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lightlycareless · 2 months ago

Note

Hi! As a Naoya fan, I really appreciate what you do for us and girl, I just love your works <33

So, Eh, I don't know how to say this... Can you write a fic about him where he has been married to a woman chosen for him by his clan but after so many years, he can't forget y/n? I mean, it's so cliché Ik, but I just can't get it out of my mind. It's like he really loved her and would've even eloped with her but at the end, it was y/n who asked him to go back to his clan since she knew that it was Naoya's fate to be the clan head. So, eventually y/n leaves and Naoya marries his wife and he gets to be the head of Zenin clan and later on, he kinds wishes his wife would give birth to a daughter so he could name her after y/n. Or maybe she does and while everyone expects him to torment the poor wife, he would silently pick up the baby and hug his daughter as if he wishes she was her baby?

so yeah, that's it, thank you anyway.

Hello!!!!!!!!

Omg thank you so much I'm soooo glad you like my work 🥹❤️

HNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNGH this ask has been on my mind since it first popped up jfc you know how to torture me.

I have been working on a small fic too with a similar topic, it's not going to be that long as my other work but I think you'll find it enjoyable too hehe. ... if I ever get back to it. heheheh.

ajkghasjgha anyways, let's get right into it.

warnings: angst. mentions/implications of death and unaliving someone :s. naoya is really cruel when referring to his unborn child.

Happy reading!

“If we ever have a daughter, I would like her to be named Naomi”

Is the first thought that crosses Naoya’s mind upon learning that his wife is expecting a daughter.

But beyond that, there is no excitement. No glee in his eye upon learning he’s to become a father in just a matter of months, his seed finally taking root after many dutiful attempts.

“Why?”

“Because it’s a cute name. And I always thought it was adorable how your family named the children after their parents. You are no exception, Naoya.”

He should be happy, right? Glad that his efforts ultimately paid off.

“That’s not too cheesy, is it?”

“…I think I’ll be happy just to have a family with you, regardless of what the baby is named.”

That he was to have the cherished family he always dreamt of having with the love of his life, after so many years of solitude…

Except he wasn’t.

Because his wife, the one carrying his child, wasn’t you.

…

Ever since he lost you, for a lack of better words, nothing has been the same.

“A daughter… of all the possibilities. Let’s just hope she’s strong.” His father would say, disappointed by the announcement. Naoya remains quiet, uninterested to respond but still deep in thought.

“Do you think they’ll look like you?”

“I hope not.”

“Gee, why not? I know I haven’t seen pictures of you as a baby, but I’m sure you were a cute one!”

Because I want them to look like you.

The sole purpose of his futile life was gone. And with it, any semblance of concern. Care for all that happened around him, or anyone for that matter.

Including his supposed partner, the woman the Zen’in assigned him to marry and continue their legacy. Even when she stood before him, seeking comfort, or at least encouragement after seeing the doctor, to Naoya… she was simply not there.

“Naoya-sama.” She’d call to him once in the privacy of their room, right after the doctor had left. The woman named Taeko, had always been… loyal, meek, submissive. Never one to retort or do anything that wasn’t to please him.

Yet, as much as she had fooled his family, Naoya was still able to see right through her.

Taeko didn’t care about him; no, not at all. The only thing she truly she cared about was the heir. The money that came along with his title, the financial security this meant for her…

More so now that she was pregnant; dictating that even when divorced, she would never have to work a day in her life.

Perhaps if he hadn’t discovered what love was, then maybe he would’ve struggled to discover her true intentions. Unfortunately for them, he had met you, with whom he learned what it was to be happy for once in his life… a teaching that will forever live on within him, naturally making this marriage almost impossible to coexist with.

As well as painful, remembering that this is all he had left of you, besides memories.

Naoya keeps quiet even when his wife calls for him yet again, not bothering to lift his gaze from whatever it was that took his attention, nor requesting her to proceed.

She takes his silence as her cue to continue.

“I know having a daughter wasn’t in the plans, but…” Taeko said, stepping closer to him. Just a few inches away from touching him… “I am still excited to welcome this new stage in our life.”

Of course she is. Her future is firmly set, regardless of his family’s ideals and the baby’s gender.

“I was actually thinking of naming the child after you, to follow your clan’s tradi—”

“You will not do such thing.” Naoya scowls, swiftly turning around and pushing her away, the burning look of his enraged eyes reveals she’s reopened a painful wound she’ll perhaps never comprehend.

Nor care to do so, believing instead that his anger came from her supposed failure to bring a male heir onto the Zen’in clan; and not because of the privilege—no, the right she’s stripping away from you.

Because you are the only one that deserved to be the mother of his children, the one to name them, love them, raise them…

Not this poor excuse of a leech.

“I heard you were having a child… congratulations, Naoya.” Ranta begins, partially unsure on how to approach the future father, or to do so at all… eventually settling to go through with it anyway. An announcement like this must make anyone happy, right? “Although I never expected your first child to be a girl! I mean… I always thought you’d have a bo—”

“This isn’t what I want, and you know that.” Naoya coldly cuts through Ranta’s words, making him flinch. “So, spare me the theatrics.”

Ranta swallows, he is amongst the few, if not the only, who knows the truth, the depths of his relationship with you:

Or your supposed fate.

And how angry he got when he knew the truth… or what he suspected, anyways.

Your disappearance wasn’t a simple coincidence, a misfortune of fate.

It was a necessity for the Zen’in’s plans; you quickly became nothing less than a hindrance once Naoya announced his intentions of marrying you.

They couldn’t permit a woman of your background to become Lady of the House. An unruly, opinionated girl that went against every single one of their beliefs. Nor could they allow you to free Naoya from their grasp.

And so, they did what was necessary. Get rid of their obstacle, call it a simple disappearance, cold feet as others assured, and let everything fall back into place.

Leaving Naoya behind with his cruel family, yet again.

But they’d never admit it. They would just say that your family decided to search for better opportunities elsewhere, you tagging along.

Yet, the body of an unidentified woman found in the middle of a forest near your home would indicate—

“—What are you going to do?” Ranta asks.

“There’s nothing for me to do.” Naoya frowns. “The only person I ever loved, the one person I should’ve never let go… is gone, and now, I’m stuck in this nightmare, alongside a woman that wants nothing from me but my money. Just like everyone always is.”

Ranta wishes to deny his accusations, but he couldn’t bring himself to lie to his grieving friend. It would insult him, and you.

“…But…”

“But what?” Naoya retorted.

“…Well, you should at least… consider the baby. They—they shouldn’t be held accountable for what their mother has—”

“Don’t even dare call that thing my child.” He coldly declares. “It may have my name, but that thing is not mine. What assurance do I have that it is? She could’ve easily bedded anyone to get the job done!”

“Naoya! You— you shouldn’t say that!”

“Can you prove the contrary?”

“No—but it’s not right to make these assumptions either!”

“Then what do you suggest, dear friend of mine?”

“I… I think you—"

Have to let her go.

It becomes clear to Ranta how gravely he had underestimated the wound your absence had inflicted on Naoya’s heart—but perhaps he never wanted to admit such thing, for it would only remind his friend of what he once had and now lost forever.

But no matter how much he wished to act the fool, there was no hiding his heightened destructive tendencies, his aggravating isolation, which he already did with people he didn’t like, rising tensions between members alike, forcing them to steer clear of Naoya if they wished to live another day; or pester his father about the misbehavior of his son, forcing him to burden his wife with duties of cheering him up, or something if she wished to stay at the estate—

All for naught, for she had effectively ceased to exist the moment she announced her pregnancy. For the following 9 months, Naoya wouldn’t look her in the eye, even when sleeping in the same bed. Not that there were many opportunities to do so, for he eventually confined himself to whatever other room was available, officially dictating their marriage as unsalvageable.

Some took it as a reflection of his disappointment, a rightful reaction to have towards a female successor.

But Ranta knew better. Those close to him knew the truth.

He was openly reproaching his wife for having taken your place.

So naturally, he wasn’t there when Taeko went into labor. He wasn’t attentive to her calls, desperate pleads of companionship and support—he simply walked past her cries as she gave birth to his child and headed straight into the training grounds, just what he had exuberantly done these past few months to distract himself.

Yet, as much as he wished to run away from his reality, he wouldn’t be able to escape his duties, forced by relatives alike to go and meet the mother of his daughter to officially recognize her. Regardless of the brewing animosity between the two, if there were no other suitable candidates, this baby was still to be the future of the Zen’in, and thus, necessary to name.

Naoya doesn’t bother to wonder on who’d the child would look like the most, still, he knows he’ll hate it even more if she ends up a carbon copy of her mother—would it even matter if she took more after him instead?

Nonetheless, curiosity manages to get the best of him when entering the room where his wife and child awaited, walking past the midwives and straight to his so-called partner, leaning close to the small bundle wrapped in a white blanket, making up his mind in effectively cutting her out of his life if she ends up looking like Taeko.

But when he begins to get a glimpse of her small face…

The most unexpected happens.

As if the child knew her father was near, she slowly opens her eyes, revealing a golden gaze that reinstates her relationship to him—followed by a small patch of his black hair on top of her head, the shape of his eyes…

But most importantly, the words you once confided to him during the intimacy of the night.

“I want them to have your eyes. Your nose. Your hair. Your smile. I want the world to see all the things I love from you through our children.”

As well as your burning desire to have children that looked just like him, even when he hoped otherwise.

He doesn’t know what it was. Certainly not the excitement of having a life permanently intertwined with a woman he didn’t love; but something about your memory, how much you desired this moment, the innocence that engulfed such child, one that he only thought possible through you, his features shown through her, and how vulnerable she felt once in his arms…

Naoya found it unnecessary to wonder what kind of reaction you would have, still, he liked to imagine the brightness in your face, the love in your eyes, the grin on your lips: to be overjoyed to finally have a family with him, eagerly waiting to live out the future that waited for the three.

If this is the way you’d continue to live on, then he’d honor such memory; one last insult to the family that had continuously hurt him over and over again, through merits they would never wipe away, no matter how much they’d try—

“The name, for the child.” The midwife asks, moving closer to Naoya.

Under his own conditions.

“Y/N— Y/N Zen’in.” Naoya declares, softly looking down onto the child. “That will be her name.”

“Wh—What!?” The mother gasps, quickly understanding the implications behind his selection, followed by a futile attempt to make him reconsider, stop him from removing her existence!

But he had long erased her from his consideration, declaring that she was to have no relationship with the child, opting to raise her himself, his sole successor; Taeko would have whatever she needed to live a comfortable life, but that was it.

Naoya would give his daughter all that she needed to strive as a sorcerer, or whatever else she’d decide to pursue.

He’d swore to love her and raise her, protect her from the cruelties of this world, do all in his power to make her happy… but most importantly:

Treat her as if she had been yours.

Essentially, dunno if I managed to convey that, yes; you were killed. an act that scared your family away and left Naoya without knowing what ever happened.

Also, I'm debating whether to write a small epilogue hehe. I have written a bit extra after this but decided to cut it out.

AND OF COURSE the name... originally I was going to name his wife Kayako but I've decided to take advantage of the animosity we feel against the name Taeko and there you have it :))) 🖕 bye Taeko.

Ngl this was sad for me to write; I always hated/enjoyed the topic of Naoya marrying off someone else because of reasons, though it was clear he always longed for you and viceversa. Or not. I just like angst 😭 and fortunately, this isn't the last time we're going to see something like this :) I do have something I'm working on, I just gotta connect the dots. I intend it to be quite short anyways.

Anyhow, thank you so much for sending in this ask!!! 😭 it was such a treat to torture myself with.

Take care, and hope to see you soon!!! ❤️❤️

#ask #naoya zenin #naoya zen'in #naoya x reader #naoya zenin x reader #naoya zenin x you #jjk naoya #naoya zen'in x reader #jjk x reader #jjk angst #jjk x you #prompt series: jujutsu kaisen

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marksbear · 1 year ago

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Whenever you have time, can you do Kazan Yamaoka/the Oni. I have never played or seen any videos but I’m thinking of possibly playing sometime in the future.

If you have any tips it would be greatly appreciated

-🐙

Okay so my first fic back officially! I’m in a way better place than I was. It was a huge family issue with my mothers side so. All is good now!

Happy late Father’s Day and all that!

KAZAN YAMAOKA “THE ONI” X MALE READER

-He learned how to be gentle with you.

-Anytime the both of you are in the trial together he will give you free gens and hatch.

-You watching him brutally chase the other survivors.

-He let’s you ramble on and on as he cleans his blade.

-One time he had slashed you from the back because you were doing a gen. But when you had turned around and he saw who you was he felt so guilty.

-Many of the killers and survivors were shocked to know that you two were married before getting stuck here.

-You showing him the survivors that you don’t like before any trial. Like the ones who was being mean to you or etc he goes for them first.

-Let’s you touch his mask.

-He gets butterflies in his stomach anytime you call him pretty. Even with all his scars and his other flaws.

-He had to warm up to affection and the sweet words.

-He likes to trace your face and hands with his fingers because one he likes to compare the size and see how fragile you actually are. And two because he just like feeling of your warm skin against his cold one.

-Him trying to avoid you the best he can during his blood fury.

-You randomly giving him a hair clip to keep his hair out of his face. At first you was just did it as a joke, but you were surprised to see him actually wearing and using them.

-He will let out a deep groan or a sigh if he’s upset or irritated at you.

-You always catch him off guard when your just randomly and casually standing next to him. It actually spooks him a bit.

-Very overprotective and possessive of you. He gets jealous very fast.

-He gets bad at you for helping someone with a gen of getting someone off hook. He was jealous about how you gave them attention.

-He likes to randomly rest his forehead against yours before he has to go kill in a game.

-One time he was very jealous and mad he shoved you inside a locker and made sure you couldn’t get out until he calmed down.

-He can’t really talk so he just makes random sounds that comes close to saying your actual name.

-Loves the height difference.

-Stares at you intensely and randomly.

-He loves to scare the living hell out of you during games.

-Watching him brutally Mori a survivor because they had pushed you away to be left for dead. Little did they know they just pushed you into your husband.

-He acts like he hates getting affection and babied but he secretly loves it.

-If a killer kills you in a game he would be so pissed and petty at them.

-When you escape a game he’s just waiting in the forest by the fire waiting for you holding back the excitement that you survived.

-Likes to randomly stand above you so you have to look up at him. It gives him butterflies and he loves it so much.

-Likes the color pink.

THE END

#kazan yamaoka #kazan yamoka x male reader #kazan yamoka x reader #dead by daylight #dead by daylight x male reader #dead by daylight x reader #dbd x male reader #dbd the oni x male reader #the oni x reader #the oni x male reader #x male reader #male reader #the bear club

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importantgalaxyrunaway · 11 months ago

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the snap (Matt Murdock x fem-reader )

Summary: after the blip Matt was blipped away. But what happens when he shows up after everyone comes back?

Part 2 Warnings: angst, I mean it this time ok? I teared up writing this. But with fluff it has a happy ending trust me. Im dyslexic so there are probably/definitely going to be spelling errors. (I’m trying yall. Let me know how I did my first fic for Matt I think I’m going to make a part 2. Please comment if you can and reblog are appreciated if you want ❤️) mentions of pregnancy and childbirth and children

My eyes take in the childrens bedroom. It was small and quant but cozy. The nightlights lit up the room and my five year old daughter was layed down on the soft pastel blankets. I sit down on the side of her bed. She was so beautiful, her sweet brown eyes and brown hair. Her name was angel Murdock, She resembled Matt so much, sometimes it even hurt to look at her. It showed his best attributes on her. Even though she was only five years old she was already fearless, the teachers at the preschool always say she’s already getting in fights with the bullies in the class, no fist fights yet thankfully. It was her bedtime so you were finishing up reading a story to her about a princess and prince who fought a dragon.

“And they lived happily ever after the end” I kiss her forehead. And get up from her sleepy form.

“mommy, why do all the other kids have dads?”

Her question struck me in the heart. Leaving a wound size I couldn’t even patch up after patching up so many of Matt’s wounds. But I remain calm and collected like her words were just a simple question. Which they were, she’s just a curious child, there is no way that she knows how deeply I am affected by them. I twist my diamond ring on my finger and bite my lip trying to figure out how to answer this question without terrifying her. I can’t lie to her, I promised I would never lie to her.

“Angel, your father….went away. Hes gone he went with another half of the universe”

“will he be comeback?”

“no, no he won’t” I answered quietly trying to keep myself from sobbing. God I feel so weak, it’s been five years! Fiver years and I still can’t get over his death

“did he leave because of me?”

“no! No, he never knew about you sweetie. He was taken before he knew”

I take a shaky breath and kiss her on the forehead “goodnight” I leave her now asleep form and creep to the kitchen. I look down and the sink and I can’t take it anymore. Grief racks my body as sobs come out in waves. Why? Why did you have to leave I know you didn’t do it on purpose but why? It’s so unfair. Mathew I miss you. I know The city needed but mainly I needed you. I bring my knees up to hug my chest. I feel so weak, so fucking weak it’s been 5 years and I still haven’t recovered. I tpull myself together and wipe my tears mainly because I hear noises outside. A lot of noises. Screams, cries, laughter, sobs. I run to the window and open the curtain. Hundreds and hundreds of people are flooding the streets. Some are hugging, kissing, others are just staring in disbelief. Poeple are running in all directions and so so many of them are confused. Who are these people? Where did they come from? Could they he the ones who were snappe—

Knock! knock! knock!

the noise of someone at my door shattered my trail of thoughts like a broken mirror, breaking me of my trance. Who on earth. Or any planet for that matter would be calling to me at this hour? I tentatively get up. Cross the room and open the door, I was not prepared.

there. Right there stood my husband dead for 5 years after the blip. He stood in his lawyer suit in the doorframe. Just as he was before he left. He’s exactly the same. To him no time has passed at all. But I’m sure he’s heard it’s been 5 years on the streets. My body is rigid from shock utter shock. He takes off his red glasses so I can see his face again. A small gasp escapes my mouth as my eyes lay upon him again. Hes so gorgeous it actually hurts. Makes my heart ache. To say I felt conflicted would be an understatement I was downright a wreck inside. He so damn pretty. Was all I could really think. my shaky hand reaches up and caresses his face as if feeling he’s actually there and this isn’t some hallucination.

“sweetheart, I’m real” he smiles

“I-i Matt you were dead—you-you—oh!” I choke out in sobs

I seizes his head and he walks closer to me closing the door. I kiss him desperately like a woman starved. The kiss is searing and leaves us gasping for air. As soon as we break the seal we dive into it again and I let out a small whimper that allows him to slip his rougue into my mouth. I immediately submit to him and let him take the dominance. After sometime in a log swaying kiss. We stumble towards the couch where he tries to explain to me what happened but with me kissing his neck desperately it’s hard for him. In the five years he was gone I never took a lover. I couldn’t bring myself to. I was always thinking about Mathew even if he was just in the back of my mind. Especially as I walked down the more dangerous streets of Hells kitchen without him.

“sweetheart—sweetheart— “ he lets out a small groan that is music to my ears “are you going to let me know what happened or let me explain” he laughs.

I pull back and bip my lip “sorry”

”I know five years have passed someone on the street told me that after they did I ran to find you I’m sorry—“ his head tilts to the side as if he’s picking up something “there’s another heartbeat in the apartment”

I take his hands “Matt this is a lot to take in I know but….”

“y/n you can tell me anything” the way my name rolls of his toung sounds like honey. He runs his finger over my silk nightgown, his favorite fabric. He takes his time training my figure and them cup up to claps both my hands again “anything”

Reassured now I start my tale “the day of the blip was also the day I found out I was pregnant. Turns out half the universe was blipped away. You’ve been gone for five years now. The pregnancy was hard, half the doctors were gone, you were gone. Without many people to support it was hard but, I gave birth to a beautiful baby girl, who looks so much like you. I named her angel Murdock.”

he’s silent for a bit. I feel sorry I know how much it is to take in “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you sweetheart. I left you and everyone behind. God I feel so guilty.”

“Mathew there is nothing to apologize for! You couldn’t control it!”

We’re silent for a bit and I wonder if he’s listening to angel’s heartbeat. He beams “I can’t believe I’m a father.” He laughs “ironic isn’t it?”

“what is?”

“the devil is the father of an angel” he muses. His face is bright and happy

“I never thought of it that way” I ponder “she’s already fearless like you”

“Hm, maybe not a good thing. But she sure has the Murdock fighter genes. I’m just sorry I missed the pregnancy and everything”

“well we could always try again?”

“I’d love that” he purrs into my ear in his deep voice. And his head rests in the crook of my neck as he leans into my body. And I’m so so starved for touched after all these years I hold onto him like he’s the last thing in the world. I practically melt into his touch as I haven’t been intimate like this in so long.

“don’t leave me” i whisper

“no sweetheart” his strokes my hair “im never leaving you again”

it feels so comfy with his bodyweight on mine on the couch we don’t even bother to move to the bed as we fall asleep there that night not wanting for a second to leave each other’s arms. It would be hard to explain to to angel who this man she never met was will figure that out in the morning. Things are always better in the morning. No things are always better now that’s he’s back. Everything seems fixed, my whole world.

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snazzynacho · 3 months ago

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Dad!Diego Hargreeves headcanons

Pt1/?

I might write a full length fic of this, I’ll see how I feel. I’m still new to writing for Diego/tua btw.

Warnings: mention of adoption/fostering. SFW obviously 🤷🏻‍♀️

Masterlist.

Read on ao3

LOOK AT HOW CUTE THIS IS^

So it’s already established that he is a Girl Dad™ which is the most canon thing they ever did for season 4 LMAO

If you already have a kid from a previous relationship, he’d love them just as equally

Def insisted on growing a moustache as soon as you found out you were pregnant so he’d be dad ready™

This man constantly wanted a decent father figure, as all the other siblings wanted

But especially Diego, considering his stutter and all :(

So he’d love them so much and would do anything for them

This is his life motto fr:

I also think he’d be willing to go to therapy before you have kids so he can be the best father he can be

Would 100% insist on attending every single baby/pregnancy class

I also see him willing to be open for adoption/foster care <3 He’d love to be a good father figure to children who need one 🥺

Also if he met you after he had kids he’d be so cautious to introduce his kids to you

He’d want to make sure you’d be a good and willing parent

If his child ever had a stutter or anything similar (including neurodivergence) he’d want nothing but the best for them and would constantly tell them how much he loves them <3

He’s just so supportive <3

Like if they want to draw? he’s there to help them colour in (and would try to buy the best type of crayons/pens)

If they want a bedtime story read? He’d do it in a heartbeat 🥺

He just would be so happy to do anything with them

Def would step up and change nappies/diapers

He’d be complaining about it the whole time but deep down he’d want to help

He’s INSANELY protective

Like he just worries all the time

This can lead to him being overbearing

But it’s never because he’s strict. He just wants to protect them and if he sees he’s actually doing the opposite of making them feel protected and supported, he’d tone it down (after a word from you of course)

Road trip dad™ (baby shark trauma)

Finds fun ways to get the kids to eat their veggies

He prides himself on being able to “fight” the imaginary monster under the kid’s beds

He’s like *superman pose* “don’t worry kids, dad is on the rescue!”

The kids would ask how he’s so good at fighting the monster and he’d be so careful not to tell them anything about his vigilante days😭

Like the kids do not need to be traumatised or scared of their own dad💀

When the kid(s) are slightly older (like almost 1) and they start to move around more he insists on baby proofing EVERYTHING

He’s buying all these over-priced equipment which you two really do not need and makes your credit card be in minus

He lets them wear his mask but he’s so protective of it

Like he only lets them wear it once in a while and if he’s watching them the whole time to make sure they don’t damage it

I’d say he’s quite iffy about letting them play with his knives and daggers

He definitely would wait until they’re older to teach them how to use them

I see him being a stay at home dad

Maybe you both try to make it work (like in the show) but ultimately your family works best if he’s a stay at home dad

He’d learn to be so patient with them when helping with homework <3

Especially considering he knows what struggling with something is like (his stutter) <3

Omg he loves sports days so much

He’d be cheering so loud

“THAT’S MY BOY/GIRL!”

And when it’s the parents turn to join in, NO ONE is more determined to win than he is

He’d secretly enjoy when his kid puts makeup on him

In fact I think he’d grow to love it so much to the point he’d be excited when your kid asks to put makeup on him

He even asks first sometimes

He’d put on high heels and the whole look too (💅💁🏻‍♀️this pose and everything)

When they start school, he’d be taking SO MANY PICTURES

Sentimental king

He just wants to have pictures of so many happy memories of his family

Instead of the few ones he grew up with (those pics of the umbrella academy in the newspapers don’t count bc let’s face it, those aren’t proper family photos bc they were just for press) </3

You both definitely have a big photo album

Maybe he even makes it into a scrapbook (that is so cute)

And makes it a family bonding moment where everyone gets to design their own page

He’d love cooking/baking with his kids and you

(Why is me writing all this making me emotional omg)

Maybe I’ll make a part 2 if I think of anymore ideas.

If u enjoyed this check out my tua blog @nacho-hargreeves and maybe I’ll post more Diego content here (we are starving).

Reblogs are appreciated 🫶

#snazzynacho fanfics #gif by me!#he’s the best dad #dad Diego Hargreeves #diego hargreeves #dad Diego #tua #tua fics #tua fanfics #tua fandom #diego hargreeves x reader #Diego Hargreeves headcanons

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whatsk-poppinhomies · 1 year ago

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Pairing : Idol!Yang Jeongin x F!Reader TW : Jeongin is mean ; reader insecurities ; breakup ; fluffy at the end though ; Word Count : 2.2k Request : @moon0fthenight : Can we do an aNNNNGGGSSTTTYYYY innie fic where reader is depressed but my man has been coming from home after a bad day and just takes hun it put on her, (like way bad) and everything comes down like her insecurities and stuff and she breaks up with hom but he begs her to stay A/N : Working on as many requests as I can!!! My request completion attempt will take a brief pause on the first week of July though so I can start working on Season 2 of Before You Fall!! But for now... ENJOY!! I feel like I kind of veered off the track of the actual ask, but it's still close and I hope you still like it!!

“I think work has just been really stressful for him lately.” Your phone was held between your shoulder and your ear as you worked on dinner, quickly cutting up the carrots as you listened to your mom.

“Maybe you should try to do something special with him? Try to keep his mind off work for a bit.” She offered up, and you hummed in agreement, turning your phone on speaker as you set it on the counter. “A small date, just getting him out of the house. It worked wonders with your father and I, that’s how we’re still together after all this time. Sometimes stress just piles up, you know.”

“Yeah… You’re right, I’ll try that.” You mumbled, setting down the knife and sighing heavily. “I’ll talk to you later, mom.” You said, quickly hanging up the phone and taking a deep breath. Jeongin was your first serious relationship, he was the first person that you could really see yourself with. You loved him, but sometimes he just… doesn’t show the same kind of empathy that you do. If Jeongin has a bad day at work, the rest of the evening would be just as stressful for you trying to please him. If you had a bad day at work, it was nothing, easily blown over.

For some reason, Jeongin just assumed that since he made more money, his job was more important than yours. His stress was worse than yours. His emotions were more important. Everything he did, everything he felt took priority over you. At first you let it slide, you just loved him so much and you wanted him to be happy, you wanted him to know that you cared, but you felt like it was time for him to care about you.

It’s not like your life was any easier just because you weren’t an idol, if anything, it was just as hard. You had to follow his schedules, making sure that dinner was done in time for when he got home even though you were never 100% sure when he’d be home. All of the guys knew about you, and when he was having relationship troubles, he could go to them for advice. You on the other hand had to keep it all a secret. No one could ever know that you were dating him, he wouldn’t be able to handle the scandals or the rumors. Your life was hard, and you were tired of pushing that all down for him, to make sure his life was simpler.

“I’m home.” Jeongin sighed from the front door, kicking his shoes off, the rubber soles marking up the wall where they hit. Not that he cared, he’d just have you clean the walls or repaint them if he finally came to realize it. “Hyunjin kept coming at me about the dances, I can’t get it right.” He slumped down into his chair, running his hands over his face.

“Well you just started learning the choreo two days ago… It’s not like you’re going to be a master at it immediately.” You responded, hoping that it would somehow make him feel better. “I got all the stuff to make your favorite dinner when I got off work. Do you want some?” You thought that maybe bringing up your own work would make him ask about it, pique his curiosity about how your day went.

“That’s great, babe. Get me a big bowl, I’m starving.” He sat up a little in his chair, and you nodded slowly, biting your lip as you walked over to the stove. Of course he didn’t care, he wasn’t even slightly interested in your life. It was all about him, always about him. Did you even exist in the relationship for anything other than cooking his breakfasts and dinners and washing his clothes? He didn’t even touch you anymore, not unless he was super bored and had nothing else to do.

You placed his bowl down and then grabbed your own, sitting across from him at the table. “Work was awful today… the customers were rude and my manager was short tempered and shitty because I wasn’t working fast enough…” Sure, he hadn’t specifically asked for the details, but maybe he’d show some sort of concern or maybe even compassion after hearing about your day.

His eyes rolled as he groaned. “It’s just retail, babe. Don’t be such a cry baby about it.” He said and you once again bit your lip, dropping your gaze into your bowl. “I have managers to listen to, Bangchan, I’ve got reporters up my ass all the time. I’d love to have it as easy as you do.” He took another bite of the soup, humming softly to himself. “Finish your dinner so we can watch our show.” He motioned towards your bowl that you had left untouched.

“I was thinking that… maybe we can go out… on a date or something?” You mentioned, picking up your spoon once more and taking a small bite of the soup. “Just to take your mind off of work… and to give me a small break from my job.” Your feet were tapping nervously under the table, your hand shaking as you held the spoon. “Even if it’s just the park… to walk around or something… I feel like I haven’t seen you in so long and…”

You trailed off, your eyes moving lower to look at your lap when you heard Jeongins sigh. “I literally just said I constantly have reporters following after me… and you suggest going out together?” His bowl was lifted to his lips as he took a long sip of the broth before placing the bowl down again, and even though you weren’t looking at him, you could feel him looking at you. “I’m sorry that I’m busy and I can’t just work 6 hours and come home and relax. Some of us don’t have it that easy.”

Everything you did was easy in his eyes. He didn’t know how you felt, he didn’t know what it was like. “It’s not… easy…” You muttered, your teeth pressing harder into your bottom lip as you tried to keep it from trembling. “I just wanted to spend time with you…”

“I’m not stopping you from spending time with me, but for Christ’s sake, I don’t want to hear about how awful your work is when my job is way harder than yours.” There it was again. Why was it a competition of who’s job was the worst? Why did it matter? Why couldn’t you just be there for each other? “My day was awful enough as it is, and then I want to just enjoy dinner and a movie with you and I have to hear about how rough it is to ring up a couple customers. It’s kind of annoying.”

Annoying… you were annoying…? “Just because I’m not dancing and singing… it doesn’t mean my job isn’t hard. You don’t even know what it’s like…” You mumbled under your breath, but his eyes slightly widened as he leaned forward across the table to hear you better.

“Say that again… Speak up, I hate it when you mumble.” He groaned, reaching over to tilt your chin up. “And look at me when you’re talking so that I can at least try to read your lips if I can’t understand you.” Did he not even notice that you were trying not to cry right now?

“I said that… You don’t know what it’s like…” You said just a little louder now, and you could tell that he heard you, his finger falling from beneath your chin as he leaned back in his chair. “My boss is an asshole, I have to deal with customers that bitch and complain at me all day long, I barely even get a long enough break to breathe before I have to go back in and deal with it all over again. I come back home and I can’t talk to you about it because apparently my job and everything I do is shit to you. I’m so alone here and even if I had someone to talk to about how I feel, I couldn’t because no one can know about you and I being together… Even though it doesn’t even feel like we are.” You were breathing heavily as you looked at him, at least you hadn’t looked away yet. “Why are we together? I… I don’t even know… I… I want to break up.”

Now those words hadn’t actually been planned, and they most definitely hadn’t been thoroughly thought over before they had left your mouth, but now they were out, hanging in the air above the table like a chandelier. “You… Want to break up?” He questioned, as if giving you another chance to take back those words, god, he wanted you to take them back, but he didn’t want to say anything yet… He needed to know if you actually meant them.

So you thought it over, and you thought for what felt like a good bit before ultimately nodding your head. “There’s nothing here… for either of us… I don’t even know what we’re holding onto.” You sniffled softly before clearing your throat, and for the first time in weeks, you didn’t feel so nervous talking to him, everything was finally out on the table. “I’m tired of competing… I’m tired of feeling like I’m not good enough. You don’t even ask me how my days have been… it’s always all about you. I’m tired of giving my all and… not even getting 25% in return. I want to break up, Jeongin.”

There were many things in this world that your heart couldn’t handle seeing, and one of those things were tears in Jeongins eyes. His fox-like eyes completely glossed over as twinkling tears trickled down his cheeks had your heart aching. “Please… Don’t leave me…” He shakily whispered, his hands folded on the table as his thumbs rolled over each other. “You’re… You’re my first girlfriend and… I’m still learning how to do this right.” He took a deep breath, coughing immediately afterward as the lump in his throat got larger. “I’m trying, and I’m always scared that I’m not doing enough… and I was right… I’m not doing enough. I’m doing everything wrong.”

“Jeongin…”

“But you are good enough!” He cut you off with the choked out declaration, his head finally lifting to reveal his puffy red eyes as his tears continued to fall. “A-Ask Chan hyung…. I never shut up about you. I annoy the hell out of everyone there because you’re all I talk about. You’re the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me in my life, and I’m so lucky I have you and I don’t want to lose you just because I’m an idiot.”

“Jeongin… I…”

“And work has just been really stressful lately.” He continued, and you knew that it would be pointless to try to get a word in while he was ranting, so you sat back in your chair, watching as he continued to sob, his lips trembling as he spoke, giving his words a sort of vibrato. “I don’t know why I try to compete… I know that your job sucks too… You can quit it… I want you to quit it… I don’t want to think of people treating you like that. I’ll support you, I’ll support us… And I know that you’re tired of hiding… And I’m tired of it too… I’m gonna talk to management. I want to post pictures with you, I want to show everyone our matching outfits, I want to show everyone how beautiful you are, how lucky I am…” His words broke at the end as his face fell back into his hands, his breaths becoming heavy and quick as his sobs grew silent and his voice became hoarse. “Don’t… Don’t break up with me, please… Just one more chance… I’ll be better… I promise.”

You pushed away from the table and got up, watching his eyes widen with fear as he watched you, but you walked over to him, lowering down onto his lap and wrapping your arms around his neck. “I didn’t know you cared that much…” You whispered, kissing his cheeks that were salty with the tears that he had spilled. “I love you, Innie…”

His arms snaked around you, holding you on him, making sure that you won’t even try to get up. “I love you too… I love when you call me that…” The sigh of relief was audible even after his face was hidden against your shoulder, his voice muffled against the sleeve of your hoodie. “I don’t think I’ve panicked that much since right before we debuted.” He chuckled nervously, his eyes wide as he looked up at you. “Were you… Really going to break up with me though…?” Your own eyes wavered before you hesitantly nodded yes and then his eyes somehow widened even more. “Yeah well… You can’t do that. I won’t allow it. Next time you think about breaking up with me, talk to me first, and if I’m being an asshole, hit me… And if I’m still being an ass, then you can threaten me with leaving.” He took a deep breath before letting it out in one heavy huff. “Ugh, my eyes feel like they’re gonna fall out. Come… Come, it’s cuddle time, and we’re watching our movie and you’re not allowed to move unless it’s for a bathroom break or a snack trip.” He planted kisses all along your cheeks, pulling you closer every time you tried to move away. “No! Receive my love! All 100% percent of it! I’m never letting you go! You’re mine!”

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aperrywilliams · 2 years ago

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They Will Never (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

(Not my gif. Credits to the creator!)

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Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: Spencer's girlfriend is jealous. During the Christmas party at their daughter's school, the other moms don’t stop hitting on him.

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: 18+; Minor DNI. Suggestive and dirty talk. Smut (fade to black) at the end of the fic. If I forgot something, let me know.

A/N: I’m back!!!! This past months have been a rollercoaster in many ways. Well, talking about this fic, it could be a sequel from "That Wicked Love" multipart I wrote a while ago. Nonetheless, it could be read as a stand-alone.

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I never thought it would be easy. When I discovered that I was pregnant and Spencer wasn't going to support me, I was sure the world had ended.

There were weeks of thinking over and over again about what I would do with my life. Then I decided I would have Olivia, and that's it.

I don't regret my decision. Liv is my little girl, and I love her with all my heart, but motherhood is hard.

Since Olivia was born, my life has mostly revolved around her. Being a mother is a full-time job. But I have been managing the best I could. I continued working after she was born, and with time, some of my personal life returned too.

However, the stability of our little family was broken when a bloody bastard kidnapped my little girl two years ago. She was four back then.

That wasn't enough, though.

What were the chances of Spencer working on my daughter's kidnapping case?

I forgot to mention that I never told him I would continue my pregnancy, so it was a surprise for him to see me and know that he had indeed been a father.

Fortunately, Spencer’s team recovered Olivia and three more kids kidnapped by the same guy.

What followed was a rollercoaster of events and emotions. Spencer wanted to be in Liv’s life, and although I swore never to talk to him again, I couldn't deny my daughter of her father.

He showed regret and swore that leaving me alone while pregnant was the worst thing he had done in his life. He looked genuinely sorry, and he wanted to make it up to Olivia.

Against the odds, I let him.

He became the best dad for my girl. Since then, he has been for her at every step.

The problem? Having him close awoke those feelings I thought were buried the day he left.

I tried to ignore it. I really tried. Even if he never did something to make me uncomfortable in our co-parenting roles, I did feel off with it.

I still loved him. And months after, Spencer confessed that he still loved me too.

Would it be a bad idea? Maybe. But I left my heart to speak louder than my brain. That's why we have been dating for the past three months.

So you can guess how odd it is having your daughter’s dad as a boyfriend. Some people think we are married or living together when we are not. Others believe we are just co-parenting and don’t have a relationship.

Usually, I don't care what people think. But right now I wish things between us were clearer to the world, specifically for the moms who had Spencer cornered in the venue of this year’s school Christmas party.

Am I jealous? Yeah. But how could I not be? Spencer is the epitome of the young-hot dad, caring and lovely. And polite. Very very polite. So much so that even if he had noticed their advances, he hadn’t said anything. Maybe he likes that.

This has me overthinking, and I wouldn't say I like it because it brings all kinds of insecurity thoughts to my mind.

Right now, for example, instead of going to interrupt this obscene flirtation, I'm walking to the opposite side to check if Olivia needs anything. I can't bring myself to do something different.

It didn't help to hear part of their conversation when I was passing by a while ago.

“Your wife is a lucky girl, then,” Kimberly chimed, patting Spencer’s forearm.

“My what?” the man asked, confused.

“Your wife? Olivia's mom?” Kim explains, tilting her head. Then Spencer realizes she’s talking about me.

“Oh! No, actually, we are not married,” he corrected. God, Kimberly’s eyes go wide as if she found a gold mine. The rest of the moms there reacted in the same way.

I have nothing against that fact, but with them knowing it? It's like a door was opened. A door to the shameless coquetry, and I hate it.

I knew Spencer wouldn’t be consciously flirting with them, but seeing him laugh at their jokes and don’t even flinch when one of them gripped his forearm not only made me see red.

It was even worst: it made me self-conscious.

I know it's an irrational feeling. Of course I know there are people better than me in many things. I wouldn't pretend to be a superwoman or something close to that. But since Olivia started preschool, I have been feeling less than the other moms. At first, it was because I was raising her alone and working simultaneously. I couldn't make it to every school event or whatever they planned during the year. Now, also, there is the fact that it’s Spencer who can fulfill that role, and I still can’t. He is the cool dad with a cool job. And there are cool moms with cool jobs too, who he’s talking to at this precise moment.

Doing the math, it doesn't look like I could be up to that kind of expectation.

For the rest of the evening, I avoided being close to Spencer and the other moms. Instead, I focused on the kids and that Olivia could have fun at the party. After all, it was the primary purpose of this activity.

The ride home was mostly silent. I tried to concentrate on driving and not look at Spencer from the corner of my eye. Liv was fast asleep in the back seat.

The streets were filled with snow, and you could see the Christmas lights on the windows of each building we passed. The ambient was clearly festive, but I didn't feel or look that way.

Maybe Spencer felt something was off, but I guess he didn't want to bring it up in the car. He only made some random comments about the party, and for all of them, he got from me a curt hum in response.

When I parked, he took hold of a sleepy Olivia in his arms and helped me upstairs.

It was a well-known routine since we told Liv that Spencer was her dad, and she warmed up to him. Every time we got to my apartment after an afternoon together, he carried our daughter to her room and got her ready for bed. The little girl would open her eyes and demand a bed story from her dad.

Spencer loves reading to her, even if he knows most of the stories by heart. That's one of the many things they share as father and daughter, and I try to give them the space to do that. That's why this time, like others, I headed to the kitchen to make myself some tea.

With a mug in hand, and after switching on the Christmas tree lights, I plopped on the couch. I didn't notice before how much my feet hurt. What can I say? The afternoon’s overthinking even dimmed my body aching.

Great, now I can add ‘old and wasted’ to my self-deprecation list.

I let my eyes be entertained by the colored lights, wondering if I was being overdramatic. My thoughts were interrupted by Spencer sitting beside me.

“I couldn't finish the story, and she had already fallen asleep,” he announced, lifting my legs so they could rest on his lap. Thoughtlessly, he started rubbing my feet.

Silence took over the room. I tried to concentrate on the pleasant feeling of his hands on my aching feet, but my face sure didn't hide my sour mood.

“What's wrong?” Spencer asked cautiously, inspecting my features. I tried to play ignorant.

“Uh? What do you mean?” I lied. Spencer frowned.

“You are too quiet. You didn't say anything during the car ride, and I could tell you avoided me most of this afternoon,” he recounted.

Shit. Obviously, he noticed.

“I’m just tired,” I lied again. I didn't want to explain what was bothering me. It was silly, and I felt stupid for it. He was about to say something to question my answer, but I didn't let him.

“Maybe you should go home. I think it's better I go to bed,” I pointed, detaching my feet off his lap and sitting straight on the couch. By all means, I avoided making eye contact because I knew he would realize what I was trying to do.

During the past months, he had spent the night at mine before, but it wasn’t a habitual thing. We decided to take it slow, and neither he nor I had put pressure on that matter.

Spencer’s frown deepened, nonetheless.

“Okay. I’ll go,” he announced. “But first you need to tell me what is bothering you. I don’t bite the ‘tired’ thing,” he declared, shifting his posture on the couch to have a better look of me.

“Nothing is wrong,” I repeated, but my voice sounded even less convincing than before. The man hummed, thinking about what to say first.

“Did you know that in the US the 95% of people who are asked for a confirmation to a statement actually lie about it?” He commented. I huffed, already feeling trapped.

“Great. Now is where your 187 is displayed,” I said under my breath. It was a thought that wasn’t meant to be said at loud. But it slipped.

Spencer tilted his head.

“Hey! Now I’m worried. What happened? What did I do?” he asked in a high pitch tone, scooting to my side. I shook my head, sighing.

Maybe it was better to get clean and tell him everything.

“You - you didn't do anything. I mean, yeah. You were there, all cute and sexy. It's your fault! And they? They were all over you, gawking at you as someone looks at their prey!” I grumbled.

“They?” Spencer asked in confusion.

“The other moms, Spencer! Now you will tell me you didn't notice?” I scoffed, folding my arms over my chest and placing some distance between us on the couch.

“You mean at the party? No way. That not happened,” he refuted, shooking his head.

The bastard was denying the most obvious thing! That made anger fill my body, and I had to stand and start pacing. It was that or scream at the man.

At the loss of words, Spencer stood too, following my pace with his gaze.

I knew he could see the fuming escaping from my ears, but I didn't care.

He wanted to say something, but he didn't know how to start. I bet my pacing in the room wasn’t helping him.

“(Y/N)...” he mumbled softly to catch my attention. I turned to see him. His confused look only fueled my irritation.

“Fuck, Spencer! How can you be so clueless? They were hitting on you! God, if it were up to them, you'd already be tied to their bed frame,” I shouted, hands waving in the air to accentuate my point.

Spencer’s eyes widened.

“What? That's not true. They were being nice. That's all,” Spencer defended. Sure, he has to be oblivious right now. I would have punched him to make him realize the truth.

“Nice, uh? I didn't know nice meant touching the guy in front of the whole people every chance they got. Or are you going to deny they did that, uh, genius?” I sneered now with my hands on my hips. My blood was boiling inside as I remembered the scene.

Spencer cleared his throat. He was recalling those details, and they were hitting him now. Cautiously he took a step forward, hands trying to reach mine.

“Hey, don’t get upset. I - I didn't see that. I’m sorry,” he said, stepping in front of me and prying my arms from their position on my hips. His fingers traced delicate patterns on the back of my palms.

“I should have seen it. I didn't think it was something like that. You know I’m pretty stupid in that kind of thing. I’m really sorry,” he apologized.

I really wanted to stay angry, but seeing those puppy dog eyes, looking intently at me made it difficult.

Argh! Why just one look from him it's all that it takes to feel my knees go weak?

“Don't look at me like that!” I protested.

“Like what?” He asked, kind of amused by the reaction he provoked in me.

“Like you were an innocent pigeon. All men are the same, honestly,” I complained, leaving the grasp of his hands. A new rush of anger came quickly. Spencer pursed his lips; he could tell the reason why I was upset wasn’t just the moms flirting with him.

Before I could turn and walk away, Spencer stopped me grabbing my hand and squeezing it gently so I could look at him.

“Please, don’t go. I’m sorry I didn't notice. But you know why I didn't? Because they are not you,” he declared, intertwining our fingers and grasping our hands with his free one. I looked at him, with some treacherous tears fighting to come out.

He continued.

“They are not you. You are the only one that can get my attention that way,” he declared, bringing my hand to his lips to kiss my knuckles.

“I’m not that special, you know?” I mumbled, pursing my lips to stop the tears.

There it was. The intrusive thought in my mind replayed over and over since it hit me this afternoon.

Spencer narrowed his eyes, realizing there was more than jealousy because of him.

“Don’t say that. Of course you are that special, and much more!” He rebutted, and I chuckled bitterly.

“Am I? I mean, why would you be happy with me when you can get a successful well-manicured super mom like them?” I pointed.

“What are you talking about? What is that thing about super moms?” he asked, now taking hold of both my hands.

I sighed. It was something that was hard to explain, even to me. I left the grasp of his hands, running mine through my hair, collecting my thoughts.

“Look. I don't expect you can fully understand it. Honestly, I think I can’t understand it either. It's just - I don’t know. Sometimes I think I’m not doing enough. I’m not a successful businesswoman with a six-year-old daughter, a nice car, all dolled up, perfect makeup, and baking cupcakes for the whole school, like Kimberly, you know?” I shrugged, feeling small and vulnerable.

Of all that people, I chose to compare myself with Kimberly Garland. The incarnation of a super mom. She was known as a successful CEO at a technological company. Mom of three and recently divorced. She always shows up to school activities, no matter what. And not only that, she actively participates, whether cooking, taking care of the ornaments and decorations, or whatever it needed.

How could you compete to that?

“And do you think that no being like her is a bad thing?” Spencer asked me.

Did I believe that? Perhaps I did.

“Maybe it is. Don’t you think Liv deserves a mom like that? Or you a girlfriend like that? I saw you talking to her today, and I couldn't stop thinking she could offer more than I could.”

It hurt to say those words out loud, but they were the ones plaguing my thoughts at the time.

Spencer's face softened. Great, now I'm sure he felt pity for me.

“She can’t. Kimberly or whoever you’re comparing to. You're an excellent mom, (Y/N). And the best girlfriend I can ask for," Spencer stated now strocking my cheek.

I felt silly making a fuss but the insecurities were there. I couldn't help it. The embarrasment made me downcast my gaze to the floor.

“My sweet girl. Look at me, please," he asked, tilting my chin up. I did so, my cheeks turning red under his gaze.

“Olivia is a lucky little girl, you know? She has the best mom in the world. A mom who loves her and would do whatever it takes so she can be happy and safe. Who cares if you can’t be in all those school activities? Not her, because she knows you love her. It doesn't matter if you are not a company CEO. You have your job, and thanks to that our daughter has had everything she needs. You took care of her alone in her first years. On top of that, you have always sought her well-being and happiness. You let me be in her life even after I hurt you years ago. I will always be grateful that you did,” he said, pulling a strand of hair behind my ear.

“She deserves having her father around,” I pointed. It was a decision that I made when we spoke again after Olivia’s kidnapping. Although my hurt feelings, I couldn't deny my daughter of her father if he genuinely wanted to be in her life. Our problems as adults didn't have to be a problem for her.

“And she deserves the wonderful mom she has,” Spencer declared, kissing my forehead. I blushed at the compliment.

“Now, regarding this relationship,” he began pointing between the two of us. “You have nothing to worry about. They don't stand a chance, and you know why? Because they don't even compare to the most beautiful, smart and brave person I've ever met. Who owns a small bookstore downtown, and my heart. The woman I fell in love with the moment I saw her—the mother of my child. Who gave this idiot a chance to be in her life again even when he didn't deserve it. They are not you, my sweet girl. They will never be, and that's why I could never even look at them the way I look at you.“

Fuck Spencer Reid and his ability with words.

“You mean it?” I asked tentatively. Still unsure if he was being serious.

“Of course I mean it. I’m here for the long run, and I hope someday - sooner or later - we can take the next step. I want everything with you, (Y/N), but I’ll go at your pace. I promise.”

I couldn't help the giggles that left my lips.

Could love make you this way? I felt lighter and confident. Spencer's words made me see that I have no reason to sulk that way.

“Keep talking like that, and you'll get the world, Dr. Reid," I stated, now wrapping my arms around his neck. He chuckled.

“I don't need to get it. I already have it with you,” he said, giving a peck to my nose.

"You're a sap," I teased.

"And you love it,” he added, leaning down to kiss me. I happily obliged and kissed him back, tightening my grasp on his neck. His hands planted on my hips to keep me steady.

The kiss deepened, and only we parted when the need for air was too much.

He looked at me with a devilish smirk on his face.

“You know?” he started, kissing my cheek and then my jaw. “There is only one bedframe I would rather be tied to right now. And there is only one person I wish would do indescribable things to me as I’m tied up at her mercy,” he whispered in my ear, and immediately, I felt shivers down my spine.

“Spencer, don’t. That's not helping,” I mumbled with my eyes fluttering shut.

“Isn’t it? Why? Are you thinking about it right now?” He teased. The bastard knew what he was doing. “You would like to see me all tied up, waiting for my sweet girl to do what she wants? Would you like to be in control and show those moms who own me?” he asked, as his lips left traces of kisses on my neck. His hot breath was hitting on my skin and making my desire grow.

“Spencer,” I moaned, lost in his words and eager for his touch.

"Tell me what you want. I'll give you anything," he whispered in my ear, hands running down my sides, giving me goosebumps.

“You. I want you.” Those words left my lips like a prayer—the utter confession of desire and pent-up tension. Spencer grunted.

“You already have me. I’m yours,” he murmured, pulling up the hem of my shirt, so his hands could sneak under to feel my skin.

“And I’m yours. Totally yours. But I need to feel you,” I confessed. I was so lost in his touch and starved for more.

Spencer understood the meaning of my words, so he kissed me hungrily, walking us backward in the direction of my room.

That night Spencer proved to me, with kisses, caresses, and words of adoration, that my insecurities were unfounded. It's true that I'm not like Kimberly Garland, but I don't have to be. I have a daughter whom I adore and who

loves me, a job that fills me with satisfaction, and a boyfriend that I love and who does an excellent job of showing me how valuable and loved I can be.

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Spencer Reid’s Taglist: @dreatine @nomajdetective @jayyeahthatsme @rosalinasam2 @averyhotchner @tvandfanfic @lovelyxtom @princessmiaelicia @pastelbabygirl19 @reidsbookclub @alexxavicry @gspenc @spencerreidisbae123 @calmspencer @pauline5525mgg @disaster-in-waiting @pebble-has-a-mirgraine @anamiad00msday @chlochlosworld @milivanili99

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid smut #spencer reid angst #criminal minds #dr. spencer reid #that wicked love #they will never #spencer reid x reader

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panic-in-the-multiverse · 1 year ago

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Venom

Pairings: father Miguel O’Hara x gn!teen!venom!reader, Venom x teen!reader

Imagine: what it would be like to be Miguel’s son and a spider-man along with venom, spider-venom? Idk guys

Warnings: mention of death, mention of parent death, mention of injuries, father Miguel O’Hara, idk what else, not proofread

A/N keep in mind the first part of this is before Gabriella died. Second I am aware that Miguel has a son somewhere out there in the comics, third don’t mind me referencing Moon Knight in some parts, lastly this is actually based on one of my ocs, but I made this fic x reader instead :)

Side note: I did imagine reader to be male (like my oc is) but I made it gn!reader so that everyone can read it

You lived on earth-TRN1042 (is that the name, it was when I searched it up, might be wrong tho), with you father Miguel O’Hara and your sister Gabriella O’Hara

Your canon event as tragic as it is was to watch as your father died — which would eventually lead you to become Spider-Man

You’d been bitten a few days prior and was still adjusting to the whole power thing

But we are getting ahead of ourselves, Here’s the thing Miguel (earth-928) lost his family on his earth and when he found out a way to go into other earths he found your earth. The one where he still had a happy family

His original plan was to just watch from afar, but when your father died, Miguel made the rash decision to take your fathers place, which didn’t go as smoothly as he thought, after all you had watched your father die

At first you thought you were going crazy when you first saw Miguel, apparently he’d been with your sister all day. You didn’t trust him one but, you knew for a fact your father was dead so when you saw him playing with Gabriella and her dolls you were in shock, you’d told Gabriella to go to her room, once she did the interrogation started, you’d felt your father take his last breath so you sure as hell would find out who this imposter was.

“Who are you?”

“I’m your father”

“No, no, no, no, I watched my father die, who are you?”

Miguel knew you wouldn’t stop your interrogation until you knew what was going on, this led to him giving you a long explanation about different earths, his family and everything in between, how he got his powers and literally his whole life story, only to ensure that you would let him stay, he wouldn’t stay against your wishes

You let him stay, not only because you knew what loss felt like, but you hadn’t told Gabriella yet and you didn’t know how you could tell her that her actual father was dead, and it would prove to be good to have an adult raise your little sister with you, so you let Miguel stay, eventually you saw him as your father too, Gabrielle being none the wiser when it came to her fathers true identity.

The first time you called Miguel “dad” or something alike, he was overjoyed

Miguel didn’t really enjoy you going out to beat bad guys up but he never told you not to, he knew why you did it so he never stopped you, and he used to do it so it would be kinda hypocritical of him to force you to stop, instead he’d be at home, and every time you snuck in through your window you could find Miguel in the living room ready to patch you up, telling you of every time for being reckless and getting hurt so many times

Don’t be offended when he calls you an “reckless idiot” (he’d probably say it in Spanish though) when you get home nearly half dead (Miguel might of overreacted a bit)

It was around this time when you started to get memory gaps from time to time, some fights you didn’t even remember how you defeated the enemy, and some days you woke up in an alleyway, (kinda like Steven in episode one of moon knight)

Before it all went to shit I’d like to think that Miguel gave up on the spider-man part of him and was just a single dad with his two kids working a boring job — not at Alcehmax, he won’t do that mistake again

You all lived rather peacefully for the most part, you’d help Gabriella get better at football/soccer, going to an ice cream shop every time after one of Gabriella’s matches, loss or win didn’t matter there was always ice cream after a match.

And then in a single day it all got taken away from you, in just a couple of minutes all you had ever known was gone

Your whole earth started to disappear along with the people in it, you’d been out on your daily spider-man patrols when it happened, you saw your father/Miguel running with Gabriella and so instead of trying to stop whatever was happening — or more like knowing you couldn’t stop it as you had no clue what it was — you went into the direction of your family.

And when your sister disappeared you didn’t know what to do anymore, Miguel at least able to think somewhat took your hand and soon enough you were on earth-928, and from a screen you watched as your dimension disappeared into nothingness

This left many questions and problems but the question you were mostly focused on was the fact that you hadn’t disappeared

Turns out the spider that bit you had bonded (idk if this works but it does now) with a symbiote — Venom — who was from another earth, and when the spider bit you, you’d not only gained spider-powers but Venom transferred over to you and the two of you bonded, this changed your DNA and caused you to be able to coexist on your own earth along with the earth that Venom was from (does this make sense ain’t got a single clue)

Turns out Venom hadn’t made an appearance (to your knowledge and Miguel’s) because he protected you whenever you couldn’t yourself, and all those memory gaps that you had was the times that Venom had taken over (you know kinda like Jake with Steven and Marc in Moon Knight)

Fast forward a bit and you’d joined the spider-society

You had learned to coexist with Venom, it took some time but it worked out in the end, at first people would think you were crazy as you yelled at nothing (except for you you were talking to Venom who was speaking inside your mind), a lot of spider-people stayed away from you not wanting to be near Venom as he is supposed to be a villain, but when they realized you were one of the good guys they stopped avoiding you and Venom

Venom would deny it to his grave but he is extremely protective over you, if anyone hurt you he wouldn’t hesitate to hurt/kill/eat them

Miguel also became way more protective, after he lost Gabriella he only had you left and he would only send you out on the easy missions — that is until you snuck out on one of their worsts missions and got hurt because no one else new you were there — cue Miguel letting you go on dangerous missions so that you wouldn’t sneak out again and possibly die, at leas if he knew where you were he could make sure you didn’t die.

Not only did Miguel become more grumpy and strict with all the rules, you also become a lot more grumpy as you grieved your sister, and friends

And then all the shit with Miles happened but that’s for part 2,3 (part 2 siding with Miles, part 3 siding with Miguel idk which will come out first)

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phantomato · 5 months ago

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Tom Riddle As A Parent: Why So Compelling?

(to me. Not meant to generalize.)

Tom-as-parent runs counter to canon in possibly baffling ways. He despises his own father and has no respect for his mother. He doesn’t have a confirmed romantic or sexual attachment to anyone at any point in the story—I’m disregarding Cursed Child here, as my canon is the original seven-book series.

Tom is ill-suited to parenting: we see him in a challenging job or unemployed but busy with his pursuit of power. His personal qualities include a lack of bedside manner, and he’s shown to tolerate putting on a polite face only when it serves him with people who have more power. Yet I’ve written Tom as a parent multiple times, including my longest work. The idea continues to compel me. What gives?

Canon Tom has no business being a parent—let me make it his business

Partly, I want this because it is just so unlikely to fit the character as we know him. Whenever a fic idea or characterization choice seems incongruous and wrong, my impulse as a writer is to wonder how to make it right. What shifts must take place for this person to do this thing?

I’ve long held that I am interested in a Tom Riddle who can feel love. Not that he loves easily or admits it to himself, but that he is a person with the ability to feel that emotion. Given that Tom can love, a child is an interesting place to explore that. How did the child come into his life? How did he reconcile himself to loving it? What shape does that love take? No matter the universe, some parts of Tom will always struggle to be a conventional parent.

This is a great path for Tom as an unintentional parent—kidnapping Harry of course, but also (my favorite) partnering with a single parent and navigating the family he gains as a side effect of that romance. Particularly coming into a teenage stepchild, which was an interesting writing experience because with an older child who remembered a deceased birth parent, I was free to give that Voldemort less personal responsibility for the kid. He could create something other than full parenthood in his relationship with Theodore Nott, where they came to understand and care for one another through their shared love for Nott Sr. I let Voldemort recognize his own unsuitedness to parenting and thus make compromises with it, and the relationship was overall more emotionally moving to me as a result.

Tom Riddle will have an impact on any parenting that I force him to do. Because he’s not traditionally fit for it, the unique form his parenting takes is a chance to say so much about his character and the choices that he’s made in that universe.

Forcing Tom to reconcile with himself

It’s no mystery that Tom Riddle has parent issues. His mom dies while birthing him. He was raised in an orphanage. He kills his father. There are a lot of obstacles in the way of Tom having a healthy relationship with parenting.

In making him a parent, then, I’m asking his character to get with it real quick. There is a baby or a small child only growing older and more independent by the day; they are pulling their ideas of the world from him like a sponge sucking up water. He will have an influence on them. And what has Tom Riddle ever wanted more than influence?

Part of what I like about parent!Tom is asking what would happen to him if he took the prospect seriously. He is responsible for this kid, so he takes care of them. There must be many feelings there. After all, Tom went to his father seeking something. Magical heritage, sure, but he knew before he walked up that hill that he wouldn’t find it, and still he went. We can’t know anything with certainty (except in fanfic), but when writing him as a parent, I like to think that he might be changed when he’s forced to play the opposite role.

Tom with a child is a Tom who can possibly come to understand his parents or regret not getting to know them. He might see his mother’s care, to deliver her baby where he would live. He might see his father’s fear, at confronting his own trauma through the form of his child. He never got to learn what his mother might have taught him, and my own dislike of her aside, the character of Tom might miss her, forgive her, or never learn about her abuse. If he does know that his mother assaulted his father, it might spark his regret over committing that murder. And he Mrs. Cole as a caretaker as well, whose faults do not erase the intimacy of their relationship. All of these emotions can be explored via reflection as Tom experiences raising his child. He is making his own choices about being a parent, dissimilar or not to those made by Merope and Tom Sr. and Mrs. Cole, and facing unpleasant facts about his sympathy for their positions.

And all of this is equally as interesting to me when Tom is the child, or when he considers his feelings about his parents and mentors later in life. Tom’s hope to be a teacher likewise takes on more dimensions if we consider mentorship and influence on young people as relating to how he might feel about his own childhood, or what must change to make him suited for that responsibility. Tom-as-parent is particularly special as it features in fics that have helped define my characterization of him, and it is because the role is so unnatural for him, not in spite of it, that it inspires this kind of consideration.

#tom riddle #voldemort #harry potter meta

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baronessblixen · 29 days ago

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Fictober Day 30: When You Know What You Want

Prompt: "I won't let you down"

Mulder and Scully have to babysit baby Matthew Scully. Rating: T, wc: 1,416

Tagging @today-in-fic @xffictober24

“Mulder, it’s me.” The clock reads 8.57 a.m. when he answers Scully’s phone call – the same time she usually strolls into their basement office.

“Is everything all right?” He’s trying to keep the panic out of his voice. Whatever is going on, Scully doesn’t need him freaking out.

“More or less,” she says with a sigh and he’s half out of his chair already. “I can’t come into the office today.”

“Are you sick?” He squeezes the phone between his ear and shoulder, opening his email, ready to inform Skinner that neither he nor Scully will be available today.

“No, I’m fine – I mean, I’m not sick.” She sighs again. “My sister-in-law Tara called me half an hour ago, frantic because my brother Bill is running late and she has a job interview. My mom is on a trip with her book club and well, I guess that left me.”

“You didn’t mention your brother was in town.”

“I didn’t know,” she says through gritted teeth. “He didn’t want me to know. It was supposed to be some big surprise. That completely backfired. Either way, I’m watching the baby until Tara comes back and it could be hours.”

“Do you want company?” He doesn’t even need to think about it. He’d much rather babysit Bill Jr. baby son than sit around in the office all day, missing Scully.

“You don’t have to do that, Mulder.”

“What if I want to?” She takes her time thinking about it.

“Only if you want to,” she says, but he’s certain he hears relief in her voice. Or maybe that’s just wishful thinking on his part.

“I’ll contact Skinner and then I’m on my way.”

“Oh Mulder, if you’re coming over, could you pick up a few things on the way for me? Just in case.”

“Sure thing. I won’t let you down.”

Scully’s “just-in-case” list is longer than any grocery list he’s ever written for himself. He finds everything easily enough and catches several looks from women – mothers, mostly – who gawk at him.

“Your wife is so lucky,” one says in passing and Mulder stares after her, speechless, convinced he’s in a parallel universe. He forgets about it quickly, hurrying to get to Scully and baby Matthew. He met the boy as an infant; his face had been wrinkly and his eyes closed.

Since then, he hasn’t even seen a picture of the boy. He wonders why. Scully has mentioned him here and there, just like she’s mentioned other members of her family. But he doesn’t know what to expect when he knocks at the door, hoping the baby isn’t asleep.

Scully opens the door with the boy on her hip, smiling at Mulder.

“Hi,” he says, overwhelmed all of a sudden. Scully with a baby in her arms is a sight he doesn’t get to see often. He’s surprised how many emotions it unleashes in him.

“This is my friend, Mulder,” Scully explains to Matthew in a soft voice that makes Mulder stare at her in awe. “Do you want to say hi?”

“No.” It’s more spit than letters and the expression reminds Mulder of the baby’s father. He hopes the dislike isn’t genetic.

“That’s his favorite word,” Scully says, running a hand over Matthew’s soft, reddish hair. The Scully genes must be strong.

As he steps inside, he can’t help but wonder what their child would look like; his and Scully’s. Would their child have red hair, too? Would it have Scully’s nose? God, he hopes so.

“Here’s the- here’s everything you asked for.” He hands her the bag, forgetting that she has the child in her arms. The transfer is awkward but they manage.

“Can you hold him for a second? He doesn’t bite.” Scully hands him the baby and for a moment, the two just stare at each other.

“Hello, Matthew. You probably don’t remember me,” Mulder says as Matthew reaches for his nose. They always go for the nose. “I met you when you were born.”

“Guh!” he exclaims, seemingly agreeing with Mulder.

“I work with your aunt, you know. She’s great, isn’t she? She is. You smell like cookies, Matt. I bet she let you have cookies, huh? Remember how cool she is. You can always come to her when your parents – well, when you need a place to stay.” Matthew listens to him carefully, a finger in his otherwise open mouth. He’s quiet and not fussy, surprising Mulder. He’s heard horror stories of toddlers having crying fits when in a stranger’s arms. Not this little Scully.

“I think you might be my new favorite Scully,” Mulder confesses to him, tickling his stomach and making him gurgle with laughter.

“I’m no longer your favorite?” Scully just stands there in the doorway, her arms crossed, a big smile on her face.

“Matt, I think I’m in trouble.” The boy just laughs again. “You’re still my favorite Scully, Scully,” he assures her. “But this one’s quite cute, too.”

“He is,” she agrees and he thinks he sees a flicker of pain cross her face. “You can hand him back now. Unless you want to feed him.”

“Sorry, pal,” Mulder says, handing the toddler back to Scully, “I’m not qualified for that.”

“Toddlers are messy,” Mulder remarks a couple of hours later after Tara has come to pick up Matthew. She apologized to Scully – and Mulder – for springing the boy on them, but both assured her that they didn’t mind.

“They are,” Scully agrees, picking up random toys. She didn’t ask him to stay and help her clean up, but he thought it was the least he could do. Especially after his interactive storytelling in which several plush toys were flying around Scully’s living room.

“But they’re also cute.”

“They are that, too.” Her voice is soft; too much so. He thinks about the moment earlier when he thought he saw something in her expression. There’s something in the air and he isn’t sure if he should grasp for it.

“He has that Scully hair.” Scully chuckles, without looking over at Mulder.

“Bill always hated it when he was younger. I hope it will be easier for Matthew.” She’s holding one of the stuffed animals in her hand; a small giraffe. Mulder just watches her, waits.

“Mulder?”

“Yes?” She’s still not even looking at him, making his heart beat faster, knowing she’s going to say something important.

“Have you ever… I know we once talked about- but have you ever seriously considered having children?” He wishes she were looking at him. He wants to see her face when he says this. But he knows this moment is fragile as it is and he’ll take what he can get.

“For the longest time, I didn’t. It just never crossed my mind and my life – the job… it just wasn’t anything I thought about. Then I met Emily and I saw you with her and…”

“Emily?” Scully turns around and her eyes are full of tears. He nods slowly.

“That’s when I started thinking about it.”

“You could meet someone tomorrow and-”

“I have met her already, Scully. I think you know that.” His admission is not a surprise. Scully glares at him for a second before she looks away, nodding to herself.

“That’s… that makes this easier, actually,” she says, laughing uncomfortably.

“Makes what easier?” Suddenly his heart is pounding, his throat dry.

“I got a second opinion on my ova and um, they say there’s a chance. A chance for me to have a baby.”

“Scully, that is wonderful news.”

“I’ve been thinking about it – debating it, actually. Whether it was something I even wanted to explore. Today showed me that I… that I want to at least try. I have to try.” A few tears fall from her eyes and Mulder nods, overwhelmed by emotions, too. A Scully baby. Red hair, blue eyes, and a sweet smile.

Her child.

“When I thought about it, even before I made a decision, the only person I considered asking…,” she trails off. He has a hunch, but right now is not the time to jump ahead. So he waits. He looks at her, proving that he can be patient. He will be there for her, no matter how long it takes.

“I want you to be the other part of the equation.”

And there it is. His heart takes flight and he doesn’t even need to think about it. He grins at her, hoping she understands.

#fictober24 #msr #xf fanfic #guys we're almost done #one of two baby fics #wouldn't be me without some sort of baby fic #my writing #my fic

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emberfrostlovesloki · 1 year ago

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Freud Said We Should Fuck [Hotch x Reader]

Photo credits: Left and Right (@shakespearesdaughters) Center (@hotchs-big-hands)

Prompt: When Aaron makes a Freudian slip on the jet, he and the reader get flushed, and later, once the case is finished, the reader finds him in his office on a lonely Saturday and teases him about it. Aka, when the reader and Hotch do something in his office other than paperwork.

Pairing: Aaron x fem BAU-reader. The reader uses she/her pronouns

Category: Fluff/angst/smut

Word Count: 9.9K

A/N: Hi loves! First off, this story is 18+, minors DNI. Please respect this boundary. I’m finally back writing again and I’m so happy about it. However, I feel like it’s going to take me a bit to get back into the swing of things. I had a lot of my AU written and then I just thought it was moving too slow. So I’ve put that on hold for a bit and gone back to what I love smut. I don’t think the sex here is the best I’ve ever written, but I still like it. This idea came about because @silk-spun and I were chatting about Aaron and office sex and I couldn’t stop thinking about it - so naturally I wrote it. Please have a look at the notes before reading as there are some things that some plot points that some readers might want to avoid. I hope you like this and if you do, likes, comments, and replies are appreciated! Content Warnings under the cut. I hope you are having a good week. Love Levi - ❤️

Content Warnings: There are two unsubs mentioned in this fic: The one most talked about is a family annihilator [There are mentions of wives and children being killed, depiction of dead bodies, description of a bloody room, mention of suicide via gun (unsub)] The second unsub kills at random [There are mentions of poisoning, falling to one’s death and drowning (the body is briefly described)] Mention of past trauma and abuse [Hotch] and the mention of an absent father. There is also sex: touching over the clothes, sex in a semi-public setting [Hotch’s office] fellatio, p in v (unprotected] Very slight dom vibes from the reader and Hotch and the slightest mention of a size kink. If I missed any, please let me know.

List with all stories

_y/n_ = your name

_c/t_ = coffee or tea (whichever you prefer)

_u/sf/d_ = up/straight forward/down (depending on height).

_s/l_ = short or long

_kl/s/m_ = knee length/short/mini (pick your favorite skirt length)

_y/f/c/s_ = your favorite color and style (bra)

_y/f/t/f_= your favorite type of food

The team sat in the jet as they moved toward Evansville Indiana. The skilled agents were bantering ideas off of each other, as they normally did. This unsub was very blatant with their modus operandi. As Aaron had debriefed in the conference room an hour earlier with the team and Garcia, he said, “The unsub we’re dealing with allegedly has three distinct personalities. Although I would be hesitant to diagnose anyone with a split personality disorder or DID. Many people with this condition are stigmatized due to the negative stereotypes associated with that name. If our unsub does have this condition, then we work from there. But with what we know now, this might just be a part of the ritual and pattern. The police are adamant that it’s a suspect from a mental hospital, but be wary of this. J.J. I want you to cut this off at the bud as soon as we get to the station. The media liaison nodded and replied, “You got it Hotch. I’ll clear that up and make sure they haven’t come up with any nicknames either. That always gets the press in a stir.” Aaron nodded. There wasn’t time for that kind of coverage right now. The team needed to jump in immediately once they touched down. This unsub had a swift turnaround time, killing in heinous and various ways almost every other night. His signature was that at the body of each victim, the unsub left a note from either the Id, the Ego, or the Superego, and by how killing his victims, the unsub had ‘cured them,’ and how the cure had worked. The killer's notes were reminiscent of Freud’s case notes, detailed and a bit deranged. The methods of death had been drowning, poisoning, being drowned, and most recently a fatal fall from a high cliff on a popular walking trail. _y/n_ had cringed at the sight of the drowned victim’s bloated body. It was blue and purple from its extended time in the water. The poisoned victim didn’t look any better. As was usual with BAU cases, the victims had suffered significantly before their deaths. _y/n_ had asked the group as a whole once the note element came out, “Is this guy serious? I mean, Freud is more infamous than famous at this point. His clients were all wealthy Swiss members of society, and he was ridiculed later in life for changing his theories all the time. I mean, how many Fruedians are still honestly out there?” Spencer happily replied, “In terms of clinical, licensed therapists? I’d say very few. Probably around 0.5 percent at this point. But that doesn’t mean that psychoanalysis isn’t still used in a good deal of therapeutic systems. I mean ‘Talk Therapy’ is the norm in most EBT therapy systems. So although Freud and Heidegger might have faded to obscurity, their theories remain.” Hotch had nodded and said stoically, “Wheels up in thirty. We can continue this discussion on the plane. If the unsub sticks to his pattern. They might have a new victim already.”

Thus the team, plus Penelope were on the plane like normal. Once the jet hit cruising altitude, the team seemed to relax a bit They all fell into their usual clusters, and Hotch observed them. _y/n_, Rossi, and Spencer were continuing the psychological aspect of the case with _y/n_, while Em, Derek, and Garcia talked about the victimology and methods of the murders. Lastly, JJ was writing up a short press brief for the police and the public. Aaron knew we could never be thankful enough for the work that JJ did for the team. She covered their backs more than he could ever imagine. It was hard enough doing the job they did, but having JJ backing them up meant they weren’t smeared in the press even more. Hotch made his way to her. He sat on the seat next to hers and looked over her work. The blond woman handed him a notebook page with her statement from the police force. She said, “This is what I’ve got so far. If you have any more legal or profiler things you’d like me to add, just note them in the margins.” The woman handed him a blue ballpoint pen, and Hotch did his best to look carefully and thoroughly over the short blurb. He added a few police procedural things, but otherwise, it looked good. Aaron pushed the paper back on the small table and said, “Looks good J. I just added a few notes. Let me know when you have the one for the public done, and look it over too.” JJ looked up at him as he stood and said, “You got it Hotch. And I’ll make those corrections after I’m done with this.” Aaron then moved to Em, Morgan, and Garcia. They were looking at a map both on the seat and on Penelope's computer. Derek and Em were pinpointing the sites of the victim's body on the physical map while Garcia did the same on her laptop. The trio was trying to make a geographic profile and also see if the sites were linked to a road, river, or some natural feature. All three victims had been found in parks or locations adjacent to parks. As Hotch looked over the map, Emily said, “Given the natural locations of the dump sites and how well-versed the unsub seems to be with local and national parks in the area, this person may be a game warden or resource officer or something like that. Those positions are often isolating and not well-paid. Maybe the unsub has emotions tied to their work. That they’re not achieving enough, or making enough of an impact?” Hotch nodded at the logic of her statement and said to Garcia, “Once you’ve done that work, Garcia, look up the databases for Park Service workers and Game Wardens and make a preliminary risk. Target those who work in the parks where the victims were found and those that have been having problems at work or have had problems at work in the last two months.” Garcia loved getting directions from Aaron. She always thought that his brain was close to hers, except that he was just the quiet version of her. She smiled and said, “Aye, aye captain. Coming right up.” Aaron gave Garcia a small smile and said, “Thanks Penelope.”

Aaron got up again. Before he moved to the last group, he was going to get a cup of coffee for himself _c/t_ for _y/n_. It was their ritual on the plane now. When they were in the office, _y/n_ got him coffee from the breakroom, and when they were on the jet, he got her drink. Aaron’s and _y/n_ relationship had moved from a strong friendship to a light romance, to, in the last six months, a much more heated and sexual affair. Of course, neither of them could say, and much less do anything while they were at work but show small gestures of affection for the other. Aaron and _y/n_ were both professional and could easily keep their relationship work-coded. That didn’t however, mean that Hotch didn’t think about the things they did off the clock. The sound of _y/n_’s bright laugh had his mind reeling back to last weekend. It had been a lazy Saturday morning at his place. She had mentioned getting a snack from the coffee shop down the street before going on a walk in the park or going to get a new book for Jack, who was currently at Haley’s. Aaron had sleepily said something like, “I think you’re enough of a snack as it is, _y/n_” as he rolled onto his back.

There was a moment of silence before _y/n_ started softly laughing. Hotch moved his eyes to her. He expected her to stop laughing after a minute, but his gaze only had her laughing more loudly. She was nearly in stitches as her mirth overflowed. Hotch, not quite sure what had caused her to be so joyful, poked her side and said, “Alright, I give up. What’s so funny? Is my breath bad or something?” Even as Hotch asked, he couldn’t stop himself from starting to laugh too. This was something unique with _y/n_. She allowed him to open up emotionally in ways that he rarely even had. After _y/n_ had caught her breath she said, “Is that your attempt at dirty talk Hotch? If so you need to take a course.” Aaron scoffed at that and said teasingly, “I’ll make you eat those words _y/n_.” As he finished that sentence, he leaned over her and kissed her. He started lightly but became more intense as _y/n_ ran her tongue over his bottom lip. Soon enough, he was undoing the buttons of her night shift and moving his mouth lazily downward with _y/n_ saying his name breathily every time he nipped her skin lightly with his mouth. His breath was hot on the cool expanse of her body. Aaron realized as he started to make the encounter more intimate and relished in how her body responded to his.

Hotch knew that apart from being with _y/n_, he was about as closed off as human could be, and he knew it. His past as a child had inherently shown him that weakness meant pain and suffering and as hard as he had tried to grow out of that, he still had some of those mental barriers up, and they often rose when he was in situations that dealt with lots of emotions. Often he found himself unable to reciprocate. That was part of the reason that he assumed that he was so good at being a prosecutor and a profiler. People’s emotions, whether they be the unsub’s or the victim’s didn’t cause him to bluster, or lose sight of the bigger picture. He was sympathetic to the victims and listened to them with sincerity, but their pain often didn’t affect him the way it did _y/n_. This was the reason that after he spoke to the various victims, he would direct them over to _y/n_ to talk further. So they could cry unabashedly and have someone to hold them tight as they did so. Often Aaron would catch her eyes as they made the silent trade-off. There was always a silent conversation that happened in these looks. It was Aaron saying, ‘Thank you,’ and _y/n_ responded, ‘I got you.’ With time Aaron had slowly started dropping those barriers with _y/n_. She made him feel more human. More intact with his emotions such as joy and the ability to do the unexpected. Things and emotions which he had hidden inside himself a long time ago. The first time that Aaron had been very open to _y/n_ was the first time that he realized that he might have deeper feelings for _y/n_ than respect or camaraderie.

It had been a difficult case. One of the worst. The unsub had been a family annihilator. The man, Mr. Platheville, was targeting young families with only one child. The madman had killed two mothers and their children leaving the fathers to watch in horror and live with the site of the massacre they had witnessed. The first man they had found was shell-shocked and unable to move. An ambulance and mental health experts had been called for him. The next man had been so angry that Hotch and Derek had to hold the man back from hitting and punching himself or the wall or anyone within striking distance. _y/n_ had watched on with apprehension, trying to calm the man down with her words. Although those two cases had been horrible, it was nothing compared to the last. The unsub had called and said where he was and that he had another family hostage. There were audible screams on the other side of the phone. Mr. Plathville had said, “Come quickly. Please. I can’t stop myself anymore.” At first, the team felt like this was a good step. A great step even. The man was giving himself up and asking for help. However, as the tapped line was about to be disconnected, a child’s voice cut in. It sounded scared and small as it said, “Daddy? What’s wrong with Mommy?” That had the whole team freeze. The realization that Plathville had his own family captive now had the team feel like the floor was dropping out from under them -- everyone’s stomach sinking into knots. Hotch dropped the phone first and softly said, “Everyone, move, now.” After a second, he found his voice and said loudly, authoritatively, “Move. Now.” Aaron started running to the van, and he watched as his team followed him to both his car and the other SUV. _y/n_ and Rossi piled into Hotch’s car and hurriedly buckled as Hotch hit the gas pedal. The rubber tires squealed and burned on the concrete. _y/n_ had snatched the passenger seat in the front. Hotch’s jaw was set in a tight grimace as he sped down the road. His driving was close to erratic. It wasn’t something _y/n_ had seen in him before. _y/n_’s eyes found Rossi’s in the review mirror. The older man also looked a bit concerned as well. Gently, _y/n_ placed a hand on Aaron’s upper arm. She could feel the muscle tight under his sleeve as his hands gripped the wheel. At her touch, Hotch’s eyes briefly left the road and met hers. Whatever expression she had on her face was enough to slow his driving speed. For him to pay closer attention to the road.

Hotch was making her nervous. He didn’t seem like himself, but she didn’t say anything. There would be time for that later. The vans came to a raging halt outside the address that Plathville had disclosed. The house seemed quiet. Eerily so. Derek and Hotch approached the door softly. Derek breached the door and the team rushed inside. The front foyer was dark and there was no sound reverberating around the open area. The team fanned out in the ranch-style house. Derek and Spencer moved to the left side of the house toward the kitchen and guest bedroom. Rossi and Emily took the upstairs, and Hotch and _y/n_ moved left toward the living room and master bedroom. The other families had been found in the living room, and _y/n_ braced herself for a similar scene. Hotch’s shoulders tensed as he moved into the entryway of the living room. It meant that this family was already dead too. _y/n_ felt a part of her break inside, but she pulled the pieces back together for the team. For those who had passed. Both agents stepped into the room. The fact that the walls, carpet, and sofa were cream-colored only highlighted the dark splatters marring the walls, couch, and carpet which was soaked with a dark stain. _y/n_ pointed to the light switch and mouthed, “Should I turn it on?” Hotch nodded his head no and inclined this head toward the bedroom door, indicating that Mr. Plathville might still be in the bedroom. It was the only space they hadn’t breached. If Plathville was still in the house either alive or dead, it was in that room. As the calls of Spencer and Emily echoed through the house stating, “Clear,” a small sound came from behind the closed door. Both agents' eyes snapped to the door, and they moved forward. Once they got to the door. Aaron held out a hand to stop her. He shook his head no. He leaned forward and whispered, “Go look at the bodies. And then stop the rest of the team from entering the living room.” _y/n_ met his dark eyes. They seemed to go on forever. He had the look he had before when the child had spoken on the phone. The same look he had had in the car. _y/n_ desperately wanted to know what was going on in his head, but again, now wasn’t the time. _y/n_ nodded and moved back from the door. She moved to the two bodies on the floor but continued to watch as Aaron opened the door, stepped inside, and said, “Mr. Plathville. Don’t do this. Do you think this is the ending your wife and daughter would have wanted for you?” Hotch closed the door behind him, leaving the room in semi-darkness. Hotch could hear soft movement from the other side of the door. It was _y/n_ and it sounded like she was crying. Aaron pushed aside the soft sounds and focused only on Plathville. The cold metal weapon the unsub was holding in his dominant hand wasn’t pointed in any direction, but it could be in an instant. Hotch didn’t want _y/n_ in the room. Because Aaron knew family annihilators, he knew them because he lived with one of them as a child. As an adult, once he learned the proper terms for killers and sadists, he realized that if he hadn’t taken the brunt of what his father doled out, his own father might have been a Plathville as well. Aaron didn’t want _y/n_ to see what might happen. He didn’t want her to see this. Hotch put up his hands and said, “Put down the gun Mr. Plathville. You’ve been a coward with how you’ve treated others because they didn’t do what you liked. Don’t be a coward now, at the end. Face what you’ve done and prove that you’re actually a man.”

The unsub, eyes dark and glazed looked like he was about to set the gun on the bed. Aaron hoped that was what he was doing, but he didn’t trust the man either. Just as the gun seemed to be safe, Plathville turned the weapon on himself. Outside the closed door, _y/n_ heard a very loud bang. A deafening sound. At this point, _y/n was standing by the hallway with Derek. Em, and Rossi. She was doing her best to keep the three other agents at bay. When the BAU team heard the gunshot, they all rushed back into the room. Derek drew his sidearm as they all did and breached the door. _y/n_’s heart pounded in her chest because she had left him alone. Alone with an unsub who they knew had a gun; and if Aaron was dead, she would never be able to forgive herself. Not for all time. As the team rushed into the room. Hotch’s strong profile stood out against the window. His nose and jawline were distinct against the streetlight that seeped light into the room through the casement window. Aaron seemed frozen on the spot and the still and bloodied body of Mr. Plathville was slumped on the bed. _y/n_ moved forward and avoided her gaze from the new body. She took Aaron’s arm and pulled him out of the room. Not just the room but the house as well. She sensed that he needed the space away from the darkness emanating from the home. The graveyard.

When they were at the side of the house opposite the bedroom, _y/n_ stopped. She looked down at his shoes, they had blood splatters on the toe. She looked _u/sf/d_ at him. His face was also splattered with blood. _y/n_ reached over, pulling the cuff of her white sleeve over her palm; she started wiping away the viscous red fluid from his sharp facial features. _y/n_ reflected for a moment on how attractive Aaron really was, with his stoicism and strong jaw, and how terrible a time it was for such thoughts to surface. _y/n_ pushed them away as Hotch seemed to come to himself, as she moved her hand to the other side of his face. The blood smears here were larger. There was other matter that _y/n_ would rather not speculate on. Aaron’s left hand raised and pushed her own dirtied sleeve away from his face. Hotch seemed to take a small breath, and he looked like a child who had been caught doing something wrong. _y/n_ wondered if it was his showing emotion out in the open that he perceived as being bad. She looked back at him before he seemingly crumpled into _y/n_’s arms. Low sobs reverberated on her shoulder. Tears staining _y/n_’s already soiled shirt. _y/n_ was grateful the police cruisers were on the other side of the house. Parked on the gravel drive. _y/n_knew that they would have to move soon or else the team would come looking for them. She was sure Hotch would not want to be found in such a compromised state.

_y/n_ didn’t know what else to say than, “I’m sorry Hotch. I know it’s sick and fucked up, but at least there’s no one else he can hurt. Not even himself.” And it was true. It burned _y/n_ that Mr. Plathville would face no consequences for his crimes of passion, but when an unsub took the end into their own hands, there was a certain finality to the matter. There would be fewer interviews and less press. There wouldn’t be a trial or the need for written testimony from everyone involved. It felt like a twisted prize for a game no one had asked to play. After a moment, Aaron replied softly, “It’s not that. Or it is that and some other stuff. I don’t know why I’m like this. I’m sorry.” _y/n_ frowned and pulled away a bit. Hotch looked at her with eyes asking, begging for her to stay. She took his right hand which was hanging limply at his side and said, “Let’s just walk down the drive and back. It will give you a moment to compose yourself. Get your thoughts in order. “Aaron seemed to hesitate and said, “But the police… the team, they might.” _y/n_ cut him off gently saying, “They can wait. The cops have plenty of people to interview and material to bag and tag. They can wait while we take a five-minute walk.

_y/n_ found that walking got people talking. Particularly if the people were not wanting to open up. The movement and change of scenery seemed to give whomever she was walking with a breather and a chance to let out some thoughts if they wanted. If they didn’t, then at least they’d both gotten some fresh air. This technique had worked with Morgan, JJ, and Em. I had not worked with Spencer, but Spencer spoke so freely all the time that if he had something he didn’t want to share, then he didn’t want to share, and she understood that. This was the first time she was trying this method on Aaron. As they made it halfway up the drive, and not so much to her shock, Hotch let out a sigh and said, “It was Jack’s birthday yesterday…” _y/n_ looked over to him briefly. His eyes were on the ground, Glued to it. She knew that wasn’t the whole issue, but _y/n_ replied, “I’m sorry you had to miss that for this mess.”

They kept walking. and Aaron let out another breath and continued, “When I see people like Plathville, I see my father. I see a bit of myself in him as well.” _y/n_ furrowed her brow and turned to look at him, walking backward, matching his pace. She didn’t know a lot about Hotch’s father apart from the fact that he was dead and had hurt Aaron very badly. Perhaps she could see a correlation there between the unsub and Hotchner Sr., but she couldn’t see how Hotch was at all like either man. She asked for clarity saying, “What do you mean? I don’t see how you’re like either of those monsters. You’re tied to your father by blood, but he’s gone.” Aaron looked at her and then back down the dark path they were on. A lone streetlamp shone at the end of the road. They reached it and turned back before Aaron said, “It’s a pattern. They were both absent fathers. They both lashed out at things and people. And look at me. I hardly see Jack. It feels like once in a blue moon. And I might not be lashing out at people because my job takes out that stress. But look at me in the office, I’m still anal about things. I just see these patterns. I don’t want to fail as a father, and I feel like I am.” And there it was. There was the crux of his emotions and _y/n_ ached for his pain, for his fear, even if it seemed unfounded to her. It certainly wasn’t unfounded to him, and she’d never say that. As they moved back toward the house. _y/n_ was wording and rewording her response again and again in her head; she couldn’t quite seem to come up with the perfect response. It all sounded too close to “I love you and other people love you too, can’t you see that?” She felt the hairs picked up on the back of her neck and she looked over to Aaron. He was staring at her, Asking for some kind of reply. They were near the house again and she stopped, and he stopped too. Now _y/n_ gave a sigh, her breath making a little cloud in front of her face. She finally replied, “Aaron, I don’t know what this is going to sound like to you, but here it is. I think you’re tired. I haven’t seen you sleep in three days straight because this case is so close to you. It’s close because it involves a group of people who can’t protect themselves, or their children. And I think in some ways after Haley filed, you think that you can’t protect her or Jack either. But Aaron, you’ve handled everything there with as much grace and compassion as you could. You did what Haley wanted and you still try and look after them. And maybe you don’t see Jack as often as you like, but you try. I hear you call him at night when the team’s away. And the stories you tell about when he spends the weekends over make it sound like you don’t just shower him with gifts or love bomb him. You’re trying to have a relationship with him. And I never hear you badmouth Haley, ever, which means your son can know that not all relationships work out but there can still be a kind of love and respect. A lot of kids don’t get that.” _y/n_ took a breath and she saw in his eyes that he was coming more to himself, as she finished stating, “And about you being like your father, yeah, genes are passed down, but I don’t believe that people are born bad. I think something bad happens to them and you either continue the cycle or break it. And you’re far too kind of a person, even if you don’t show it, to keep doing what you’re father did. You’d never do those things to another person. You’re not him Hotch. You never will be.”

_y/n_ looked at him to see what his reaction to her words would be. Aaron looked like he might cry again, but was holding back those emotions. She hoped she hadn’t overstepped some emotional or professional line, but she didn’t have time to ask as Hotch stepped forward and wrapped her in a hug. His warm body enveloped her in the cold night. His breath fanned the _s/l_ hair at the nape of her neck. He whispered, “Thank you for that, _y/n_. I needed to hear that.” When Aaron pulled back, he was himself again. He nodded and motioned his head toward the house. As he attempted to move forward, _y/n_ grabbed his coat sleeve, and he looked at her confused. _y/n_ said, “Wipe the left side of your face Hotch. It’s still bloody.” Aaron rolled his eyes and chuckled softly. They both started walking back to the house, and he wiped off his face. As they walked back, there was an understanding that something deeper had happened between them. As Aaron moved past the cruisers with red and blue lights still flashing, he raised the caution tape for _y/n_, and as she stepped under it. Aaron looked at her and felt a warmth seep through him. It bit through the cold outside, and he didn’t mind it.

Aaron pulled his mind out of the haze that was focused on the sounds that _y/n_ had made last Saturday morning. Her moans and whimpers rang in his ears for a second longer. He was thankfully snapped back to the interior of the jet as a bit of turbulence rocked the aircraft. Aaron cleared his throat and moved to the coffee maker. He made himself a cup of black coffee first. He shot a prayer up to any possible deity up there that his body and mind had not synced enough for him to be aroused by his mind's inappropriate wandering. Having to hide an erection wasn’t his idea of a fun time. It had happened once or twice before and he had to rush to the bathroom and splash cold water on his face and neck. When Hotch’s cup was done, he moved another clean styrofoam cup under the dispenser and started making _y/n_’s _t/c_. He stifled a yawn. He had spent much of the last two days working on field reports and revising the FBI’s security training. It was woefully behind the times. He had coordinated with Penelope and as helpful as Garcia was in terms of the technological aspects of cyber security, the lingo and Pen’s energy had worn him out a bit. The Keurig beeped, indicating _y/n_’s drink was done. He doctored the beverage as she liked. Aaron half blamed his wandering mind on his lack of sleep and the case. Spencer’s clear voice cut through all the others and he was talking about the more interesting sexual elements of Freud’s theories including the more lurid Oedipus and Xena complexes. Reid was going on about how the notes from the unsub seemed to really dive into those theories even though there was no sexual aspect to the case yet. Hotch grabbed _y/n_’s cup and moved back to the final group he had not spoken with yet.

He sat next to _y/n_ and handed her her cup. _y/n_ looked at Hotch and gave him a small smile before taking a sip of her drink. _y/n_ had a random thought, as she mulled over the bizarre nature of the case. She said aloud, “What do you think Freud would think about people using his theories like this? I mean he was odd and problematic, but not that odd.” Aaron had his eyes closed, and he replied without even thinking said, “I think Freud would say we should fuck.” _y/n_ nearly spat out her drink. The liquid burned her throat as it went down. Hotch caught his mistake and flushed, quickly amending his statement saying, “I mean if Freud were still here, he would probably think the unsub would want to have intercourse with his victims. It could either be latent sexual attraction or transference of sexual desire for an authority figure like a parent or teacher. An attraction that shouldn’t be acted out.” Hotch could feel his ears burning, and he hid his face by taking a long drink of his coffee. The dark liquid burned his mouth but this pain was better than having to face to look of utter shock of his friends. Thankfully the awkwardness only lasted a second longer as Spencer picked up on his hurried line of thinking saying, “You could be right. This unsub might be impotent and killing as a means of sexual release. Or they could be killing as a displacement tactic for unwanted feelings.” Reid jumped into that conversation with a fervor and _y/n_ added her thoughts in too along with taking some notes on the comments Spence made.

Although Spencer didn’t choose to comment on what Hotch had said, when the Unit Chief looked over at Rossi, his friend had an eyebrow raised and an expression that said, “Really, Aaron?” Hotch closed his eyes, sighed, and rubbed a hand over his eyelids as if saying, “I’m tired. Alright?” When Aaron opened his eyes again, Rossi just gave a little shrug as if saying, “Hey. I have three ex-wives. I’m not one to judge.” The older man ever so slightly looked over to _y/n_ and gave a small smile. The team knew that Hotch was seeing _y/n_. They were all too perceptive not to tell. But what he had just said was more personal than the team needed to know. At least not yet. Aaron liked keeping his private life private, and he would have to apologize to _y/n_ for putting their personal business out there like that. He was just thankful that he had made that slip of the tongue in front of Spencer and Dave and not Morgan and Garcia. There would be no end to the gossip if that had been the case. Aaron sat back in his seat and did his best to put back on the Unit Chief facade. One great thing was that he was able to compartmentalize his emotions and what had just happened was just a blunder. He fell easily back into the conversation and made himself useful to the team.

The case was a wild one with the team being kept on their feet, as the unsub devolved into crazier and more complex kills. Thankfully the unsub, one Kathy Kittery got sloppy as her mind crumbled under the weight of her own brain. Thus, only one other victim was lost, the others, though traumatized would make it through the ordeal. Ms. Kittery was a therapist who had had her license revoked after having an affair with a client. Once she had taken that blow, she had moved to a second career that had always interested her. Being a Ranger in a State Park. However, as it turned out, the mental isolation did not help with her already troubled state and she had slipped into acting on her delusions, thus the need for the team to come in the first place. After the unsub had been arrested, the team, as normal, was assured that she wouldn’t be seeing freedom for a good long while. On the jet home, Aaron’s sexual comment was almost forgotten by everyone, including himself, but _y/n_ remembered and as she closed her eyes to sleep on the short flight back, her brain played out certain scenarios that she also wouldn’t want to be voiced in front of the others. When the jet touched down, the team disembarked and _y/n_ asked Aaron as they walked back to the main office, “So, what are you doing tomorrow?” Tomorrow was Saturday and she hoped that they could spend the day together or with Jack if he was staying over at Hotch’s that weekend. It felt like a while since they had had a good day to themselves. Work had piled up, and she longed for just a few solid hours with Aaron. Hotch, however, didn’t seem to pick up on her tone as he was tired. He replied in a monotone, “Probably filling out paperwork in the office I’m behind on like three cases worth and this makes a fourth.” _y/n_ pouted slightly. She knew she was being silly, but sometimes Aaron needed a break for his own good, and an idea started brewing in the back of her mind. If she had the nerve to do even half of what her head was cooking up, she would have done something she had been imagining for a long time. Longer than was appropriate probably. For the moment she just said, “Mhm. Sounds productive.” Hotch scoffed as they both entered the sliding glass door. Even he knew his life, and particularly weekends sounded miserable sometimes. After all, he was the one that put him through them.

The next afternoon, _y/n_ pulled up to the Quantico field office. She parked her car next to Aaron’s and set her employee parking pass on the dash so it could be seen by security. _y/n_ chuckled remembering the one time that Derek had forgotten his pass and had his Corvette towed on a Saturday. Her athletic friend had been so flustered, saying, “Oh come on! I work at the freaking FBI you’d think there would be some camera’s in this lot and they’d know I work here!” _y/n_ had laughed, patted his shoulder, and offered him a ride to the impound lot to pick up his flashy car. As _y/n_ moved through the mostly empty lot she smiled. Not that she expected there to be a lot of people at the office on a Saturday afternoon, but it boded well for what she had in mind. As entered the office and was waived through security quickly, she hadn’t brought her gun or anything important with her. She entered the bullpen and looked up at Hotch’s office. His lights were on and she could see him looking at something on his desk. It was most likely a field report. The bullpen was empty and most of the lamps on the desks were off. One or two burned brightly in the soft space. One or two of the agents must have forgotten to turn them off in the rush to get home on Friday. She turned off the lamps as she texted Aaron, “Hey, you at the office?” She looked up at his office window and his head turned to the side. Clearly, he had just received her message. His left hand raised and a second later her phone beeped. Hotch had sent back a simple “Yes.” He was never one to be overly elaborate over text. If he was forced to type more than one full paragraph he would just give up and call instead. _y/n_ always chalked it up to his hands being too big for the small phone screen. He probably made a lot of accidental typos with his thumbs and had to go back and correct them which seemed like a thing that would annoy him to no end, even if he did have autocorrect on his phone. _y/n_ took a breath as she looked at Aaron again. He was back to his paper. _y/n_ had jokingly said she would do this if the spirit led her, but somehow seemed like the dirty things she was picturing in her head were driving her up the stairs and not ‘the spirit.’ Outside Hotch’s door, she knocked once and then turned the knob. She stepped into the dimly lit room and closed the door behind her. She softly said, “Hey Hotch, how are the papers going?” Aaron looked up from his desk. He did a bit of a double take as his eyes flicked to his phone and then back to her. His eyes held a hint of surprise, warmth, and general confusion as he said, “_y/n_. What are you doing here? Do you need something?” _y/n_ couldn’t help but flush already. Hotch was just too cute sometimes; especially when he wasn’t trying.

_y/n_ smiled at him and took a seat across from him at his desk. _y/n_ sighed and said, “I was just bored I guess. I had nothing better to do, so why not give you a hand with your paperwork? Maybe I can get you out of here earlier than five p.m. on a Saturday?” Aaron raised a brow. He highly doubted that that was _y/n_’s only reason for being here, but he wouldn’t question her. Instead, he picked up a case file, and set it in front of her saying, “Suit yourself, love.” _y/n_ flushed again and pulled one of Aaron’s ballpoint pens out of the cup he kept a stash in. _y/n_ wondered how many pens he dried up per year, but wasn’t in the mood for calculus problems right now. Instead, she opened the file and started working on the first page. She had to take it for at least ten minutes before she made a move. _y/n_ assumed if she outright said, “Hey wanna have sex in your office there would be two simultaneous outcomes. The first was that she would no longer be Aaron Hotchner’s partner and that she would be a former FBI Behavioral Analyst. Neither of which sounded very appealing. So she took her time.

When Aaron seemed absorbed in his work again, she slipped off her shoe and moved her foot across the space between her side of the desk and his. It was a bit of a reach, but she managed to brush Aaron’s ankle and the inside of his trouser leg. That did it and Aaron’s eyes snapped to hers. They were dark, hiding emotions that he often kept at bay. He cleared his throat and said, “_y/n_, really?” You chuckled and said, “Sorry. I just like to see you flustered.” _y/n_ pulled her leg back and Aaron watched as she flushed but returned to her papers. _y/n_ knew he liked it when she was a tease sometimes and that was her plan for this potentially risky act she was trying to have with Hotch. After another ten minutes, _y/n_ repeated the same action, except this time she moved her foot higher up his leg She applied gentle pressure to the inside of his leg. His grey trousers were cool under her foot as they moved up past the knee and onto his inner thigh. Her dark stockings were the only barrier between her skin and the fabric of his pants. _y/n_ looked up at him and he let out a soft breath as if his brain hadn’t caught up with his body yet. When the two entities of mind of body did collide his brows furrowed trying to reconcile the pleasure coursing through his body and the fact that this shouldn’t be happening in his office.

Before he could make any protestation, _y/n_ cut him off saying, “So, ‘Freud said we should fuck’ did he?” This reminder of his slip of the tongue gagged Aaron momentarily. It gave _y/n_ enough time to shift lower in her chair and slip her foot high enough to press over his crotch. Aaron let out a little grunt at the contact. _y/n_ continued to run her foot over his zipper, up and down in a rhythmic pattern. _y/n_ smiled as his eyes grew hazy with desire. A look she’d seen on him often, just not in his office. Never in his office. But she had dreamed about it plenty. She’d woken soaked on occasions with the notion of Aaron having her in his office, blinds drawn tight as they made love in the enclosed space. Aaron stuttered trying to make a coherent sentence, but his cock slowly hardening in his pants was not helping him at all. _y/n_ could feel it under her foot and continued to tease him saying, “You know you really shouldn’t make comments about our sex lives in front of a team of profilers. I think you owe me an apology?” _y/n_ pulled her foot away and Aaron groaned at the loss of contact, but suddenly his mind was more clear. Half of Aaron’s brain cursed _y/n_ for knowing just the right way to turn him on. The other half was already imagining her splayed out on his desk as he ate her out, or pounded into her so hard that the desk left marks on her hips. Those thoughts alone had his member twitch against his belt and fly. To consumed in his thoughts, Aaron slipped off his own left shoe, and perhaps more gently than _y/n_ had, he moved his foot up her leg and to her cunt. _y/n_ opened her legs for him slightly pushing her _kl/s/m_ length skirt up a bit. Even wearing socks, Aaron could tell that _y/n_ was wet. The moan she made as he just brushed over her sex and him realize that he couldn’t wait. That he needed her, now. Hotch took away his foot and reveled in the needy noise _y/n_ also made at the lack of contact. Hotch moved quickly to his door, locking it from the inside before closing the shades to the office. His movements were hasty, jerky even. _y/n_ watched him, knowing the sexual tension must have built up since the last time they had been intimate.

_y/n_ wasn’t sure what Aaron had in mind but she did have to ask, “There aren’t any hidden cameras in here, right?” Hotch chuckled, the sound was throaty, and he replied, “Not that I know of. And if they are, then at least we’ll both be fired.” _y/n_ laughed at this and took his hand; she led him back to his office chair. _y/n_ appreciated that he had a sense of humor in these moments that were new to him. _y/n_ knew that she pushed him to do things he hadn’t before both in and out of the bedroom, but he never complained and the bulge in his pants told her that he was already looking forward to what she was about to do for him. Aaron looked up at her a bit amazed at the things she could make him do. Never in his life had he thought he would be able to act out his fantasy. _y/n_ leaned down and kissed him softly at first and then with more hunger and ferocity. Aaron reciprocated in turn. As their lips looked in a passionate heated kiss, _y/n_ moved her hands to the belt that kept his trousers in place over his trim hips. It wasn’t as hard as _y/n_ had imagined taking off his belt without looking. The cool metal of the clasp heated against your skin. You moved to his pant’s button and zipper next. _y/n_ didn’t want to wait around anymore and once his grey briefs and thick arousal were freed, _y/n_ started palming his erection with a steady hand. Once her hand started stroking him, Aaron let out a gasp. He opened his mouth enough for her to slip her tongue into his mouth. He breathed in her throat and had her make a small contented noise as she explored the well-known concaves of his mouth. _y/n_ would never consider herself a sex expert, but when it came to new positions or scenarios with intimacy and Hotch, she often found it helpful if she took the lead. Warming him up to the idea. Making him feel comfortable and safe before they kept doing whatever it was they were trying. Oftentimes Aaron would jump on board and take the reigns, which she adored. She loved it when he told her what to do, how to lie. Everything. It was one of Aaron’s most attractive traits.

_y/n_ pulled her mouth away from his and wrapped her hand around his cock, more steadily pumping his length. Aaron said her name as he started moving his hips to meet her pace. His body responded to her touch. _y/n_ smiled at him and moved away for a moment, pushing his chair back enough for her to kneel under his desk. Aaron pushed his hips up and let _y/n_ pull his pants down, exposing his cock to the cold air. Hotch took a few steadying breaths. He knew what was to come, _y/n_ gave some of the best head that he had ever had and the anticipation of her lips on her member had him panting already. He said, “Can you not kneel all the way down like that, love? I want to touch you while you’re dining me?” _y/n_ smiled, relishing the fact that he was already taking a small amount of control of the situation. She nodded and said, “Of course Aaron, anything you ask.” With his request in mind, _y/n_ got up on her knees. It was helpful because she needed the reach to be able to lean over and take his tip in her mouth. She swirled her tongue over the top and slit, sucking at it like some rare candy. Hotch groaned as she moved her head down his length slightly. _y/n_ took in his width and length with surprising ease. He was always surprised by her ability to take him. It only made her more attractive to him. As his head swam with pleasure and endorphins, he moved his own body forward and down a little. His head almost rested on her shoulder as he moved his long arm to feel between her legs and upper thighs. He slid his hand down and over between her skirt. As he started rubbing her clothed sex, _y/n_ moaned over his cock. She took a second before she kept moving her head further down him. Her mouth and tongue doing things to him that almost made him see stars. His left hand kept massaging her wet, clothed folds while his right pushed up her shift and kneaded her breasts in turn over her _y/f/c/a/s_ bra. Aaron could feel her nipples grow rigid under her bra and he moved his hand under the intimate article of clothing that covered her chest. He squeezed her right breast and squeezed her nipple. As _y/n_ started moving her head up and down his whole length, Aaron matched her pace with his hand on her clit, pushing and pulling sensations out of her. It turned out Hotch was so aroused, so excited that he kept moving his hand faster over her sex and clit, and _y/n_ kept up her own pace. Aaron panted and tipped his head back as he released some precome and she moved off him sucking it off of him. As she moved to take him in her mouth again, Aaron stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. _y/n_’s mind and body were also hazy with desire. Her entrance ached to be filled by Hotch more fully. His hand was amazing, but nothing beat him seating himself in her fully and then fucking her to the heavens.

Aaron could see this desire in her. A desire for him alone. Aaron pulled her onto shaky feet. He stood as well. He kissed her again, the beginning of stubble running over her chin and jaw. He pushed his pants and briefs fully off his legs and undid the side zipper of her skirt. He let it fall onto the beige carpet. He pulled back from her mouth and slipped his hands at the elastic of her stockings. He was too impatient to pull them down gingerly. Instead, he used just a bit of his strength to rip them down the center seam. _y/n_ let out an exhalation of breath. She knew it was going to get good now. Not that it hadn’t been good before, but she knew that it could get even better than his thumb and middle finger rubbing against her sex and clit. Aaron looked at her panties and noticed how they matched her bra. He murmured, “You had this all planned, didn’t you, you little devil?” _y/n_ gave him a wink and said, “Maybe just a little. You mad about it?” Hotch let out a little throaty growl and slipped his fingers under the band of her underwear. When they were on the floor, he moved to the desk. He pushed his files to the side along with the batch that _y/n_ had been working so diligently on a few minutes ago. He might desperately want to bend her over his desk, but he wasn’t so stupid to waste three good hours of work by having his files fly all over the place while he fucked _y/n_.

Once the forms were safely on the other side of the desk, Aaron grabbed her hips, turned her body 180 degrees, and then pressed her upper body flush to the hard dark wood of his desk. Hotch had unbuttoned her shirt and her skin felt cool against Hotch’s desk. She anticipated Aaron’s next move as he moved behind her slowly. Hotch pumped his throbbing length once or twice to ready himself. Another bead of precum moved to his tip and he wet his member with it. Even if he was ready and _y/n_ was ready, some of her wetness was even dripping down her thigh, Hotch was going to tease her still, as she had teased him. Aaron moved right next to her and slid his cock up and down her entrance, slightly pressing at the space that was begging for him. Aaron used his left hand to stroke over her weeping sex and _y/n_ moaned saying, “A-aron. Please. Please fuck me. Oh god.” Aaron looked at his length now coated in his and _y/n_’s excitement. It didn’t take more than her words for him to press himself into her fully with a measured thrust. _y/n_ let her out a breath and Hotch could feel her body press into the side of the desk. Aaron pulled out and pressed in again. _y/n_ let out a whimper and there was a slight squelching sound and he began to move in and out of her more quickly. Aaron's thick cock filled her fully and Hotch watched as he pushed in and out of her building his speed. The veins of his length ribbed her insides and _y/n_ almost let her feet go from under her, the desk and Aaron holding up her weight as he kept pressing into her with a relentless pace. _y/n_ could feel him fill her fully, pressing his whole member deep inside her. Aaron knew just how to move his hips to hit her sweet spot and she was panting and babbling in under a minute. Aaron moved one hand to her mouth whispering, “Shhh, now. We wouldn’t want to get caught, now would we?” _y/n_ wanted to protest and say, ‘You know no one is out there, Hotch,’ but her head was so full of lust, desire, and longing to let go. Aaron’s movements had her desire building and she knew Aaron could feel it too. Hotch picked up the pace, rapidly thrusting into her. He moved his left hand to her clit and let go of her mouth so she could let out a litany of sounds. As he kept his fast pace and circled her clit, her body pushed roughly against his desk with every thrust, she whimpered, “I...I’m gonna come, Aaron.” Hotch smiled and leaned down so his chest was flush with her back. His hand on her outer erogenous zone moved quickly and _y/n_’s walls fluttered and then contracted against his cock. _y/n_ cried out and let go of everything, letting the pure bliss of her orgasm overcome her. The sounds of her release had Aaron climax as well. He groaned as he pushed into her a few more times as he let his spent his ejaculation into her. Their shared sounds of pleasure filled the room and Aaron considered how this was better than he could have ever imagined. _y/n_ though spent, felt the same way.

Hotch took a moment to catch his breath and after a minute he let out a contented sigh. He pulled out of _y/n_ gently. As _y/n_ similarly let out a hum of happiness. She loved the way he was so gentle with her at the end of their intimate encounters. Aaron helped her stand and led her to the couch at the side of the room. Neither exactly felt like saying anything in the soft afterglow of their shared experience. Aaron had her sit on the couch and pulled moved back to his desk. He opened the left drawer and pulled out a pocket square that he rarely wore. He found the linen handkerchiefs too formal and stuffy. And as someone who came off as formal and stuffy already, he didn’t need a fashion accessory to add to the impression. But now, the fabric would come in handy. Aaron walked back to the couch with the confidence of a man who had performed very well. _y/n_ would have laughed at his cockiness if he wasn’t so damn good at sex. The first they had done it, she was so tight that it would have hurt if he hadn’t helped prep her very well. Now he fit her perfectly and he knew it.

She smiled lazily at him as he knelt down and gently cleaned her up. He loved her, but if his or her release started staging his furniture, it might lead to awkward conversations later. When he was done cleaning her body, he wiped himself. He raised his head and said, “Was that everything you wanted darling? You did very well by the way. You felt so good for me. I hope I was the same for you?” _y/n_ beamed and said, “It was everything I wanted and more. Thanks for indulging me. Aar. But I do think you should get out of this office. Being cramped up in here isn’t good for you mentally, sexually, or physically. So what do you say we get out of here and get an early dinner and watch a Christmas movie at my place, huh?” Aaron chuckled and folded the soiled handkerchief to the clean side facing out. He put it in his pocket and smoothed down his now very crumpled shirt. He grabbed his pants and underwear along with _y/n_’s skirt and panties. He tossed them over to her and they both changed. As Aaron zipped up his pants, he said, “Sounds like I good plan. These papers can wait till Monday morning.” Somehow _y/n_ always seemed to know what he needed, and he wasn’t going to fight her on it now. Not after what they’d just done. As _y/n_ put her clothes back on, he paced his briefcase and packed _y/n_’s ripped tights inside with his other work. He wouldn’t just throw those away in the trash by the door. As he did this, _y/n_ moved behind him and gave him a hug saying softly, “You know I really liked those tights, so I expect a replacement stat, mister.” Hotch chuckled and said, “You got it, _y/n_, but you know I couldn’t help myself. Not when you tease me like that.” There was a shared laughter as Aaron turned off his lamp, grabbed his and _y/n_’s bag, and opened the door for both of them. He locked the door to his office behind him and trailed _y/n_. He had suddenly grown an appetite and asked, “So, what type of food are you feeling.” _y/n_ thought about it as they descended the stairs. She took his hand and said, “How about _y/f/t/f_?” Aaron smiled and said, “Sounds great!” _y/n_ rested her head against Aaorn’s shoulder and contemplated how lucky she was for him, and for Freudian slips.

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happy74827 · 1 year ago

Text

Loosing Control

[Gideon Graves x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Your love is a thing of magic. It's strong and apparently real and Gideon doesn't quite know how to deal with it.

WC: 2489

Category: Slight Lime/Spice {Gideon’s POV}

I’m actually surprised that so many people love my Gideon fics. The AMOUNT of anons I’ve suddenly started to receive this past week just because of this man is astronomical and I’m totally here for it!! (Also this gif got me feeling all types of things 🫣)

『••✎••』

Gideon Graves was at a loss for words. He didn't know what he had expected from this meeting, but it certainly wasn't this. He wasn't exactly in a position to be calling anyone out on the carpet, so to speak, but it had been at least an hour since you had burst into the office—pounding on the door, demanding to be let in—and Gideon had done nothing to stop you. Instead, he sat on his sofa, staring at you in silence. He'd already known you would be upset. He didn't need you to tell him that.

"Look," he said.

Gideon Graves was a genius. He knew that. His ability to multitask and think fast on his feet had gotten him far in his career and had garnered him numerous accolades and awards, from the Pulitzer to the Nobel Prize. And yet he hadn't expected you.

He wasn't sure what he had expected. You had been his assistant for nearly five years now. Gideon had made it clear from the beginning that he was not interested in anything more than a professional relationship between the two of you, but that didn't mean he hadn't thought about it. There was just something about you. The way your mouth moved when you were speaking. The way you stood so close to him in the mornings that he could smell the soap on your skin and the coffee on your breath.

"Just give me a minute," he said.

You blinked at him. "What?"

Gideon stood up and paced the room, adjusting his glasses and running his hands through his hair.

"There are so many things I want to say, but they all seem like the wrong things," he said. "I've never really been good with words."

You pressed your hand to your lips, shaking your head. "No, no, I get it. It's my fault. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come here like this."

"You're not making this any easier for me, you know."

"No, I—I know." You drew your hand away, and your face flushed. You sat on the edge of the sofa, pulling your knees to your chest. "You don't have to make excuses for me or anything. I know I just barged in here."

"You always do that," Gideon said. He leaned his hip against the edge of his desk, resting his weight on his elbow. "You've been my assistant for five years now and you never knock."

You smiled. "You told me not to. You said I was always allowed to come into your office without knocking."

Gideon shrugged. He had been trying to get you out of his hair, to be completely honest. You had been such a nuisance—so nosy and needy and persistent—and yet he found himself drawn to you. He never meant for things to go this far. He was a lot of things, but unprofessional was not one of them.

He wasn't sure why you had come here. What you had possibly thought you were going to accomplish. Gideon Graves did not feel. Not in the way other people did. He could love, sure, but it wasn't in the traditional way. He could want and need and desire. But he wasn't capable of love. He hadn't loved his mother. He hadn't loved his father, though he had always been fond of the man.

Gideon had not loved you. Not at first. In fact, you had been an irritation, a nuisance. And yet, as time went on and you had learned to read him better, to anticipate his needs and desires, your presence became comforting. He liked being with you. He enjoyed listening to your voice, the way you laughed and smiled, and how you always looked so pleased with yourself, no matter how small the task you had completed.

"You have to understand," he said, "I'm not..."

Gideon searched your eyes. You were beautiful, he realized. You were soft and warm and kind, and he had never really thought of you as anything more than an assistant, but there was something about you now, something that made you look different. He couldn't quite explain it.

You were staring at him, your gaze fixed on his face.

Gideon cleared his throat. "You need to know what you're getting yourself into before we go any further."

Your brows drew together. "What do you mean?"

"I'm a broken man," he said, holding his hand in front of his face. He ran his fingers through his hair, tugging at the ends. "I can't promise you anything; I'm not... I’m not good at this sort of thing. You have to know that."

You tilted your head to one side, studying his face. He could see the worry in your expression. Gideon had seen that look before so many times. His father had given him that same look when Gideon had first told him he wanted to go to college. His mother had given him that same look when he had decided to move to Toronto alone. Even his own reflection in the mirror had looked at him with that same worried expression when Ramona had left him.

You looked at him as though you were afraid of him, but you didn't speak. You just looked at him, waiting.

"I don't know what I'm doing," he said, "and I can't promise that this will end up working out. It never has before, and it probably won't this time, either."

"Is this about Ramona?" you asked, your voice soft. "Is that what this is about?"

"No," Gideon said quickly. "That's in the past. That was... I was young and foolish."

"You weren't young," you said with a laugh. "I was literally there when you made the whole league thing. Then you got your ass—no offense—kicked by Pilgrim and that girl with the beautiful scarf.”

Gideon had never talked to anyone about that moment. He didn't talk about his failures, at least not when they were that severe. Even he had to admit that getting his ass kicked had been a bit of an embarrassing moment for him.

"Yeah, let’s not talk about that,"

You laughed again. "You know what this sounds like to me? It sounds like you're trying to talk me out of being with you."

"Well..." Gideon frowned, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "I guess that's true."

Your expression softened. "That's because you think it's not going to work out, isn't it? Better not to try than fail, right?"

Gideon didn't speak.

You moved across the room, crossing the floor until you were standing in front of him. You placed your hands on his chest, sliding them up the sides of his neck and cradling his face in your hands. You were looking at him, searching his eyes.

"I know it's hard for you to trust people," you said, "but I've been by your side for five years, and you don’t need to use a chip for assurance that this will work."

“Wait a minute, hold on—”

You leaned into him, kissing his lips. You smiled against his mouth, giggling softly. You were kissing him. You were kissing him. You were actually kissing him, and Gideon didn't know what to do about it.

You pulled away and kissed him again, harder this time. You moved against him, pushing him back so that he fell against the edge of his desk. His heart was pounding in his chest. You had your hands on his shoulders now, pushing his coat from his body.

For once, Gideon didn’t have control, and he wasn't sure how he felt about that. He liked being in charge. It was what he was used to. He knew what he was doing and how to get things done. Yet, here he was, watching his jacket drop to the floor, feeling your hands on his body.

“Do you still think you need that chip of yours?” you asked, pressing your lips to his ear.

Gideon sighed, tilting his head back as you kissed his neck and his jaw. You were undoing his tie now, letting it drop to the floor.

“Listen, I had a perfectly good reason for that chip. Ramona, she was...I had a lot going on with her, and it just made sense at the time, but then—shit—I didn't mean—I didn't—this is—it's really complicated, okay?”

You were kissing him as he spoke. You kissed the corner of his mouth. You kissed his neck and collarbone. Gideon had to remind himself to breathe. He had to remind himself how to move. How to think. How to do anything.

"You really are all over the place," you murmured.

Gideon glanced at you, panting due to the lack of oxygen in his system. His eyes were full of you, the shape of your face, the sound of your voice. The curve of your nose. Your smile. Your lips.

You had your hands on his shoulders, that same soft, pleading look in your eyes. You looked at him as though you wanted something, and it was hard for him to deny you, but it wasn't that simple. It never was.

"I can't promise you anything," he said.

You nodded. "I know."

"I'm not the easiest person to be around. I don't even know how I'm supposed to...to..." He swallowed. "I just don't know how to do this."

You stepped away from him, taking your hands from his shoulders. You seemed to know the right thing to say. You always knew the right thing to say. "Don't worry about that right now."

Gideon turned from you. He needed to get a hold of himself. He couldn't be weak like this. He needed to be in control. He needed to focus.

"I need to get back to work," he said, rubbing his eyes with his hand. "We've been away for too long."

You stared at him for a moment. You seemed to be waiting for him to change his mind, but he didn't. He knew he needed to focus. He needed to do what he had always done. He needed to bury himself in work until it was all that consumed him, and there was nothing else to do but sleep and breathe.

"Okay," you said. “Okay, Gideon.”

He didn't look at you as you turned to go. You hadn't even given him a chance to ask you to stay. He couldn't look at you right now, so he didn't turn around as he heard you open the door, close it behind you, and leave.

You hadn't left him mentally, though. Not yet. He could still smell your perfume in the air. He could still see the shape of your body in the chair in front of his desk. He could hear the way you sighed, the way your voice had been soft when you had said his name.

Gideon needed to get back to work, but all he could think about was you. He didn't even know how he had managed to convince himself that it was a good idea to push you away. He did the opposite with Ramona, forcing her into his life until she was a part of him.

So why was it when you had actually wanted him, he had pushed you away?

It had never happened with anyone else, not like this.

Gideon reached up to his neck, touching the skin where your lips had been. It had only been a kiss, a simple touch, but he couldn't remember the last time someone had made him feel like this. You were so soft and kind and... beautiful.

He reached down for his fallen coat that you had tossed to the ground. He lifted it, carrying it to the back of the sofa. He picked up his tie, too, and placed it into the pocket of the jacket, folding it neatly.

There was so much he didn't understand about himself. There was so much he didn't know and would likely never know, but he knew how he felt about you. He could admit that to himself, at least, even if he couldn't admit it to you. Not yet.

“Idiot… Idiot.” Gideon groaned, burying his face in his hands. He sat down on the edge of the couch, falling onto his back. He stared up at the ceiling, his mind drifting back to you.

When Scott Pilgrim had won that battle against him, Gideon was left to wake up and realize that there was a whole world out there that he had no control over. It was a frightening thing for him to come to terms with, but there it was. The world was going on with or without him, and he couldn't change that.

You were there for him, though. You had always been there for him. You had been so soft and kind and gentle. His ego was completely shattered when Scott brought him to his knees, but you had been there for him, comforting him as he recovered emotionally.

And yet, that wasn't all you had done for him. You have helped him in so many ways since you started working with him. You were the perfect assistant—attentive, thorough, and never a bother. He could ask you to fetch anything for him, and you always had.

You also knew when he wanted to be left alone and respected his boundaries. He had to be very careful around people. If you use the wrong words or the wrong tone of voice, everything could fall apart. And it had—it was—with Ramona.

Ramona. It still hurt to think about her, but he could admit that what he felt for you was far different than what he had ever felt for Ramona. What he had felt for Ramona had been a sort of hyperfocus. That was what he told himself anyway. She made him feel things that no one else ever had, but it had never been real. And Gideon knew the difference. Ramona wasn’t love; it was obsession.

You were love. You made him feel so... so human. He didn't want to get into the nitty-gritty details of that, but you made him feel alive. You made him feel real.

Gideon sat up and crossed the room. When he was stressed, or upset, or upset because he was stressed, he found himself pacing. It was one of the few that helped him focus. As he paced, he glanced at the door, staring at the knob as he imagined you coming back through it.

That’s it, he thought. He needed to do something. He needed to go after you to make things right. Make sure that you knew he was serious. Make sure that you know what was at stake here.

Gideon wasn't good with words, but he knew that he would figure out a way. Figuring out ways to fix things had never been a problem for him.

He was the smartest man in the world. How hard could it be?

God, I need to learn how to write actual endings instead of leaving everything open 😭😭

Conclusions are the bane of my existence istg

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thedeviltohisangel · 5 months ago

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The Road To A Beautiful Nowhere: You're Lonely In This City

a/n: I cannot believe the first part of this hit so hard in so little time! Especially because I went way less traditional on it and just leeched prose all of the tumblr bot. Thank you all immensely for loving it the way you have. This iteration is a bit more fic-y and I've named the lady in his life we met the previous time around and not sure where they are going but I am here to play around with them if you all have any little ideas or requests. This beautiful man deserves all the words written about him and thank you babes for supporting me in my journey to do so!

She doesn’t know where she was supposed to tell her parents she was going. Her jeans and dirty Keds and suede jacket not really presenting an easy excuse. If she was going to the store with friends or headed to the library to study, she would be in a frilly dress and kitten heels. Her hair would be curled and wrapped in a bow. But she couldn’t wear a dress on the back of Benny’s bike. Didn’t want to go through the effort of doing her hair just for the wind to muss it up.

They were going to hear his bike rumbling down the road. Certainly her father was going to stare at him out the window in the hope he would break. There was no use in trying to hide who she was spending the afternoon with. Maybe even the entire night if the beer at the picnic gave her enough courage.

The house vibrated slightly to announce his arrival. The feeling spread like joy through her bones but the wisps of dread from downstairs were fighting to make their way up to her. Delilah adjusted the clip keeping half of her hair back before squaring her shoulders and take the steps to the front door as quickly as possible.

“Where do you think you’re going?” her mother asked from where she was knitting in the corner.

“Benny invited me out.” Delilah paused with her hand on the front doorknob.

“You’ll be back by 10?” There went her plans to spend the night.

“Yes.” The quicker she agreed, the less likely she would have to face her father. The quicker she agreed, the quicker she could be in the safe haven of Benny.

Her wrist flexed back and forth as it waited for the command to turn the knob and lead her out into the sunshine. She was begging for them to just say okay. To just say yes and let her go. Not drag this out any longer. It was embarrassing enough being around Benny with the incessant blush to her cheeks and white knuckle grip on him everywhere they went. Bad enough he was legally banned from the campus of Northwestern. Had to stand outside her favorite bookstore while she perused. So many facets of their life that fought against each other instead of working together. She hated that her family dynamic was just one more obstacle for them to overcome.

“Not a minute later.” That was her father who had deigned to speak. His words were presented flat but she knew the cold and biting meaning that was resting right behind them. Ready to snap should she misbehave.

“Yes. I promise.”

“Then you may go.” Delilah opened the door before either of them could change their minds and cleared the front steps in one leap before she was across the pavement, her nose landing in the spot of his neck that smelled like motor oil and cigarettes and the essence of the Stop Light.

“I missed you, Dumpling,” he murmured into her hair, stroking his hand down the back of her head before pressing a kiss to the top of her ear.

“I missed you, too. But I’m here now. I’m all yours until ten o’clock.” Benny groaned as he held her waist steady while she swung her leg over the back of his bike.

“That’s not nearly enough time for all the things I had planned.” His leg kicked down hard to start the bike and her heart fluttered perfectly in tune with it. Like a lion’s roar. She would never get tired of watching him spur the mechanical beast to life. Spur her own heart to life right there inside her chest.

“I guess you’ll just have to see me again,” she teased as her cheek rested against his back and he began to steer them in the direction of where the club was meeting for the day.

“Dumpling, some day you’re gonna see me so much you’ll be sick of me.” Delilah hummed her disagreement into his colors, her lips pressed to the skull as if it was the soft skin of his forehead instead.

How could she ever be sick of this feeling? The feeling of his bike hurtling them towards the sun like Apollo’s arrow. The feeling of everything she had ever known disappearing into a speck on the horizon. The walls that she always felt caving in, breaking open in a sea of shattered memories and haunted dreams and gates she hadn’t known she’d built around herself.

He squeezed her hand that was around his waist as if he could hear her thoughts. It was a quick pulse of his fingers but told her he knew. Told her that he didn’t need words in order to understand. Told her he would ride like this until they reached the edge of the earth if that is what would make her happy.

Some mornings, she thought about asking him to do just that.

----

“Delilah, tell me again what you’re studying?” She smiled as Cal settled on the ground by her feet, the smoke of his cigarette curling around his fingers and drifting into her nose.

“I’m studying to be a nurse, Cal,” she spoke politely. He nodded his head around the sip of beer he took.

“Yeah, yeah that’s right. Real fucking cool.” She hid her giggle behind her palm and leaned further into the solid man to her right.

“How many times do you think I’ll tell him I’m going to be a nurse before the night is over?” She’d already had the conversation with him twice, this made three. Benny peered around her to look at the taller blonde.

“At least three more.” He flicked the butt of his cigarette into the fire they were sitting around and pulled her hand out of the pocket of her jacket. “Let’s go for a walk.”

“Okay.” She walked in the direction he was bringing her, the whistles of the group they were leaving only earning them a finger from Benny. “You know, right now it looks like you are leading me to a secluded corner of the woods to be my undoing.”

“That’s exactly what I’m doing,” he threw over his shoulder. Delilah blushed and quickened her pace so they were side by side.

“Is that your attempt at being romantic?” she teased.

“What girl doesn’t want a boy to lead her somewhere quiet where she can fall apart without an audience?”

“Benny, the way you are turning my joke about murder into a lovely sentiment is quite something.” He laughed and lifted his arm for her to twirl underneath. “I would have brought a dress to wear if I had known we’d be dancing.”

“I like those little things,” Benny muttered as he ducked under a branch.

“I can’t really straddle a bike in them without being wholly improper.”

“Maybe we could get you some chaps or something to wear underneath. Get you on my bike and in your little dress.” The thought alone made him twitch between his legs.

“Have you been thinking about this, Mr. Cross? Fantasizing, even?”

“I’ve been thinking about this even more.” He squeezed her hand impossibly tight as she stepped into the meadow and looked up at the night sky. They were far enough from the beating heart of Chicago to see more stars than she’d ever imagined even existed. They glittering across the ink black expanse and Delilah swore they were whispering a song in the wind. “You like it?”

“Benny, how…how did you find this place?”

“Every once in a while at these things, I just need a moment to myself. Found it while I was wandering around a couple of weeks back.” He had thought she would like it from the moment he had found it. Had agonized over when would be the right time to show it to her. Had maybe let a little bit of doubt creep in that made him sheepish in presenting it.

“Come sit with me. I want to look at them for a minute.” She smiled and giggled to herself as she walked a few paces into the meadow and sat down, her leg stretching in front of her. Delilah contentedly looked up at the sky as Benny sank down next to her, a fresh cigarette in between his lips.

“Makes you stop and think for a minute, doesn’t it?” he breathed as they enjoyed the scent of the smoke mixing with the night air and the comfortable silence.

“I think all the time about a life outside of Chicago. One where stars are out like this without having to look for it.” One where she wasn’t afraid to step inside her own home. One where she was allowed to be loud and make mistakes and love whoever she wished to without fear of the repercussions. One where Benny could be right alongside her on this wild ride.

“That sounds nice,” he replied simply. Delilah tugged her knees against her chest. It was foolish to dream of a life like that with Benny. The Vandals meant too much to him. He would never leave the club. That much was always clear as day.

“I have to finish school first, of course, but after that…” He bristled only slightly at her notion that there was a definitive timeline to her presence with him. That she would be handed a piece of paper one day and then be nothing more than a whisper in the wind. “We could go somewhere together, Benny.” Her words were so soft they were almost a whisper. Her cheek resting on the top of her knee as she turned to look at him.

“I can’t leave the club.” There was no room to interpret his words any differently than how he meant them. There was black and there was white. No shades of gray.

“Right. Yeah. Yeah, I know.” Delilah found her fingers more interesting than the stars as the answer settled on her shoulders. The sustainability of what was between them, approaching love rapidly but screeching like tires on the freeway at inopportune times, might be a question a less naive girl and boy would ask themselves.

“Dumpling-”

“No, Benny, I’m not upset. You’re being honest. How could I be upset?” It was something she thought about often. If she should push harder to put a name to the feeling in her chest when she was around him. If she should figure out a way to exist in that space, trading a life away from her parents for a life with Benny. Delilah would never ask him to choose her or the club. Her or riding. Her or anything. She wanted to be his choice without having to ask him to make one. That was the only version of a relationship she would accept. Not after the one between her parents she was forced to be a witness of her entire life.

“I should get you back home soon.” Benny didn’t like upsetting her. Didn’t like when the fire went out between her eyes. It was so rare he was the cause of it extinguishing but it ached in a way he couldn’t put into words when he did. He stood and offered her a hand, the other flicking his cigarette to the dirt before he twisted the bottom of his boot on top of it. “We can come back here another night. When we have more time.” She nodded as she brushed some dirt off of her pants.

“When we have more time,” she echoed. He kissed her forehead and led her back in the direction they came. Delilah couldn’t help but think, the entire walk back, that it would’ve been nice to keep walking across that meadow. Take the risk to see what was waiting on the other side. Forward and forward until they blended into the darkness. Gone to a place where things were new. Scars were healed and the thread of fate started spinning over again.

Delilah could picture her own string of yarn waiting on the other side of that meadow. Golden and strong and untouched by the horrors this life had wrought upon her. There was room for another. Another that smelled like gasoline and cigarettes and endless summer. Durable as the denim he wore every day.

She just needed him to see it.

#austin butler #austin butler fanfiction #the bikeriders #bikeriders #bikeriders fanfiction #the bikeriders fanfiction #benny cross #benny cross x oc #benny cross fanfiction

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