#Man Smiles The Most Beautiful Smile In The World | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mariasont · 1 day ago

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A Pen For Your Thoughts - A.H.

a/n: hi besties, this literally took my five hundred years but i love it so it was worth it <3 i just love these two soo much

masterlist

summary: 5 times hotch found himself unexpectedly drawn to bimbo!assistant!reader before they were together and 1 time when they finally were

pairings: aaron hotchner x bimbo!assistant!reader

warnings: just a whole bunch of fluff, fem!reader, aaron being a straight up simp, pining, 5 and 1

wc: 7.3k

Aaron Hotchner's steps slowed before he realized why.

The first flicker came in the form of a colorful blur in his peripheral vision. He might have ignored it—probably should have—but the movement tugged at his attention like a reflex. Without thinking, he glanced over his shoulder.

Big mistake.

You were seated in one of the stiff, fabric-covered chairs that lined the hallway outside HR, and he felt as though someone had hit pause on his mind. Your legs, crossed at the knee, seemed endless, every line perfectly sculpted. Your hair spilled over your shoulders in perfect waves that looked effortless but undoubtedly weren't, and your lips--gods, your lips--pulled at his focus like gravity.

It wasn't unusual to see someone unfamiliar on this floor, and most strangers barely recognized. But it was unusual to see someone who looked like they'd stepped out of a magazine shoot—as if the universe had dropped someone out of a dream into the most mundane place imaginable.

Aaron had seen beautiful women before--countless ones, in fact, across years of cases and courtrooms and the occasional social outing. But you? You looked like you had walked out of another world completely (one completely out of his league), all shimmer and gloss. The kind of stunning that made it hard to look away--or to think clearly.

Aaron knew he should have kept walking. He didn't have time to for this, whatever this was. But then you shifted, the smooth, unhurried motion of uncrossing your legs pulling his gaze like a thread he couldn't snap. His eyes betrayed him, flicking back to you before he could reel himself in. He hated that he looked, hated the lack of control in the moment—but most of all, he hated how much he wanted to look again.

There seemed to be nothing accidental about you. From the way there was not a single hair out of place, to the unbroken line of your posture, it all felt... intentional, like you'd been crafted with care by someone who didn't believe in flaws.

Aaron felt a twist of discomfort in his chest, something about you left him off-balance, and he didn't like it.

When your eyes lifted to meet his, Aaron felt the shift immediately. The tightness in his chest changed, became something warmer, something less familiar and far more dangerous.

Your gaze was steady, curious, and completely unaware of the way it held him in place. He wasn’t used to being the one caught—being the one struggling to pull himself free from a moment that had stretched too long—but here he was, unable to look away.

Somewhere in the background, computers hummed and printers sputtered out pages, but none of it mattered. The world around him felt muted, stripped down to only you. You tilted your head slightly, that faint curve of your lips threatening to pull a smile from him in return—something he hadn’t done in a place like this for longer than he cared to remember.

Aaron blinked, hard, tearing his gaze away finally like a man breaking free from a spell. He resumed his stride with sharpness he didn't necessarily feel. Focus, he told himself, jaw tightening as though the word alone could erase the lingering pull in his chest.

He had far more pressing matters to deal with than... whatever that had been. He told himself it didn’t matter, even as a faint ache settled somewhere deep in his ribcage at the lie.

But as he passed you, a faint, unexpected sound followed him.

"Excuse me--uh, sir?"

He turned slowly, his gaze landing on you a few feet away. You stood there with a pen in your hand, arm outstretched, as though you were offering him the world's most valuable artifact.

Seeing you up close was worse—or maybe better, he wasn’t sure. The graceful slope of your jaw, the delicate shape of your lips, and the faint light in your eyes that seemed almost too perfect—it was too much. He thought, briefly, about stepping back, as though more space could dull the effect you had on him.

"You dropped this," you said brightly, like you were genuinely pleased to hand it back to him.

Your smile was brilliant, almost too much in its sincerity, and it caught Aaron off guard. It clashed so completely with the hard lines of his own expression—the squared shoulders, the set jaw, the seriousness he wore like a second skin.

He frowned slightly, glancing at what was in your hands: a pen.

"That's not mine."

"Oh." Your expression faltered, but only for a second. Then you shrugged, your smile back in place. "Well, it was on the floor, and you were walking by, so... I figured it had to be yours."

"It's not," he repeated, his tone more clipped than he intended.

He didn't mean to be rude, really he didn't, but the interaction felt dangerous—like stepping to close to the edge of a cliff and daring to look down. If he let himself give you even an inch, he knew he’d risk losing his footing completely.

"Right." You nodded, not in the least bit deterred. "But, I mean, it could've been. You look like the kind of guy who always has a pen. You sure you don't want it? Just in case?"

You twirled it once between your fingers before holding it out again.

For a second, he almost walked away. It would've been the logical thing to do—move on, let the moment slip into irrelevance. But something about the way you stood there, head tilted like you were sizing him up, your lips twitching with barely-contained amusement, made him pause. The whole exchange was absurd, and yet, he couldn't quite bring himself to end it.

With a resigned sigh, he reached out and took the pen. His fingers brushed against yours for the briefest second, a fleeting touch that felt entirely too noticeable.

"Thanks," he murmured, his voice rough, as though the single word had taken more effort than it should have.

"No problem! Good pens always find good people. Or, like, maybe the other way around?"

You laughed softly, the sound light and unselfconscious, like you hadn't just made one of the most absurd statements he'd ever heard.

"Anyway, it's yours now. Fate or whatever."

Hotch blinked, unsure whether to laugh, respond, or simply walk away. "I'll, uh, keep that in mind."

Before he could decide what to do next, you gave a quick, cheerful wave, the motion fluid and natural, as though it required no thought at all. Turning on your heel, you moved back to your seat with an easy stride, settling in as though nothing had happened. Your legs crossed neatly as you opened the glittery notebook, your attention shifting back to it without hesitation, leaving him standing there like a man caught in the middle of something he didn’t understand.

Aaron forced himself to resume walking, the pen clutched in his hand as though he might actually use it. He had a drawer full of pens—good ones, expensive ones, and this one wasn't even his. Still, as he rounded the corner to his office, he felt his grip tighten on this particular one.

Aaron shut the door behind him with more force than necessary, the sound reverberating in the otherwise quiet office. The pen—your pen—landed on his desk with a clatter far louder than it had any right to be.

He stood there for a moment, his hands braced against the edge of his desk, his breath coming heavier than he wanted to admit. Unusual.

Sliding into his chair, he opened the first file and scanned its contents, letting the familiar details of a case seep into his mind. A triple homicide in Phoenix. Victims were a family of four—father, mother, two children. The youngest, a boy, survived. Age seven.

He wrote a note in the margin, flipped the page, and tried to ignore the memory of your voice.

His fingers tightened around the pen he'd grabbed from his desk—not the one you'd handed him, which still sat untouched where he'd tossed it earlier. He stared at the file, his handwriting blurring slightly, jagged and uneven in a way that irritated him.

Victimology. Unsub profile. Possible geographic location. He moved carefully through the pages, his mind grasping onto the structured familiarity like it was all he had left.

By the time he reached the third file, he felt a flicker of relief. Routine. Structure. This was his element.

And then his mind betrayed him.

The memory of pink heels, a short skirt, and soft lips that he wouldn't mind—

Aaron scrubbed a hand over his face, muttering a curse under his breath. This wasn't like him—he was better than this. Or at least, he liked to think he was. He didn't get distracted. Not by anyone.

Certainly not by a bright-eyed woman who looked like she'd stepped out of some sparkly alternate reality.

He exhaled sharply, shaking his head as though it somehow might clear the intrusive thought. Gripping the file tighter, he buried himself back in the details, his jaw clenched with the effort of willing himself to focus.

An hour slipped by, then another. He busied himself in his tasks, methodically combing through reports and notes until the details blurred together in a haze of ink and paper.

Just as his mind began to clear, a sharp knock at the door cut through his concentration, pulling him abruptly from his thoughts.

"Come in," he called, setting down his pen and leaning back in his chair, already bracing himself for whatever new interruption was about to derail his morning.

The woman he recognized as the head of HR stepped inside. She carried a folder under her arm, expression brisk as ever, and Aaron felt the slightest prickle of irritation at the disruption.

"Agent Hotchner, I wanted to introduce you to your new assistant," she said without preamble, gesturing toward the door.

His brows knit together. "My assistant?"

"Yes, we finalized the selection process this morning," she said, stepping aside. "I thought it would be best for you to meet her in person."

Aaron's stomach dropped. He'd completely forgotten about the interviews for the assistant position—Strauss had been pushing him for weeks to fill the role, but it had fallen so far down his priority list he hadn't given it a second thought.

And now, as you stepped into his office, notebook in hand and that same bright smile lighting up your face, Aaron felt the sharp pang of realization: he was doomed.

"Hi again!" you chirped, offering a little wave. "Guess I'll be seeing a lot more of you!"

He blinked, trying to keep his reaction in check, though disbelief and a hint of dread churned just beneath the surface. You were his assistant? This had to be some sort of test—Strauss’s latest ploy to see if he could remain composed under the most absurd circumstances. Or perhaps the bureau had finally decided that sending someone like you—someone who looked like you—was the surest way to undermine him, to make him throw in the towel.

He wasn't sure the motive, but he was sure he did not like it.

The HR representative gave a curt nod. "She'll be handling your schedule, communications, and general support tasks. Her credentials are impressive, and I think you'll find her capable and efficient."

Aaron forced a polite smile. "I'm sure."

His voice was even, but internally he was so certain that you could never be of help, that he'd never be able to focus again with you around 24/7.

You beamed, seemingly oblivious to his hesitation, which he couldn't figure out if he preferred or not.

The HR representative cleared her throat. "I'll leave you to it, then. She's officially on the clock as of this morning."

With that, she left, the door clicking shut behind her, leaving Aaron. By himself. With you. The gods hated him. That was the only logical explanation.

For a moment, silence hung in the air.

You tilted your head, studying him with a curious smile. "So, what's first on the agenda, boss?"

Aaron let out a measured breath, his thoughts already spiraling into contingency plans. Logically, he couldn’t fault your qualifications—your resume likely backed the bureau’s decision, and they didn’t make careless hires. But logic couldn’t compete with instinct, and instinct told him that having you around wasn’t plausible. Not for him.

"We'll start with familiarizing you with the basics," he said, his tone clipped but professional. "My schedule, ongoing cases, and departmental protocols. After that, I'll assign tasks as needed."

Despite his words, he was already combing through ways he could reverse the situation. Could he request a reassignment? Shift your duties elsewhere?

You nodded enthusiastically, flipping open your notebook. "Got it! Basics first. This is gonna be great—I can feel it."

He pressed his lips into a thin line, glancing at the pen still sitting on the corner of his desk. The one you'd given him.

The filing cabinet gleamed mockingly at Aaron Hotchner from across the office. Or maybe it was the glitter that gleamed. Yes, definitely the glitter.

He squinted at it, half-hoping that prolonged focus might transform it back into his carefully maintained filing system. No such luck. Pink and purple labels seemed to mock him from the distance, each one emblazoned in a font that could only be described as aggressively cheerful. Post-it notes stuck out at sharp angles like rogue confetti, and—God help him—there was definitely a smiley face in the corner of one drawer.

Aaron crossed his arms, his jaw clenching as he drew in a slow breath through his nose. He wasn't a man prone to dramatics, but at that moment, the cabinet might as well have had a neon sign reading crazy flashing above it.

He'd been meticulous about keeping things orderly since day one at the BAU. His filing system had been straightforward, functional, and--most importantly--serious. And now it looked...

Well, it looked like you had gotten involved.

You had been his assistant for just over three weeks now--twenty-four days, to be exact. Not that he was counting. Aaron still wasn't sure if the role suited you--or if you were bending the role to suit yourself.

He had no intention of snapping, no matter how tempting it was to question your sanity, but with a final glance at the glittery atrocity in his filing cabinet, he rose from his desk.

"Is there a reason," he said, voice calm albeit clipped, "why my filing system looks like it's been vandalized by a kindergarten art class?"

You popped your head up from the other side of the office, face brightening instantly. In true form, you didn't look even slightly apologetic. Instead, you grinned, holding up a stack of color-coded sticky notes like you'd just won an award.

"Oh, you noticed!"

"It's hard not to," Aaron replied dryly, gesturing toward the cabinet that now sparkled like a disco ball under the overhead lights. "What exactly am I looking at?"

You practically skipped over to him, the soft swish of your skirt catching his attention for just a second too long.

"It's called innovation. I color-coded everything—pink for cold cases, blue for active ones, purple for solved. Oh, and the glitter? That's to, you know, boost morale."

Aaron schooled his expression. "Love isn't the word I'd use."

Aaron stared at you, then at the glittery disaster. "Morale."

"Yep! Morale," you said, nodding. "It's proven that bright colors make people happier and more productive. Or... at least, I think I read that somewhere."

Aaron opened his mouth, then closed it again, momentarily at a loss. He'd been managing this filing system for years without so much as a single misplaced folder. Efficient. Logical. And now, his cabinets looked like they'd been hit by a craft store tornado.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling slowly. "Let me get this straight. You reorganized my filing system—without asking—and added glitter. For morale."

"And to make your life easier," you said with a grin. "You're welcome."

Aaron opened his mouth, but you weren't done.

"Also," you added, holding up a small floral notebook, "I wrote a guide for the system! Just in case anyone gets confused."

He blinked, unsure where to even begin.

'You added a guide?"

You nodded enthusiastically, twirling a pen with a little gem on the end between your fingers. "Uh-huh! You never know—someone might need it. I made it super clear, though, so even Derek can figure it out."

"You're saying Morgan needs help with file tabs?"

"Well," you said with a grin, "he's very action-oriented. This system's a little more... delicate."

Aaron stared at you, his expression giving nothing away. "Right. Delicate."

"It's perfect, isn't it?" you said, oblivious to his tone as you turned back to the cabinet and pulled out a folder. "See? You need a case file—bam! There it is. No digging, no hunting. Easy peasy, lemon squeezy."

He wanted to be irritated. Really, he did. But to his growing dismay, the system actually worked.

"It's... functional," he admitted reluctantly.

Your eyes widened, and you pressed a hand to your chest as if he'd just handed you the world's most heartfelt compliment. "Hotch! That's, like, the nicest thing you've ever said to me!"

"I wouldn't go that far," he said dryly, though the corners of his mouth twitched slightly.

You gasped dramatically, leaning against the cabinet with a grin. "I'll take it! Oh, this is the best day ever. I can't wait to tell Garcia. She's gonna lose her mind."

Aaron sighed, running a hand down his face. "Please don't."

"No promises!"

He shook his head, turning sharply toward his desk, as if reclaiming his focus were as simple as shifting direction. His hand moved automatically, landing squarely on the case file he’d been working on earlier. No fumbling. No sorting.

Aaron glanced at the filing cabinet again.

It was efficient. He hated that it was efficient.

And you—standing there with your floral tape and sparkly folders, looking so impossibly pleased with yourself—made it impossible for him to argue. He didn’t have the heart for it.

From his desk, Aaron glanced toward you. You were seated at your usual your spot, head bent over a stack of case files, highlighting passages with a bright pink marker. You were bathed in a warm light, and for once, you weren't humming under your breath or tapping your nails on the desk.

Aaron leaned back in his chair, watching as you quietly worked. Your hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail, a few strands framing your face, and your usual heels had been kicked off, leaving you in a pair of fluffy socks with little bows at the ankles. On the corner of your desk sat your water bottle, the words Sparkle Like You Mean It emblazoned across the side in bold script.

Aaron frowned slightly, returning his gaze to the papers in front of him, though his focus remained divided. You'd stayed late before, of course, but always with your usual energy--talking a mile a minute, asking endless questions, or filling the silence with offhanded comments. But this quieter version of you felt unfamiliar, and though Aaron knew he shouldn't, he found himself wondering why.

He cleared his throat. "You didn't have to stay this late."

You glanced up, startled, as if you'd forgotten he was there. Then you smiled, soft and easy. "It's not big deal. Besides, it's not like I have anything better to do."

Aaron raised a brow. "No plans to color-code your closet or reorganize your pantry?"

Your smile widened just a little, but the teasing edge he expected wasn't there.

"Already did that last weekend," you said lightly, returning to your files. "I figured this was a better use of my time." Better use of your time. The words seemed to hang in the air, unexpected and uncharacteristically serious.

He watched as you flipped to another page, carefully highlighting a section and jotting a note in the margin. Pink folders were stacked neatly beside you, each labeled in your unmistakable handwriting--looping, bubbly, with tiny hearts dotting every "i". The sight should have annoyed him. Should have.

Aaron wasn't sure how long he watched you before you looked up again, catching his gaze.

"What?" you asked, tilting your head, a faint smile playing at your lips.

"Nothing," he said, clearing his throat and looking back down at his file.

Silence settled between you again, the kind of quiet that felt heavy but not unpleasant. He could hear the faint swish of your marker against the page, the creak of his chair, and the soft sound of your breathing. And, without meaning to, Aaron found himself listening more closely than he should have.

The clock on the wall ticked past midnight by the time Aaron closed the last of his files. He rubbed a hand over his face, exhaustion beginning to set in. When he glanced up, he noticed you stifling a yawn, your shoulders slumping slightly as you stretched your arms over your head.

"You should go home," he said, his voice softer than usual.

You blinked, as if surprised by his tone, then shook your head. "Not yet. I'm almost done."

Aaron frowned. "You've done more than enough for one night. I'll finish the rest."

"No way," you said, a spark of your usual energy creeping back into your voice. "I said I'd help, and I'm gonna help. I mean, unless you're saying you don't trust me with this, boss?"

The corner of Aaron's mouth twitched. "That's not what I said."

"Good," you replied, sitting a little straighter and brushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

He sighed, standing and crossing the room to your desk. As he approached, he noticed how quickly you shifted, as though trying to regain your usual poise.

"At least let me walk you to your car when you're done," he said, his tone low but firm.

You glanced up at him, and for a moment, something soft flickered in your expression. Then you smiled, teasing but lighter than usual. "What, are you afraid I'm going to trip over my own two feet in the parking lot?"

He regarded you for a moment, his face unreadable. Then, with a faint twitch of his lips, he replied, "It's not entirely out of the question."

You laughed, pushing your chair back as you gathered your things. "Well, I guess it's good to have an FBI escort. You never know when the sidewalks might strike."

He stepped aside, letting you pass, and followed as you made your way into the hall. You cradled the papers to your chest, your ponytail swaying gently with each step. A strange, nameless feeling pressed at the edges of his mind.

"You know," you said as you pressed the elevator button, glancing at him with a grin, "I think you're starting to like me, Boss Man."

He raised an eyebrow. "Starting to?"

You laughed, the corners of your eyes crinkling as your grin widened. "Oh, so it’s official then. We’re besties."

Aaron waited until the elevator doors opened, stepping inside before glancing at you. With a small smirk, he said, "If that’s what you want to call it."

Aaron's pen stilled in his hand, the soft scratch of it against paper replaced by the voices rising behind him. He didn't react immediately—he rarely did. Years of leadership had taught him the value of restraint.

But then he heard it.

"Damn," one officer muttered, the smirk practically audible in his voice. "If that's what the FBI's hiring, sign me up."

His colleague snorted. "She might not know how to handle evidence, but she's definitely handling that skirt."

Aaron's shoulders stiffened. His eyes stayed on the profile in front of him, even as the words began to blur. His fingers curled tightly around the pen, the slight tremor in his grip betraying the simmer of irritation he fought to contain. Normally, he could ignore the noise, let it slide off his back, but the sound of their laughter grated against him, making his jaw clench.

"Wonder if her job description includes anything extra," another voice chimed in.

"Bet the boss has her bending over files all day. Lucky bastard."

Aaron's head lifted slightly, his sharp gaze flicking to you. You were still focused on the corkboard, entirely oblivious to the attention you were drawing. Your fingers tugged at a pinned map, your heels lifting off the ground as you reached higher, and the hem of your skirt crept up just enough to draw another low whistle from one of the men.

Aaron set his pen down carefully, his fingers flexing against the table.

"If she reaches any further, I'm gonna owe her dinner," one of them added, his laugh rumbling through the room.

Aaron's chest tightened, heat rising uncomfortably in his veins. He could feel the pulse in his temple, his irritation mounting with each word.

"I don't doubt she's great at after-hours work."

Aaron didn't hesitate, stepping forward with quiet, calculated purpose. The officers’ laughter sputtered and died as they registered his approach, their bodies stiffening in response.

He stopped just close enough to unsettle, positioning himself squarely in their line of sight. His broad shoulders blocked their view of you entirely, his gaze cold and unflinching—a silent warning that left no room for misinterpretation.

He stood there for a beat too long, letting the tension grow. The officers shifted awkwardly under the weight of his stare.

"Hotch?"

Aaron turned, his expression easing as his eyes met yours. You stood by the corkboard, one hand absently adjusting a pin, your head tilted in question.

"Everything okay?" you asked, your brows knitting slightly.

"Fine," he said, his tone smoothing out as he addressed you. "Are you finished?"

You glanced at the board, tilting your head before stepping back to inspect your work. "Almost. Just need to add one more report. Be right back."

You gave him a quick smile before heading toward the other side of the room, your heels clicking softly against the floor. Aaron's gaze followed you briefly before returning to the officers in front of him.

They shifted awkwardly under his unrelenting stare, their earlier smugness dissolving into unease.

Aaron's voice was quiet, almost too quiet. "If you have time to make inappropriate comments, I assume your reports are finished and flawless."

One of the officers opened his mouth, but Aaron held up a hand, silencing him before a single word could escape.

"I don't tolerate disrespect on my team. If you feel the need to revisit what professionalism looks like, I'm sure your supervisor will be happy to help."

"Yes, sir," the first man mumbled, his face burning.

"Understood," the second added quickly.

Aaron stood there for a moment longer, his jaw tight as he exhaled slowly. With a sharp pivot, he returned to the table, his expression composed once more as he resumed his place at the head of the team.

A few minutes later, you appeared beside him again, balancing another stack of papers. His gaze flicked to you almost instinctively, his expression softening before he even realized it. The shift was subtle, natural—something he didn’t let himself dwell on.

The knock at Aaron's door was sharp, urgent, and loud enough to pull him from the lull he was trying to fight against by pouring water into the coffee maker.

He crossed the room in three long strides, his body reacting on instinct before his thoughts could catch up. A million scenarios flashed through his mind, each one worse than the last—someone hurt, an emergency. By the time he reached the door, his hand on the knob, his breath felt tight.

What he didn't expect was you.

You stood in the hallway, frozen in place, your hand still half-raised from knocking. Your sweatshirt hung loosely off one shoulder, the hem unevenly bunched, and your sock-covered feet shuffled against the carpet like you were contemplating bolting. But it wasn't just your disheveled appearance that hit him like a freight train.

It was your eyes.

Tears hovered on your lashes, catching the hallway light like fragile drops of glass, ready to fall at any moment. Your lips parted, trembling slightly as though forming words that never came.

Your lips parted as if to speak, but no words came, and the sight of you--glassy eyes, unshed tears bubbling as if they were waiting for permission to fall--hit him like a gut punch. The look in your eyes—raw and exposed, holding back a flood of emotions—struck him with a force that knocked the air from his lungs.

For a moment, all Aaron could do was stare. His mind raced, scanning your face for clues, cataloging your every movement like a case profile.

Aaron had spent the entire day watching you more closely than he cared to admit. He hadn't said anything—hadn't wanted to overwhelm you—but this had been your first real exposure to the kind of cases the BAU handled. You’d tried to bury your discomfort under a sunny smile, but he’d seen it anyway—the way you avoided looking at the crime scene photos, the nervous energy in your hands when someone mentioned the unsub.

He'd seen it all, and now, standing in front of you, the weight of his worry hit him full force.

"Are you okay?" His voice was sharper than he intended, but he couldn't stop the questions from spilling out. "Are you hurt? Did something happen?"

Your lips parted, but no sound came out at first. You shook your head quickly, your hands twisting in the hem of your sweatshirt.

"No—I'm fine," you said, though your trembling voice and red-rimmed eyes told a different story. "I just—I couldn't sleep."

Aaron’s jaw tightened, his gaze sweeping over you once more, lingering on your tear-streaked eyes and the way your shoulders curled inward, as though shielding yourself from an invisible blow. His mind raced, unwilling to accept your answer at face value.

He opened the door wider, stepping aside.

"Come in," he said firmly, his voice low but steady.

You hesitated for a moment before stepping inside, your movements slow and uncertain.

The door clicked shut behind you as Aaron turned, his focus still trained on you. You stood frozen in the center of the room, arms wrapped tightly around yourself, your fingers nervously twisting the hem of your sweatshirt. Tears clung stubbornly to your lashes, and for one heart-stopping moment, Aaron forgot how to breathe.

"What's going on?" he asked, his tone softer now but no less serious.

You glanced at him, your lip trembling as you struggled to find the words. Finally, you let out a shaky breath, your voice cracking as you spoke. "I can't stop thinking about the unsub. About what he did. I just... It's like.... it's haunting me."

Aaron stayed rooted in place, his hands curling into loose fists at his sides as he forced himself to speak evenly.

"It's hard to turn it off," he said. "Especially the first time. I know."

"All those people," you continued, your gaze dropping to the floor. "And he didn't care. Not even a little. He just—he just did it, like it didn't even matter. How can someone be like that? How can someone be so... empty?"

Aaron stayed quiet for a moment, watching as your gaze stayed fixed on the floor. He recognized that look—the hollow kind of disbelief that came with trying to reconcile the worst parts of humanity. He'd seen it in new agents, in victims, even in himself. And now he saw it in you.

"People like him don't think the way we do," he said finally, his voice calm but firm. "You can't make sense of it because it doesn't make sense. You're not supposed to understand someone like that."

You looked up at him, your brows knitting together as you searched his face.

"But why?" you asked, your voice cracking again. "Why would someone want to hurt people like that? Just for... for no reason?"

Aaron exhaled softly, his hands resting on his hips as he glanced away for a moment. It wasn't an easy answer—not one he could sum up in a way that would make this any less awful for you.

"People like him don't think the way we do," he said, choosing his words carefully. "To him, it's not about right or wrong. It's about control. Power. That's all he understands. It's not something you can rationalize."

Your arms tightened around yourself, and you looked away, your teeth worrying your bottom lip.

"I just keep thinking about everything they went through—all those people. Like, I can't stop picturing it, and it's just... it's too much." You exhaled shakily, your voice trembling. "I know this is your world, but it's... it's really awful."

Aaron stepped closer.

"It's your first case," he said. "And it's normal to feel overwhelmed by it. This kind of work—it takes a toll. On everyone."

You let out a shaky laugh, swiping at your eyes with the sleeve of your sweatshirt. "Do you ever get used to it?"

Aaron paused, considering the question.

"You learn how to handle it," he said finally. "You focus on what you can control. On what you can do to stop it."

Your nod was faint, tentative, and the tension in your shoulders didn’t ease, not completely. He’d pieced others back together before, often without a second thought, but with you, the need to protect and steady you felt far more personal.

"You should try to get some sleep."

"I don't want to go back to my room," you said suddenly, the words tumbling out before you could stop them.

He froze, his back to you as he processed what you'd just said. When he turned, you were staring at him, wide-eyed and wringing your hands.

"Not in your bed!" you added hastily, gesturing toward the spare bed in the corner of the room. "I mean—not with you. Just, like, over there. In the other bed. So I'm not alone. You know, because... nightmares."

You pressed your lips together as you continued. "Don't worry, I'm not making some grand declaration of love or trying to seduce you or anything. Promise."

Aaron's lips twitched faintly, but the humor didn't quite reach his eyes. He took in the way your breathing hitched, your hands still at your sides, fingers clenching and unclenching as if searching for something to hold onto. He could see it—how hard you were trying to smooth over the cracks, trying to make the moment lighter than it was.

He hesitated, his thoughts swirling. Having you in the room—spare bed or not—introduced complexities he wasn’t ready to address. His gaze flicked to the empty bed and then back to you, taking in the way you shifted nervously under his silence.

Aaron raised a brow, his tone wry but gentle. "Well, I guess I'll have to cancel the champagne and roses."

Your laugh came quickly, a little more genuine this time. "Okay, now you're just mocking me."

His expression softened, and he gestured toward the spare bed. "Stay as long as you need. It's fine."

"Thanks, boss," you said, standing and moving toward the spare bed. "Promise I won't snore—or, if I do, I'll deny it forever."

Aaron didn't answer right away. He followed you to the bedside, crouching down until you were eye level.

"If you need anything," he said, his voice low, "wake me up. Understood?"

Your smile wavered for a second before you nodded. "Okay."

He stayed there for a beat longer, his gaze searching yours, before standing. When he finally stepped back, you had already drawn the blanket around yourself. Without a second thought, he leaned down and adjusted the corner over your shoulder, his hand lingering for the briefest moment before he straightened.

As he settled into his own bed, he glanced over at you one last time, taking in the way your lashes fluttered against your cheeks as you drifted closer to sleep.

It wasn't in his nature to dwell—not on things he couldn't change. But as he stared at the ceiling, the image of your tearful expression stayed with him. He'd seen it coming, the way this case had worn on you, and he'd worried all day about how it would hit you when things finally went quiet.

Aaron exhaled softly, rolling onto his back as he closed his eyes. This job didn't leave room for many absolutes, but he was certain of one thing: he'd make sure you never felt that way again.

Aaron sat at the far end of the table, his customary spot for team dinners, where he could watch over everyone without drawing much attention to himself. Usually, his gaze moved easily from one teammate to the next, but tonight, it kept circling back to you.

You were seated next to him, close enough that he could catch the faintest hint of your perfume, something light and sweet that lingered every time you shifted in your chair. The warm lighting of the restaurant cast a soft glow on your skin, highlighting the curve of your jaw when you laughed, the way your lips curved upward with such natural ease that it felt like a magnet for his attention.

He'd spent much of the evening trying to appear unaffected, keeping his gaze on the table or his plate or even his wine glass when he felt himself watching you for too long. But you weren't making it easy.

"Hotch, you have to try this," you said, holding out your fork, a small piece of bruschetta balanced precariously on the edge. "It's amazing."

"I'm fine," he replied automatically, though his lips twitched slightly as he glanced at you.

You rolled your eyes, leaning just a fraction closer. "You're always fine. Live a little—this is life-changing bruschetta."

The team chuckled softly, but Aaron barely noticed.

He sighed quietly, relenting, and took the offered bite. The warmth of your fingers brushed his when you handed him the fork, and he swallowed quickly. The bruschetta tasted fine—probably great, even—but the flavor barely registered.

"Well?" you prompted, your head tilting slightly as you watched him expectantly.

"It's good," he said, his voice even, though he felt anything but.

You grinned, satisfied, and turned back to your plate, your shoulder brushing his in the process. The touch lingered for a second too long—or maybe it didn't, but it still sent a wave of heat up his spine.

Aaron reached for his water glass, more to ground himself than anything else, and found your hand there first. Your fingers bumped his as you pulled back, your eyes darting to his with a flicker of apology that melted into something softer.

"Sorry," you murmured lightly, though the smile curving your lips made it clear you were anything but.

He shook his head slightly, his chest tightening in a way he couldn't fully explain. How had this happened? How had you, so unapologetically bright and warm, managed to work your way into his life so seamlessly that he now couldn't imagine it without you?

Across the table, Emily made a comment about the case, and you chimed in, your voice as animated as ever. Aaron listened, though his attention strayed to the way you gestured when you spoke, the soft movement of your hands, the way your lips curved when you made a point.

"This place is so cute," you said brightly, glancing around at the rustic décor. "I mean, it's no Olive Garden, but still, it's got charm."

Across the table, Derek snorted, folding his arms. "Olive Garden? That's your gold standard for Italian food?"

You gave him an incredulous look. "Are you saying unlimited breadsticks and salad aren't the peak of dining luxury?"

Emily raised her glass with a smirk. "I feel like we're learning a lot about you tonight."

A laugh bubbled out of you when Emily made a dry joke, and Aaron couldn't help but feel the corners of his own mouth lift in response. He glanced away quickly, hoping no one noticed, but when his eyes drifted back to you, you were already looking at him.

Your smile softened, your gaze lingering on his for a moment longer than it should have. Aaron cleared his throat, shifting in his seat as his hand brushed against yours under the table.

The light pressure of your fingers against his was brief but intentional, and Aaron's chest tightened as he realized how quickly he was starting to crave these small moments—moments that, not long ago, he would have never allowed himself to have.

You didn't pull away immediately, your fingertips grazing his before the noise of the team pulled you back to the conversation. It was subtle, so subtle that the others might have missed it entirely, but JJ didn't. She raised a brow, her gaze flicking between the two of you.

"So," JJ said, her tone casual but edged with curiosity. "How long has this been going on?"

Your hand froze mid-reach for the butter, and you glanced at her with wide eyes. "What's been going on?"

Spencer Reid tilted his head, his gaze narrowing as he studied you and Aaron. "You and Hotch."

Your eyes darted to Aaron, who had straightened slightly in his seat. He didn't look uncomfortable, but there was a flicker of something in his expression—something softer than his usual stoicism.

"Depends," you said, flashing a teasing smile. "How long do you think it's been?"

Derek leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest as he chuckled. "Oh, you're good. Deflecting like a pro."

"It's not deflecting," you said, feigning offense. "It's a legitimate question."

Aaron sighed quietly, setting his glass down with a soft clink. "It's been a few months."

The table fell silent for a moment.

"A few months?" Emily repeated, her brow arching. "And you didn't think to mention it?"

"It's not like we were hiding it," you said quickly, glancing at Aaron. "Right?"

"We just weren't announcing it."

"Well, it's about damn time," Derek said, breaking the silence with a wide grin. "Seriously, Hotch. I was starting to think you didn't have it in you."

Aaron gave him a look, though the faint twitch of his lips betrayed his amusement. "It's not up for discussion, Morgan."

"Noted," Derek said, his grin unrelenting.

You leaned closer to Aaron, your shoulder brushing his as you lowered your voice. "Think we'll ever live this down?"

"Doubtful."

The conversation shifted, the focus moving to Spencer's latest trivia tangent and JJ's plans for an upcoming weekend with her family. But as the night wore on, Aaron found himself more at ease than he'd expected.

At one point, you leaned over to steal a bite of his pasta, and he let you, his lips twitching into a faint smile when you made a show of how much better his dish was than yours.

By the end of the evening, as the team trickled out of the restaurant one by one, Aaron found himself standing beside you near the entrance, his hand resting lightly on the small of your back.

"That wasn't so bad," you said, tilting your head up to look at him.

"No," he agreed, his voice quiet. "It wasn't."

You smiled, leaning slightly into his touch. "See? Told you they'd be fine with it."

He huffed softly, shaking his head. "I think Morgan's already planning his next round of questions."

"Probably," you admitted with a laugh. "But, hey, it's progress. You smiled twice tonight."

His lips twitched slightly, though he shook his head in mock exasperation. "Twice, huh? You're keeping count now?"

"Absolutely," you teased, leaning a little closer. "I'm very goal-oriented, you know. Almost got a smile out of you with my pen trick, too, but you were a little too busy that day."

Aaron frowned slightly, his brow furrowing. "Pen trick?"

"Oh, come on, Hotch," you said, rolling your eyes with a grin. "That was my totally genius plan to get you to notice me. Thought maybe you'd smile, maybe even flirt back, but no—you shut me down with the whole, that's not mine. Absolutely brutal."

His frown deepened as he stared at you, trying to process your words. "You planned that?"

"Obviously," you replied. "I saw you walking by all serious and handsome, and I thought, why not? Of course, I didn't realize I was interviewing to be your assistant. That kind of killed the whole plan."

He tilted his head, his lips twitching into a faint smirk. "Killed it how?"

"Well," you said, giving him an exaggerated shrug, "if I'd known you were the guy in charge, I would've worn something with more cleavage. Really sell it, you know?"

Aaron stared at you for a moment, then leaned in slightly, his voice low and dry. "There's still time to test that theory."

You gasped, swatting at him as your laughter bubbled up. "Aaron Hotchner, are you flirting with me?"

"I don't know," he replied smoothly, his lips twitching into an almost-smile. "Did it work?"

You looped your arm through his, your grin softening into something fonder. "A little late for flirting now, boss. You've already got me."

"Good to know."

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greengoblinswifey · 8 hours ago

Text

Yearning—Luigi Mangione x Fem!Reader

summary— you’ve had a crush on Luigi Mangione, the popular frat boy for three years. after attending his engineering club, you both finally confess. based on this and this request.

warnings— fluff, luigi is a sweetheart, thigh riding, praise kink, cunnilingus, unprotected sex, creampie.

Luigi Mangione. God, where to start? Jackie Kennedy’s letter about JFK came to mind whenever he would infiltrate your mind.

“And I remember when I met him, it was so clear that he was the only one for me.”

“He was charismatic, magnetic, electric and everybody knew it.”

“When he walked in every woman’s head turned, everybody stood up to talk to him.”

That summed up how you felt about him. That summed up him as a person.

You and Luigi started attending Penn at the same time. He became a frat boy but unlike his fraternity brothers, he was different. He was kind, extremely intellectual, respectful and everyone seemed to love him. Most days, you sat in the far corner of the library reading, watching Luigi as he studied with his friends or came in to do research.

Whenever you would glimpse him around campus he was always smiling, surrounded by friends and sometimes even professors. He was involved in clubs and societies, assisted his peers and even volunteered. He was a model student and it was clear he was from a good upbringing. Everyone loved him and was interested in what he had to say. He was such a people person and in the best way possible. With all those extraordinary characteristics, it was no wonder you developed a crush on him.

His dark curls were beautiful and at times you imagined what it would feel like to run your fingers through them. His thick eyebrows made him even more handsome and you thought that especially when they were not plucked and developing into a uni brow. His strong jawline, his nose—he had a facial harmony unlike any other man you had ever seen. Every single part of him was admirable, he was exactly the kind of man you craved. You’d never met anyone like Luigi.

And he had never met anyone like you. But you didn’t know that—at least not yet.

Throughout your three years at the university, you were too shy to initiate any conversation with him. It wasn’t that he seemed mean—it just seemed as though you were in two different worlds. You were nerdy and he was a popular frat boy. It was a tale as old as time, someone like him would never go for someone like you, so you pushed the idea of something sparking to the back of your mind.

The closest you’d ever gotten to speaking to him was when he would tell you good morning or good afternoon when he’d pass by. He was always so polite. His smooth voice had your heart beating fast and at times, you could barely manage to give a response. You weren’t even sure if you gave a response, your thoughts were louder than your voice.

Though these interactions were minuscule, you held them close to your heart. You yearned from afar and at the end of the day, you’d go back to your dorm and daydream. You felt like a teenager again, crushing on a boy, writing about him in your journal, he made you feel alive. He gave you hope that there were good men.

The entire class sighed as the lengthy lecture ended. It was a Friday, the last day of classes and usually the day frat parties were thrown. You weren’t interested, you’d usually take those days to read a book or write something.

As you gathered your books to exit lecture hall, your professor stopped you. “You’re a good student. I’d like to have you in my engineering club at 3, I promise it’ll be insightful.”

You thought for a moment. Your Fridays were usually spent in isolation so it wouldn’t hurt to give your professor and his club a chance. “Sure. I’ll be there, in the lab on the first floor right?” Your professor nodded happily and you have him a polite smile, exiting the lecture hall.

Once you entered your dorm, you collapsed on the plush bed. You had about two hours before the club would start, until then you’d take a shower then pick something to wear. It wasn’t like it was a special occasion, but you never did anything on Fridays.

As you picked out a chic outfit from your closet, it came to you. Luigi was in the engineering club. In fact, he was a dedicated member. The realization had your heart thumping faster in your chest. You would be in an intimate space with him for however long. You needed to look your best. You always did but now, more than ever.

After a soothing shower, your mind focused on how you would manage to keep your eyes of Luigi, you wrapped yourself in a robe and began getting ready. You applied makeup that highlighted your features and by the time you were finished, the club would be starting in just a few minutes.

Great. Your first time attending and you were late. Now, everyone’s eyes would be on you as you walked in, including his. The thought made you shudder and your heart beat faster.

Just as predicted you were late, slowly pushing the door to the lab open ten minutes after the engineering club had began. After taking a deep breath, you stepped inside.

“I’m so sorry I’m late. Good afternoon,” you apologized politely as you closed the door.

Turning around, you realized the room of six people were staring as you walked in.

The only person who caught your eyes was Luigi Mangione. He was as handsome as the day you first saw him, his thick eyebrows quirked upwards and his soft, piercing gaze locked on yours.

“That’s fine. I’m glad you’re here, the club is usually filled but seeing as there’s some big frat party, no one came,” your professor chuckled but your gaze remained on your crush.

You were snapped out of your gaze when your professor gestured for you to sit in the empty seat beside Luigi.

The thought of having to sit next to him made your legs wobbly. Not like you had a choice so with your gaze still locked on his, you slowly made your way over to the empty seat.

“Good afternoon.” Luigi’s voice rang in your ear as you sat down and you hesitantly turned to look at him, returning the sentiment in a meek voice. He was always so respectful, you were the one who came and saw him, you should’ve been the one to greet him.

For the next few minutes, you zoned out. Whatever the professor and the club members spoke about was background noise as your mind swarmed with thoughts about the man beside you. That was until you heard his soothing voice answer whatever question was asked.

Slowly, you turned your head to look at him as he spoke. His side profile was ethereal, his jawline flexing as he spoke about what engineering meant to him. He was so intelligent and the entire room listened intently, grasping each word that left his lips. His presence commanded attention, you craved a man like him. You craved him.

“Do you agree?” Luigi turned to face you, a small smile on his lips. Your eyes widened for a second. Was he actually talking to you?

“Y-yeah, I do,” you said, simply.

You wanted the earth to swallow you whole right then and there. You couldn’t believe you actually stuttered in front of him.

As the time began winding down, you tried to push your overthinking to the back of your mind, wanting nothing more than to dash to your dorm and scream into a pillow.

“And that’s it for today folks. I hope you all enjoyed especially my special guest, same time next week?” your professor asked, a big smile on his face.

You nodded sweetly but you knew you weren’t coming back. Not after stuttering while you talked to your crush.

Quickly, you exited the lab, determination in your steps as you made your way back to your dorm.

“Y/N! Wait up!” You stopped in your tracks hearing his voice call after you. He knew your name.

“Is everything okay?” You couldn’t believe what you were hearing, Luigi was standing in front of you, concerned about your well being.

“I’m fine, Luigi. And you?” you asked, fidgeting with the bracelet on your wrist.

“Really nervous, I can’t lie.”

He was nervous, why would he be nervous speaking to you? “Why would you be nervous?” you inquired, confusion etched on your face as you avoided eye contact.

“Fuck, okay, let me start. So, uh, these past three years I’ve been trying to talk to you, but I’ve never been able to go beyond greeting you. Sometimes, you wouldn’t even respond, other times, you just had this look on your face that seemed like you didn’t want me to talk to you. And I’m not insulting your looks or anything,” he said frantically, hands held up in self defense, “you’re beautiful, really beautiful. And then today, when you walked in looking like this—”

He took a deep breath, running his fingers through his hair, watching as your eyes widened with each word. “When you walked in looking so beautiful, I knew I had to confess. You gave me a look too—that look in your eye that told me you feel what I feel too. Fuck, I’ve had a crush on you for so long. I’ve admired you all these years, and now I finally have the courage to confess.”

Your lips parted slightly, heart beating so loudly in your chest you could hear it in your ear. Luigi felt the same way you had felt since the moment you saw him. He wanted you just as bad. The popular frat boy had been nursing a crush on you all these years and he—him of all people, had been nervous to to confess.m

“Me too, God, me too. I feel the same way. I’ve had a crush on you since the day I saw you, ever since then you’ve been stuck in my head. I see you around school a-and you’re everything I could ever want but I was just so scared to even say anything, you’re popular and I’m not and I thought—”

Your frantic confession was cut short when his large hands cupped your cheeks. His eyes fluttered shut as he titled his head and pressed a slow kiss that was hesitant at first. Once you wrapped your arms around his neck, the kiss grew deeper, though still gentle.

He smiled into your lips and you smiled against his, your heart fluttering. “That’s exactly what I needed to hear. I felt like I’ve waited my entire life to kiss you,” he beamed.

You wrapped your arms around him, burying your face in his chest as your cheeks heated. Then, the words tumbled out of your mouth before you could stop them. “Would you like to come back to my dorm?”

“Yeah—I mean are you sure?” Luigi asked, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Never been sure about anything as much as I am now.” Your new found confidence shocked you and you walked back to your dorm across campus, fingers laced together. Were you in a dream? Did the man you had been crushing on for three whole years feel the same way too? You couldn’t believe it but you’d make the best of it until you could.

Walking to your dorm you got many stares—it wasn’t everyday the most desired frat boy held hands with a random, reserved girl. He sensed your slight discomfort and squeezed your hand, giving you that reassuring smile you had always seen him give to others. Now, it was yours.

As you unlocked the door of your dorm, barely managing to close it behind you, you were gently pushed up against it. Luigi had his arms on either side of your head.

“You’re cute when you’re nervous,” he chuckled. “I need to hear you say it. Do you have feelings for me?”

The tension in the room was palpable, his sweet, strong cologne enveloped your senses making your head swoon and your thighs clench instinctively. Though it hadn’t gone unnoticed.

“I have feelings for you Luigi, I really, really like you. More than you could even imagine.” His eyes softened at your words as if it was the one thing he needed to be told.

“Fuck, princess. I like you too, a lot. The way I feel about you, I’ve never felt that for anyone else. You’re all I’ve thought about for three whole years and I wish I wasn’t such a pussy and made a move sooner so we could’ve had more time together. So I could’ve had you all to myself sooner.”

This was what you had always wanted to hear and experiencing it in real time was far better than any daydream you had ever conjured up.

Now, it was your turn to interject. Your hands wrapped around his neck, bringing his head down into an intense, all consuming kiss. Your body pressed flush against him and his hands went under your thighs, instinctively. You jumped, wrapping your legs around his waist and he caught you.

“Is this real?” Luigi asked breathlessly, as he sat on your bed with you in his arms.

You giggled and snuggled into his neck, inhaling his scent and making sure your hands remained on him. You wondered if it was real too and you didn’t want to take your hands off him, scared he would just be a figment of your imagination and disappear.

He littered gentle kisses all over your face and you hadn’t even registered what you were doing until you felt a jolt of pleasure course through you. You moved back and forth on his now prominent bulge, and you both moaned in unison.

You were clad in a short dress and it rode up with the only thing separating you being your thong, his jeans and boxers. His hands hesitantly went to your hips and you stared into his eyes as you were grinding on his bulge. His hazel eyes were lust blown and his lips parted as low moans escaped. God, those moans. They were music to your ears.

“This feels so good, baby, are you okay?” he asked, breathlessly.

“Shhh, just hold me,” you whispered, feeling your orgasm on the horizon.

He guided you back and forth and pressed his forehead against yours, your breathing increasing.

“Be a good girl and cum for me sweetheart, it’s okay. I know you want to,” he whispered.

At his command you gripped his bicep, your entire body convulsing as you stared into his eyes and came in your panties.

He held you close, rubbing your back as you slowly came down from your high. “That’s it, such a good girl,” he cooed. You couldn’t believe just grinding against him made you cum that hard, if you weren’t so caught up in the moment, you would’ve been embarrassed.

“Lu, I need more,” you pleaded, voice thick with emotion.

As soon as the words left your lips, his eyes glinted in a way you hadn’t seen before. He slipped off your dress, staring into your eyes and when he found no hesitation, he unclasped your bra.

His eyes widened at the sight of your bare chest before him, nipples hard. “You’re absolutely stunning, can I touch you? Taste you?”

“Please,” you rasped.

His head dipped and you couldn’t help but moan, feeling his tongue swirl around your hardened nipples. He moved to the other neglected breast, engulfing it with his mouth and suckling, while gently pinching the other. Your fantasy was finally fulfilled as you ran your fingers through his dark curls, back arching into his touch.

Abruptly, he placed you on the bed and slid to his knees, opening your legs to reveal the heaven that resided between. “Am I allowed to touch you? Can I taste you sweetheart? It’s entirely your decision if you want me to.”

“Yes, please.” He slid off your wet panties, tossing it aside and taking a moment to marvel at your glistening pussy before his head went between your legs.

The feeling of his tongue against you was heaven, he was so skilled, sucking on your clit and flicking it with his tongue. His eyes bore into yours, a moment so intimate you almost wanted to hide your face. Your moans, the sound of your juices and Luigi’s tongue filled your once silent dorm and you gripped onto his curls for dear life.

“You taste like Heaven baby,” he murmured before diving back in.

His hands gripped your thighs tighter as he deepened his focus, his tongue pressing harder against your clit. He was relentless but tender and more soft moans escaped your lips as your thighs shook. He responded with a low groan of approval, the vibration adding to the overwhelming pleasure coursing through you.

His tongue circled against your clit in a final, deliberate motion, and the world around you blurred. When your orgasm hit, it was like a storm breaking loose. Your pussy surged with pleasure, a pulse that started deep inside and spread outward, consuming every inch of you. Your fingers tangled in the sheets, gripping tight as your orgasm washed over you, a cry slipping from your lips as you squirted in his mouth. He didn’t let up, drawing every last ripple from you, not stopping until your body finally collapsed, spent and trembling.

“You did so well sweetheart, did you enjoy that?” he asked, leaning up, lips and chin glistening.

To answer his question, you pulled him in for a kiss and slipped your tongue inside his mouth to taste yourself. His hands went to your breasts, fondling you as you smiled into the kiss. “I need you so bad Lu, please.”

“Talk to me. Tell me what you need then princess,” he whispered, his deep voice making your pussy throb.

You buried your face into his neck, your cheeks heating at the request but he wasn’t having it.

“Don’t be shy sweetheart, I’m here—it’s just me. Tell me exactly what you need.”

He titled your chin to look up at him, his eyes glistening with care and something darker. Something you’d never seen before but made your thighs clench. “I- I need you to fuck me.”

“Anything for you, sweetheart.”

Luigi lay you flat on the bed then hovered over you, his body pressing lightly against yours as he sucked on your neck. He shed his clothes in a flash, and your breath caught at the sight before you. The heat of his skin against yours was electrifying, and anticipation hung thick in the air.

Luigi looked like a god, one you craved to worship, his muscles taut and glistening under the dim light in your dorm every curve and contour accentuated. You couldn’t help but caress his abs, fingers tracing the defined lines, marveling at the way his body felt firm under your touch. His eyes fluttered shut, a low groan escaping his lips as your hands explored his body.

“Like what you see?” he asked, leaning down to lick the side of your neck.

“You have no idea.” You had dreamt of the day you would be able to have him all to yourself, have your hands all over him, and it was finally here. Your eyes trailed down to his deep V line and then you saw it. He was long, thick and hard. Bigger than you had ever imagined and your breath caught in your throat as you saw his cock physically throb.

“S’okay baby, you can take it. I’ll go nice and slow for you,” he whispered.

You nodded then felt him slowly push the tip in, just enough to make your breath catch again. A gasp escaped your lips, his size stretching you, testing your limits. His brow furrowed with restraint, the muscles in his arms tensing as he held back, waiting for you to adjust.

His eyes searched yours, intense and burning with something primal, yet laced with care. “Are you okay sweetheart, want me to move?”

You nodded slightly, biting your lip, and he moved again, pressing in just a little more, but it’s so much—he’s so much, filling you in a way you’d never been before.

Your pussy tightened around him, and he moaned, low and guttural, the sound sending a ripple of need straight through you. “You feel so good baby,” he gasped, leaning down to kiss your forehead.

He was so thick, every inch was a slow, deliberate stretch, each stroke making you moan and grip the thin fabric of your sheets. His darkened eyes never left yours, his lips parted slightly as he panted softly, the strain of holding back evident on his face. You were both gasping, lost in the feeling of him filling you inch by inch, the overwhelming sensation forcing you to arch your back slightly into him.

“Lu,” you moaned, your nails clawing at his back.

“I know baby, it feels so fucking good.”

Finally, after what felt like forever, he was fully buried in your pussy, and you could feel him throbbing deep inside your cervix. The moment hung in the air, both of you frozen in awe, the sheer intensity of it all leaving you breathless.

“Feels so good Lu, I—I’m gonna cum,” you gasped, on the brink of an orgasm already.

“Not yet baby, I want it to be really good. Be a good girl and hold on for me.”

You nodded and your fingers gripped his shoulders as he leaned down, pressing his forehead to yours, and for a moment, all you could hear were your ragged breaths mingling together and the sound of his body softly pounding into you.

His hips rolled gently, sliding out just enough to make you gasp before pressing back in with a deep, deliberate thrust. The friction was perfect, every inch of his cock dragging inside your pussy sending sparks of pleasure up your spine. The man you had a soul eating crush on for three years was fucking you. Luigi Mangione was finally fucking you.

He reached between your bodies, rubbing your clit softly and no matter how hard you bit your lips, you couldn’t stop the moans that left you. “You’ve been such a good girl for me, you can cum now. Do it around my cock, baby,” Luigi cooed.

As soon as the words left his lips you felt it. A rush of liquid escaped you as your orgasm ripped through every muscle in your body. You cried out, your back arching off the bed as you squirted around his cock, the slick wetness coating him. His name fell from your lips again, but it was a loud moan, caught in the overwhelming and intense ecstasy that took over.

You gasped realizing what had just happened. You’d never squirted before—you weren’t even sure if you had ever cum, but somehow, Luigi managed to get that out of you. He made you squirt.

“That’s it. My good girl, you came so hard baby. Fucking soaked my cock,” he said, looking down at the mess you made on the sheets and his cock as he bottomed out.

He gave you a moment to breathe, pressing soft kisses on your lips. “You’re so beautiful, God, I can’t believe I have you,” he beamed.

He flipped you on your side, his body pressing against yours as he hoisted your leg up.

“Ready sweetheart? Is this okay?” he asked.

“More than okay, please fuck me,” you whined.

He pressed a kiss to your ear before he was back in your soaked, warm walls. This time, it was easier for him to slip inside, though the stretch from this angle still had you squeezing his thigh. He thrusted up into you, hitting that sweet spot that had you crying out repeatedly.

“You take me so well baby, such a good girl,” he praised.

He maintained a steady but deep rhythm, one that had you feeling almost every inch of him, and soon you felt your pussy throb, another intense orgasm impending.

“You wanna cum baby? Yeah? Tell me how bad you want to,” he murmured.

You wrapped your hand around his head, your fingers lacing in his curls and fucking yourself back on his cock. “Please Lu, wanna cum so bad. I’ve waited so long for this. I’ve thought about this every single day, please let me cum.”

“Yeah? Me too baby. I’ve thought about fucking you for so long and having you just soak my cock. Cum for me pretty girl,” he said.

Your legs trembled, your hands pulling his head down to the back of your neck to make him suck as the pleasure peaked. He thrusted into you harder, each motion pushing you closer to the edge until you couldn’t hold on any longer. With a loud whimper, your pussy clenched around his hard cock, the tension snapping again and the release flooded through you all at once. You squirted once more, this one somehow more intense than the last and making tears prick the corner of your eyes.

“You’re amazing sweetheart, such a good girl for me,” he whispered into your ear.

Your vision blurred, the orgasm leaving you dizzy, but he didn’t stop. He kept thrusting, slow and deeper now, letting you ride out every last wave of pleasure until you were left panting and utterly spent, your body limp and trembling in his arms.

“Fuck baby, I’m gonna cum, where do you want it?”

“I-inside me, please,” you gasped, your walls clenching around him to milk him of his cum.

“Are you sure sweetheart?”

You nodded frantically, grinding your ass against him and that did it.

“Oh God baby, t-thank you. You’re incredible,” he gasped as his orgasm washed over him.

You felt him pulse inside you, his cock twitching as he spilled into you, filling you with his warm cum and you came once more, this time, with him. His body tensed beside you, every muscle taut as he let out a ragged moan of release. His cum flooded through you, his orgasm drawing out in long, throbbing waves as he rocked against you, riding out every last pulse of pleasure. You’d never felt this good before.

Slowly, he pulled out of you and turned you so that you were facing him. He stared into your eyes, his expression softening as he brushed a stray strand of hair from your face. His breathing was still heavy, but there was a look of contentment on his face, a quiet satisfaction in the aftermath of the overwhelming pleasure and the need he felt for you over the past three years.

“You did so well, sweetheart. I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he asked.

“You didn’t,” you smiled, brushing his thick eyebrows with your fingers making him chuckle.

“I’m glad. Did I live up to your expectations?”

“Surpassed it. It was better than I could ever imagine,” you beamed.

“I feel the same way sweetheart, now let’s cuddle for a bit then take a shower and get ready. I’m taking you out to dinner.”

His words made your heart flutter and you buried your face in his firm chest. He was all you could ask for and more. After years of yearning, he was finally yours.

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tarareindeer · 3 days ago

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Puppy love...

{fem reader: sad,hopless,just wants to cry,pookie pie}

The soft glow of the Last Drop’s lanterns cast long shadows across the bar, the low hum of chatter filling the room as workers trickled in after another tough day in the mines. You wiped a glass without thinking, your gaze drifting toward the big, broad-shouldered man at the center of it all. Vander. He stood out without even trying—his laugh carried over the noise, his presence pulling everyone’s attention like a magnet. Especially hers.

Felicia leaned against the counter like she owned the place, her hair pulled back and streaks of coal smudging her face from the mines. Even covered in soot, she looked amazing, her smile practically lighting up the space between her and Vander. He leaned closer when she spoke, completely focused on her. Your chest tightened, a familiar ache rising up.

“Careful, you’re gonna crack that glass in half,” a dry voice teased from your right. Silco slipped onto a stool, his sharp mismatched eyes flicking from the glass in your hands to your face. “You’ve been scrubbing that thing like it owes you money.”

You shot him a glare and loosened your grip. “Mind your business, Silco.”

“Oh, but your business is way more interesting than mine,” he said with a smirk. He nodded toward Vander and Felicia, his expression almost amused. “I’ve been watching this little drama for years. Honestly, I’m impressed at how stubborn you are.”

Heat rose to your face, and you turned away, setting the glass down harder than you meant to. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Silco let out a quiet laugh. “Sure you don’t. Just like you haven’t been staring at Vander like he’s the sun and you’re a moth.”

You bristled, but his words cut too close to ignore. Vander had been everything to you for as long as you could remember. As kids, he’d been the one to pick you up when you fell, his steady hands and warm smile keeping you grounded. Back then, you’d dreamed that one day, he’d see you as more than a friend. But now, with Felicia…

“He’s not blind, you know,” Silco said, his voice softer than before. “He sees her. And he sees you.”

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “Yeah, he sees me as the maid who cleans up his bar. Meanwhile, Felicia walks in covered in coal dust, and he looks at her like she’s the most beautiful thing in the world.”

“You think she’s the reason this place is still standing?” Silco’s tone grew sharper, irritation creeping in. “You think Vander could’ve made it this far without you holding things together behind the scenes?”

You blinked at him, caught off guard by the sudden intensity in his voice. Silco wasn’t exactly known for heartfelt moments. He usually stuck to sarcasm and cold observations, but now, his mismatched eyes had a flicker of something real in them.

“Vander cares about you,” he said firmly. “He’s just too thick-headed to realize how much. And Felicia?” He glanced at the pair, his lip curling slightly. “She’s a storm. Bright, loud, and gone before you know it.”

You followed his gaze, watching Felicia laugh at something Vander said, her hand brushing his arm. The ache in your chest grew sharper, but Silco’s words planted a small seed of hope. Could he be right? Could you mean more to Vander than you thought?

Before you could think too much about it, Vander’s voice cut through the noise. “Hey, you alright over there?”

Your head snapped up, and you realized he was looking at you, his brow creased in concern. Felicia glanced over too, her expression hard to read.

“Fine,” you called back, forcing a smile. “Just busy.”

“Take a break,” Vander said, his tone firm but kind. “You’ve been working hard enough.”

Your heart fluttered, despite everything. You nodded, setting your rag aside and slipping into the back room to catch your breath. As the door swung shut, Silco’s voice echoed in your mind.

“He sees you.”

That night, you found out Felicia had been keeping a secret. Over a round of drinks, she revealed she was in a relationship with one of her coworkers and that she was expecting a baby. The news hit like a bolt of lightning, but you couldn’t deny the wave of relief that followed. Vander had been infatuated with her, but this revelation might change things. Still, you couldn’t shake the heaviness in your chest.

Later, as the bar emptied out and quiet settled over the Last Drop, you caught sight of Vander slipping upstairs with a woman you didn’t recognize. She was beautiful, confident, and the way he leaned into her made your stomach twist. Your heart shattered as you watched them disappear into the shadows.

The ache was unbearable. You retreated to the storage room, your shaking hands finding one of Vander’s hidden bottles of liquor. Unscrewing the cap, you didn’t bother with a glass, taking long, burning gulps straight from the bottle. The alcohol hit fast, and soon you were slumped against the wall, tears streaming down your face as you sobbed quietly in the empty bar.

“Drinking yourself into oblivion, are we?” Silco’s voice cut through the silence. You looked up to find him leaning against the doorframe, his sharp eyes fixed on you with a mixture of amusement and something softer. Concern, maybe.

“Go away,” you muttered, your voice hoarse.

He didn’t move. Instead, he walked over, crouching down in front of you. “You’re a mess,” he said bluntly, but there was no malice in his tone. “And yet, you’re still here. That says something, doesn’t it?”

You wiped at your face, glaring at him. “What the hell do you want, Silco?”

“To remind you that wallowing won’t fix anything,” he replied. “You’re stronger than this. And if Vander can’t see that, then he’s more of an idiot than I thought.”

His words stung, but they also lit a small fire inside you. You looked away, clutching the bottle tightly. “What do you care?”

Silco stood, brushing off his coat. “I don’t, really. But someone needs to pull you out of this pit you’ve dug yourself into.” He paused, glancing back as he headed for the door. “You’re worth more than being someone’s shadow. Remember that.”

As the door swung shut behind him, you sat in silence, his words echoing in your mind. Maybe he was right. Maybe it was time to stop hoping for something that would never be and start seeing yourself the way Silco did: as someone who mattered.

The next morning, the Last Drop was eerily quiet, save for the rhythmic swish of your rag against the bar’s stained wood. The lanterns were dim, the smell of stale beer and smoke lingering in the air. You worked methodically, scrubbing away remnants of the night before, though your hands trembled slightly from a hangover and too many tears shed. Your maid dress was worse for wear, the hem torn and the fabric stained from years of hard work—a far cry from anything Felicia would wear.

The sound of heavy footsteps on the stairs made your stomach twist. Vander was coming down, his presence as commanding as ever even in the early light. You didn’t look up, focusing intently on a particularly stubborn stain on the counter. Maybe if you ignored him, he’d just…leave.

“Mornin’,” his deep voice rumbled, thick with sleep. He paused at the bottom of the stairs, glancing around before his eyes landed on you. “Didn’t think anyone would be up this early.”

You muttered something noncommittal, refusing to meet his gaze. Your hands worked faster, scrubbing the same spot over and over as if your life depended on it. The weight of his stare was unbearable, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. Not after last night.

Vander hesitated, as if he wanted to say something, but the moment stretched too long. Finally, he moved past you, heading for the back room. As the door swung shut behind him, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. Your heart ached, but at least you’d avoided him. For now.

Time passed, and you found yourself slipping further into solitude. You avoided Vander whenever possible, tired of the constant ache in your chest. The effort of pretending everything was fine became too much, and instead, you leaned on Silco. What started as casual chats evolved into late-night talks about life, frustrations, and shared interests. He had a sharp mind and a dark sense of humor that matched your own, and for once, you felt like someone truly understood you.

One afternoon, armed with your usual cleaning supplies, you ventured into Vander’s room. The smell of leather and whiskey greeted you, the space feeling too personal and too painful all at once. You set to work, wiping down surfaces and straightening the disheveled bed. That’s when you saw it—a faint trace of perfume on the sheets, an unfamiliar bracelet left on the nightstand. Your heart sank as the pieces fell into place.

The evidence was undeniable. Vander had been bringing women here, sharing with them what you had only dared to dream of. Your hands trembled as you clutched the cleaning rag, your mind a whirlwind of anger, heartbreak, and resignation. The room blurred around you as tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them away, forcing yourself to keep working. After all, what else could you do?

When you finally finished, the room looked pristine, but your heart felt more battered than ever. You closed the door softly behind you, retreating to the quiet sanctuary of the bar below, where Silco was waiting with his usual knowing gaze.

Vander had started to notice. Your avoidance wasn’t subtle, and the distance you kept from him gnawed at his thoughts. He tried to brush it off at first, chalking it up to long workdays or bad moods, but the silence lingered. Finally, one evening as Silco leaned casually at the bar, Vander cornered him.

"What’s going on with her?" Vander’s tone was gruff, but there was a flicker of worry in his eyes. "She’s been…different lately. Avoiding me. Did I do something?"

Silco smirked, swirling the drink in his hand. "You mean, did you finally push her too far?" He tilted his head, watching Vander closely. "She’s tired, old friend. And maybe she’s realizing some things aren’t worth chasing."

Vander frowned, leaning heavily on the counter. "I don’t understand."

"You wouldn’t," Silco said dryly, his voice laced with sarcasm. "But maybe you should pay attention for once. She’s been carrying more than just the weight of this bar. And it’s not something I can explain for her."

[will do part 2 with{N$FW},when likes reaches over 100]

#vander x reader #x reader #arcane #vander #zaundads #young silco #young vander #drama

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darlingdaisyfarm · 1 day ago

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fidds and reader newly wed headcanons?? maybe how the dynamic changes after being married, OwO im feral over that man I cant help myself (im so sorry emma-may 😔)

♡˚· fiddleford x reader newlyweds headcanons ·˚♡

a/n: a little bit nervous because ive never written him before, but he's such a sweetheart! i got some reqs for him, so expect more Fiddleford fics <3 (especially that ford x reader x fidds one ohh)

୨ৎ the first morning after the wedding you both wake up and realise you’re actually married now. it hits differently. you’re just lying tangled in sheets and he looks over at you all goofy-eyed, he’s not entirely sure how to start the day now that you’re his forever. so, naturally, he presses a kiss to your forehead and says something ridiculous like, “well, darlin’, guess we don’t gotta pretend anymore. you’re mine now.”

୨ৎ honestly, he thrives on the idea of being your husband. his heart beats faster whenever you call him “my husband,” and you’ll catch him grinning like a fool, no matter how much he tries to hide it

୨ৎ when he’s proud of you ohhh, boy he’ll tell everyone. “did I mention my partner just finished this big project? oh, you gotta see it, they’re a genius! ABSOLUTE genius! smarter than me, even!”

୨ৎ he's still awkward, so awkward. before, he had his own world of gadgets and mysteries, but now, you are the new mystery. his brain goes into overdrive at the simplest things, for example when you call him “honey” or leave him little notes around the house, doesn't matter how silly, it melts him. you might find him randomly fixing stuff around the house, but he's also sneaking glances at you, totally lost in his new reality of "oh, wow, this is MY person now." honestly, he gets all shy around you, still a little clumsy, but he loves you so much. when he tries to give you something he made, his hands shake a bit

୨ৎ he’s touchier after marriage. he was always affectionate, but now he does it ALWAYS. he’ll wrap his arms around your waist while you’re cooking, press his nose into your hair when you’re reading, fall asleep holding your hand. he’s yours now, and he wants to remind you of that every single second

୨ৎ after the wedding, Fidds is lowkey obsessed with documenting every little thing about married life (because he still can't believe he married such beautiful person like you). if you both take a walk through the woods, he’ll bring out his old camera, snap a photo, and get all sentimental about it. "i reckon this here’s the first time we’ve taken a walk together as a married couple. gotta remember this moment.” expect a scrapbook of your married life by next week

୨ৎ your wedding bands become a point of obsession for him. he’s constantly fiddling with his ring, twisting it around his finger and grinning every time he catches a glimpse of yours. “still can’t believe it,” he’ll say, holding your hand and running his thumb over the metal. “we’re really married. that's. . . wow.”

୨ৎ when you gently wipe grease off his cheek after he’s been tinkering for hours, he just stops, blinks at you. he’s trying not to cry. he fails

୨ৎ if you'll kiss him first (usually it happens when hes rambling about some invention), so you just kiss him mid-sentence, he freezes for a second, hovering his hands in the air, not knowing what to do, before melting into it, kissing you back with this little laugh. he loves the fact that you’re so open with your affection, he’s a big softie in disguise.

୨ৎ speaking of coffee, he steals sips of yours all the time, because “yours just tastes better, somehow”

୨ৎ your own inside jokes have blossomed since you married. Fidds can make a random reference about something that happened years ago and you’ll both burst into laughter

୨ৎ when you’re doing something productive, like working on a project or focusing on a task, Fidds likes to be near you. he can be just tinkering with his own creations, but he’ll make sure to peek at your work every now and then, and give you the most proud smile. “look at you, my little genius,” he’ll say, completely unaware that his compliments are giving you butterflies

୨ৎ shopping trips together!! he’s just so excited by the smallest things. he’ll find a weird gadget and be like, “hoo boy, look at this! can we get it? what if we used this for the house? or better yet, for our projects??” and just like that you’re leaving with random junk, this guy is obsessed with collecting anything that could possibly make your life together more fun

୨ৎ married life and science is a whole thing now. Fidds will tell you about new experiments, and instead of just nodding along, you end up helping out, usually in the form of holding things while he gets super excited. you’re his sounding board for crazy ideas. he looks at you as if you’ve just solved the world’s biggest mystery when you suggest something small, “hey Fidds what if we tried using duct tape for that?” you’re the reason his inventions have a chance at working

୨ৎ Fidds is an inventor, but he’s also a man who shows love in action. if you’re tired from work or a long day, he’s the one finding the blanket, making sure your feet are propped up and bringing you whatever snacks he can find in the fridge

୨ৎ one day, after a particularly frustrating project Fidds will come to you looking all defeated and will sit down on the couch, burying his face in his hands. and in that moment, you just get it. you sit beside him, silently handing him a cup of tea (you know he needs it) and just let him have a moment. sometimes that’s the thing he needs most. hes such a sad puppy though

୨ৎ also, spontaneous bursts of affection have become a thing. ehehehe he’ll walk in the door, glance at you, and before you know it, he’s spun you around for a hug like you’ve been apart for years. it’s never just “hey,” it’s always “there you are!!” you’ll be sitting on the couch watching TV, and suddenly he’ll kiss your temple without warning and murmur, “couldn’t imagine life without you, baby.” and then he goes back to his tools like it was nothing

୨ৎ arguments are rare, but when they do happen, he always apologizes first and his sincerity makes it impossible to stay mad at him for long

୨ৎ suddenly, every little thing becomes a team project. you’re cleaning up the attic, and Fidds already running to you, “hold on, hold on, we can make this a fun thing!”

୨ৎ dates with him be like: stargazing on the roof, a picnic under the tree in the yard or walking around the weirdest, most obscure spots in town just because they’re “interesting” (and because it’s funny to him). but more than all its because you’re his favorite person to explore the world with, no matter how strange

୨ৎ late-night talks about dreams and what the future holds when you both lay there, staring at the ceiling, he’ll start talking about the life you’re going to build.

“i wanna grow old with you, sugar. like, I don’t even care where we live, as long as I get to wake up next to you every day.”

୨ৎ you show him love too, of course. when you catch him fiddling with some new idea, you’ll pull him away for a break and give him the softest kiss on the cheek, telling him how amazing he is. “you’re brilliant, you know that?” and his whole face lights up because you’ve given him the biggest compliment ever

୨ৎ when you both get out of the shower, dripping wet, he’ll always catch you in a hug, pressing you against him. he’ll nuzzle into your damp hair and kiss your temple, feeling the droplets between you both. ahh this man is so tender

୨ৎ romantic dinners at home are perfect. its not some fancy restaurant, you prefer to eat home-cooked meal that Fiddleford probably messed up, but it still tastes amazing because he made it with you in mind

୨ৎ after a long day of work, Fidds doesn’t just greet you at the door with a kiss, no, he prefers to pick you up, wrapping his arms around your waist and lifting you off the ground for a second as he spins you around in a dizzying, loving hug

୨ৎ sometimes he’ll just stare at you while you’re doing the most mundane thing, washing dishes, tying your shoe, whatever and then blurt out something like, “y'know, marryin’ you was the smartest thing I ever did.”

୨ৎ he’s the kind of guy who’ll pull you into a sudden, twirling hug just because he missed you while you were in the other room

୨ৎ Fiddleford is the most affectionate husband ever. this man’s idea of waking you up is to just cling to you, half asleep, rubbing his face into your hair. if you're a heavy sleeper, he’ll just nuzzle you with an adorable grunt and whisper, “i love you,”. he’s a bit of a morning cuddler, okay, maybe A LOT of a cuddler. you can't get away without some snuggles, not with this man.

୨ৎ he still blushes like it's the first time when you compliment him. especially loves when you say stuff as “you’re so smart, Fidds,” and he’ll literally hide his face in his hands. ("aw, shucks, don’t go makin’ me all red now…")

“cmon, darlin’. . . just five more minutes” as he clings to you like a koala. when he eventually gets up, he grumbles, almost falls out of bed, but always kisses you first trying to prolong the moment

୨ৎ cooking together, absolutely. Fiddford’s idea of cooking is throwing random ingredients into a pot and seeing what happens. loves experiments!! he gets real excited when he’s got you by his side, though.

୨ৎ there's probably some moments where he's way too deep in his work and forgets to take care of himself, but you’re there to remind him to drink water and maybe throw in some playful teasing (sometimes gets embarrassed about it, but also secretly so happy)

୨ৎ he loves going on random road trips with you! he's packing up in the car and driving nowhere in particular. he usually turns on the radio, and it’s either some classic country or him singing at the top of his lungs to songs. he’s terrible at directions, so you end up lost, but it’s okay, because you end up having the best spontaneous adventures!

୨ৎ tries to teach you how to fix one of his machines, but you keep getting distracted by how cute he looks explaining everything. eventually, he catches on and starts teasing you about it

୨ৎ will always try to make you laugh, even if his humor is as chaotic as his brain, “why don’t skeletons fight each other? they don’t have the guts!”

#gravity falls x reader #gravity falls #gravity falls x you #x reader #gravity falls smut #fiddleford x reader #fiddleford mcgucket #fiddleford hadron mcgucket #young fiddleford #Fiddleford x you #fiddleford my beloved #gravity falls headcanons #gravity falls fanfiction

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meadowfics · 14 hours ago

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tall shadows

cho hyun-ju x male!reader

warnings: descriptions of death, guns, injury, mentions of transphobia, i am not a man but I hope I wrote this one right for the male!readers🩷, i am not responsible for the content you choose to read.

requested? no.

word count: 715

the sound of the buzzer reverberated through the cold concrete walls as the players shuffled into the dimly lit room. this was the game… a place where survival trumped morality and every step forward came at the cost of someone else’s failure.

as one of the tallest players, standing at an imposing 6’4”, you naturally stood out.

heads turned to look at you, not just because of your height, but because of the way you carried yourself…a mix of calm and determination. you had been here for hours now, and though no one knew your story, they could see you weren’t here by choice. nobody was here by choice.

basketball had been your life. you were good at it, maybe even great, until that fateful day when a career-ending injury left you broken…both physically and financially. the surgery saved your life but cost you everything else.

that’s how you found yourself here, fighting for a chance to erase the crushing debt that loomed over you like a shadow.

among the sea of players clad in identical green tracksuits, one figure caught your eye. player 120. she stood apart, not just in presence, but in how she seemed to shrink under the weight of everyone else’s judgment.

she was beautiful..her soft features framed by loose strands of her dark hair, her brown eyes betraying a sadness she seemed determined to hide. you noticed how she avoided eye contact with anyone, as if bracing for rejection before it even came.

you had spent time in the states before for basketball, long enough to meet people like player 120..people who were unapologetically themselves despite how the world treated them. it didn’t matter to you that she was different; in fact, it made her all the more interesting.

then came mingle.

the robotic voice called out the rules, monotone and devoid of any humanity:

two players.

the music stopped, and panic spread like wildfire. players scrambled to find someone, anyone, who might increase their odds of survival. the chaos was deafening, but your eyes were fixed on hyunju.

she stood still, staring at the ground, her hands fidgeting nervously. she expects that no one will approach her. that no one even looked her way.

without hesitation, you crossed the room, weaving through the frantic crowd. hyunju didn’t notice you at first, too lost in her own thoughts. it wasn’t until you stopped in front of her and said,

“come with me,” that she looked up, wide-eyed.

“what?” her voice was soft, hesitant.

“the rooms are filling up. come on.” you extended your hand, not giving her a chance to decline.

her gaze darted around the room as you both ran into one of the green doors.. disbelief written all over her face.

the two of you stepped into one of the last remaining rooms, the door sliding shut behind you with an ominous thud.

for a moment, there was silence. hyunju stood near the corner, her arms crossed as if trying to make herself smaller. you leaned against the wall, studying her.

“thank you,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

“you… you saved my life.”

“no need to thank me,” you replied.

“besides, it’s not like i was going to let you stand out there alone and get shot by those monsters in shape masks.”

she chuckled softly, though there was still an edge of uncertainty in her expression.

“most people wouldn’t have chosen me.”

“well, i’m not most people.” your tone was light, but your words carried weight.

hyunju glanced at you, her cheeks tinged with a faint blush. “you’ve been looking at me a lot,” she teased, a small smile playing on her lips.

you grinned, unbothered by her observation.

“of course i’m going to look when i see a beautiful lady.”

120’s blush deepened, and for the first time since you’d seen her, she looked genuinely flustered.

“you… you’re something else,” she murmured, her smile growing.

you didn’t know what the next game would bring or if either of you would survive, but in that room, with hyunju standing across from you, you knew that you wanted to protect her. not because you thought she was weak, but because you saw strength in her that she didn’t yet seem to recognize.

masterlist

#cho hyunju #cho hyunju x reader #squid game fanfic #hwang jun ho #squid game #squid game s2 #kang dae ho #squid game season 2 #lgbtqia

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redfoxwritesstuff · 17 hours ago

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Garden Kisses

Summary: As humanity's first year comes to a close, you spend the night watching the only two humans pass their time. The courtship of humans moved faster than that of angels but perhaps tonight the two of you could court at the speed of humans.

“Did you like the ducks?” Lucifer asked, bright blue eyes looking back at you as he fluttered his six pure white wings, floating suspended in the air easily. “I love when they’re still babies.”

“They’re adorable,” you laughed, smile wide as you scooted toward the trunk of the tree, giving him room to settle next to you. “I loved them most.”

“Oh, good.” Lucifer sat, reaching forward to rock the round fruit of the tree, where it was hanging from the branch.

No matter the season, the fruits from the two sacred trees hung, ripe, tempting, and ready to eat. The fruit if neither the Tree of Life nor the Tree of Knowledge of Good And Evil held no temptation for either angel, though the two humans walking in the distance sometimes would look just a little too long at the trees.

“Do you ever feel bad?” you asked, poking the fruit yourself.

“For what?” Lucifer asked, watching a fruit fall to the ground where it would rot, untouched, as each fruit that fell had throughout the first year of humanity.

“Putting these trees in the garden?” You ran your fingers reverently over the trunk of the tree.

Within the fruits was the cognitive ability to weigh what was good or bad, the simple ability to question and think for one’s self. It was an ability you and Luci had, the angels had, but the divine father had decided that humanity could not be trusted with it.

“Father wanted the trees here,” Lucifer said obediently. “So, I created them here.”

“It seems…” you hesitated before continuing. “It seems like it’s setting them up for failure.”

“My stars,” Lucifer’s wings fluttered as he slipped off the branch, hovering in front of you. “We must have faith. Our Father knows what is best. He created man and woman in His image. They’ve resisted thus far- a whole year!”

“You’re right.” A bright smile spread onto your face, the shadows of questioning and doubt washed away. “The humans are doing well, yes?”

“They are,” Lucifer nodded, looking back at the two figures in the distance. Long blond hair ran down the woman’s back, shimmering in the moonlight. “I think they’re still doing thier courtship dance.”

“Oh!” You leaned forward, nearly slipping off the branch yourself. “What does human courtship look like?”

You were well versed in the courtships of many of the animals Lucifer had created. There were things that sounded harsh at times, but each step of the different processes accomplished a task, ensuring the animal continued to reproduce as the Father wanted and as Lucifer designed.

“I’m not sure.” Lucifer looked down, his own bright smile faltering before he pushed it back on his face. “Our Father saw to the designs alone.”

“Really?” This news had your wings fluttering anew.

Lucifer was the angel of creation. Everything he made was inspired, beautiful in its own way. He was the Father’s favorite son. Lucifer had been the architect of all you had seen in the living world. The very idea that something existed in this realm that his fingers had not touched had your mind spinning.

“They are not your children, then?” Your eyes flickered between Lucifer and the woman, how she was pulling away from the man. They had been yelling at one another most of the night.

“No,” Lucifer’s soft hair shifted as he shook his head. “They’re our brother and sister.”

“Does it bother you?” you whispered, once again toeing the line you both knew existed. “That you didn’t get to make them?”

“Oh, no!” Lucifer laughed, a bright, clear sound that always reminded you of heaven’s bells. Would humanity discover bells? “It’s been fun to watch them as they discover the world and how to court.”

“Is it much different from us?” You and Lucifer had danced around the early stages of angelic courtship for decades now, though to beings like you that was hardly more than weeks. Soft touches, lingering smiles and the simple, godly act of sharing time together had dominated the stage the two of you were at.

“They do things faster.” Lucifer spun around, dancing in the air with the simple joy of learning about a new creation. “Courtship that takes us decades- they do much faster. They’re more physical than much of my creations have been, too.”

“Oh?” You danced through the air with him, robes brushing against his as you drew close but never touching him. Touching was far beyond what one did at the point of courtship that you and Lucifer were at. “How so?”

“Well,” Lucifer reached out, taking your hand up in his.

He was touching you. His hand wrapped around yours, warm and soft. Blood rushed to your face, casting your skin in a golden glow as you looked at where your bodies touched with wide eyes. “Luci?”

His hand dropped yours as if something stung him. “I’m sorry-” His voice came out in a high pitched squeak, his face joining yours in the burning glow of embarrassment. “We’re not- we’re not there yet. It’s too soon, isn’t it?”

You wanted to tell him he was wrong. You didn’t mind him grabbing your hand. It surprised you, that was all. Heat burned in your hand, driving you to rub it as you timidly looked up at the man, your mentor, and crush, as he did the same.

“What if…” You took a long, slow breath in as you tried to will the next words to spill from your mouth.

“What if what?” Lucifer prodded.

“What if we were there?” Your voice came out in a soft whisper, face flushed golden as you looked everywhere but at Lucifer. “What if we courted the same the humans are, at their speed instead of…”

“Oh,” Lucifer fluttered back, unsure.

“I’m sorry,” you quickly settled back onto the branch. “I don’t know what I’m thinking.”

“Do you want to…” Lucifer settled on the branch next to you again, eyes trained straight ahead as he looked at the two humans. “Do you want to court like the humans?”

Your eyes flickered, darting between the moon and stealing glances at the angel next to you. What you wanted to say was ‘yes’. The word was stuck in your throat, like some gummy piece of dried fruit. You opened and closed your mouth, trying to dislodge the word from your throat while he kept his gaze pointedly on the two humans in the distance.

After what feels like a lifetime, you give up on making the word come out. Instead, you inch your fingers closer and closer to his. He jumped, startled, as you initiate contact. Wide eyes, as blue as the oceans he had created for your Father, snapped to you.

“What happens now?” you timidly asked.

“I don’t know,” Lucifer admitted, mind working. “Adam… he kisses Lilith after he touches her hand.”

“Oh,” you couldn’t help giggling. “It takes angels a century to consider such a display.”

“Right?” Lucifer laughed.

“Luci?” You chewed on your lips, not really sure if you were brave enough to ask what you wanted to ask.

“Yes?” He answered simply, fingers wiggling under yours, not resting until both yours and his weaved together.

“Have you- have you ever kissed anyone?” You kept your eyes on where your hands touched, where his fingers and yours wove into a small fleshy fabric.

“I haven’t,” Lucifer admitted. “I’ve never even courted another before you.”

“Never?” You breathed the word out. He was the Morningstar, the oldest among his kind. He was the Father’s favorite. How could he have not courted at least once?

“Why not?” You prepared your heart to break, to be told that none were good enough, though you knew full well that what the both of you had been doing was courting.

“Never wanted to before.” Lucifer looked down, taking in the perfect vegetation below for a few long heartbeats. Then he looked at where your hand was intertwined with his. “How long do you think is left, until humanity’s first year ends and thier second begins?”

“Oh.” The change in subject left you feeling off kilter. Looking up at the moon and stars above, you walked through the calculation to determine the time- not that time particularly mattered for humanity just yet. It was little more than one of the many ways the angels logged and cataloged the events of the universe. “It’s just a minute or two, maybe less, I’d say.”

“I know what I want out of the next year of humanity.” Lucifer ran his thumb softly along your hand.

“What do mean?”

“I want to experience live as they do,” Lucifer nodded his head toward the humans in the distance. “I want to experience the things they do. I want to court like they do.”

“Does that mean you want to be them?”

“I want to do the things they do. Sometimes, I want to do the things how they do it.” Lucifer was making no more sense the more he talked.

“Are you saying you want to kiss… someone?” You finally forced the words out, sending a prayer to your Father that you were not making an incorrect assumption.

“No,” Lucifer said quickly, crushing your heart without a moment of hesitation.

“Oh-” you tried to take your hand from his, only to have his fingers tighten.

“No, no- that’s not what I meant.” Words flowed from Lucifer’s lips quickly. Each word blended into the other, threatening to lose their meaning. “I don’t want to kiss just anyone. I don’t want meaningless kisses. I don’t- I don’t know if kisses can be meaningless but.. I don’t want to throw them away.”

“Then who-?”

“You!” Lucifer rushed to answer, turning to face you with his face a bright, radiant gold. “I want to kiss you. I mean, can I kiss you? Will you let me kiss you? Oh, golly- that’s too much. I’m asking for too much.”

“Yes,” you said simply, face glowing hot and heart pounding against your chest. “You can.”

“I can?” Lucifer asked one last time. “Are you sure- we’ve only been in early courting for- for three years and I just touched you- things, it’s too fast for you.”

“Please?” you asked sweetly. “You wanted to do things like the humans are. I’m in. I- I want to too. Please, kiss me?”

“You’re sure?” He asked one more time, eyes dipping down to look at your lips.

“I am,” you promised.

Lucifer leaned forward, both your and his body twisting to face each other. Your eyes fluttered shut as Lucifer’s did the same. It felt like it took forever for his lips to softly press against yours.

The kiss was short, a sweet, chaste moment shared between two innocent souls. Though you didn’t know it at the time, the kiss had started the man you loved onto the path of learning, exploring, and experiencing things through the eyes of humanity. It was a path that would lead him away from you and to his damnation.

What you didn’t know at the moment, had no power to hurt you.

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