping the couple beside “Whack-A-Democrat” wouldn’t think she was, like, doing something sexual to an inanimate object.
But whatever the couple thought, they were watching her, whispering behind their hands and giving her darting glances. Oh God, Claire thought, Bible-thumper radar blaring. Did Sally Bain send them? Did she organize a sabotage via prayer? Was it possible to raise an army of vengeful Baptists an entire state away? (Claire wouldn’t be surprised. She’d heard of stranger things. Done some of them herself. See also: anally-fucked organ player before he was anally fucked.)
But no, the couple wasn’t looking at Claire with the fury of God in their eyes—but fascination. The woman, a petite but sturdy thing, was shoving her partner in Claire’s direction. Making a not-so-obvious pointing gesture, like, Her. Her! that he seemed somewhat reluctant to obey. Still, he did, and soon he was striding towards Claire, long legs stomping up clouds of dirt dust, red hair matching the synthetic blood of a “whacked” Bill Clinton.
“Are you…” the man began, looking nervously over his shoulder. The woman pursed her lips, arched her brow like, Do it, you pussy. He shoved his hands in his pockets, defeated. “Are ye done for the day, lass?”
“I was just about to pack up, but I’ve time for another reading if you’re interested.”
“Aye…” he said, completely unconvincing. “Aye, I suppose I’m interested.”
The sounds of a stack of paper being bounced off the table echo loudly throughout the conference room. With any luck, the announcement about who would be getting the promotion would be made during this meeting
I had poured hours upon days upon months into my work life, and I was hopeful that it wouldn’t be all for naught. I was confident in my saying that I truly deserved this promotion, but if by some chance I didn’t get it, there was always next time.
Authors Note: I think everyone knows how I feel about a Tom Hardy gif but this particular one made me think the very thoughts that you are about to read. NSFW but also not too unsafe. I hope you enjoy! XOXO
Trigger Warning: Smut, Profanity, Slight fluff
“Come on then! No need to bang away knowing that I told you to get in here,” he yelled at the door.
I opened it slowly. Expecting to see him in a rather foul mood. I had already pissed him off by showing up late earlier and now I fucked up his scheduling for his auditions. It wasn’t technically my fault. While I was taking the notes, he was taking all of me in.
Hello (⌒▽⌒) god I absolutely love you and your blog! Your an awesome writer! ♥‿♥ if it’s not to much trouble could you please write a Mikey x reader were the reader is on the roof playing video games on there laptop or something and he’s watching there cute reaction and then he trips and reveals himself but there super chill and invites him to play or chill with them please? Is this to pacific? I don’t want to pressure you I just thought this would be cute 😂
Description: While on your quest to find a book for East Asian
History class, you meet a charming owner of an old bookstore who offers a
helping hand. It is then that you learn about a story that is painted in the
sky, uncovering a mystery you never knew existed.
The atmosphere just before it begins to rain is peaceful
enough to freeze the world and humid enough to urge the thickly gathered clouds
to condense and form the pellets of liquid that trickle down from the light
grey sky. Traces of musky dampness are brought over by the breeze that drifts
towards your face, lifting strands of your hair into the air and pushing the
dried autumn leaves that have piled on the ground into swirls of dancing
feathers. It was the signature of fall, a solemn reminder of the summer that
had passed and the new journey that awaits.
Being a freshman in a new city and starting a new life at the
beginning of the school year is enough to make you take a deep, sedative
breath, quelling the anticipation of change and soaking in the unacquainted yet
stimulating surroundings. The tree-lined avenues of the metropolis are
bustling, everyone seems to have something to do, somewhere to go. Trickling
here and there are the sounds of transient movement, the humming of car engines,
the click of heels against the smooth pavement.
Passing by charmingly decorated antique shops, clothing
stores, and cafés, a bookstore surely should not be difficult to find.
[SOUNDS OF ME SLAMMING STACKS OF PAPER ON THE DESK] alright kids buckle up because it’s about to get wild
Porcelain by Shoujo Junkie - this is legitimately my favourite sasosaku fic……im a huge sucker for fairytails and this one BROKE me so hard i was crying tears and dribbling snot at the end of it……..it’s probably the only sasosaku fic i still think about regularily four years later (it also has a pretty writing style it’s so good please read it + the urges i have to illustrate this fic are Unreal)
strings by Cracker-Nin - the best assortment of sasosaku drabbles there is if you try to fight me on this you’ve already lost i lay awake at night angry at how little reviews this thing has
(while you’re at it check out their other drabbles here and here thirrin’s friend is truly a genius beyond our time)
Carnation by aksdlhfklsd - THIS ONE’S SHORT AND SWEET basically sasori fawning over how rad sakura is i loved it a lot when i read it for the first time
By a Picture by NushiKasai - this one’s really good because it allowed sakura to have more insight on sasori and that was ;-;;;; ALSO THE END destroyed my tiny frail body
Against All Odds by koobabear - I didn’t actually like this one back when I read it for the first time because platonic sasosaku was boring to me so basically I was WRONG and WEAK please read this one…. part 2 (but pre-shippuuden) sakura and sasori on a mission of self-discovery and friendship (also unfortunately this one isn’t finished)
Das Puppengesicht by VesperChan - this one’s a bit older but the ending’s so good………also i really like german used for aesthetic i am 1000% DOWN with that (you should check vesper out in general if you havent because they are a really really good!! writer!!!)
These Days by StormDragon666 - 30k fic about sasori thinking he’s in the friendzone but that’s okay because his fedora isnt that glaringly obvious okay i was joking it’s a fic about sasori and sakura growing up together with lots of pining and sweetness and they’re really cute… please read this one (this is like..the only fic i like despite it having some tropes and aspects i normally dont find that appealing in (sasosaku) fic thats how great it is thirrin’s friends are truly a blessing to the community)
Chronicles by SunRises6 - another childhood growing up together friendship turned romance fic because i am a Real Sucker for those things
Lost Year by OmgItsPocky - shoutout to this fic for making me become obsessed with same-age ninjaverse AUs I don’t think any fic of that type wrecked me as hard as this one I REALLY REALLY dig how sasori and sakura interact so for that alone you should go and take a peak (they also kick orochimaru’s ass and change history this fic is a service to the community) (general shoutout to this author too i still reread all of their stuff on the regular ;-;;;;)
The Lost Empire by Nheala - y’all should know this one but I still need to remind you that this fic had the best use of the fight (AND KANKURO AND INO AS SIDE CHARACTERS) I’ve ever seen and I’m so!!! excited!!! so see where it goes I get really giddy every time I see that it updated……i love it sm………..
ANOTHER ONE ID REC IF ID FIND IT IS Wind Me Up Baby by yourturntowatchmyback&her friend(??) ITS A REALLY REALLY GOOD MODERN AU FIC they also wrote another one with edo sasori where sakura brings him flowers which I unfortunately cant find right now but if you happen to explore and find fics with this description read them asap I beg you I love them sm
- EVERYTHING SHANNON WROTE EVER SEGMENT -
If you love yourself you should go and indulge inshannon’s drabbles (here on her new blog) because she is not only lovely but also incredibly talented HONESTLY i could trust her with my worst ideas and she’d turn them into gold…. (shannon also has a very good grasp on characters and interaction and her writing style is so lively and!!! im gay)
last but not least if you have ignored my constant advertisements (fck y-) here is the friendly reminder to read Shannon’s and Mine’s child fic Colorblind we have Sasori and Sakura as the TOKEN HETS BUT NOT REALLY BECAUSE NO ONE IN THIS FIC IS HETEROSTRAIGHT who learn to appreciate each other befriend and then fall in love and it’s basically our go to verse for everything LOVE YOURSELF and read it (please)
- EVERYTHING SHANNON WROTE EVER SEGMENT END -
tl;dr sooo while I seem very uptight when it comes to my ship I’m actually a lot more tolerant when it comes to fic?? probably because I’ve read all of them at some point
I guess the general gist is that I like fics that have a good interaction between them… I enjoy darkfic (as long as the dark aspects arent romanticized) as much as fluff (idrc if it’s ooc id still read it because im WEAK) so I’m not that picky. I hope I could help you there!!
Kimberly buys each of us a waterproof bag that are,
according to her, the same kind that Navy SEALs use when they’re in the field.
We each get one in our Ranger color: pink, red, blue, yellow, black.
Alpha-5 and Zordon aren’t exactly happy when we start leaving
things in the spaceship. At first it’s just towels, changes of clothes and
boxes of energy bars. Then it becomes maps of Angel Grove taped to the walls, blow-up
chairs, a sound system, stacks of comic books and paperback mysteries, a mini
fridge and a toaster oven. The space ship starts looking less extra-terrestrial
and more like a hide-out from a 90s television show.