#138 vegas

[percontaion-points]

Court chapters 136-139

Click to see the rest of the snark & image descriptions

Chapter 136

“Oh shit,” I whisper as the truth finally hits me. The whole arena is filling up with sand. And we have no way out.

Chapter 136 summary: Hudson eventually realises that there’s an indoor sandstorm coming. They get a table over, and between pirouettes, Remy sticks it to the wall with magic. Grace then has to get baby!Mekhi over to safety, and then Flint. Flint is difficult, since he still thinks that he’s a chicken. However, he’s scared of the blowing dust and sand, so at least he’s willing to go hide behind the table with the others. 

Once that’s done, it’s only Hudson and Remy who aren’t taking shelter, so Grace goes to get them. By this point, the wind is moving so much that Grace gets flattened against the wall. 

Then it abruptly stops. She thinks that the others managed to solve their puzzle, but they can hear them screaming in the other section. 

Hudson then says that the room is filling up with sand. 

Chapter 137

It’s not a perfect solution—sand is still filling the room and the floor is still rising—but it will buy us some time, and that is all that matters. Well, that and making sure Mekhi never chews on any part of me ever again.

Chapter 137 summary: Chaos descends once again as Grace tries to rescue her friends from drowning in sand. There’s literally nothing of value to be gained from any of this. 

Eventually, the FLOOR ITSELF starts to rise up, along with the constantly pouring sand. This makes Grace think that there’s a vast emptiness under them, where floor had been. So she tells the others who are with it to help keep those who cannot help themselves from drowning in the sand. 

And she transforms into a gargoyle and sinks down through the sand, worried that she won’t be able to get back up again, and become human once more. At the bottom, she focuses her stone-manipulation powers on the floor, until some of them pop out, and the sand starts to drain. 

Chapter 138

Because the longer we stand here, the more apparent it becomes that we’re being stalked.

Chapter 138 summary: The potions wear off as soon as the other team solves the puzzle. They stand around and joke, and holy fucking shit. Please get to the goddamned point. We are literally in chapter 138. Please, for the love of sanity. 

Anyway, after a while, they hear this weird noise. In the other corner, they see this chalice thing, and wonder if they managed to get to the end. But that doesn’t make sense, because Tess told them 4 challenges, and that was only 3. They wonder if those divided ones count as multiples. But if that was the case, they wouldn’t have done the potions/falling sand one, because that was numbers 5 & 6. 

They go get the cup, but something feels off about the vibes right then. They can���t hear the screaming of the people in the stadium anymore. What’s worse is that they’re pretty sure that something scary is in the arena with them. 

Chapter 139

He takes the box of runes and throws it up in the air as hard as he can.

Chapter 139 summary: They stand around and wait for this mysterious creature to finally attack them. Eventually, Remy makes Grace stand in the centre of their group, so that they can better protect her. He also asks for her runes, which she gives to him. He tosses them up into the air. 

[shitswiftiessay]

Swifties are now peddling this bullshit list of the supposed top 30 celebrities with the most private jet flights, saying “see? taylor’s not even in the top 30!”

the problem with that list is that it’s NOT accurate at all.

the website they linked says: “We only use data that celebrities themselves publish. When someone’s tagged in a picture drinking champagne in Las Vegas one day and then posts from Lloret de Mar the next, the myclimate Carbon Tracker springs into action.”

obviously, a tracker that relies solely on social media posts is NOT going to be an accurate representation of the true “worst celebrity carbon offenders,” which of course Taylor Swift topped the list of in 2022.

And common fucking sense would tell you that Taylor has most certainly only taken MORE private jet flights in the last year, not only for her Eras tour but for flights back and forth to see her boyfriend, which produced 138 tons of CO2 in just 3 months.

[maybege]

Can I request Hotch for 45, 138, and 266 for the prompts? ❤️

Thank you!! :)

Big Dick Energy: The Sequel's Sequel

Summary: Hotch grants the team an extra night in Vegas and as luck would have it, you have to share a room.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!Reader

Wordcount: 10.3k | Rating: E (18+ only!)

Warnings: explicit sexual content, dom!Hotch, sub!Reader, unprotected sex, dirty talk, choking, spitting, oral (m receiving), fingersucking, oral fixation, verbal degradation, cream pie, then some unexpected fluff

Prompts: #45 “I've never wanted anyone to fuck me this badly.” + #138 “Were you just masturbating?” + #266 “I dare you to fuck____.”

Thank you so much for requesting these wonderful prompts! I know it has taken me way too long (1,5 years) but hey better late than never. I am so happy with how it turned out. Please do reblog and comment and let me know what you think! Shoutout goes out to @galacticgraffiti for getting me back on my Criminal Minds shit.

masterlist | crossposted on AO3

Sometimes miracles happen.

Like when that last little bit of coffee beans was enough for Rossi’s espresso and subsequently saved the entire office from having to endure his grumpy demeanour for the afternoon.

Or that time Spencer managed to fly his paper plane all across the BAU’s desks, only stopped by Chief Strauss walking in the line of fire.

Or when a case took you to Las Vegas and SSA Agent Hotchner agreed for you all to just stay a night longer. Like, in Vegas. For free. For work.

You knew the suggestion had been meant as a joke by Derek but as soon as Hotch had actually agreed to it, no one protested and you made the unilateral silent decision to just run with it. Who were you to look a gifted horse in the mouth?

Still, you knew you were all thinking the same thing.

“Drugs!” Penelope exclaimed in her room, colourful bracelets dangling from her wrist, “There is no other way. He is taking drugs.”

“I doubt Hotch is taking drugs, Penelope,” JJ said calmly, though she did not look quite as certain as one would assume. The blonde woman was sitting cross-legged on the large bed, shoes thrown somewhere in the corner. “After all these hard cases, I am sure he just wants to give us a reprieve from everything.”

“Hotch never gives us a reprieve,” Garcia gasped, sounding like she had just run a marathon only to find out there we still a few miles to go, “What if this is all an elaborate plan to have me be workplace inappropriate on the record and Strauss can finally order that evaluation that she has been holding over my head since the coffee incident?”

You smiled, amused at her nervous antics, and – to be honest – to keep you from defending him. Hotch had found a very soft spot in your heart. A spot too soft for a man that was supposed to be your boss and nothing but your boss. Though it had been a long time since he had been only your boss. Ever since the plane, ever since the changing room, you could not deny that there was tension between you two. And not the kind of tension where he looked like he would fire you at any moment. No, the kind of tension where he looked like he was about to reach under your skirt and check if you wore that lingerie he had bought for you (and fucked you in).

You had had the hope that after your latest encounter, you would have more chances to … well, to have Aaron Hotchner fuck you. But there was always something and when days had turned into weeks had turned into months, doubt started to creep in whether he actually wanted anything from you. Maybe he had just been out for a quick fuck and that was it?

And all of that did not get any easier with the fact that you were working together. That he was your boss. That your colleagues were the best profilers in the country.

So, you had to take great care in remaining as neutral about him as possible and part of that involved focusing more on the sheer panic that Garcia exuded when she was outside of her office rather than your desire to protect him from any doubts just because he wanted to do something nice for the team.

A glance at the woman on your right, leaning against the doorway, showed you that Emily Prentiss was thinking the exact same thing. “Are you sure this has to do with Hotch’s unusual behaviour or the fact that you feel uneasy in the field?”

“Alright, alright, maybe I am,” she pressed a hand to her chest, “A little nervous at being here but you cannot deny that this feels like a trap! You know how I get around Morgan when I’ve had a few drinks.”

“You don’t need drinks to act that way around him,” JJ interjected, “And I think that is what you are so worried about.”

“What if I do something I can never take back?” Garcia asked, despair and

“Well that depends on if you would even want to take it back,” Emily shrugged, “Because from where I stand there is nothing Derek wouldn’t want you to do to him.”

A hot pink pillow flew in her direction. “Hey!”

A knock on the door snapped you out of your conversation and you turned around to find none other than the man that plagued your dreams day and night standing in the doorway. He looked serious, his brows furrowed – with a bright pink pillow in his hands.

“I am sorry to interrupt what I am sure is a very riveting discussion,” your boss said, looking directly at you, “But we have a problem with the rooms. Could you come down to reception with me?”

“Uh,” you said, “Sure.”

You stepped out of the room. Your heart felt like it was moving up your throat and you cursed yourself for not having changed since coming back from the station. (As if Hotch ever paid attention to your outfits.)

Walking down the corridor, neither one of you said anything but as you waited for the elevator, his hand landed on the low of your back. It was a light touch, nothing to lose your mind over. But your breath hitched anyway, thinking of all the other ways he had touched you before. You glanced up at him, noticing how the corner of his lips quirked up just the slightest bit.

He had noticed!

You were not sure what weighed more. Your exasperation or your embarrassment at having been caught. But Hotch did not leave you because his hand guided you in the elevator. For a second, you wondered if he would press the emergency button like in the shows and press you against the wall and kiss you breathless.

He did not.

“What, uh, what is the problem?” you asked, finally feeling sure enough to speak.

“Extending everyone’s rooms for another night did not go as smoothly as possible,” he explained, his voice flat, “A few of us need to room together.”

“Oh,” you said, the wheels in your head turning. Because –

“Everybody else is already rooming together,” he said what you were thinking, “They have one other room available but I need your approval,” he paused for a second, “your consent.”

The hotel you stayed in was right by the strip, the ground floor a vast labyrinth of poker tables, arcade games and anything one could ever imagine being in a Vegas casino. As you passed the crowds of run-down partygoers, the smell of marijuana in the air, you could hear the rattling of the, the cheers of the winners and the groans of the losers.

Hotch’s hand did not leave your back.

It was reassuring in a way.

“Ah there you are again,” the lady said, sounding awfully cheerful at seeing him again. You shifted, trying to ignore the unpleasant pang in your chest area. If Hotch noticed her obvious attempt at flirting, he did not show it.

“I brought the colleague I would have to share the room with,” he stated, “Could you explain again what kind of room it would be?”

Have to, he said, have to.

There was a bitter taste in your mouth and you pressed your lips together.

“Like I said before,” she explained, “We only have one free room tonight. It’s a little further than the other rooms in your booking but it is a king so it might be big enough to share.”

“It just might be,“ he replied, stoic as ever when he turned to you, his thumb brushing over the small of your back, “I doubt we will spend much time sleeping anyway. What do you think?“

You were convinced he knew what he was doing. He wouldn’t be saying these things and touching you like this if he didn’t. And yet, he looked at you so coolly, so very unbothered, that a small voice in your head wondered whether you were imagining it all.

Aaron Hotchner, divorced father of one, your boss and the last man to make you come, was driving you absolutely crazy.

“I’m game,” you said, sounding way too chipper and high-pitched for your own taste, “It won’t be too bad, I’m sure.”

You tried to ignore the way your stomach threw somersaults when he gave you that little half-smile that made his eyes crinkle. And yet when you saw that twinkle you knew that yes, he knew exactly what he was doing.

*

Act normal. Act normal. Act fucking normal.

The hotel room you landed in was indeed almost at the other end of the hotel than your previous one, and quite a few floors up and your first thought at that revelation was that it would allow you to be as loud as you want without fear of your teammate hearing you.

How appropriate.

 “Do you mind if I take the right side?”

You looked up, completely dumbfounded. Hotch stood by the bed already (and you tried your hardest not to think about what he would look like in that bed), his travel bag on the little armchair in the corner. It was kind of fitting, seeing how put together he looked even when he had the same 5 minutes to pack up his stuff as you did. But your travel bag was half-zipped closed, your clothes a wrinkled mess inside as you just threw everything inside in the hopes that it would survive the short journey until they could be unpacked again.

It was human, you knew, nothing out of the extraordinary. But next to Hotch who probably folded his underwear, you suddenly felt like you would never be able to reach him.

“Uh, no, not at all,” you murmured, walking to the side that was closer to the window. For a second you wondered if it hadn’t been about right or left but rather which side was closer to the door. But you shook that thought off as soon as it had appeared.

He didn’t say anything but started to unpack his things. Out of the corner of your eyes, you noted his neatly folded pyjamas (you could count the times you had seen him wear anything but a suit on one hand) and the little toiletry bag that was void of any water stains.

It was silent for a few moments as you sorted your own clothes, putting your crumpled-up pyjamas under your pillow, getting out your toiletries (one by one because that bag would look even more a mess next to his neatly organized one) and seeing what clothing items you had left that were not sweat- and/or blood-stained.

The selection was not the biggest.

In fact, it consisted of the clothes you were wearing now (only if you ) and a single pair of panties.

Great.

For a moment you contemplated enquiring about the hotel laundry service.

You knew the plan was to go out tonight and explore all the things the city had to offer (Reid mentioned a museum on the old gangsters of the city’s past but you had a sneaking suspicion that you would land in one bar or another). This was Vegas after all and you would be stupid not to take advantage of this unexpected vacation. But something about the thought of wearing your three-day-worn sweater in that heat made you hesitate.

Your phone dinged, finding a selfie with Garcia, JJ and Prentiss, all excitedly grinning into the camera.

Greatest Garcia: Let’s go shopping in Vegas! <3

And that is how your problem solved itself before it could really turn into a problem.

*

Dress shopping in Vegas made you feel like you were a different person altogether. Everything was full of glitter and soft fabrics and ideas of a life so different from your own. It gave you that little desire in the back of your head of wanting to play dress up, wanting to pretend to be a woman who was confident and sexy and could show up in bars and have heads turn towards her. You wanted

And so, it came that you put on the most revealing dress you had ever worn. It was incredibly short and incredibly glittery making you feel like you were “cosplaying a mirror ball” (Emily’s words, not yours). But not in a bad way.

On the contrary, when you had half of the BAU standing outside your changing room, whistling and cheering you on when you stepped outside, how could you not buy the dress that just barely covered your ass and was so very tight-fitting?

“You look stunning,” Garcia snapped her fingers, “You have to buy it! I don’t make the rules.”

Deep down you were not sure if the decision to buy the dress had been driven by your friends’ support or the few cocktails you had slurped during pre-game or perhaps the wishful thinking that a certain BAU chief would see you in this dress and decide to keep you in his bed all night long. Probably a little bit of everything.

You had been the first to find your dress which meant that you could spend the rest of the afternoon with your friends and watch them choose their outfits. JJ got a dark blue something that made her look absolutely gorgeous (Prentiss seemed to think so too if her appreciative over her (girl)friend’s figure was anything to go by) and Garcia found something that was even more colourful – something you had seriously doubted if it could be achieved.

By the end of the day, you were all sitting in the hotel lounge, shopping bags at your feet and cocktail glasses in your hands. You were the epitome of relaxation, the stress of the last few days finally wearing off you and you found yourself enjoying Garcia’s stories and Prentiss’ and JJ’s banter.

“Hey!”

You looked up, finding Reid standing at the edge of your little circle, looking as happy as ever to see you. Only he was not alone …

“Officer Greggs,” Prentiss was the first to speak, “What a surprise to you here. I thought for sure you were going to spend the day at the office today.”

Officer Greggs was on the police force you had assisted in your last case. He had led the case before your arrival and despite his age, had several people under his command. Rossi had described him as “surprisingly competent for a man his age” and Reid had bonded with him over his childhood in a city that was never really seen for its residential aspects. He was a nice man. Good-looking. Certainly your type if you had not been hopelessly in love with your boss.

“Yeah, we thought it might be a good idea to just let loose for the weekend,” the tall man explained, his hands in the pocket of his pants. He wore jeans and a green shirt, showing off the muscles in his arms. The way he said we let you know that it really hadn’t been his idea but that his colleagues had dragged him along.

Your lips quirked up. That reminded you of someone.

His dark eyes met yours in a light smile. “Who knows,” he said, smiling at you and no one else, “Maybe we see each other around.”

*

Seeing Aaron Hotchner step freshly out of the shower, wearing only his slacks and a white undershirt had your pussy clamping around nothing. You had not been prepared for this sight and it felt like an attack. It had to be.

His hair was a little damp still and you noticed he had shaved; his jaw was void of any stubble and it made you want to run your fingers along his jawline. He was looking down at something, a little furrow between his brows from concentration. You followed his gaze and regretted it instantly. His belt, you realized a little belatedly, he was fixing his belt. His veiny hands working with the buckles made you want to drop to your knees and beg him to take that belt off entirely.

He didn’t need it anyway. Not unless he wanted to tie you up.

You gulped.

When he looked up, his brows were furrowed still and you froze, afraid that if you moved it would betray how much you had been staring at him.

“What are you wearing?”

You could see his mouth move but you were not quite prepared to hear what he was actually saying. “What?”

“What are you wearing?” he asked, sounding like he was about to berate you in his office. You could not hide your frown.

You had literally just gotten ready, hurrying into your dress while he was safe inside the shower. And now he came out, looking like the half-god he was, and was criticizing your outfit?

The tinge of insecurity was overshadowed by a wave of frustration.

Was he really that displeased? Did he really have the audacity to talk to you like that? Had you been that wrong in your impression of him?

Your mouth was open, stinging words already on your tongue, but then he looked up again and you realized … you realized he was turned on. His eyes were dark and unmistakably roaming over the bare skin of your legs and cleavage and there was that tightness in his jaw that you knew showed his self-control.

Your words of protest died on your tongue and in a split second he was standing right in front of you. He smelled of hotel shower gel and his cologne. Your hand landed on his chest, feeling the heat of his body through the thin fabric. You realized you had never seen him undressed and the sudden desire to run your hands over his chest and under the hem of his shirt filled you.

“We are going out tonight,” you stated in a whisper, “And we, uh, we went out to get something fun.”

He hummed, an amused glint in his eyes you were once again struck by how much happier he looked when he smiled. “So, this is,” his hands landed on your hips, “fun?”

It would certainly be fun if he took that dress off you.

He seemed to think the same because his fingertips skimmed over the hem of your dress until they slipped under it, rough skin brushing over where your thighs met your ass. “It’s a shame I couldn’t buy you some more lingerie,” he noted, his voice deep and warm as his nose brushed against yours, “You would look stunning on this bed in nothing but the prettiest lace.”

“Or without it,” you added cheekily, rising onto your tiptoes so you could brush your lips over his.

He made a low sound in his agreement, the way his hands tightened on your ass letting you know just how much he liked that idea.

His lips touched yours, just briefly, just a peck as if to test the waters. But all it managed to do was break the dam of all the desire you had held back these past few weeks. You opened your mouth instantly and Hotch took over control, his mouth moving against yours, making you shiver.

“It’s been way too long,” you whined, tilting your head back when he kissed you. The tall man hummed, pulling you against him. Your hands wandered up to the back of his neck, feeling the softness of his hair there.

“Wanted to have you in my bed at least once between Idaho and now,” he confessed, his breath hot against your skin.

Your bodies were flush against each other. You could feel every single inch of him and it still was not enough. If you could just – and if he would just – fuck, you didn’t want to leave this room all night.

His belt buckle dug into your belly and you could feel his prominent erection through his slacks. You gasped, your fingers tightening on his hair and he growled, his hips snapping forward. The motion had you taking a step back and he followed immediately, not even the edge of the bed stopping him from urging closer to you.

And you did not want him to stop.

A knock on your door snapped you out of it. Hotch growled, his hands squeezing your ass and his teeth closing on your bottom lip. “Hotch,” you murmured, “Someone’s there.”

“If you’re quiet enough, they’ll leave,” he whispered hotly against you. His fingertips swiped over your panties and there was no mistaking how wet you already were. Hotch seemed to think so, too because when another knock came, his fingers hooked your panties to the side.

“Aaron,” you gasped, gently pulling away from him. That seemed to get to him because he took one long step away from you, your body instantly missing him. He looked just as affected as you felt. His hair was a mess, his lips looked so fucking kissable and there was the outline of his cock. The mere sight of it made you want to get on your knees.

But this was not the time and both of you knew it.

Another insistent knock at the door had you move as fast as lightning.

“Bathroom,” you brought out and Hotch nodded, looking like he was back to his no-nonsense self.

In a hurry, you pulled your dress down, rubbing your palm over your mouth and trying your best to look like you weren’t just the most turned-on you had been for weeks.

You opened the door with a flourish only to be faced with an impatient Penelope who took you in with wide eyes.

“Honey you are flowing!” she said, way too loudly, way too happy and way too –

“How many drinks have you had?” you asked, eyeing the half-empty cocktail glass in her hand. It had not one, not two but three colourful umbrellas in there.

“Oh, that doesn’t matter now when they’re so tasty,” she waved off, “What is more important is how you managed to look this good. It's unfair, really, here I am trying on dress after dress and do you know how many hairclips I went through to find the right one and then here you are, looking like,“ she gasped as if she had just had one of her genius ideas. Leaning forward conspiratorially, she stage-whispered, “Were you just masturbating?”

“Oh my god no,” you protested instantly, feeling the heat rise into your cheeks, “Why – why would you say something like that?”

“Cause you look like you just had the best time,” she wriggled her eyebrows, “And I speak from experience.”

“Garcia,” Hotch warned from somewhere behind you and you wondered how he had gotten himself in control on such short notice, “I don’t think that line of thought is appropriate.”

“Of course, sir, I apologize,” she didn’t miss a beat, her voice as happy as always. At least three drinks, you thought, this is no-inhibitions-Penelope. “Now are you two ready or not? I have got a hunk of a man waiting for me in the lobby and I won’t forgive either of you if we miss the first round.”

*

Vegas was everything everyone had always made it out to be.

Just much louder.

Much brighter.

Much more crowded.

The bright lights made the entire street seem like a theme park and you stared in wonder at all the hotels, casinos and bars and their very colourful neon advertisements. Reid was next to you, not paying attention to any of it, and you wondered how he, with all his peculiarities, experienced childhood in the city of sin.

“You would be surprised how much quieter it is if you just never go here.”

Your confusion must have translated onto your face because the young man grinned. “Everybody asks the same thing when they realize where I grew up,” he shrugged, “Figured I’d save you the trouble.”

Derek called him from up front. You noted with a smile that his arm was already around Penelope who gazed up at him with the love-dovey look she got around him. Reid followed his call, picking up his step to catch up with them and you smiled, watching as they laughed and bantered.

Hotch was next to you now, wearing slacks and a dark grey dress shirt. You didn’t even know he owned one. But now he was wearing it, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and it did things to you. Things you tried not to make too obvious because the night was young still and if you were already this wet you didn’t want to think of the state of your panties in a few hours.

“Have you ever been to Vegas?” you asked him instead, trying to sound as casual as possible.

His eyes reflected the colourful lights. “There were a few cases that took us here,” he confirmed, “Though we did not make it a habit to stay here longer.”

“Why now?” you pried.

His face turned towards you, the shining lights of the strip making his profile seem even sharper. Dark eyes met yours.

“I don’t know,” he said softly, his hand brushing against yours as you crossed the street, “It felt like we, like the team, needed some time to recharge.”

*

“Truth or dare?”

A glance around the group let you know that, much like in high school, there was really only one answer that would be accepted.  

“Dare,” you decided, your heart pounding in your chest. Emily’s broad grin did not ease your discomfort.

“I dare you to fuck Officer Greggs over there,” she revealed, nodding to the man who stood at the bar, “He has been eyeing you all night.”

“Fuck him?” Morgan echoed, his arm still thrown around a very giddy Penelope, “Now that’s a lot to ask, isn’t it?”

“What? He’s a good-looking man,” Emily defended her choice, “And it’s obviously not about actually fucking him. It’s about seeing if she could.”

“If she wanted to,” JJ added with a determined nod, her faked sobriety betrayed by the way her eyes were already half-lidded and how her hands did most of the talking for her.

Rossi looked totally unimpressed if amused, and Hotch … Hotch looked just unimpressed.

A flash of excitement coursed through you at the possibility that he was maybe jealous.

“Alright,” you heard yourself say, taking a last sip from your glass, “Wish me luck.”

“In that dress, you don’t need luck,” Morgan joked and you laughed, feeling more and more confident. You turned sideways, trying to make your way out between Hotch’s and Garcia’s chairs. It was a tight fit and, sure, you could have taken the easier route. But you were buzzed enough to want to have Hotch close. And to see how he eyed you up close.

Which he did.

He was sitting in his chair, legs spread wider than normal and your eyes fell to his hand, laying on his thigh. Your knee bumped into his thigh and you could see his fingers twitch, the Rolex on his wrist glinting in the light.

You bit the inside of your cheek trying to get yourself to move. After all, you had a dare to fulfil. Or at least attempt to fulfil.

“Have fun!” JJ sing-songed behind you and you threw her a look that had everyone laughing. Except for Hotch.

The music was loud and the place was crowded. Much like the rest of the city on a Friday night. Yet, it did not take long for you to spot Officer Greggs. Probably because he wanted to be spotted.

He was standing at the bar with a few of his colleagues you recognized from work over the last few days. It was a direct line of sight from you to him and when he raised his glass to you, you knew he had been waiting for this moment for a while. This was your chance.

Walking towards him, you made sure your dress did not ride up too much and that your hips could sway from side to side without stumbling in your heels. Despite this dress making you feel different, you were still not the self-assured, flirty woman of your wishful thinking.

But you also did not need to be.

“I was wonderin’ how long it’d take you to come and chat me up,” Greggs teased you with a grin, his colleagues subtly moving away. Interesting, you noted, that his interest really did not seem to be a secret at all in his team.

“Are you telling me I am late?” you laughed, leaning onto the bar next to him.

The tall man looked you over, his eyes lingering on the hem of your dress and your cleavage. (Much like Hotch earlier, but you tried to ignore that thought.) “I would never,” he drawled, taking a big swallow from his beer, “You are right on time, of course. Wouldn’t expect anything less.”

He shifted on his feet, closer to you, and you noted how his arm fell down, his hand landing on your hip. His touch was soft and warm and not necessarily unwelcome. Here was an attractive, kind-hearted man that was clearly interested in you. And yet all you could think about was Hotch.

As if on their own accord, your eyes shifted back to the group. There wasn’t a direct line of sight, too many people waking to and from, but in the rare moments where you could, you caught glimpses of Hotch.

And he was looking directly at you.

“You okay?”

Gregg’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts. “Yeah,” you said, forcing yourself to look at him and giving him a smile, “Sorry, just got distracted there for a second.”

Your words – as fake as they sounded to your ears – seemed to seem genuine for him. His lips pulled up in a broad smile and his hand got a little heavier on your hip. “I – I was actually hoping we would get a few moments alone today,” he said, getting even closer to you, “You’re quite intriguing if I do say so myself.”

His nose was almost touching yours which meant his mouth was almost touching yours and suddenly you had the question pop up in your head what the fuck you were doing here. You were not about to fuck Officer Greggs. Hell, you didn’t even want to. You wanted one man and one man only and if that did not work out then you at least wanted to spend the night with your colleagues having fun.

“I, uh, I’m gonna be right back,” you excused yourself, vaguely motioning to the direction of the bathroom, “Too many margaritas.”

He nodded, his eyes still fixed on your lips and you took a few steps backwards before turning around and hurrying through the crowd. Okay, here was the plan: Make your way to the bathroom, catch your breath for a few minutes, then return to the team and casually convince them to switch to another bar and enjoy the evening and not make your desire for Hotch too obvious.

You were almost by the bathroom when someone stepped right in front of you. For the first split second, you thought it was a mistake. Someone crossing your path and simply not seeing you. But when they did not move, their chest right against yours, you looked up, ready to be offended.

But the words died on your tongue because it was not just anyone. It was Hotch.

He was looming over you, brows pulled together, lips in a straight line, and he did not look happy in the slightest. His fists were clenched, the veins stood out and you shifted much like Greggs earlier. Only now you were turned on.

“You are not going to fuck Officer Greggs.”

You hadn’t planned on it.

But there was something in his eyes that was just too tempting to play with.

“I’m not?” you asked instead, playing innocent.

“No,” he took a step closer, “You’re not.”

Your chest heaved and his eyes landed on your chest. For just the briefest of seconds, you could see his tongue dart out, smoothing over his lower lip and you wished he would just kiss you. You gulped. Shit, why didn’t he just kiss you?

Instead, he leaned ever closer, his breath washing over your face just as the scent of his cologne.  

“If you land in anyone’s bed tonight, it’s mine,” he murmured, his lips brushing over your ear and goosebumps erupting all over your skin. You knew he noticed when he ran a single finger down the back of your neck, his face lowering so his nose brushed over your neck. “If any man is going to fuck you, it is going to be me. Isn’t that right?”

You gasped, your heart racing in your chest.

“I asked you something,” he reminded you, his hand brushing over your ass, “Don’t you want to answer me?”

“Yes, sir,” the words tasted on your tongue like honey, “I – you’re right.”

“What am I right about?” he asked, “Be a good girl and use your words.”

Your eyes fluttered and you found yourself reaching out, your hand landing loosely on his hip. His belt. Before you knew what you were doing, one of your fingers hooked into his belt loops, tugging him closer.

“You’re the only one who gets to fuck me,” you breathed out.

“Good girl,” he said. And hearing him say it, his voice deep and satisfied, did things to you you would never ever admit when asked about. You squeezed your legs together, shuffling closer to him so your body was flush against his.

His hand cupped the back of your neck, his mouth brushing over your jaw. The dimmed light and the massive crowd kept you relatively sheltered but you were more than aware that your teammate – or Officer Greggs – could spot you at any moment.

And so, apparently, was Hotch.

“Here’s what we’re going to do,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over your skin, “You are going outside. I will go to the team and say I saw you leaving with Greggs,” his voice dripped with venom at the other mas name, “And then I will excuse myself for the night. We will take a car back to the hotel and then I will fuck you so good the only word you can say is my name.”

Fuck, was this really happening?

“Understood?”

You nodded, swallowing heavily as you looked at him with wide eyes. He looked at you, dark eyes on yours and then he leant forward and kissed you. Hard.

His teeth clashed against yours, his tongue licking into your mouth and you felt hot and cold at the same time. Everything was tingling from your head to your tiptoes everything was screaming for him.

“I've never wanted anyone to fuck me this badly,” you admitted, completely out of breath, “Please, Hotch –“

“It’s Sir,” he corrected you sternly, “After I saw you flirting with that boy, it’s Sir.”  

“Yes, Sir,” the words slipped off your tongue too easily, “Please, I –“

“Patience,” he warned you, dropping a small kiss to the spot under your ear. It was a gesture that filled you with affection but there was something about the way his eyes did not meet yours when he pulled away that let you know that kiss was not only for you. You turned your head, following his gaze, and found Officer Greggs staring at you. There was a shadow of disappointment on his face before he turned away, acting like he had not seen you at all.

Hotch’s hand on your neck slipped down to your back, sitting low enough that his fingers could fan out over your butt.

“Alright,” he muttered, “Let’s go.”

*

If anyone had ever told you, that you would be sitting on a bed in a hotel room in Las Vegas, wearing the shortest dress you ever owned and waiting for Hotch to join you, you would have declared them insane. But that was exactly what you were doing now. You had slipped off your heels, sitting cross-legged against the giant pillows as he had paced through the room, switching his phone off, locking the door and putting out the “Do Not Disturb” sign on the handle. It might have been mundane acts by themselves but there was something about how he did it all with such precision, like he was taking care of everything before he could take care of you and it turned you on more than it should.

Your encounters in the past had all been very spontaneous, announcing themselves minutes before something happened between you two. This was different. You had had a whole car and elevator ride before you reached the bed and even now there were things to take care of. You had been scared that maybe it would be awkward, that you did not have anything to talk about.

But you were proven wrong because while there was silence between the two of you, it was not the uncomfortable kind. He had always touched you, subtle but reassuring. Hotch had had his hand on your bare knee for the entire ride, his fingers steadily brushing circles into your skin while he made small talk with the driver like it was the most natural thing in the world. In the elevator his hand had found its place on your upper back, not as but seeing as your skin was not covered by the dress there, it felt much more intimate.

And now he had prepared everything so you would remain undisturbed for the entire night which excited you more than words could describe. But it also terrified you. You took a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves. Hotch stood at the end of the bed, his eyes mustering you up and down. You were so nervous, you did not dare to move a muscle.

This was happening, this was really happening.

“Come here,” he said softly. It was not an instruction but you followed it as one, crawling to the end of the bed until you were kneeling up. Your heart was racing in your chest, the slick between your legs too prominent to ignore. And Hotch was right in front of you, mustering you with serious eyes.

“Do you remember what I told you in the car?” he checked in, his finger holding your chin, “If you want to stop –“

“Tap your thigh three times,” you finished his sentence.

“And the safe word?”

“Iceberg.”

His lips quirked up in a pleased smile as he tilted your chin up.

“Good girl,” he leant forwards, his lips meeting yours and you closed your eyes, allowing yourself to lean completely into him.

His other hand cupped your cheek, keeping you in place as his teeth tugged on your bottom lip and you hasped, feeling a shudder run through your entire body.

You could not stop the whine that escaped you when he pulled away from you but a stern look from him had you silent again. Silent and very very horny.

“There are so many things I want to do to you,” he said, almost conversationally as he unbuttoned his shirt. Your eyes fixated on his hands and how big they looked on the tiny buttons. Aaron Hotchner was not a small man. He was broad in an unexpected kind of way, solid. Not as defined muscles as Morgan was or as lithe as Reid, no. Aaron Hotchner was a category of his own.  

“Suck my cock under the desk, fuck you in that elevator, have you hump the corner of my desk till you come, the list goes on,” he continued while shrugging out of his dress shirt, leaving him only in the white undershirt, “haven’t really decided on one yet.”

You only noticed you were holding your breath when he approached you again. He tilted your head to the side, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip, “Maybe we should try them all out. What do you say? Want to be a little whore for me?”

“God please yes,” you gasped, your lips brushing over the pad of his thumb. He hummed, his finger pressing further into your mouth and he did not even need to say anything for your lips to close around his digit, swirling your tongue around his thumb and sucking.

He hummed, pressing his thumb down on your tongue and you opened your mouth for him, trying to stick out your tongue so he could give you more. But he didn’t, instead pulling his thumb away, leaving a wet trail down to your chin where he gripped it.

“Not so fast,” he chuckled, his hands pulling you in again for a kiss. His mouth opened against yours and you opened yours for him, his tongue tangling with yours. He tasted of whiskey and that mint that Morgan had passed around. “We can go slow,” he said, his nose bumping against yours, “We have time.”

Something, some teeny tiny voice in your brain, piped up in doubt. You only have tonight to impress him, that voice squeaked, If you fail tonight, you will never have the chance again. Which was a ridiculous thought to have when he was towering over you, looking like he was about to devour you. And fuck, did you want to be devoured.

“First, I am going to have you suck my cock, I think,” he mused, “I feel like your mouth always needs something to suck on, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, Sir,” you replied, shuffling off the bed. His hand left your chin slowly, his knuckles brushing down your cleavage and belly before his arm fell to his side.

You watched as he sat on the side of the bed and he did not even have to say anything for you to sink to your knees. The carpet was soft on your skin. Still, he held up his jacket in a silent offering, his eyes warm and soft. He was taking care of you.

When you shook your head, the soft look disappeared again as he nodded in understanding. The jacket landed on the end of the bed and when he looked at you again, his eyes were dark, staring directly into your soul.

Being looked at like that made your breath come quicker and your pussy wetter. Especially, when he spread his legs so all you could see, all you could focus on, was the bulge right in front of your face.  

Like you said, Hotch wasn’t a small man by any means and there was something so sexy about him acting like he knew it. He knew he was big, he knew he was in charge and he knew what it did to you when he unzipped his pants and freed his cock.

“Patient,” he noted, clearly pleased, “Good girl.”

You smiled, his praise doing something with you. Something you were not ready to admit yet, even though it was already the running joke in the BAU that you wanted to impress him. (Not as your boss though, as most people presumed, but as the man that made you cry on his cock.)

“Here you go,” he said, his hand wrapped around his shaft and pumped it a few times. Drops of precome beaded at the tip, looking ready for you to lick them right off. If you focussed enough, you could already taste him. “Open wide.”

You did, opening your mouth as wide as you could, and sticking out your tongue. Hotch hummed, a deep sound from his chest. His tip landed on your tongue and you waited, frowning when he did not move. But then he did it again. And again.

He slapped his cock on your tongue a few times and you could feel the drool collecting on the tip of your tongue, threatening to trail down your chin. But you did not lose his gaze, did not move from your spot. Which was exactly what he wanted.

“Fuck, you’re good for me,” he breathed, “So fucking good for me, aren’t you?”

You nodded eagerly, his cock landing on your cheek instead. But Hotch didn’t seem to mind. His other hand found the back of your head, pulling you closer. You leaned forward as he wanted, closing your eyes when he lifted his cock onto your face. Heat rose into your cheeks when you realized what he was doing, his shaft measuring against your face. It made you feel filthy and a little embarrassed but also so incredibly turned on.

Your mouth was still open, your tongue and he was heavy against your face. You resisted the temptation to run your tongue along the underside. You wanted to be good for him.

“Go on,” he said, “Drool for me.”

With your mouth open and tongue out, it was impossible to make a sound and yet, you managed to produce the tiniest whimper. You could feel the drop forming before it landed on your chin trailing down before you could feel it between your tits.

You froze, wondering if it was enough for him, if you should wait a little longer, if you could wait a little longer before you were getting too desperate. His cock disappeared before finally pushing on your tongue and inside your mouth.

You took a deep breath then, noting how he already pushed himself to the back of your throat. His thrusts were slow and measured but also testing clearly your limits. There was nothing careful or shallow about his movements, like he knew exactly how much you could take, how much he wanted you to take. And you knew you would take however much he wanted from you.

He was heavy on your tongue and tasted salty. You managed to swallow around him once, your throat already protesting. You gagged around him, your eyes stinging with tears as you tried to regain your composure because damn you if you weren’t going to try your best.

Hotch paused his movements, his cock halfway down your throat. His brows were pulled together and he looked at you, clearly trying to see whether you wanted to take the chance to tap his thighs.

You relaxed your throat, making it a point to meet his gaze.

 “Are those pretty tears for me?” he asked softly, his free hand brushing over your cheeks, “And I haven’t even fucked you properly yet.”

Fuck.

“You good?”

“Hngh,” you tried to nod, forcing yourself to swallow around him. He tilted his head back, a groan leaving his throat and you could see his jugular move. You swallowed around him again in a desperate attempt to see him lose composure like that again. His hips twitched, moving even farther inside you and you gagged. Hotch paused but did not pull away.

“You can take it,” he said sternly, “I know you can.”

You remained silent, trying to convey that you knew with your eyes. Your jaw was aching already and your pussy wept. His hips began to move more and more, his large hand on the back of your head pushing and pulling you this and that way. You relaxed, letting him use you like a toy (and why did that turn you on as much as it did?), occasionally running your tongue over the underside of his cock.

He was silent, not saying much but you could feel his eyes on you. You glanced upwards, finding him looking down at you, almost as if he was assessing you. Like he was determining whether you did a good job or not and that, embarrassing as it was, made you even wetter.

There was that furrow between his brows again and his lips were pressed tightly together. If you did not know any better, you would have suspected him to be displeased, but you did know better. Because his cock was twitching on your tongue and his chest rumbled.

You leant forward again, your nose almost touching his belly. Almost.

Frustration grew in you and you pulled away.

But before you could pull off completely, his hand on your head stopped you. “You can take me deeper,” he stated. It wasn’t a question but you knew he gave the pause to give the option to say no.

You did not say anything.

His hand pushed you down on his crotch, his cock reaching impossibly deep and you gagged. You did not pull away this time and he did not let you. Rather, you made an effort to breathe through your nose, to focus on the weight of him on your tongue.

Your hands twitched with the knowledge that you could tap his thigh anytime. Yet you chose not to. Your nose touched his belly, his cock too large to let you smile in triumph.

Then, his other hand reached around your front and he leant forward. At first, you thought he was cupping your jaw or something to try and get you to open wider. But his hand went lower. To your throat.

Your eyes widened in shock when his big hand closed around your throat, not cutting off any air but still tight enough to feel his pressure. And enough to feel the bulge he formed in your throat.

He groaned.

“I could jerk myself off just like that,” he commented, sounding way too unaffected for your liking, “And you would let me, wouldn’t you?”

You made a sound at the back of your throat, feeling the movement protest against the grip his hand had on you.

The power he held over you had you squeezing your thighs.

“I am not coming down your throat,” he said, his thumb rubbing over the tip of him, “Not this time.”

With that, he pulled away from you, his hand on the back of your head gently pulling you back. Immediately, you gasped for breath, trying to even your breathing while not taking your eyes off him.

Hotch stood up, a twinkle in his eyes when he undid the first few buttons of his shirt. “Get up on the bed,” he instructed, “Lose the clothes.”

At record speed, you slipped out of the dress and out of your underwear. Catching a glimpse of the wet patch on your panties, you forced yourself not to be ashamed of it. By now, it was a safe bet to assume that he knew the kind of effect he had on you.

The sheets felt cool and soft under your skin and you sat down and scooted back. Hotch eyed you like prey, your heart skipping a beat when you watched as he wrapped his hand around himself again, pumping while you got comfortable.

When your back settled against the pillows, he moved too.

“Good girl,” he murmured before leaning forward and climbing onto the bed.

You laid back, allowing him to come to rest above you. His breath fanned over your crotch and your belly, his lips ghosting over the valley between your breasts and up your throat until they met yours.

You hummed, trying to get up on your elbows to get closer to him. His lips were soft but dominant, his hand brushing over your cheek before settling right under your jaw.

The man above you sat up, straddling your hips. His hand was around your throat, loosely wrapped around and you smiled, already knowing what. You opened your mouth, sticking out your tongue and being rewarded by the dark smile on his lips.

“Such a good little whore,” he groaned before he spit right into your mouth, “Such a good little cocksleeve.”

Swallowing greedily, you opened your mouth again, showing him that nothing was left.

The feeling of his cock against your folds was what made your composure break. Pleasure was flowing through your every vein and you could feel your pussy pulse, feeling way too empty with him rubbing his tip over your clit.

“Sir, please,” you whined, trying to thrust your hips up, wanting to get just that little bit of friction more, “I – I need it.”

“Oh, I know exactly what it is that you need,” he stated when he slowly pushed forward, his cock splitting your walls, “You need me to work my cock in that tight pussy of yours and then fill you up until you are nothing but dripping in my come.”

You took a deep breath, relishing in the stretch he caused and the feelings of your walls opening up for him. And his words did the rest. You were so wet,

Angling up your knees, you wrapped your legs around his broad hips. It allowed him to push even deeper and you both moaned. Your thighs were already aching but your pussy fluttered around how full you were.

He began to move, slow at first before he found his bearings. His forearms caged in your head and he was right above you, surrounding you so completely while his cock pushed deeper and deeper. All you could see, all you could smell, all you could feel, was him.

“Yes, Sir,” you breathed, your fingertips running over his jaw, “Please come in me.”

“Good girl,” he chuckled, a little out of breath, his lips pressing against your temple, “Making such smart choices today.”

Not having the time to think about what he could possibly mean, you tilted your head back, allowing him to press a slow kiss to your neck. It was warm and wet and made your entire body shiver.

“Anytime you make a smart choice, I reward you, how does that sound?”

You could not answer, his cock hitting a spot inside you that made you see stars.

“Already too cockdumb for me, I see,” he murmured, his teeth scratching over your skin, “But that’s okay because this? This is a reward. You were such a smart girl today, not letting Greggs fuck you. Because you know only I can fuck you right, right?”

You whimpered, your hardened nipples brushing against the fabric of his shirt and you arched your back, trying to get him to be closer, deeper, faster.

His hips snapped against you, pinning yours to the mattress and you gasped at how deep he went. The weight of his body on yours meant you could not move, entirely at his mercy. Your walls clamped around him, the knot in your abdomen getting tighter and tighter with the feeling of his cock moving and his quiet groans in your ear.

“Next time you’re being a good girl for me, I will fill you up on the jet,” he hissed, “I will have you sit on my cock before we’re even in the air and you only get to come once we’re back on land. I don’t care what the others will think,” his fingers snuck to your clit, circling the sensitive bundle of nerves just how you needed it, “Let’s hope it won’t be Alaska or I will have an overstimulated mess sobbing on my cock.”

You gasped, hands flexing on his shoulders. Images filled your head. Of you, wearing one of your cutest office dresses that had the perfect length to conceal how he was buried inside you. Or how he would just so casually reach over to your seat, between your thighs, working your clit until you left a wet mess on the leather seat. The thought turned you on more than it should, the urge to keep quiet so you would not get caught being fucked by your boss.

And Hotch could sense what you were thinking. “Looks like someone likes that idea,” he mocked you, “Your pussy practically choked me. Are you that desperate for the cock of an old man? Of your boss? You really just want to be filled up every chance you have, hm?”

You nodded, eyes tearing up at the sheer pleasure of it all.

“Yes, Sir,” you gasped out, trying to move your hips against him, though you knew it was an impossible feat, “Wanna – wanna be your whore so bad.”

“You already are,” he cooed, kissing you swiftly while his hips moved against yours again and again, “And you can be my good girl too if you come on my cock right now.”

Aaron Hotchner had to be a magician because there was no other explanation for how your body just listened to him. Every single muscle you were aware of tensed as the knot in your abdomen grew tighter and tighter before it felt like it was pulled apart, pleasure erupting everywhere. You buried your face in his neck, muffling your moan and breathing in his familiar scent.

Hotch did not slow his pace. His cock kept working in and out of you, driving you to the edge of madness. With you coming around him, you became even more aware of how big he was inside you. It was like he was pushing the air out of your lungs and you gasped, trying to gather your bearings when all you could feel was

He panted, his movements picking up in speed and you wrapped your legs tighter around him, pulling him inside you until he stilled. The deep groan he let out rumbled in his chest and you could feel it, feel it in the way he was pressed right up against you, feel it in the way his head sunk into the crook of your neck, feel it in the way, his entire body rested on yours.

There was something about feeling his come pump inside of you, feeling his cock twitch and feeling so full of him, that struck you with the sudden realization that you would really let this man do anything to you. The trust you had in him, in the way he would take care of you, would not be so easily broken.

Which meant your heart was that much more breakable.

Your body calmed down, feeling completely weightless even with him on top of you. Your eyes fluttered closed when you felt him shift, rolling you both around until you were on top of him. His cock was still inside you plugging you up and you smiled when you felt him draw lined over your back.

“That okay?” he asked, his voice deep and rumbly, “Do you need anything?”

You shook your head before resting your cheek on his chest. “Just this,” you murmured, “Just this please.”

“Good girl,” he praised you with a gentle smile, kissing the top of your head, “Rest, sweetheart. You deserve it.”

*

“What is it?” you shot up in bed, panic and adrenaline pumping through your blood. It took you a moment to remember that you were not supposed to be alone in this room and that the figure moving next to you was none other than Aaron. He was safe. He was supposed to be here.

Ears ringing, you threw a look on your side of the bed, trying to find if your phone was lit up because there was another case.

Please not, ran through our brain, Please let me have him this close just for a little longer.

But it was not your phone that was ringing.

“Shit, sorry,” you could hear Hotch rise in the dark, his body twisting the blanket this and that way as he leaned over to his night table. Something clattered and you could see a brightly lit display before it disappeared behind Hotch’s profile.

“Hey, buddy!”

You blinked.

“Yeah, we got the bad guy,” his voice was oddly soft, “Did Aunt Jess take to the – she did? That is awesome, you will have to tell me all about it.”

When you realized he was talking to his son (you tried to blame the very late/early time for this), your heart melted. The way his voice was deep and groggy but you could hear the love in it, the affection. There were only a handful of times you had heard him talk like that and they had all been when he was talking to or about Jack.

Before you knew it, he had hung up, his phone screen going dark and your body instantly yearning back for that deep slumber you had just been in.

“Sorry, I usually have it on loud to make sure I wake up. “ To make sure I don’t miss his calls.

“No worries, it’s … it's actually quite sweet,” you mumbled, glad for the darkness so he could not see just how affected you were.

“Sweet?” he echoed and you didn’t need to see him to know he was grinning, “I was expecting a lot of adjectives but not sweet.”

“It’s the dichotomy of man,” you replied groggily, very aware of the heat of his body right next to you, “Stern Hotch and Sweet Hotch.”

His hand found yours in the dark and your heart skipped a beat when he pulled it up to his lips. It felt way too intimate but it felt right. Maybe because it was dark it felt like you could allow yourself to enjoy the closeness. Like you could pretend you were living in some alternate universe where he was

“You’ve only seen stern Hotch, then, I presume,” he joked.

“Sexy Hotchner and stern Hotchner,” you added, pulling your hand back to your chest and thus his arm around you as you settled on your side, “Work Hotchner and Bed Hotchner.”

“Then maybe it is time you get to see Sweet Hotchner,” he murmured in your ear, his lips brushing over your shoulder. Your hand tightened around his and you snuggled back into him, thinking that any embarrassment that might ensue from this intimate embrace could be a problem for future you.

“How do I get to meet Sweet Hotchner?” you yawned, barely awake, “Do I have to ask Jack for some tips?”

“That or you could go on a date with me,” he said, his voice just as groggy, “I heard I am supposed to be my most charming self when on a date.”

Yup, definitely a problem for future you.

[wishitweresummer]

Re-uniting in Las Vegas (Dream x GeorgeNotFound)

(A Drabble about George’s stubble…the gubble.)

Word count: 138

“Be quiet, idiot!”, George hissed and pressed farther into Dream’s neck. The giggles only bubbled louder out of Dream.

“That tihickles!”, he whined. “Your stubble!”.

“You like it?”. George smirked and nudged his chin in between Dream’s shoulder and neck, making him squeak.

“Yes! But stop!”.

“You just said you liked it!!”.

“It’s cute!! But don’t tickle me!!”.

George dove under the blankets in a flash and Dream squealed as he felt that stupid chin nudging against his collarbone. He grabbed him and in an instant, he had a giggling George pinned under him.

“Nononono!!”.

“You little brat. You think you’re funny huh?”, he asked with a smirk and dropped his face into George’s neck. The boy burst into squeaky laughter as Dream nuzzled expertly. “This is a real beard, you little idiot.”.

“Dreheheheheaaam!!!”.

[razrogue]

D&D Character Asks - Gan

1. What influenced or inspired the creation of this character?

They were originally created in the Dragon Age universe as a cousin to my HoF, Briva Tabris. I wanted my Tabris to have some family for post DAO and decided on a cousin that would travel with her (since I didn't want Shianni or Soris to fill that role). I've brought them over to BG3 now (which I'm basing these asks off of) because they weren't tied to another central story and they are my evil/morally dubious character for RPing those things.

5. What creature would they like to have as a pet?

A ferret - I've made their love of ferrets carry over to multiple universes where I've used them (Dragon Age, Fallout New Vegas, Wasteland 3, Baldur's Gate 3). Why I chose ferrets, I couldn't tell you but I think they are adorable lol

7. Is there anyone they’d die for? Kill for?

Die for? Absolutely not. Let's get one thing clear, Gan dies for no one. Kill for though? A handful of folks - Astarion, Minthara, Shadowheart, Étoile (@omgkalyppso OC), Ixbalam (@meishuu OC), Penelope (@bhaalbaaby OC), and their family if they ever decided to get over their self imposed exile from them.

8. Who was their first love?

A femme elf I wrote about in this post

9. How would this character react to someone confessing their love for them?

So it depends on the circumstances but if we're talking about the normal one of someone they're involved with, it still depends LOL.

If it's a situation where they weren't expecting it because they had completely different ideas of what they had with the other person, they would listen and gauge whether or not they needed to say those words back to them. If they can get by without having to say them and just react kind of similarly through action to keep the person from being brokenhearted they will do that instead.

If they are kind of expecting it and they feel a bit like the other person, they will verbally express caring about the person but not love.

A confession of your love for them does not guarantee they will be confessing love for you. Only when they are ready will love be expressed 🤷🏾‍♀️

10. How old is this character?

Gan is 138 at the start of Baldur's Gate 3

18. What is their favorite spell or method of attack?

Method of attack - melee sneak attack with daggers coated in a paralytic poison

General spell - Disguise Self

Spell in combat - Greater Invisibility

[mr-imagin8ion]

A project 3000 years in the making: every episode of Futurama ranked in increasing order of sci-fi, from earthiest to spaciest

Tier 10: Insulting - These episodes are hardly even sci-fi. They just address realistic situations in a hardly even futuristic setting.

148. Stench and Stenchibility - The earthiest episode. It doesn't even feel like a Futurama. It feels like a "King of the Hill" that wasn't selling, so the script people crossed out the name "Dale" and replaced it with "Zoidberg".

147. Three Hundred Big Boys

146. The Luck of the Fryish - I hate the flashback episodes. They defeat the purpose of the show.

145. How Hermes Requisitioned His Groove Back

144. A Leela of Her Own

143. Zapp Gets Cancelled

142. I, Roommate

Tier 9: Antiquated - These episodes are better at employing 4th-millennium technology, but their plots are still unmistakably 3rd-millennium.

141. That's Lobstertainment!

140. Naturama - It doesn't even use technology. The only reason it isn't completely below the scale whatsoever is that it's implied the narrator is from Omicron Persei 8.

139. Future Stock

138. The 30% Iron Chef

137. Cuteness Overlord

136. The Silence of the Clamps

135. Attack of the Killer App

134. Bender Should Not Be Allowed on Television

Tier 8: Earthy - While incredibly down-to-earth, these episodes do have one pretty important bit that makes them qualify as sci-fi, like a robot Santa or a head transplant.

133. Jurassic Bark

132. Yo Leela Leela - It is nearly my favorite episode, no doubt there - but let's face it. Change a few things, and it could easily happen in this era.

131. Raging Bender

130. Rage Against the Vaccine

129. Xmas Story

128. The Route of All Evil - It's the 31st century, but there are still newspapers????

127. The Impossible Stream

126. Put Your Head on My Shoulders

125. Fry and the Slurm Factory

Tier 7: Humble - These stories are a little futuristic, but they still feel plain for their day.

124. Bender Gets Made

123. Cold Warriors

122. Saturday Morning Fun Pit - Mostly grounded in the 1980s, but spared from a lower tier because it does have clones and lasers and the like.

121. The Cyber House Rules

120. Bendless Love

119. Near-Death Wish - The expensive panoramic bits were pretty epic, however.

118. The One Amigo

117. Attack of the Clothes

116. The Lesser of Two Evils

115. 31st Century Fox

Tier 6: Allegorical - These episodes use future crap as a metaphorical stand-in for present crap.

114. Bend Her

113. Into the Wild Green Yonder

112. Planet Espresso

111. A Big Piece of Garbage

110. Proposition Infinity

109. The Cryonic Woman

108. Mars University

107. The Futurama Mystery Liberry - Futurama is forgetting what Futurama is.

106. Bendin' in the Wind

105. Love's Labours Lost in Space

104. A Head in the Polls

103. Children of a Lesser Bog

102. The Futurama Holiday Spectacular

101. Quids Game

100. A Flight to Remember

99. Fun on a Bun

98. Lethal Inspection

97. The Temp

Tier 5: Type-Zero - Pretty standard sci-fi plots, unremarkable in their remarkability.

96. Anthology of Interest I

95. A Pharaoh to Remember

94. Beauty and the Bug

93. The Problem with Popplers

92. T.: The Terrestrial

91. Viva Mars Vegas

90. The Inhuman Torch

89. Amazon Women in the Mood

88. The Deep South

87. The Mutants Are Revolting

86. One is Silicon and the Other Gold

85. A Fishful of Dollars

84. Where No Fan Has Gone Before

83. Leela's Homeworld

Tier 4: Techie - Here's where it gets fun. These are the first plots to get out of this world. (As a bonus, we've hit the median point!)

82. The Tip of the Zoidberg

81. Fry and Leela's Big Fling

80. That Darn Katz!

79. Murder on the Planet Express

78. When Aliens Attack

77. The Devil's Hands Are Idle Playthings

76. Space Pilot 3000

75. A Clone of My Own

74. The Birdbot of Ice-Catraz

73. Where the Buggalo Roam

72. The Beast with a Billion Backs

71. How The West Was 1010001

70. Brannigan, Begin Again

69. The Farnsworth Parabox

68. A Taste of Freedom

67. Why Must I Be a Crustacean in Love?

66. Less than Hero

65. Spanish Fry

64. The Sting

63. The Bots and the Bees

62. Meanwhile

61. Related to Items You've Viewed - It feels like it should be a tier-6, but just isn't. There is no mathematical explanation for this.

60. The Butterjunk Effect

Tier 3: Otherworldly: The epitome of Futurama. These have the ideal blend of science and fiction.

59. Fry Am Fry Is the Egg Man - Grammar, Stanley.

58. Parasites Regained

57. The Prince and the Product

56. Kif Gets Knocked Up a Notch

55. Mother's Day

54. The Series Has Landed

53. Decision 3012

52. Hell Is Other Robots

51. A Tale of Two Santas

50. Anthology of Interest II

49. Bender's Game

48. Insane in the Mainframe

47. In-A-Gadda-Da-Leela

46. War Is the H-Word

45. I Know What You Did Next Xmas - A ponderance: does this episode nullify "The Late Philip J. Fry", now that they can go back in time the easy way?

44. Crimes of the Hot

Tier 2: Spacey - Mind-bending and heart-warping, these shows are good enough to make you (very, very temporarily) stop wishing Matt Groening would die.

43. A Farewell to Arms

42. Parasites Lost

41. Otherwise

40. Game of Tones

39. Overclockwise

38. Zapp Dingbat

37. Godfellas

36. The Thief of Baghead

35. Free Will Hunting

34. My Three Suns

33. Leela and the Genestalk - Fun side note: At first, it didn't used to occur to me that this episode was pronounced "JEEN-stalk". I'd been pronouncing it "JEN-ə-stalk", like the way it's pronounced in words like genetic, genesis, or generate.

32. The Why of Fry

31. Roswell that Ends Well

30. Calculon 2.0

29. Assie Come Home

28. Lrrreconcilable Ndndifferences

27. All the Presidents' Heads

26. Forty Percent Leadbelly

25. Möbius Dick - Some episodes are ranked so low only because there are so many that rank higher than them.

24. I Second that Emotion

23. The Day the Earth Stood Stupid

22. The Duh-Vinci Code

21. Obsoletely Fabulous

20. Fear of a Bot Planet

Tier 1: Unreal - Creativity personified; these stories are chariots to the stars, moving so fast that they make the other nine tiers appear to stand still.

19. Ghost in the Machines

18. Neutopia

17. 2-D Blacktop

16. Law and Oracle

15. Love and Rocket

14. Rebirth

13. A Bicyclops Built for Two

12. I Dated a Robot

11. Bender's Big Score

10. The Six Million Dollar Mon

9. A Clockwork Origin

8. The Honking

7. Teenage Mutant Leela's Hurdles

6. Reincarnation

5. The Late Philip J. Fry

4. All the Way Down - Infinitely better than I expected from a Hulu episode.

3. The Prisoner of Benda - Nothing says sci-fi like inventing a whole new math equation just to give your story a proper ending.

2. Time Keeps on Slippin'

1. Benderama - The spaciest episode. Now this is what it is all about: half-sized clones and microscopic microbrewing and sensitive giants.

Other notes:

The spaciest season is season 6 (weighing in at a high tier-2), and the earthiest is season 9 (a heartbreaking tier-7).

This is intended as a ranking of the episodes in order of earthiness to spaciness, not as a ranking of my opinion on the episodes. A ranking of my opinion is over here.

Drafting this list took all night, and preparing it took all morning.

[leedongwook]

I posted 14,813 times in 2022

That's 9,952 more posts than 2021!

1,687 posts created (11%)

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I tagged 13,507 of my posts in 2022

Only 9% of my posts had no tags

#bts - 2,919 posts

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Longest Tag: 138 characters

#i like the thought of vegas being addicted to pete and pete knows how much he needs and wants him so he can play with vegas in his own way

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

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1,349 notes - Posted July 17, 2022

#4

#not Vegas gently brushing his bottom lip down the tip of Petes nose 😭😭

1,404 notes - Posted July 30, 2022

#3

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1,879 notes - Posted June 22, 2022

#2

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2,046 notes - Posted July 11, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

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2,161 notes - Posted June 11, 2022

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[minorfamilysupremacy]

I posted 1,575 times in 2022

That's 1,575 more posts than 2021!

142 posts created (9%)

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I tagged 1,575 of my posts in 2022

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#build jakapan - 361 posts

#pete saengtham - 361 posts

#vegaspete - 249 posts

#biblebuild - 225 posts

#@ oberon: come collect your child - 154 posts

#porsche kittisawasd - 138 posts

#kinn theerapanyakul - 76 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#but when he doesn’t focus on the stupidity of trying to seduce porsche it becomes evident how good he is at the dirty work of the minor fam

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

ways in which macau theerapanyakul has managed to be the best worst little brother alive

fake gagged every time vegas has done so much as smile in pete’s general direction

been quasi-adopted by pete’s grandma and immediately used this privileged position to extract every embarrassing story about pete’s childhood and then countered with an equally embarrassing story of vegas’

barged into vegas’ room any time he’s slept past 8 am and thrown himself on the bed shouting ‘WAKE UP, GRANDPA’

(pete got up hours ago so it’s not like he’s even around to share the pain)

interrupted a quiet night on the couch by dressing up in vegas’ clothes and dramatically parading around the living room making kissing noises at pete

(that boy can move when he needs to)

systematically changed all of vegas’ online handles and passwords on numerous occasions and refused to give up the new names even under duress

painted little mustaches on all of vegas’ fake skulls

216 notes - Posted August 15, 2022

#4

228 notes - Posted October 30, 2022

#3

it’s very telling to me that when gun wants to twist the knife when he’s abusing vegas, he goes for belittling vegas’ nurturing side. saying ‘you and macau aren’t fit to be my sons’ is a way of tearing down all the years vegas has spent trying to keep his brother safe and loved and far enough away from the mafia lifestyle that he doesn’t have to run the risk of becoming the same heartless weapon that vegas is. (and it works because later, when pete points out that vegas still has macau, vegas just says that macau is the same. they’re both trapped on the same sinking ship with no hope of rescue.) slapping the food out of his hands and following it with a comment about how vegas is just as stupid as his mother is directly reinforcing that vegas’ worth as a person isn’t in this caretaking realm. he wasn’t raised to be soft and kind, he was raised to kill and maim and destroy. why is he wasting his time trying to be gentle or look after others? there isn’t room for that. he’s vegas from the minor family and he needs to start acting like it — he needs to be the armor, the shell, the monstrous underworld figure — and he needs to abandon the vulnerable human core underneath.

and it’s equally telling that even though vegas’ entire life is lived in service to his father and trying to find a way to impress him, he still doesn’t give up that innate desire to feed and care for and look after the people he loves. for all the abuse gun puts him through and for all the horrible things vegas does, he still never escapes or abandons that.

259 notes - Posted November 26, 2022

#2

POP QUIZ: would it be more embarrassing for pete if vegas walked in on him doing his nuts out, butt’s out exercise routine, or more embarrassing for vegas if pete walked in on him in the nude, lighting his 57th candle in the dark

672 notes - Posted September 2, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

how long did macau wait after leaving the temple before elbowing vegas in the ribs and going ‘OOOOOOH DO YOU HAVE A CRUUUUUUSH ON PETE OOOOOOH ARE YOU GONNA MAAAAARRRRRY HIM’ because my money is on ‘literally the second they were out of sight and even that was a struggle’

1,415 notes - Posted August 27, 2022

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[daouoffroads]

I posted 3,026 times in 2022

That's 1,162 more posts than 2021!

155 posts created (5%)

2,871 posts reblogged (95%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@teamteerayus

@machikeita

@fiddlepickdouglas

@pharawee

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I tagged 3,025 of my posts in 2022

#queue - 2,303 posts

#drama: thailand - 1,801 posts

#kinnporsche - 1,355 posts

#me - 366 posts

#drama: korea - 205 posts

#self rebagel - 114 posts

#mile phakphum - 107 posts

#apo nattawin - 99 posts

#cutie pie - 86 posts

#edits - 83 posts

Longest Tag: 138 characters

#this coloring is inspired by pantone's mint julep for no reason other than i saw it and thought hmmm i have never done a green themed edit

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

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754 notes - Posted May 12, 2022

#4

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760 notes - Posted June 19, 2022

#3

upon a less hyped rewatch... porsche was definitely vibe checking tf out of vegas and the little pick me didn't pass. he's so different to vegas now vs when they were riding the bike together. /porsche was also wrapping kinn around his finger once he realized pete was sending intel back to their boss on any and all interactions porsche had with vegas.

now i could totally be putting too much thought into this but i think the drinking was an act. the entire episode we got porsche hesitating with drinks and i definitely think he's wiser now about accepting drinks. but after vegas made it known he knew things about porsche he had no right to know, porsche shifted, changed, to me. he wanted to sus vegas out and he needed to play a part and so he "drank". (arm and pete being plied with booze and then suddenly sober when porsche disappears with vegas also caught my eye.)

porsche goes with vegas. he stumbles, barely able to walk. he slurs his words. he wants vegas to talk, because he knows vegas was never far from him, always watching him. he knew vegas liked talking to him. his face when vegas was taking off his shirt, the look vegas didn't see, was sober. calculating. and then vegas kisses him and suddenly he's not drunk anymore, he's fucking shocked. that wasn't part of his dumb plan (or maybe it was in the back of mind, a test to see how vegas would go. kinn told him vegas was obsessed with things that kinn had.)

but do you know what was part of his plan? pete reporting back to kinn. he knew he was safe in this hostile environment because kinn would come for him the way he snuck out of the hospital to find him when he couldn't sleep. which is why he smiled when kinn showed up.

sure he absolutely miscalculated with vegas, hell he probably had no clue what he could get vegas to say but he wanted to help kinn, but he KNEW kinn would come for him.

and then kinn's fury also wasn't part of the plan and porsche definitely doesn't slur when he says he shouldn't have fallen for an asshole like kinn and he definitely doesn't stumble when he goes to leave.

he's trying so hard to fit into this dark underbelly he's found himself in. does he fuck up? yes. is he doing his best? yes.

843 notes - Posted May 21, 2022

#2

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873 notes - Posted July 10, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

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[captain-hardness]

I posted 247 times in 2022

That's 185 more posts than 2021!

27 posts created (11%)

220 posts reblogged (89%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@alternatingurrent

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I tagged 238 of my posts in 2022

Only 4% of my posts had no tags

#kinnporsche - 130 posts

#vegaspete - 61 posts

#vegas x pete - 51 posts

#otp: let it out - 48 posts

#otp: the bread is soft but the other thing is not - 48 posts

#this - 35 posts

#oh wow - 28 posts

#kinn x porsche - 20 posts

#my edits - 17 posts

#personal - 17 posts

Longest Tag: 138 characters

#i couldn't focus because i was screaming 10 minutes left where is vegas why they are happy and vegas is dead and where is pete i hate this

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

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193 notes - Posted September 2, 2022

#4

203 notes - Posted August 3, 2022

#3

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223 notes - Posted September 29, 2022

#2

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My #1 post of 2022

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[percontaion-points]

Covet chapters 136-139

Click to see the rest of the snark & image descriptions

Chapter 136

Remy eyes him, then gestures to Hudson and says, “Maybe pass me all the sacks.”

Chapter 136 summary: Except that with Flint’s metabolism, he’s sobering up quickly. And Grace gives Hudson a bit of her blood to help him heal a bit faster. So the entire thing was such a non-issue, I don’t know why anybody bothered to care about it. 

They go back to Vander, who says that he finished the key. Grace pulls one of the flowers out from her hand, and is surprised that it actually works. However, Vander expresses his anger and frustration when he doesn’t immediately “die”. Calder then takes the second flower and keels over, in order to prove to him that it did work. Remy is kind of upset over the entire thing though, since they don’t simply want to leave her for the guards to find. Which makes no sense because the plan is for the guards to find their “dead” bodies and chuck them out. 

Chapter 137

“Yeah.” Vander sighs. “That’s what I was afraid you were going to say.”

Chapter 137 summary: Remy tells them to collect the money, and they all set off again. As they go, Remy explains that he still sees Grace giving him a flower. But he’s not going to be shitty enough to take the last flower and leave his new friends there to suffer their fates. 

He takes them to a really dark part of the pit, where he talks to some guy behind a door. The guy acts like the big black-market head honcho is too busy to talk to Remy, but Remy eventually gets the guy to open the door. Vander expresses disappointment that this is their plan B. 

Chapter 138

 And sitting on that throne is a kid, no more than ten or eleven.

[...]

“Meet Charon,” Remy says, his tone as ironic as I’ve ever heard it. “When people are finally granted their freedom from the Aethereum, Charon is the one who carries them across.” 

[...]

“Excuse you, dragon. I own this prison, and no one does anything in it without my say-so. And they definitely, definitely don’t leave unless I. Let. Them. Go.”

“Which you don’t,” Hudson says, and I’ll hand it to him. When he puts on the bored-prince voice that used to get so far under my skin, he can go head-to-head with this guy for who’s the biggest douche. 

“Why should I?” Charon counters. 

“Because it’s supposed to be the whole point of the prison?” I suggest. “Complete your punishment, atone for what you’ve done, and be set free.” 

“Yes, but who can actually tell when someone has been adequately punished? Been truly repentant?”

And I thought that the prison system was bad when I thought that it was a 100 year out of dated automated system. Now you’re telling me that it’s not actually automated at all, but who gets tortured every night depends on a spoiled little boy?

“An additional wire transfer from the vampire king, assuring that his son remains in prison, for one.” Charon flicks a speck of imaginary dust off his shoulder. “He already paid a king’s ransom to get him here.”

Dude flat-out admitted that he accepted a bribe and that he’s corrupt as hell. 

And then someone yanks on the back of my prison uniform. When I open my eyes, I’m dropping down, down, down into the center of a giant arena.

Chapter 138 summary: So the actual owner of the prison is this immortal “tween” who has a god complex, to put it in Remy’s words. He’s corrupt as hell, and doesn’t care who the fuck knows it. Remy came with the promised money, but Charon now says that the price has gone up… because Cyrus paid a lot of money to keep Hudson there for at least 300 years. 

Eventually, Hudson agrees to a fight Charon’s two giant bodyguards. (I say giant in the most literal way possible. Their species is giant.) Grace knows that Hudson is still recovering following his fights earlier, but Hudson tells her that this is the only way. She tries to argue that Charon is clearly up to something, but again… Only way. 

Chapter 139

But when the whistle blows, I do the only thing I can do. I take off running and send a prayer out to the universe that Tahiti doesn’t catch me.

Chapter 139 summary: Grace and Hudson are forced into the arena. Hudson tells her that their plan is to basically tire the giants out. 

Grace sits and looks at the crowd that had been “suddenly” gathered. And she gets angry, and realizes that there is literally no escape from the prison. Anybody who was removed from their cells likely ended up here, being put to death in what’s basically a gladiator arena. 

Hudson and Grace agree to divide and conquer, and Grace takes off running to lead her chosen giant on a chase of the untamed waterfowl variety. 

[lire-casander]

He compartido 11.207 publicaciones este 2022

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#the fic: 53 publicaciones

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Longest Tag: 138 characters

#what difference does it make that i ask for gluten-free bread if i can't have it with any of the toppings offered for the breakfast/snacks

Mis publicaciones más populares este 2022:

5

forever in a second too short (home is a heartbeat)

here it is! my contribution to @911lsbb! i hope you're ready for a ride! chapters will be posted once a day for twelve days. are you ready?

on ao3

chapters:

chapter #1: intro — on tumblr

chapter #2: first verse — on tumblr

chapter #3: first pre-chorus — on tumblr

chapter #4: first chorus — on tumblr

chapter #5: second verse — on tumblr

chapter #6: second pre-chorus — on tumblr

chapter #7: second chorus — on tumblr

chapter #8: solo — on tumblr

chapter #9: bridge — on tumblr

chapter #10: third pre-chorus — on tumblr

chapter #11: third chorus — on tumblr

chapter #12: outro — on tumblr

pairings: tk strand/carlos reyes, judd ryder/grace ryder, nancy gillian/mateo chavez, paul strickland/marjan marwani

characters: tk strand, carlos reyes, jonah, owen strand, enzo, judd ryder, grace ryder, nancy gillian, tommy vega, mateo chavez, paul strickland, marjan marwani, izzie vega, evie vega, gabriel reyes, andrea reyes, mitchell, alex, original child characters, original characters

warnings: alternate universe — au, alternate universe — with kids, alternate universe — future fic, alternate universe — school teacher, alternate universe — celebrity, alternate universe — movie, alternate universe — marry me (2022), vaguely inspired by the movie, angst, fluff, cheating (not between tarlos), past/reference drug addiction, grief, references to sister act 2, mentions of death, mentions of accidents, breakup, emotional hurt/comfort, fake dating, more tags to be added

disclaimer: the opinions expressed by certain characters in this work of fiction are not shared by the author.  

rating: teen and up audiences

summary: tk strand is a famous singer who’s about to marry his beau alex fletcher onstage in front of around twenty million fans. carlos reyes is a teacher whose whole live revolves around his twelve-year-old daughter and his classes. when tk’s wedding ceremony goes south because of a video of alex cheating on tk with his assistant, their lives become a tangled mess. as they wade through life together by a whim of fate, carlos and tk learn to move forward from a past that haunts them both and into a future that could be everything they wanted it to be, if they just allowed themselves to be happy.

fun facts about writing this fic!

i’ve used transcripts for both the movie and some episodes of the show. here you have the links!

* marry me

* 911 lone star s01e01

* 911 lone star s01e03

* 911 lone star s01e10

* 911 lone star s02e04

* 911 lone star s02e14

Descúbrela

22 notas. Fecha de publicación: 26 de julio de 2022

4

six sentence sunday

the thing is, this is the last snippet i share publicly from the fic™ until it gets posted as part of the @911lsbb challenge. it's done at 108,763 words, only a few loose ends to fix and then the process of proofreading. so yeah, my baby is definitely grown.

since this is the last i'll be posting about the fic™, i wanted to tag some of the people who have made this possible. you guys rock! @tarlos-spain, @noxsoulmate, @doublel27, @moviegeek03, @meloingly, @marjansmarwani, @morganaspendragonss, @alilypea, @alidravana, @ravens-words, @aliceschuyler, @laelipoo, @breannacasey and everyone in our little discord family! this fic couldn't have been done without you, and i'm so grateful for all of you.

here, have the last offering of the fic™ until july... it's angsty, as you might have already guessed.

“What’s wrong is that I don’t have an answer to give Jonah whenever he asks me about why you guys aren’t in our lives anymore,” TK replies, voice tinged with something that’s rawer than pure feeling. Carlos stares at him wide-eyed. “What’s wrong is that I wish you’d be there but I know that I fucked up and I don’t deserve you, or Leyre, or the happiness we had. What’s wrong—” he trails off for a second, looking down at his feet until he seems to muster up enough courage to look back up at Carlos, who’s entranced by the passion that oozes from TK’s words. “What’s wrong is that every morning and every night,” TK continues slowly, deliberately, as though he’s measuring every single sound that comes out of his mouth, “I lie in bed wondering why you’re not beside me. That’s what’s wrong.”

23 notas. Fecha de publicación: 5 de junio de 2022

3

wip wednesday

i'm presenting you today a new snippet of my 911ls big bang, that is slowly but steadily growing. now over 7k!

TK wakes up on the day of his wedding to fingers jabbing into his skin. He groans; he went to bed last night relatively late after spending most of his time after rehearsals playing board games with Jonah. It's way too early for anyone to be trying to wake him up so unceremoniously.

"Wake up, Sleeping Beauty," Jonah says, his childish voice cheery and clear. "It's time for breakfast!"

"Oh, is it now?" TK replies, cracking his eyes open in time to see Jonah hovering over him. "C'mere, Jonah," he coaxes. He reaches out, but Jonah playfully bats his hand away.

"Not Jonah here," he says, faking a deep voice. TK smiles at the giggles that follow.

"Not Jonah? Then who are you?" he plays along.

"The Cookie Monster!" Jonah shrieks, dropping his whole weight on top of TK. For a moment they're both a pile of flailing limbs until TK decides on attacking instead of defending, and he launches himself into tickling his brother.

"Aaaah, the Cookie Monster is attacking me!" he cries out. "Time for revenge!"

It's not long before Jonah is reduced to a panting, laughing puddle over TK's covers. He smiles softly at his little brother, hair spiked in all directions and still laughing. "That wasn't fair," Jonah accuses him.

"All's fair in war."

"This wasn't war!" Jonah sticks his tongue out to him. “You were attacking an innocent child.”

TK tickles him some more before allowing Jonah to just lie down with his head on TK’s chest and his arms pinning him to the bed. He thinks it’s nice to have his little brother around. He should ask Enzo to bring Jonah over more often, even though he knows that his schedule is all over the place most of the time. But maybe now that Alex is finally finishing his tour and they’re starting a new page of their life together, TK can settle down enough for Jonah to start spending more time at the penthouse.

Maybe that way Jonah may get to know Alex and stop hating on him.

24 notas. Fecha de publicación: 9 de marzo de 2022

2

the dream of someone else

[4,700 words] [teen and up audiences] [beta’ed by @moviegeek03. you're the best, brit. i wouldn't have finished this without you.] [title from you’ve got mail] [carlos reyes, tk strand, original female characters] [alternate universe — college, alternate universe — coffee shop, alternating povs, carlos is a criminal studies major, tk is a health science major, vandalizing of public property, alternate universe — movie setting, loosely based on you’ve got mail au, mentions of past drug addiction, mentions of recovery] [written for @911auweekend, day 1: not your average coffee shop au, day 3: outsider’s pov tinder date au, day 4: writer’s choice and for my good things happen bingo square coffee shop au]

[carlos reyes wasn’t expecting a penpal out of his busy mornings studying at the cafeteria. tk strand hadn’t expected anyone to reply to his message left on a table out of boredom and struggling.]

the dream of someone else on ao3

The cafeteria is bursting with life when Carlos sets foot in the place, ready for a quick break in between his classes. He’s spent the past three weeks holed up in his room trying to finish one of his essays, and he’s made it in time, so he thinks he deserves a reward. However, he would have liked for the place to be a bit quieter. He eyes the tables warily until he sees one free table further inside the cafeteria. He makes a beeline for the table, dropping his messenger bag on top of it noisily. Whatever happens now, this table is his now.

He knows he needs to leave the bag on the table to go order, and he isn’t really so keen on doing so, but he doesn’t want to give up his table and he desperately needs caffeine. He grabs his wallet, checks that nobody would want to steal his secondhand Introduction to Psychology textbook, and runs to the counter. For all the people boisterously chatting across the cafeteria, the baristas are not too busy, so he gets his coffee and a bagel in record time and rushes back to his table. His messenger bag is still on top of the table, and it doesn’t look like anybody has come even close to it. He sighs, falling down on the chair while managing not to spill his coffee, and takes his book out of the bag.

Carlos opens the book at the page he last marked, realizing he needs to take more notes from the book than he initially expected. He huffs; he’s been attending class these past weeks, but the stress of having to hand in an essay on Violence in Society has made him slack in his other classes. He needs to be ready for his class in around an hour and a half — he’s still cursing the planning he made at the beginning of the year, but he thought it’d be great to have such a span of time to relax and do nothing. If he could travel back in time and tell Carlos from three months ago that he wouldn’t have a moment to himself even with the ninety-minute gap between Introduction to Criminal Justice and Introduction to Psychology. He’s grateful that the building where he has most of his classes holds a cafeteria so he doesn’t have to run around campus and waste a lot of time. He skims over the last of the notes he took in class, which should be complementing the ones he takes out of his book, and reads that, according to what he jotted down a week ago, the professor announced they would be paired up for an upcoming project today.

Carlos doesn’t really want to work with anyone these days. He’s a perfectionist, he doesn’t like how other people work, and he ends up taking more than he can manage in order to finish the assignment in time. He’s been lucky to ditch working with peers for the past three months; he guesses his lucky streak ends this afternoon.

With a shake of his head, he focuses back on his textbook. He notices that the paper where he’s been writing down a few ideas is almost full, so he puts the book downwards and sticks his hand into the half-open messenger bag on top of the table. He fishes for a notebook and his pencil case, only to come up with just the former. He mutters to himself, “I know I put it somewhere in here,” before proceeding to turn the bag upside down — careful as to not slosh his coffee out of the cup. The movement makes the few contents inside the bag spill over the table, and as he finally sees his pencil case, falling onto the surface with a thud that gets somewhat lost in the background noises of the cafeteria, he also notices there’s scribble on the table.

He frowns. He isn’t one for vandalizing public furniture, but the presence of whatever message that’s on the surface makes him feel a bit icky about the cleanliness of the cafeteria. “What the—” he refrains himself from swearing, still under the spell of his mother’s words about gentlemen and swearing. He leans in, face almost against the wooden surface, so he can read the black-inked words, so different from his usual chicken scratch.

Out of the night that covers me, Black as the pit from pole to pole, I thank whatever gods may be For my unconquerable soul.

He repeats the words slowly in a soft voice, for fear that someone might overhear him and think he’s gone crazy. They roll nicely on his tongue, and the message behind them reaches Carlos’ heart. He’s moved by the force of the verses, which he recognizes are from Henley, and before he knows it he’s grabbing a sharpie and writing in the best handwriting he can muster the following verses to the poem.

In the fell clutch of circumstance I have not winced nor cried aloud. Under the bludgeonings of chance My head is bloody, but unbowed.

He feels a wave of accomplishment at having followed the poem with the next few verses — conveniently forgetting he’s just written on public property with permanent ink — and sets to re-read his book and jot down a few notes that could help him study for his test.

There's a calmness in the cafeteria right before closing time that TK cherishes. He spends his days running around campus, attending classes or volunteering at the in-campus LGTBQIA+ association he discovered during his very first day of college. And, since about a week ago, he's had to juggle that with having to meet with Carlos Reyes for their joint Psychology project.

Sometimes he hates his life.

He waves at his favorite barista, who's wiping down at the counter, before he approaches her. "Hey, Anne," he greets, leaning onto the surface. "How's the day been?"

"Hectic as always." Anne smiles at him. "Your usual? I can even throw an avocado and Philadelphia bagel in it."

"You haven't run out of them today?" TK beams at her. Those are his favorite treats, but his schedule doesn't allow him to be at the cafeteria before everyone else's gone through the supplies of avocado and Philadelphia bagels.

"Let's say I got one for you," Anne tells him with a wink. "C'mon, TK, I'll bring you your coffee and your bagel to your table."

"You're the best!" He lifts his fingers to his lips to send her an air kiss before turning to his usual table by the far end of the place.

He flops down on the chair, immediately checking the surface for new words. TK knows he shouldn't have done it, but he'd come to the cafeteria one night after his weekly meeting at the local NA — a requirement from his parents in order for him to go to college three thousand miles away from them — and he hadn't felt all that good. He'd taken out his sharpie, and before he'd known it, he'd been scribbling down the first four verses of his favorite poem about remaining whole in the face of adversity. He'd needed the reminder. Anne had almost had a conniption when she'd seen how he'd written on the table.

But, the following night, TK had found the next four verses of the poem scribbled beneath his own four, and his heart had done a giddy somersault. He doesn't know who's behind the chicken scratch, but for a whole week straight he's been exchanging verses and messages. It's been a wild seven days, and there's been some sort of weird comfort in the knowledge that there's been someone at the other end of a sharpie ready to read TK's thoughts and whines.

He checks the surface, but the wood looks pristine — not a single word inked in black and blue.

Anne comes by with his coffee and his bagel, and sighs when he looks up at her helplessly. "Anne—" he begins, but she cuts him off.

"I couldn't stop it," she explains with a shrug after she's left his coffee mug and his bagel with so much as a small droplet of liquid sloshed on the otherwise clean table. "I know it's been some sort of escape these past days, but my manager said she couldn't afford having any table littered like that."

"It's not—" TK bit his lip before raising his voice. He's gone to enough anger management sessions to recognize the signals and try to appease them by breathing in deeply through his nose and exhaling through his mouth before continuing, "I didn't think when I started doing it. I'm sorry. But this is the only way I could communicate with this person," he says in a small voice. He doesn't even know if he's penpalling with a guy or a girl, but he knows the other person might as well be his soulmate, be it romantic or platonic.

"What about you stick to post-it notes?" Anne suggests. "You can place it under the table, make sure it doesn't fall down."

"If it isn't on the surface, how will the other person know where to look?" he asks, frowning. He has a stack of post-it notes, but he isn't sure the glue on the paper will hold for longer than a few minutes. "And won't it be taken away anyway?"

"What's under the table isn't checked that often," Anne offers. "Plus, Abigail from the morning shift thinks she knows who your penpal is," she continues in a conspiratorial voice. "She can always explain where to find the next note."

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30 notas. Fecha de publicación: 22 de marzo de 2022

Mi publicación más popular de 2022

the fire within

[1,718 words] [teen and up audiences] [beta'ed by @meloingly] [mateo chavez, judd ryder, captain tatum (house 129), captain andrews (house 122)] [character study, angst, spoilers for s03e02, mentions of collapsed buildings, mentions of rescues, mateo-centric]

[the fire has robbed him of so many things. the fire gave and the fire took, and mateo isn't about to let the flames burning in his soul consume him without having fought back.]

the fire within | on ao3

a sense of family series

Mateo wakes up every morning right with his alarm. He gets out on the bed, steps into the ensuite bathroom in the room that was TK’s but it's now his, brushes the morning breath out of his teeth, and comes back outside ready to make the bed. It's his routine — his schedule for every single day that he's got a shift, no matter his schedule, he never fails. It's simple and yet effective; he's never been late a day in his life, not even when his teachers back at school thought he wasn't the most brilliant pea in the pod and he was lacking motivation. He likes having a structure in his life, and he's been thankful for his ingrained habit ever since the 126 station had been red-tagged for demolition.

He wakes up. He brushes his teeth. He makes his bed. He has some oatmeal and orange juice. He grabs his keys and drives to the 129 firehouse every single shift.

He still feels empty inside.

Switching firehouses — being cast separately from the rest of his friends at the 126 — has taken a toll on him. It'd taken him so long to actually believe in himself, in his abilities, and he'd needed Captain Strand and his northern vision to flourish. He'd found a family in the 126, in the outcasts and the abandoned, in the diversity that painted every single corner of the building with bright colors of acceptance and tolerance. He’d felt like he belonged, for the first time in his life — like there was nothing wrong with him, like he was worthy of being loved. When the 126 got closed, the building fit for rezoning, he thought they had a chance at fighting. He thought they could overcome anything if they stayed together.

He’d been so wrong.

They’d drifted away from the very beginning. Paul, Judd and Marjan had been placed together at the 122, and TK and Nancy had followed Captain Vega first to save the world during a dust storm and then into the private sector so they could remain together. Captain Strand had accepted some position in the higher-up ranks as to be able to get the 126 up and running through a shortcut that, instead of working, backfired on them when Billy Tyson used Captain Strand’s arguments to demolish their hopes and their future.

Captain Strand had demolished Tyson with a well-placed right hook, and that had been the beginning of the end.

And he — he’d become stranded at the 129, with people who hadn’t respected them in the beginning, but who had learned to treat him like a human being after saving his new Captain’s life out of a sense of duty; not because he thought the Captain deserved to be saved when he’d given him so much grief, but because this was — is — who he really is. A first responder. A firefighter.

A damn hero like the movies he loves so much.

Not that he feels much like it right now, in front of the collapsed building that once was Providence Pasture Church, waiting on Captain Andrews from the 122 and Captain Tatum — his own Captain, now — to tell them what to do. He can’t stop replaying the exact moment when the building crumbled around Paul, engulfing his brother-in-fire and sequestering him from the light and the safety of the open spaces around the building. Objectively, he knows the dangers they all face every single day — he’s learned the hard way exactly what they might encounter out there during a call, after what happened to Tim — but it’s very different to see it happening to one of his own. With Tim, he’d been far from the scene, Captain Strand being the only one who actually witnessed the ball of fire impacting against Tim’s chest. With Paul, he’s seen first-hand the collapsed roof giving out beneath Paul; he’s been witness to Paul disappearing in a mist of rubble and dust.

It’s giving him a headache.

“Cap, we gotta get in there before USAR boys put a red tag on the whole building,” Judd is almost shouting at his Captain, who’s having none of that. Captain Andrews goes off about how it’d be safer for all people involved to let the building be red-tagged and start a snail-paced rescue who’d end up being a recovery instead. He sees the moment Judd snaps, the vein in his neck pulsating against his skin as he spits, “Well, with all due respect, Sir, that would take a couple of days.”

“That’s better than the roof of Damocles crashing down on your heads right now,” Captain Tatum retaliates, looking really satisfied at his punch line. His radio cracks to life, a voice requesting his attention, and that’s the moment Captain Andrews chooses to intervene again.

“Judd, you saw what happened the last time we went in. We don't even know Paul or that girl's status. Much less where they are in the pile.”

Judd looks crestfallen for a second, but if Mateo knows him well enough — and he does, because he’s grown up with the old 126 — Judd’s just gearing up for a comeback. “Okay, well, hey, Cap, Cap, Cap, Cap,” he begins, almost breathlessly, gesturing back to where Lindsey’s parents are shivering under the snow. “Hey, look, if we lose their little girl, I wanna be able to look 'em in the eye and say to 'em we did everything we could to save her. And right now,” he continues, “we cannot do that. However, if we go in there and we're quick and we tread lightly, we can take a look around before USAR shuts this whole scene down.”

There’s a pregnant silence, heavy with all the words that are kept unsaid between them, like a wordless conversation that Mateo is still trying to figure out. “Okay,” Captain Andrews concedes. “But if they make the call I want your word, you get your butts out of there right away."

For a moment, Mateo fears Judd's just going to flip off his Captain, but after some tense seconds, he says, "Deal."

Captain Tatum chooses that moment to come back, announcing that the 129 is required somewhere else — Mateo isn't paying enough attention. He's staring back at the building, debris and smoke in equal parts calling his name.

"Chavez," he hears Captain Tatum calling him. "You got a wax build-up? Your house is on the move."

Mateo stares back at him. Suddenly, the whole world has slowed down enough that he can feel the twitching of the Earth under the soles of his boots. He can feel the icy bite of the snow already plummeting from the skies. He dares a glance at the collapsed structure, the broken metal a heap of devastation in front of his eyes.

The fire has robbed him of so many things. The fire took the house he shared with his inconsiderate roommates, but it gave him a home with Captain Strand. The fire sent the 126 tumbling down in between well-placed explosions, but it provided him with a renewed sense of purpose. The fire destroyed Carlos’ condo, but it gave Mateo a new family to come back home to. But when the fire that burned deep within them had finally caught in flames around them — sending millions of sparks igniting around TK as Carlos finally walked out barely hours before Captain Strand made a beeline for Hill Country — then the fire had given Mateo anything but grief and despair.

The fire gave and the fire took, and Mateo isn't about to let the flames burning in his soul consume him without having fought back.

He’s a phoenix rising from the dust that settled in his soul when he got swept away from the place he called home. He’s a supernova ready to explode.

He makes the decision in the split second that takes him to understand the difference between duty and love.

"The 129 may be my house," he says clearly, shocking everyone. He’s staring at his captain straight in the eye. "But Paul's my family.” He takes a deep breath, but he’s not backing down. If anything, he’s soaring. “I have to help rescue him, sir.”

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31 notas. Fecha de publicación: 16 de enero de 2022

Descubre tu resumen del 2022 en Tumblr →

[wagner-fell]

I posted 3,790 times in 2022

That's 3,099 more posts than 2021!

448 posts created (12%)

3,342 posts reblogged (88%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@sandersgrey

@the-wckd-powers

@hahahax30

@thechangeling

@noah-herondale-lightwood

I tagged 722 of my posts in 2022

#ck’s ask - 107 posts

#ck💙 - 106 posts

#riley! - 80 posts

#riley’s ask - 80 posts

#ly’s ask - 45 posts

#ly! - 42 posts

#zia!!! - 25 posts

#zia’s ask - 24 posts

#heart of stone - 19 posts

#hos - 19 posts

Longest Tag: 138 characters

#you were like ‘i have jamon for lunch :)’ and me thinking jamon was the word for regular ham said ‘oh yeah me too!!’ and you were like ‘no

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

wagnerthedragon>>>wagner-fell

moots rb?

@styxdrawings @hahahax30 @littlx-songbxrd @thepictureofsdr @writeordie-4 @life-through-the-eyes-of @lifewouldbebetteronmars @alastaircarstairsdefenselawyer @melanielocke @noah-herondale-lightwood @sirens-and-elves @jesse-is-spiralling @thechangeling @the-blackdale @have-a-holly-jolly-angstmas

23 notes - Posted February 6, 2022

#4

One of my favorite things about DA is that Anna always calls her husband Mr. Bates

26 notes - Posted February 17, 2022

#3

Sapphics/WLWs 🤝 Horror Fans

Mike Flanagan Shows

46 notes - Posted February 6, 2022

#2

As much as I love Kit and Dru THEY HAVE A FUCKING TRILOGY COMING

GIVE US TLH CONTENT PLEASE CC

47 notes - Posted March 28, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

My friend who just finished the show: so what do you think of Vegas??

Me internally: he’s such a poor little meow-meow he’s a whore in the most pathetic way he’s the human equivalent of a soaking wet car if that cat had a gun and daddy issues i want to medically inject him into my veins

Me out loud: oh he’s cool ig

53 notes - Posted August 9, 2022

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[nerdpiggy]

[ID: tumblr 2022 "My Year In Review" graphic. the text is in bright colors and is surrounded by stickers of hearts, crabs, stars, horses, leaves, and other things that are swaying back and forth slightly. /End ID]

I posted 3,525 times in 2022

That's 283 more posts than 2021!

151 posts created (4%)

3,374 posts reblogged (96%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@nostalgebraist-autoresponder

@.googly-eyed-seraph

@.trainwreckgenerator

@.elaeomyxa

@.tieria-erde

I tagged 1,703 of my posts in 2022

#undescribed - 799 posts

#talking to frank - 450 posts

#unreality - 63 posts

#tattoo moment - 28 posts

#alt text described - 9 posts

#witch hat atelier - 8 posts

#wha - 8 posts

#pokemon - 8 posts

#wow - 7 posts

#yes - 6 posts

Longest Tag: 138 characters

#and i loved how they made the horror very ambiguous at the beginning and then explain why it's happening in such an awesome way at the end

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

the musical episode of dead end paranormal park was so fucking good it made me wish the whole show was a musical. i have norma's song stuck in my head and also i cannot fucking believe josh's VA was patrick stump the whole time?????????

83 notes - Posted July 15, 2022

#4

[brief ID: mangacaps from Witch Hat Atelier. Coco is confidently praising/defending Agott to one of her old classmates, and Agott gets really flustered by all of the kind words. /End ID]

cinematic parallels

See the full post

88 notes - Posted August 13, 2022

#3

i like how Vanitas no Carte has a main character that's a doctor who treats really weird illnesses, and Sabikui Bisco has a main character that's a doctor who treats really weird illnesses, and they're both voiced by the same exact actor, yet the two characters could not be more different from each other if they tried

238 notes - Posted March 7, 2022

#2

[EDIT: ID by @suzalulus altered slightly by me

Two tweets & drawings by Kamome Shirahama translated from Japanese to English. First tweet: "This is what a pointed hat looks like when I'm busy." There is a doodle of several vaguely triangular figures with no face, stick legs, and brimless witch hats. Some of them have scribbled hair poking out from under their hats. They bear a vague but recognizable resemblance to Witch Hat Atelier characters. Second tweet: "Yay yay". A doodle of Coco, Agott, Richeh, and Tetia in the same simple style wiggling & dancing around. There are music notes and the words "Yay yay" in the air around them. /End ID]

hehehe heeheehee hoohoohoo

3,546 notes - Posted April 27, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

EDIT: ID by @didelphism

[id: a tweet from quinton reviews @/Q_Reviews. it shows a screenshot of jade west and tori vega from victorious sitting together at a table and looking at one another. in the bottom right corner, a photo of burf looking through a pair of binoculars has been added, with 'live burf reaction' above it, to mimic the live slug reaction meme. /end id]

10,991 notes - Posted March 12, 2022

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[toadeyes]

I posted 2,128 times in 2022

That's 2,128 more posts than 2021!

10 posts created (0%)

2,118 posts reblogged (100%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@pharawee

@machikeita

@legendaryrooftopscene

@kaonoppakao

@plaidcladjuno

I tagged 2,100 of my posts in 2022

Only 1% of my posts had no tags

#kinnporsche - 426 posts

#the eclipse - 121 posts

#vice versa series - 83 posts

#jeff satur - 70 posts

#+text - 70 posts

#not me - 64 posts

#bad buddy - 48 posts

#videos - 47 posts

#bible wichapas - 43 posts

#🥰🥰 - 42 posts

Longest Tag: 138 characters

#the more i learn about mile the more he seems like the kind of guy who just goes through life saying 'oh you know what would be hilarious'

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Oh yea, now Kinn can also say that he inadvertently got his cousin laid :)

4 notes - Posted July 13, 2022

#4

Ah Vegas. You're still a bastard, but I'd like to make you an orphan

13 notes - Posted July 3, 2022

#3

And so our final KinnPorsche Saturday is here..

Lads, it's been an honor

19 notes - Posted July 9, 2022

#2

Sunday afternoon storm v.2

20 notes - Posted June 22, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Arm, Pol, and Pete: If I had a nickel for everytime I followed my boss into a room after Porsche only for him to order us out and the two of them to fuck, I'd have two nickels. Which isn't a lot but weird that it happened twice

264 notes - Posted May 22, 2022

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[kerrikins]

I posted 2,791 times in 2022

That's 2,791 more posts than 2021!

165 posts created (6%)

2,626 posts reblogged (94%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@thisautistic

@vegasandhishedgehog

@kissporsche

@vastsexual

@leedongwok

I tagged 2,308 of my posts in 2022

Only 17% of my posts had no tags

#kinnporsche - 905 posts

#vegas theerapanyakul - 495 posts

#vegaspete - 487 posts

#kinnporsche the series - 446 posts

#build jakapan - 382 posts

#bible wichapas - 378 posts

#pete saengtham - 284 posts

#kinnporsche: the series - 282 posts

#kp cast are the best boys - 238 posts

#biblebuild - 192 posts

Longest Tag: 138 characters

#also i just noticed the transition in vegas from being all kind of shy and hesitant and then he relaxes because he realizes macau is happy

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Source: tongthk on IG

203 notes - Posted September 30, 2022

#4

Source: ta_nannakun on IG

MINOR FAMILY

355 notes - Posted October 2, 2022

#3

How have I never seen these before???

Source: juyeontvb on twitter

424 notes - Posted October 4, 2022

#2

731 notes - Posted October 8, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Now I have these two posts in the same picture and my Tumblr experience is complete.

1,494 notes - Posted September 12, 2022

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