#all great thoughts! thanks for asking and sharing them with me

[vettelsvee]

letting oscar take your virginity to celebrate his win

(if this makes you uncomfortable please to deny or only write fluffy before/after!) love ur work sm

V CARDS GOODBYES | Oscar Piastri

Oscar Piastri x Girlfriend!Reader

SUMMARY: Oscar arrives home after winning his first ever Formula 1 race, so you think it’s the perfect time for you to celebrate and, also, to say goodbye to your v card ↳ REQUESTED BY ANON: Hope you like it anon! And sorry it's taken me almost a year I'm a mess 😭

WORD COUNT: 3958

WARNINGS: Smut (virginity loss, female receiving oral sex, fingering, p in v, protected sex, little bit of praising kink), curse words

VEE'S NOTES: Came to the conclusion after the latests Oscar fics I’ve posted that he's the most popular driver on my Tumblr page, so this is for all my Osc people out there! I'm always ashamed of posting smut (but still want to keep writing it) so I hope this is good enough for you to enjoy! Remember that your comments and reblogs are truly appreciated! Thanks for reading <3 (Also, thoughts on the new layout?) ↳ MAKE YOUR REQUESTS | TALK TO ME! | FORMULA 1 MASTERLIST

© VETTELSVEE (2025). please, do not steal, copy or translate my works. thanks for reading!

The door of the apartment you shared in Monaco opened, and before Oscar could step inside, he heard excited screams that made it clear someone was more than happy about his arrival.  

Not only did your cat start rubbing against his leg while purring, but also you, his girlfriend, were hopping towards him, barefoot and wrapped in one of his McLaren hoodies, which turned out to be even bigger on you than you had expected when you decided it would be a great idea to steal it from your boyfriend.  

"You did it, Osc!” you squealed as you threw your arms around his neck. "Osc, oh my God, you won a race! Do you know what that means?"  

Oscar felt his cheeks turn red. Of course, he knew exactly what winning a Grand Prix meant, especially during his second season in Formula 1. However, all he did was shrug, as if his achievement wasn’t that important.  

"Yeah," was all he could say.  

"I’m so, so proud of you," you said in a trembling voice, standing on your tiptoes to cup his face in your hands.  

"I couldn’t have done it without you, even though you were here," Oscar replied sincerely, a hint of regret in his tone. If there was one thing he regretted, it was that you hadn’t been there with him throughout the whole process of stepping onto the podium.  

"I know you would have liked me to be there, and I would’ve loved that too," you replied, making a sad but funny face. "But it’s okay! I screamed at the TV a lot, so I guess I helped in some way… And I’m sure you’ll win more races and I’ll be there to see them all, so it’s not the end of the world!"

Oscar chuckled and pulled you close until there was no space between you. He allowed himself a few moments to hold onto you, gently running his fingers through your hair while you clung tightly to his shirt, pressing your face into his chest as if he might disappear at any second.  

"Hey… I have something for you."

Even though you whispered it, Oscar heard you perfectly. You bit your lip,. a telltale sign of nervousness he knew well, as you pulled away from him. Then, you quickly headed towards the living room, with the Australian following you, and grabbed a small book he had never seen before.  

Carefully, as if it were fragile, you handed it to your boyfriend.  

"Open it… I hope you like it!"

Oscar did as you asked. Gently, he opened what he soon realized was a photo album. It wasn’t just a collection of pictures of you from the past two years since you started dating. It was beautifully decorated. There were messages, and even reflections from your perspective about each memory you had built together.  

"I know it’s not a big deal, but since I was so bored with studying, I have to admit I procrastinated a bit and felt like doing some crafts, so… well, this was the result," you said hesitantly, as if you were confessing a crime, though a small smile crept onto your lips. "Maybe you were expecting something else, I don’t know, but I hope you like it. You could even take it with you whenever you have to travel, so you remember me and also add something else if you feel in the mood," you added softly.  

Oscar felt a lump in his throat, unsure of what to say. Although he was used to you being thoughtful, and he always tried to reciprocate, you somehow kept outdoing yourself.  

"Y/N, this is…" he trailed off, struggling to find the right words. More accurately, he didn’t know how to express them. "It’s incredible. Thank you so much."

You smiled and gave him a gentle kiss on the lips, which, as you both expected, quickly turned into something more desperate, fueled by your hunger for each other.  

Oscar’s hands found your waist beneath the hoodie, his fingers tracing invisible lines along your skin, moving up and down, even toying with the clasp of your bra. The only thing you could do was keep kissing him, tugging at his hair lightly and pressing yourself against his thigh, seeking friction to ease the growing ache within you.  

Then, you suddenly pulled away, more abruptly than Oscar had expected. Your pupils were completely dilated, your lips swollen, and your hair a complete mess.  

"Oscar…" 

"Y/N…"

"I want to do it."

Your voice was barely a whisper. Oscar’s eyes widened, surprised because, even though he perfectly understood what you meant, hearing you say it out loud was an entirely different feeling.  

"Bebe…" 

"I really, really want to do it, Osc," you repeated, more as a confirmation to yourself than to him. "Yesterday, you lost your v-card in Formula 1 with your victory, so… I was thinking maybe I could lose mine too."  

Oscar had known from the very beginning of your relationship that you had never been physically involved with anyone beyond a couple of kisses and teasing. At first, you had been insecure about telling him, worried about feeling ashamed, but Oscar had always made sure you felt safe and comfortable, promising you would only take steps forward when you were truly ready.  

Today, your words made clear that you finally felt like that moment arrived, and that filled Oscar with happiness not because you were about to have sex, but because it meant you were finally comfortable enough with yourself to take that step.  

"Are you… sure?" he asked, even though he already knew the answer. "You know we don’t have to rush anything… I don’t want you to feel like we have to do this just because, you know…" 

"I know, Osc, and I promise I wouldn’t be bringing this up if I weren’t sure," you reassured him, looking into his eyes as you ran your fingers over his hands. "I love you, and most importantly, I trust you. I’ve thought about this for a long time, and well… yeah."

"It’s just… I don’t want to mess anything up, Y/N. This is really important, and it should be perfect,” he confessed with a nervous chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck.  

You smiled, cupping his face and bringing him closer for a kiss.  

"It doesn’t have to be perfect as long as it’s with you, Osc.”

"Okay, but… if you change your mind at any point, you tell me," Oscar insisted. You laughed, rolling your eyes.  

"I promise, really."

Your lips met again, but this time much slower. Oscar took his time kissing you carefully, wanting to do everything right. He cradled your cheek with one hand to deepen the kiss, while the other wrapped around your back, guiding you gently toward the bedroom you shared.  

Once inside, he forced himself to stop and take a deep breath to avoid panicking, even though there was no reason to.  

You stood in front of him, looking at him with a mix of shyness and adoration that reminded him of your early days, when you just used to go out for coffee or to the movies back in high school.  

Oscar couldn’t help but look at you with an equally shy, yet utterly endearing, expression.  

"Tell me if you want me to stop, alright?"

"I will, yeah."  

You didn’t need to say anything else since kissing spoke for you. You took your time, enough for Oscar to make sure you felt completely comfortable, enough for you to overthink just a little more before deciding if you really wanted to continue…  

*"I love you, Oscar…" you murmured between kisses. You tugged at his shirt, helping him pull it off, running your hands over his bare chest as if you were seeing him for the first time.  

"I love you too, Y/N…" 

With nerves and hands shakier than he would have liked, almost as if he were the inexperienced one, he took hold of the hem of your hoodie and slowly lifted it over your head, leaving you in just your underwear.  

Oscar was surprised to see you in black lace lingerie instead of the usual shorts you wore around the house. He was about to say something, but you didn’t give him the chance. You closed the distance between you, pressing your foreheads together before kissing him once again.  

Neither knew how long you were like this, but you both agreed that it had been long enough to discover that you needed more of each other.

Oscar ended up forcing himself to pull away from you and take a breath. A smile curved between his lips, which caused you, somewhat nervously, to giggle at the situation and hug him around the waist, pulling him closer to you while trying not to shove him away.

“Really, we don't have to do it if you don't want to, Y/N,” the McLaren driver insisted once again.

“I've been looking forward to doing this for a long time, and I've been mentally preparing for it for a while,” she told him, trying not to sound uneasy. “I trust you, Osc, and there's nothing for you to worry about.”

“So...?”

“I want you to make me yours, Oscar. Today, tomorrow or whenever and wherever you want,” you whispered in his ear as sensually as you could.

“Y/N…”

“Oscar: I just want you to fuck me.”

You felt your boyfriend tense up after those words that had caught even you off guard. Instinctively, you brought your hand to the noticeable bulge under Oscar's pants, but when you tried to reach for the button to unbutton them, he pushed your hands away lovingly.

“No, honey, none of that for now. Today is your day, so let me do the work and just enjoy yourself.”

Oscar, without another word, took you by the chin and kissed you again for the umpteenth time that day. Now, your lips moved at a slower speed. You guessed it was because you noticed how one of Oscar's hands began to massage one of your breasts, giving special attention to the nipple. With the other, he lightly brushed your pussy, making you gasp when he decided to play with your clit.

“Do you like it, babe?” he asked in a tone of voice that showed too much excitement.

His fingers now delved a little deeper into your intimacy, those enveloping movements becoming a little faster.

“Yes, Osc...” you barely managed to answer.

That answer was enough for the Australian to stop immediately. You didn't even look him in the face. Oscar pulled away from you, leaving a quick kiss on your lips and starting a trail of kisses all over your body, stopping once he reached your lower stomach area.

“Y/N…”

His hands stood delicately on your thighs, which he was now kissing, closer and closer to your pussy. Your hair stood on end. Your breath was completely held, unable to breathe in case that put an end to it all, as if that would be enough for Oscar to finish whatever he was doing with you. 

“If anything we do tonight makes you uncomfortable and you want to stop, just tell me please,” the Australian declared. “And, before your little head starts thinking nonsense: no, I'm not going to get mad at you because you don't want to have sex, okay? If you don't want to…”

“Oscar, look at me,” you cut him off, and the boy immediately listened to you: “it's you, and I'm not going to feel uncomfortable with you and with anything you do to me.”

“Do you promise me, love?”

“I swear.”

Oscar nodded, grabbing your thighs again and dragging you to the edge of the bed so that his face was in front of your pussy, perfectly aligned with your entrance.

Without warning, he slid his tongue, flat, all over it with a slowness that was completely unbearable and that seemed that, rather than pleasing you, he wanted to kill you little by little. His movements were frantic; constant changes of speed, from faster to slower, and vice versa, that made his nose rub against your clit while his tongue seemed to do wonders with that dance.

When Oscar's tongue began to explore inside you, and his index finger, the one he used to show on camera every time he got a first position just like Sebastian Vettel did in his golden age, started a tortuous tour of your labia majora, you curled up shyly but instinctively. Your hands ended up tangled in his hair, forcing him closer to you at the same time your hips did the same.

“I think you're liking it, aren't you my little girl?” Piastri said, ending his oral contact with you and replacing it with his finger. His gaze was fixed on her, and you thought about why he hadn't done this to you before.

“Don't stop, Osc. For the sake of God, don't even think about stopping...” you gasped, becoming increasingly unable to articulate a word.

He didn't have to say anything else. After those words, Oscar slipped a second finger inside you. You let out a small gasp of surprise and he, without taking his eyes off you, laughed, your cheeks turning red almost instantly. Despite this, he kissed your thighs as he continued the back and forth with his index finger, adding his heart almost soon after while increasing even more the speed.

You felt that everything was going too fast, and the waves of pleasure that were flooding you were making you lose, more and more, the notion of time. You didn't know at what point, but when he decided to add his tongue back into the equation, without leaving the movements of his fingers inside you going straight to that spot that gave you the most pleasure, a strange sensation gripped the lower part of your stomach.

It was getting harder and harder for you to hold back your orgasm. You felt how your eyes were closing little by little, and your leg, too, to which Oscar put a little pressure on them to prevent them from closing.

“Come for me, love,” Oscar let you know. “Come on, Y/N, you've got it babe. Come on…”

And so you did.

Your back curved in such a way that your body, completely sweaty, could hardly keep on writhing as it was doing. You were moaning like you had never moaned before, and your boyfriend seemed to notice. A smirk of satisfaction and success began to break from his lips as he licked at your fluids, his mouth moving slowly now, over-stimulating your clit and making you incessantly.

The Australian rose and carefully positioned himself on top of you.

“I love you, Y/N, you don't know how much,” he said between kisses, making you taste yourself for the first time, but hopefully not the last one. “You are the most beautiful girl in the world... And the best girl in the world. Don't ever doubt it.”

“Oscar, don't…”

“Yes you are, Y/N, and I will not allow you to speak so negatively about yourself.”

After those last words, the driver pulled away from you slightly, trying yo give you some time to recover. Then, you looked at him taking what seemed to be a condom from the bedside table, which he carefully put on and immediately positioned at your entrance. 

You swallowed, while Oscar tried not to think about whether he was really going too fast.

·I don't want to sound weird, but... please, if you want me to stop, just tell me,” Oscar spoke as best he could, trying not to succumb to the nerves he felt about taking this important step with you. “I want you to be pretty sure about this since… Well, since there’s not going back…”

You said nothing. Instead, you gave him a slight nod with your head, still looking at him, which was enough for Oscar to enter you carefully, but without a previous warning.

He decided to stand for a while so you could get used to his length. You felt a little pain. You held back a scream, bit your lips and closed your eyes to do your best to make that feeling go away as soon as possible.

“Y/N…”

“Go on, Oscar. It's all right…”

The boy nodded, and finished entering you with the same care. Little by little, his movements gained speed. You arched your back, moaning incessantly as she started feeling more comfortable with the depth of penetration, and Oscar hitting her in a spot that made her feel a pleasure that you feel in a way you didn’t know how to describe, but that felt good enough to make you never want that sex session to end.

“Does it feel good, honey? Are you enjoying my... cock... for the first time?” Oscar moaned, biting her neck. “Look at you… so desperate for me to keep fucking you…”

“Fuck, Oscar... this is a fantasy,” you gasped. “And you talking so... like… like this... God... Don't stop, please…”

“Never for you, sweetheart.”

Your moans became one, a melody that your neighbors were probably listening to but you didnt give a fuck. Your gazes could hardly be averted, and your words, getting dirtier and dirtier as much as your were embarrassed at first, were sounding louder and louder, as were your pleas.

“Oscar!” you shrieked as you felt Oscar's fingers press against you nervous bundle.”

“Love...” he moaned through his teeth. ”Don't stop moaning my name, please. You don't know how you're making me feel right now.

·And of course I'm going to make you feel so much better when we do this again,” you replied, choking with pleasure. As best you could, you sat up a little and wrapped you arms around you boyfriend's neck. “I want to do it again, Osc,” you made it clear. “I want us to do this every time we get the chance....”

You kept moaning his name, giving him promises you knew he would never break. He kept reassuring you and how good you were doing, speeding up his movements as he couldn’t stop playing with your clit, all of that while he kept telling you that you were his.

You couldn't contain it anymore for the second time that day.

“Fuck, Osc,” he stammered. “I think I'm gonna…”

“Let yourself go, honey,” the brown-haired said. “You can do it, love. Cum for me.”

Your orgasm came before you could say anything else. Oscar came within seconds of you, and as soon as he did he ended, he gave you a short kiss on the lips as he carefully pulled out of heyour and collapsed beside you. 

Oscar's gaze remained fixed on the ceiling. You rested your head on his shoulder, trying to regain your composure with increasingly slower breaths. 

“You ok babe?” Oscar murmured after a few minutes.

“Yes,” you whispered, nodding your head with a smile peeking out. “Better than ever, actually.”

It was then that it dawned on Oscar. Quickly, he sat up a little and saw what was under where you were still positioned. His heart began to race, and a pressure settled in his chest as he realized the light blue bed sheets were stained slightly with blood as was his condom, still on him and which he hadn't paid attention to because he just wanted to be with you cuddling after he'd made you lose your virginity.

“Hey, listen, love…” he started to say in a calm, but concerned tone.

You followed his gaze, and couldn't help but blush and die of embarrassment inside.

“Oh...” you spoke quietly, instinctively covering yourself with the sheets. “This... is normal. Well, I guess so…”

“Does it hurt? Are you hurt?”

You shook your head, denying it, though the look on your face seemed to say otherwise.

“Well… It's just a little... just a little sore. But it's fine, really. It happens when you have sex for the first time with someone.”

Oscar studied your face, and he knew you wanted to stop this conversation. You wanted to let it go and pretend everything was fine so you wouldn't give him any sign that you hadn't liked it, even though your moans and pleas seemed to say otherwise.

“Still, you shouldn't let it go.”

The Australian approached you and gave you a shy kiss on the forehead. Then he got out of bed, still naked.

·Where are you going?” you asked in a voice mixed with curiosity and nervousness.

“I'm going to get a towel with hot water to clean you up.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but he was already heading towards the bathroom while taking off his condom. As you heard the faucet turn on, and your boyfriend getting everything ready, you couldn't help but feel bad because, maybe, Oscar deserved better, and your behavior, what was happening to you now, was not what he deserved.

You forced yourself to stop overthinking because if there’s one thing you knew for sure is that Oscar loved you, more than sometimes you were conscious of.

Your boyfriend came back a few minutes later, and found you sitting on the bed, curled up on yourself and clinging to the sheets while still covering with them, as if you were afraid.

“You don't have to…”

“I know,” Oscar cut you off, offering you a small smile, “but I want to. So, please, just let me take care of you.”

Your eyes softened at his proposal, and you forced yourself to calm down as Oscar, with his gaze and his hands coyly on your thighs, asked your permission to spread your legs. You nodded, and he carefully ran the wet towel and hot water over your pussy, giving it little touches because he didn't want to risk it stinging or hurting any more because he really didn't know exactly how the female body worked after losing your virginity.

When he finished, he kissed her knee and sat down next to her again, also covering himself with the sheets so he could hug her and, more than anything else, try to reassure her and make her feel as good as possible.

“There, that's it, all settled. Now, let's stay here and rest.”

“Was it good?”

Oscar let out a small laugh from his mouth at your sudden question as he leaned over to you and snuggled into your shoulder. 

”You've been amazing, love,” he replied, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you closer to him. Now you were both lying on your bed, looking at each other. “Are you okay now that… Did I hurt you? I need you to be honest with me... I should have asked you if you liked the pace I decided to take because, well, I’m not going to lie to you, I think I could have gone a little slower...”

You shook your head and didn't give him a chance to keep talking. Instead, you grabbed his face and pressed your lips to his.

“You don't have to worry about anything, Osc. It was far from perfect. So, from now on, I hope you win more races because from today on, winning sex has become a tradition that I hope we keep for a long time.”

Oscar laughed, knowing you were completely serious.

“We can make a tradition of this and anything else you want, love,” he buried his face in yours, and began to tickle your waist gently. “We can even have several rounds if you want, so… thoughts on that? Should we keep ready for a second round today?”

[star-writes-sometimes]

aftercare with fwb!thanos

c/w - aftercare so mentions of sex, drug use (marijuana), friends with benefits arrangement

—

thanos’ body weight slumps against you, his cool sweaty chest snugly against yours. his nose nudges against your neck and you can hear him catching his breath. your legs are shaking slightly but you relax as his hands run along your skin.

he kisses your neck and groans quietly in your ear, “fuck, dude, you’re so sexy.”

you laugh and turn your head to face him, “you just finished fucking me and now you’re calling me dude?”

thanos smirks and uses one hand to hold himself above you. his other hand caresses your cheek, “‘cause it’s true,” he says simply, leaning down to kiss you lazily, “you are very very sexy, dude.”

you slap his arm lightly and laugh more, “shut up.”

his smile widens and he kisses you again, deeper this time but still unrushed. you moan softly and lift your head slightly to meet his lips properly.

he pulls away from you and pushes your hair out of your face. he smiles fondly at you before kissing your forehead and getting out of bed.

with more space on the bed you stretch and groan at the burning in your thigh muscles. you sit up against the headboard and try to smooth your hair out with your fingers.

two months ago you would never even consider hanging out with him alone, and being in his bed hadn’t crossed your mind. the only reason you were sort of friends with him was because of how many mutual friends you had. plus, he was always willing to share his weed or whatever other drug he was trying that week.

so when you realised you had run out of bud and your usual dealer was out of town, you knew it would be easier to tolerate thanos for a couple of hours rather than try and convince a new dealer to sell to you.

you didn’t even have his number, but after asking your friend for it, you texted him and explained the problem. you asked if you could buy a few grams off him and he was eager to invite you over.

your plan was to just give him the money, get the weed and be on your merry way. but he asked you to come in, asked if you would join him for a couple cones before leaving. it wasn’t in your plan to be half naked on his couch, moaning loudly while his face was buried in between your thighs but it just seemed to be how the night was destined to go.

he didn’t make you pay for the weed and he didn't ask for anything in return. he just gave you a small baggie of weed and one of the best orgasms of your life, then kissed you on the cheek and sent you on your way.

but now two months have passed and it’s impossible to say you don’t plan this anymore. you like him, way more than you ever thought you would. he’s a great fuck buddy and a surprisingly good friend. he’s different when you were alone together in his apartment but even when you hang out with all your friends you don’t find him as annoying as you used to.

thanos wanders back in the room, wearing boxers and carrying a few things. he kneels on the bed next to you and grins, “miss me, baby?”

“what happened to ‘dude’?” you ask playfully.

he shrugs and uses some tissues to clean up the sticky mess between your thighs, “you could be my baby dude,” he throws the soiled tissues on the nightstand carelessly and hands you one of his oversized tshirts, “or my dude baby.”

you scrunch your nose up and slip the shirt on, “no, thanks.”

“aw, c’mon toots. you usually love my nicknames.”

“toots isn’t great either.”

he smirks and leans in close to you, cupping your cheek in his hand, “don’t worry i know what you like to be called,” he teases, kissing along your neck, “my pretty girl.”

your thighs clench ever so slightly reminding you of the burn radiating through them. you groan softly and pout up at him, “thanos.”

“i’m sorry,” he grins and pulls away from you, pecking your lips as he does, “i’ll stop.”

you roll your eyes and sit up a bit more, “you’re mean.”

he moves to be sitting against the headboard next to you. he grabs a joint from the nightstand and lights it up. he blows the smoke out languidly, “you love it though.”

you huff and snatch the joint from him for yourself. he just laughs and throws an arm around you, manhandling you so you are resting against him. he grabs the remote and puts a cartoon on as background noise. 

you feel your body relax as you exhale and hand the joint back to him. you pull the blanket over both of you and snuggle into him. it’s peaceful like this. slow and sluggish in a way that makes you feel safe.

“now you’re being friendly,” he teases.

“shut up,” you whine.

“i love seeing you like this.”

“are you capable of being quiet?”

“still being mean to me but i know you love me.”

“says who.”

“well i don’t see you cuddling up to many people,” he says smugly and passes you the joint, “and you don’t like sharing joints.”

“well you’re the only person who has joint etiquette.”

“use all the excuses you want, princess, doesn’t change the facts.”

“you’re annoying. that’s a fact.”

“you didn’t have an excuse for the cuddling though. interesting.”

you stay silent for a moment, trying to think of an excuse. “you’re just comfy is all.”

“comfy?”

“yeah.”

he laughs and kisses your head. he pulls you impossibly closer to him, “that almost sounds like a compliment.”

you hum contently as he pulls you into an even comfier position. you take a long drag of the joint and give it back to him. “well. you’re not all bad.”

his smile grows wide and gasps dramatically, “well that is very high praise from you, baby.”

“yes, you should be very thankful.”

“i am.”

“good.”

it’s quiet for a few moments. thanos finishes the joint and discards the butt on the nightstand. his hands run along your skin, occasionally squeezing and pinching softly. it’s as if you are his own personal stress toy but you enjoy it, it’s comforting.

“stay the night?” he whispers, his hands stilling for a moment, “please.”

your body tenses up slightly at his request. even though you have done whatever this is over a dozen times now you haven’t stayed the night. you usually just share a couple smokes with him before ubering home.

but something about how soft this all is, how relaxed and peaceful he manages to make you feel has you nodding. you swear you can feel him relax even more as you nod and he kisses your forehead.

“good. i like having you here, princess,” he says with a grin, “you should stay forever.”

[truelovepolinator]

State of the Ship Address: Where we stand after the Hard Launch

Well, this has certainly been an interesting week, hasn’t it?

Last Saturday, I was the happiest of shippers, sharing why I’m so sure it’s Luke. By Wednesday, I was sharing my thoughts on why Nicola’s “just a friend” comment was nothing to worry about. Yes, truly, Nicola’s comment was a hit to the ship. A very palpable hit. Yet, we sailed on. Then on Thursday, well, the ship very nearly sunk with Luke’s Hugo Boss “hard launch” of Antonia. Nearly.

There’s one thing I’ll say I know for sure. Nicola knew she was getting that question about fans wanting her to marry Luke and she had her answer prepared. I have no doubt about that. In all likelihood, her people asked him to ask that question. Otherwise, it’s out of the box for that kind of industry/awards promotion interview. It’s not an interview for the fans, it’s for the voters. She WANTED to dispel the idea that she and Luke might have fallen in love on set because that perception would hurt her chances at the SAG Awards.

There’s no question that Nic and Luke decided together that the time had come to send an armed nuclear torpedo into the ship for once and for all. And so, they did. Indeed, it’s only thanks to our wits, grit, and some very skillful maneuvering that we managed to keep the ship from sinking to the bottom of the ocean. We may be taking on water, but we’re bailing it faster, and we’re still afloat, if only just.

This does not, however, mean that I’m ignoring what they’ve said this week. On the contrary, I’m paying very, very close attention. I’m paying attention not only to their words (or in Luke’s case, the story he’s telling with that hard launch), but also to the subtext, the backstory, the character histories, and the outtakes. I’m paying close attention both to what they’ve told us and to what they haven’t.

I’m thinking about every bit of it. I am, by nature, very analytical. In the Lukola intelligence community, I’d say I’m more of an analyst than a detective. I don’t go out there gathering information (tracking every tag, monitoring friends, family, adjacents, finding old, hidden content, etc.). I don’t even know how to get metadata from Instagram. I’d be grateful if someone could tell me.

But when the detectives bring me evidence, I analyze the hell out of it. There are great detectives out there, but that’s not my skillset. I’m great at sitting at my desk and studying the evidence presented to identify patterns, interpret clues, and assemble those clues into a watertight case.

I thought that’s what I had, a watertight case. And you need your case to be watertight when you’re sailing these rough seas, right?

Then this week, Nicola and Luke decided to tell me my case had fallen apart, and to be honest, I’m not sure how I feel. I’m not as devastated as I thought I might be. I think that’s because I’m still not sure I believe them. They’ve both told us the same thing this week, that they are absolutely, positively not together. They’ve told us in no uncertain terms. And I always thought I would believe them if that time came. And yet, there’s something just a little too suspicious and convenient about the timing for me to trust it entirely. It doesn’t quite pass the smell test.

To be clear, I’m not saying I definitely don’t believe them. I think it’s very possible they’ve told us the truth this week and we simply have to live with it. We have to shift our ship back to “endgame” mode, and out of “happening now” mode.

In some ways, this would be a relief. If I actually accepted that they are not together at all at this point, I could begin to let them go. If I don’t see their launch coming, why hang around? The wait for endgame could be eons. I love them together, but I could do a hell of a lot of other things with my time in the meantime. Why do I need to follow and discuss their every move if it’s not headed to the only result I care about? I could check out completely and let them do their thing.

I’ll watch Bridgerton, and their other work when it looks interesting, and otherwise peace out. I don’t have to be “a fan” to enjoy their work. I have loads of favorite actors whose work I love, and I follow very few of them on socials. I could simply shift NicLuke into that category and move on.

I don’t actually have to care so much about them. All this parasocial bs takes a lot of time and energy, and while that investment of time and energy is good for them because we keep them in the public discourse, it’s not necessarily the highest, best use of our time for ourselves, is it? I could just let it go. We could all just let it go. Wouldn’t that be a relief?

The problem is that I do care about them. They got us hooked during that World Tour and now we’re invested. I’m invested. I’ve put a lot into them and I’d like a return on my investment, thanks. I want to see them happy. Together. I want to see them happy together. Many of us do. So, what if we don’t get that?

Well, I’ll come back to that question. But right now, I’m more interested in the question of WHY. Why did they decide now was the time to torpedo the ship? After all these months of weird, yet skillful combination of utter silence and semi-explicit hints and breadcrumbs. Why now, after a year of active shipping, seven full months after the WT ended, long after Bridgerton 3-month ratings were locked, why spontaneously this week? And why did they do it in such a coordinated way? The SAG nomination, yes, but is there more to it?

I have more theories and variations on theories than I can count. But here are the four key interpretations I want to explore.

It’s exactly what I said this week with Nicola’s interview and my quick post on Thursday. They are still together, with major life changes ahead, and Nicola is up for a SAG. They need more privacy than ever AND Nicola needs to distance herself from the “they fell in love on-set” narrative so that she can be taken seriously as the terrific actor she is, who acted her ass off in Season 3. She doesn’t want to be seen as someone who was only that good because she was “really falling in love.”

They’re genuinely not together, Luke is actually with Antonia (whether on-and-off or all along) and they decided to shut down the shipping now purely because it was impacting Nic’s SAG nomination (see 1 for details). Or maybe L also decided it was time to launch to take the invasive scrutiny off his family.

They’re not together, L is with A, and Nic knew he was going to take her to the HB event, so she prepared fans and pre-empted any “poor, rejected Nicola” perception by saying what she did during her interview.

They were together, and now it’s over (not mutually exclusive with 2 or 3).

You’ll notice none of these theories turn on Nicola’s hypothetical romantic relationship with Jake. This is largely because I have always said that simply isn’t a romantic relationship. And regardless, it’s not relevant to this week’s developments as the state of her relationship with Jake is unchanged from the past few months. That’s not a new factor in this week’s decision.

Obviously, number 1 above is my preferred explanation. It still continues to be the only explanation that makes sense of absolutely everything we’ve seen. INCLUDING Nicola’s words in that interview, and even Luke taking A to that event if you follow the logic of protecting themselves at a critical time both personally and professionally. It’s easy to forget all the extensive evidence pointing to this, but a review of my recent posts will refresh you. There is much to this saga that literally only makes sense if Lukola is real and the other apparent relationships are PR fakery/fuckery to keep our eyes off the truth.

However, this week, they have actively told us that is not the case. So, we owe it to ourselves to be emotionally and intellectually honest and to be open to the other possibilities as well.

Okay, so let’s talk about options 2 and 3. Both posit that Luke and Antonia are really together. Or at least casually dating. It is certainly possible that Luke simply wanted or needed a date to this event and Antonia is a casual date. Certainly, their body language is not particularly close or affectionate in most of the photos or videos. And A clearly does not calm Luke’s anxiety and event nerves like Nic always could and did. And they didn’t seem to hold hands naturally, nor did their arms around each other seem particularly close or natural in most of the photos and videos we saw. And yet, they did walk and pose arm-in-arm as a couple. No arguments there.

It has been widely noted that the Daily Mail story featuring Luke attending this event with his “girlfriend Antonia” was published mere minutes after the first event photos were published. And the story talked way more about A and her vague resume/background than about Luke. For all the world, it sure looks like this appearance was designed to give Ant a PR boost with a story pre-planted and ready to roll. But that doesn’t necessarily mean they aren’t together.

There is one video recorded inside that shows them in a different light. They seem to be enjoying themselves together, laughing, smiling, and talking close. However, there was loud music, it seems, so all talking needed to be close. We saw this when Luke talked to David Beckham as well. David was leaning in and Luke was talking directly in his ear, so clearly, volume was an issue. But he did have his hand on her back and she even copped a feel of his celebrated lukey newts butt. Yes, that video looked very couply indeed. Again, no arguments.

Did I like it? Of course not. Obviously, I hated it. I loathed it even. Do I wish the whole evening would crawl away and sink itself into the bottom of the ocean in lieu of our very leaky ship? Yes. But that video still exists, as does the other photographic and videographic evidence.  So, it’s irrefutable, right?

Almost. There is one thing that rankles a bit in that video. And indeed, about all the Luke & A stuff that came out so quickly. Literally, it all dropped faster than even the Beckham stuff, and Beckham was the host of this event. Why did it all hit so fast? Okay, sure, we already established it was at least partly planned PR for A. But why was that video so exclusively focused on the two of them specifically? What was the videographer doing shooting them from behind, ostensibly “in secret and candid,” for so long? Why so much footage (edited from pieces, therefore taken over time) of the two of them specifically, including that saucy, little butt grab?

If indeed this evening were intended to launch A with the explicit intentions of 1) blowing up the ship and 2) promoting A as the official girlfriend, then it’s not hard to imagine Luke’s PR handler/escort for the evening whispering a little encouragement in his ear. Something like, “It’s not really playing yet, you need to give it more. You two need to get cozy, amp it up, and we’ll get it on video.” Of course, it’s also entirely possible that this “canoodling inside” video was always planned as the final blow to seal the deal after the red carpet content hit.

And, to be fair, it’s also possible that they simply relaxed once they got inside and started having fun. If theirs is a real relationship, whether long-term, serious or a casual dating one, then that would make sense. But why were they so tense on the red carpet to begin with if they’re so close? Why did they look so uncomfortable? Either way, it seems someone had a very clear intention to capture “proof” of the relationship.

Now let’s shift gears and talk about Nicola briefly. Let’s start with this. Nicola is a terrific, gifted, hard-working actor. She deserves all the accolades. She’s worked hard to achieve the success she’s now enjoying and she sure as hell deserves her SAG Award nomination for her beautiful, delicate performance that was by turns moving, heartbreaking, heartwarming, and hilarious. She’s the real deal. And she’s unbelievably, ridiculously beautiful. To my eyes, many times more beautiful and sexier than the other woman who appears in this saga, for what it’s worth. That’s perhaps beside the point, but I wanted to throw it in anyway because what can I say? I’m feeling a little petty and in the mood to spit truths.

She’s also a woman with a right to privacy. And a woman with a career to maintain and grow. And an award nominee who’s campaigning for a win, knowing even if she doesn’t win, the nomination will open doors for her as long as she is taken seriously. And maybe, just maybe, a woman with big life changes coming up fast. I fully support her in doing what she needs to take care of herself and those she loves. And knowing what I know, having seen what I’ve seen, believing what I believe about her, I still believe she would absolutely do what she needs to do in this critical moment.

So, I’m just going to be honest and say I simply don’t know what to think at this point. I still believe number 1 above makes the most sense, both logically and emotionally. But… but… sigh.

There’s also another very real possibility, which is that Lukola has indeed been just as real as we all believe – and now, sadly, it’s over. I actually believe this could be a very real possibility, though this possibility breaks my heart most of all. But I think it’s distinctly possible that they tried and it just didn’t work out for any of the millions of reasons couples don’t make it all the time. Plus, as I’ve written about before, all the reasons they have extra challenges because of their lives and jobs. So maybe the shipping was sweet to them while the relationship lasted, but is painful now that it’s over.

I wish this didn’t feel so valid as a possibility, but it does. And this, too, would make sense of just about everything, unlike the alternate versions where the adjacents (or at least one of them) have been real partners all along. But who knows? As ever, none of us (and none of the Jakolas) knows them, so none of us will ever know anything for sure. Unless they one day decide to come clean.

I’m a big fan of the show Castle. Castle and Beckett, or “Caskett,” is one of a small handful of fictional couples that I have shipped with devotion. I LOVED Caskett and could not wait until they finally got together. The delicious tension, the longing, the near misses, the banter, the micro expressions that broke your heart. They were perfect together. Unfortunately, in reality, they grew to hate each other by the end, but onscreen, they were fire. I will never not love Caskett.

Lukola is my one and only real-world ship, and I will never not love them. Unless they really blow it with too much BTS fuckery. I feel as if they are continually jerking me around and playing games, and I’ve been A-OK with that as long as I knew where it was headed. I was willing to ride the waves of the choppy seas because I knew where the ship was sailing and I loved the destination. I didn’t begrudge them hiding behind PR fakery (or fuckery) because I had faith it was in the best interest of their careers, privacy, and more recently (once I settled into my personal opinion regarding the delicate matter), their family.

That may yet be the case. And if it is, I am 100% there for it.

But if it’s not, if Antonia ends up being a real relationship, that’s going to be very, very hard for me to accept. I’ll do my best to stay the course for Luke as an actor, but the side I see of him as someone dating her is not the same good guy he sold us on the tour. Not the same sweet Colin-alike that the cast has told us he is. Not the same perfect man Nic has told us he is. Because the choice to be with her – based on what I know of her (as well as her youth) — reflects poorly on him, in my opinion. I’m not sure about his “treatment” of her because there’s so much we don’t see and a lot of assumptions are made on that front. But simply based on who she has shown herself to be through her posts and the jobs she’s taken, I can’t respect the choice. I would accept him with many people who aren’t Nicola, but not her.

And my feelings about Nicola would also be dented because she’s posted so many of the crumbs that have (intentionally) kept me hanging on. And if, by some strange twist, she is dating Jake, well… I have a higher opinion of Jake than Antonia. I have no real issue with Jake. From what little I’ve seen of him speaking, he seems like a good kid, earnest about his work, maybe even sweet. But like Antonia, he’s so young. Setting aside aside all the other reasons I don’t believe they’re dating, he’s still 13-14 years younger than her, and just starting out while she’s sailing the heights. I have to be honest and say that the age difference and the power differential do make me uncomfortable.

Her relationships are still not my business. Nor are Luke’s. But as a consumer of media, I do get to have feelings about the people I stan and where I choose to devote my energies. As I said, Lukola has been my one and only ship. I’ve loved them individually as well, but if I’ve been played for a prolonged time, if they’ve been stringing me along with a fake ship, how can that not sour me on them as individuals?

So, yes, if these particular, adjacent relationships are real, my respect for each of them will take a hit. But they can date other people. I’ll get over it. I’ll be disappointed. I’ll think they’ve missed out because they clearly have something truly unique and special, maybe more unique than either of them realizes yet. I still believe they’ve gotten together at some point, but if they’ve now moved on, I’ll sigh and move on as well. And hope that one day, they find their way back to each other where they belong. That’s what endgame means, after all.

However, I will say again that I am not yet entirely convinced that the adjacents are anything more than I’ve long thought they were, decoys and distractions. Or that these latest hits to the ship (the mom comment, Nicola’s interview, and the “hard launch”) are anything more than ramped up efforts to camouflage the truth at a crucial time.

But the one thing that is crystal clear is that they want us to back the fuck off. Whether it’s out of a time-sensitive need for greater professional separation for career reasons (awards consideration chief among them) and greater privacy for family reasons… or because it’s actually true that they are not together at this time… either way, they’ve clearly decided to shut down the shipping this past week.

And this brings me back to Castle. If you know Castle, then you know there was a long-running throughline story about who murdered Kate’s (aka Beckett’s) mother. For years, Kate was obsessed with finding who was responsible and what happened, and more than once, that fierce dedication led her to go too far on the job. She’d stay on cases when she had a clear conflict, she’d hide things from her superiors, she’d go rushing into danger in a ruthless pursuit of the truth. Needless to say, this behavior eventually led to a suspension even though she was the best detective in the precinct. But instead of accepting the suspension, Kate tossed down her badge and quit, because OBVIOUSLY, she was going to go right on investigating privately.

So, am I going to pull a Kate Beckett and charge forward, despite every warning, to investigate every lead until I get the truth? No matter what it costs to me or those I love (namely, Lukola)? Or will I sadly accept my suspension, hang my head, and take some time at home to catch up on my Netflix until the clock runs out? Hmm… Maybe, a little of both?

Here’s what I’m going to do. Keep watching. Keep collecting information, analyzing, and seeing how I think the picture most clearly takes shape. And I will keep sharing my thoughts with all of you.

But since they want us to back off, I will slow roll those observations. For my part (NPC that I am), I will politely take a step back and give them the time that I believe they need for certain very specific reasons. If they need folks like me to back off, then I will. At least for now. And I’ll see what the next couple of months bring.

At some point down the line, depending on how things shake out, I may feel comfortable going full force again with my thoughts and opinions. But right now, it’s my belief that there are things important enough that I’m willing to take a step back to support them, because my intention has only ever been to share my thoughts and bolster the spirits of my fellow shippers. Never to harm Lukola.

In the meantime, I won’t disappear entirely. I may blog a little less, and maybe shift a bit to lovely Polin. Or maybe I’ll end up blogging more with short, fun stuff in lieu of the analysis. Who knows? Got to keep busy somehow, at least unless or until I decide to step off the ship entirely.

Actually, now that I think about it, it may be time to rewatch Castle. At least I know Caskett will never let me down.

[lovelyjj]

I have a Rudy request. It’s fluffy, not smutty. The reader is a famous singer and she’s dating Rudy. She has a YouTube channel. One day, she makes a YouTube video of her reading thirst tweets people made about her and Rudy is in the video with her and he’s laughing the whole time.

Thirst Tweets

Rudy Pankow x Reader

The story of how you and Rudy met was cute really. You were both on a plane. You were traveling because you were on tour as a singer. Rudy was traveling for work as he was an actor on the show Outer Banks. You just so happen to sit next to each other on the plane.

Rudy listened to your music so he knew who you were. He always thought you were gorgeous but he figured you were out of his league. You had the window seat and then Rudy sat next to you. Rudy decided he wanted to get to know you so even though he was a little nervous, he went for it.

“Hey, you’re Y/N Y/L/N, right? The famous singer?” Rudy started.

“Oh hi, yeah I am, nice to meet you,” you turned towards him

“I’m Rudy, Rudy Pankow.”

“Hi why are you going to Charleston?” you tried to make good conversation.

“Oh I’m shooting my TV show there. I’m an actor,” Rudy scratched the back of his neck.

“Wow what TV show is it may I ask?”

“It’s called Outer Banks.”

“I’ll have to watch it then,” you winked.

The rest of the conversation flowed naturally. You both had a great flight talking to and getting to know each other. When the flight was over you exchanged numbers and started texting about when you can see each other again. Both your schedules were busy but you made time for one another.

Eventually Rudy asked you out and you’ve been dating ever since. Rudy went to a couple of your shows and you went on the set of outer banks to see them filming in action. You’ve never felt this way with anyone before the way you feel with Rudy. It was like you were destined to be together.

You and Rudy were always doing fun things. You were both nervous to tell the world you were dating, well because, you were both famous. But your fans took it really well. The internet loved you when you finally made it public. It was a big step.

“Ya know I think it’s finally time I introduce you to my youtube channel,” you told Rudy in the living room of your shared apartment.

“You think so?” Rudy responded.

“Yeah my manager sent me an idea. She suggested I read thirst tweets.”

“Thirst tweets? I’d be down to be in it, sounds fun,” Rudy commented.

“Ok let’s do it.”

Your manager sent you a list of thirst tweets so all you had to do was read them. You set up your camera in the living room and Rudy got comfortable. “I’m excited,” you announced.

“This is gonna be fun,” Rudy exclaimed.

You made sure you and Rudy were in frame and hit record. You sat down next to Rudy and pulled out your phone. “Hi guys I’m Y/N and this is my boyfriend Rudy Pankow.” Rudy waved and said hello.

“Today I’m gonna be reading your thirst tweets.”

“Okay first one. Y/N Y/L/N is so fine she can run me over with a truck.” You laughed.

Rudy glanced at the tweet over your shoulder and snickered.

“Thank you I think,” you giggled.

“I mean they are right,” Rudy commented.

“Next this one says I want to get railed by Y/N.”

Rudy laughed loudly. “I don’t know how that would work but okay,” you shrugged.

“This one has a picture of me and it says “raw, next question.”

Rudy busted out laughing. “That one is my favorite so far,” Rudy admitted.

“Okay okay here’s another one, Can we talk about how gorgeous Y/N Y/L/N is? She is fucking beautiful.”

“I agree,” Rudy commented.

“Want Y/N Y/L/N to spit in my mouth!” you read the tweet.

“Oh god,” Rudy laughed.

“Alright let’s keep going. Y/N Y/L/N is mother,” you read another.

“Mother?” Rudy questioned with a laugh.

“I’m flattered,” you smiled.

“Y/N Y/L/N makes me go feral,” you kept reading tweets.

“Feral? like a wild animal?” Rudy chuckled.

“I guess.”

“Y/N Y/L/N was my biggest sexual awakening,” you looked at your phone.

“Again I’m flattered.”

“I’m a SLUT for Y/N,” you read another tweet.

“I want Y/N Y/L/N to [redacted] [redacted] [redacted] me so hard that I [redacted] [redacted] [redacted].”

“Wait let me see,” Rudy looked at your phone.

“That’s so funny,” Rudy laughed.

“I would rail the shit out of Y/N.”

“Me too oh wait I already do,” Rudy whispered.

“Rudy!”

“Ok ok next one says “Y/N Y/L/N can punch me in the face and i’d say thank you.”

“Oh my,” Rudy giggled.

“making out with Y/N would fix me,” you read.

“Let me tell you it’s amazing,” Rudy spoke.

“Thanks,” you laughed.

“On my knees for Y/N!”

“Interesting,” you raise your eyebrows.

“Well that was fun, thank you everyone for your support I’ll see you in the next one.”

“Bye guys!” Rudy waved goodbye.

You got up and turned off the camera. “You know I’m so lucky to have you,” Rudy told you.

“Aww,” you cooed and gave Rudy a kiss on his lips.

Rudy was your person. The two of you were perfect together. You knew you were gonna be together for a long time. You both supported each other in everything you do. Rudy was your soulmate and you were his.

[ilysungho]

hiii what do you think about the boynextdoor members + sad sex?? maybe they're aware you two are going to break up soon or know there is something wrong with the relationship (i honestly love angst)

i actually have some ideas but itd be great to hear yours too since you write amazingly

thank you so much for your compliments love! this is so different from all the other asks i've had, thank you for asking me this! i'd love to hear your thoughts too so please feel free to leave them any time, and let me know what you think of mine as well~ i wrote short scenarios for each of the members as i thought that was the best way to express the emotions. they aren’t as focused on the sex, but rather the emotions. leehan’s is inspired by this post!

sungho - fixing a breaking marriage

there would be a lot of tears from both you and him, though not a lot of words are being exchanged as he holds you so impossibly close, yet still pulling you closer. bruised lips would show how much one means to the other as he gives you slow, deep strokes. eventually, he would be the first to break the silence, his words cutting through the sadness as he utters three simple words: i love you. and at that, you’d be crying harder than you already were, nodding while repeating those words back to him. he’d crack a small smile at you, relieved to know that you still care for him, at least enough to say the sentence back to him. you both know that both of you messed up somewhere along the line, but neither of you were ready to admit it. and as days went on, it felt like both of you were walking on eggshells around each other despite being married for 2 years, together for 5. his strong arms held you close as he started to be more vocal, asking you how it all feels so he can be better, not only at the moment but also as your life partner. he wanted nothing more than to stay as your husband, and he knows you reciprocate those feelings. so you tell him everything, through actions and words, for better, but not for worse.

riwoo - words that should've been left unsaid

"let's just break up then!" riwoo's voice echoes through the room as he stood up to leave. it was pretty normal for the two of you to have disagreements over small and meaningless things, the occasional arguments making way. yet it had never been as big as the current one you were both having. a little nagging turned into a course of reasons why he isn't being a very good helper around the house, which then turned into a screaming match between the two of you. neither of you knew why the argument became this extreme. he roamed around the park nearby as you sat on your shared bed in shock. you processed your pain and anger, ultimately deciding to take a leave for a couple days to really think things through, getting up to pack a light suitcase. about ten minutes after you began, riwoo comes back and is standing by the door frame with his eyebrows arching high. "babe i didn't actually mean it." he'd say as he tries to get you stop, only getting you to do so when he pulls you to him. "you're not going anywhere, you got that?" you're glaring at him the entire time, anger through the sky at the thought of that sentence slipping out of his tongue. he notices your expression at him not faltering, leaning in then to kiss you, apologizing to you continuously as he laid you down to properly convey his sorrys by giving you unforgettable pleasure.

jaehyun - closing the distance

he'd be very sad, hearing you say some things he never thought would come out of your mouth. jaehyun knew his schedule was too busy, yet he always tries to make time for you. days turned into hours, hours turned into minutes, and minutes turned into nothing. the distance between the two of you grew exponentially as he tried to juggle so many things at once. when you said that you were thinking of potentially breaking up with him because of how the relationship didn't even feel like what it's supposed to be anymore, he's on the verge of breaking down. it wasn't until you were at the door, questions with unanswered motives hanging over the two of you when he hugged you from behind, sobbing into your shoulder. jaehyun didn't want to let go of you, pleading you to stay with him as you tried to get his hands to loosen up. you turned around to face him, giving him a hard kiss full of requited pain and emotions. he'd kiss you through the tears, following your movements into his room as the kiss turned into more. you both hadn't been so close in a long while, but it felt like the right place to be in as he showed you his undying love for you in any way he could for the rest of the night.

taesan - instincts on point

if a relationship with you was something he didn't want to keep anymore, then he would've made it very clear. you know he would've told you that he can't be with you while also juggling all other aspects of his life. you know that, yet you still find yourself begging him to spend more time with you, to give you more attention, to properly communicate with you even. and the worst part of it all is that taesan knows it all. he knows it and that is why, the second before you could hit the send button asking him to break up with you, he's standing outside your main door, drenched in the rainwater and breathless. as soon as you open the door, he comes in and slams the door shut, kissing you hungrily against it before you could utter a word. he's pulling you in with him as he discards his wet clothes along with your nightwear. as you both reach the main bedroom, he's pinning you against the mattress as he says how he could feel something was wrong and came to ask you himself. you'd be shocked to see how strong his senses are, not saying anything as you pulled his face to your own to kiss him through your tears that finally spilled out, turning you both over so that now you are straddling him. "let me do this please," you say with a breaking voice, inserting his length into you while he pulled you down to kiss you again, unable to keep himself apart from you for too long.

leehan - end of an era

leehan held onto your figure, hugging your shoulders as the faint sound of the tv reverberated through the room. “let’s not meet anymore. this should be the last time we do.” well, those were the exact words leehan expected yet didn’t want to hear. he was… stunned to say the least, absolutely quiet as you looked at him to see any reaction he’d put on his face. being in a situationship was the hardest thing for you, especially when it was with someone like leehan who was practically perfect, yet far from it at the same time. “ok… i understand.” those weren’t the words he wanted to utter, yet he was afraid of fighting for you. he knew that if he stayed, it would all end up going wrong eventually. he had convinced himself of it and doesn’t even want to try to salvage what’s left of it. he knows he fucked up, he always does, but you are only doing what’s best for you and he respects your decision. he’s too in love with you for you to not choose what’s best for you. he’d hold your body close as you both share such intimate moments for the last time, kissing and letting sounds of painful love show through instead of direct words signifying the end of an era. an end of an era because of his denial of needing you, tears falling as he holds you one last time before letting go of all traces of you.

[azrakaban]

Heather - Lorenzo Berkshire

A/N: Happy heather day whores have some words on a screen (yes i know it's very late shush your mushes)

A/N pt2: GUYS I GOT A SWEATER. Also! A note for Americans, a JUMPER is what English people call Sweaters. Which is why Enzo says that!

Summary: You get a sweater <3

THE WHISPER IS FROM PINTEREST!!!! NOT MINE!!!!

..............................................................................................................................

"I still remember

3rd of December

me in your sweater"

-Conan Gray

..............................................................................................................................

December 3rd! An insignificant date for most adults. Had you asked them what was special about the date they would shrug, shake their heads in search of an answer. Perhaps they would tell you it was twenty two days until Christmas.

However, ask any teenager, muggle, wizard or squib, what was significant about the date, and the returned answer would be "Heather Day!"

And here it was. Heather Day. 3rd of December. Almost as bad as valentines day for the single population of hogwarts, who would spend another year freezing in their own sweaters. You were one such person. 

  As you walked to the great hall, you unconsciously shivered as you saw couples wrapped up in each others sweaters. You tried to keep your head down as you passed Alicia Spinnet tugging on Katie Bell's quidditch jersey, a happy smile on her face. 

You were sure a lot of people didn't even know why the trend happened each year, which song had prompted it, which artist wrote the song. YOU DID! Being a massive Conehead came with: A) the unfortunate disadvantage of having to see everyone pretending to like Conan for a day, and B) knowing exactly where the trend came from and being ever increasingly cold each year you didn't receive a sweater. 

It seemed silly to most - insignificant in the grand scheme of things - but it niggled at you, and you found yourself wishing, just once, someone would wrap you in their sweater. "It's just polyester," Astoria told you after receiving a sweater from Pansy, but she couldn't hide the smile on her face for long. 

In truth it was never just polyester, for anyone. It represented so much more, that someone trusted you with an item of theirs, wanted you to wear their things, to share something with you. It represented being loved, liked, wanted. And to not have that yet? It hurt. 

In the build up to the fateful date, people had discussed it with an air of casualness, but everyone was hoping for a sweater, naturally. You'd talked about it in the common room with Pansy, Astoria and the others, but unsurpringly, most of the guys zoned out as soon as the subject was breached, Mattheo even going so far as to fall asleep. 

So yeah, you didn't have much hope of receiving something from anyone in particular. COUGH COUGH MR BERKSHIRE.

..............................................................................................................................

It had snowed that morning, and it didn't show signs of easing up with the snowfall, resulting in a very cold Hogwarts. You weren't wearing nearly enough layers.

In the afternoon, you'd decided to go to a corner of the library, away from all the so called 'study dates' that were taking place. Thank god nobody tended to encroach on your little corner, as it was so far back in the library that few people could be bothered to walk all the way there. 

To your chagrin, that peace was soon disturbed by footsteps. You listened carefully, eventually identifying the footsteps. They belonged to your friend Lorenzo, Enzo only to friends, and your theory was proved as he rounded the corner and sat down on the opposite end of the window seat you were perched on. 

"Thought I'd find you here." He said quietly, getting comfortable. You smiled over your books at him. "You were right. What's up?" You dropped your eyes back down to the book infront of you, shivering slightly. 

"I was just kinda- hey are you shivering?" Enzo frowned, looking concerned. You tried to still yourself to no avail, and shook your head.

"No, nuh uh, why would you think that?" You forced a smile onto your face, trying to hide your chattering teeth. 

"Liar, you're cold, here, have my jumper, I'm too hot anyway." He said, pulling his jumper over his head and passing it to you. 

"Oh, thanks." You tugged it over your head, heart beating wildly. Did he know what it meant? What it symbolised?

He smiled, a real smile. None of that forced look he had when forced to speak to someone. He wanted to be there. "It looks really good on you." He murmured, looking over you in it. You felt your cheeks get warmer, and prayed he couldn't tell how his comment made you feel. 

"You know, there's a party tonight. You think you'll go?" He says quickly, looking up at you, hair flopping into his eyes. You thought for a moment. "Maybe. Think I should wear your jumper if we go?" You teased. 

He looked up in surprise, then grinned, his cheeks turning a shade pinker. Not that you noticed, you were too busy rethinking every conversation you'd ever had while waiting for his reaction.

"Actually, yeah, like I said, it looks really good on you." He answered, running a hand through his hair. 

"Maybe I will then." You smiled faintly. He grinned back at you, then checked his watch. 

"Ah shit, I'm gonna be late for Quidditch practice. Ah well, catch you later y/n, nice knowing you, Mattheo is gonna murder me." He stood, pressing a quick kiss to your hair before hurrying away. 

You sat there frozen for a few moments before it registered. He had kissed you. On your head. BUT STILL! He'd never done that before, it must have meant something right? RIGHT

..............................................................................................................................

Later that day, just after dusk, you were staring at the jumper in the mirror. "Okay lovely, jumper off, you're wearing this." Pansy stated, throwing an outfit to you. You hesitated, catching the bundle. Keeping the jumper on would mean a lot to you - but it would also invite questions - ones you hadn't even answered to yourself yet. Taking off the jumper was your only option. 

You tugged it off, before heading to the bathroom to change. Astoria smiled at you and Pansy nodded approvingly once you emerged. "Gorgeous as always." Astoria commented. "Well duh, I picked the fit. Come on, party's already going from the sound of it." Pansy said, gesturing to the door. 

You all headed downstairs, and your eyes immediately met the brown eyes of Lorenzo like you were magnets. Because of this, you saw as his face fell slightly when he took in your outfit, sans jumper. Mattheo noticed this and and patted Enzo on the back in a gesture of comfort. Enzo sighed and disappeared into the crowd as you began to head in his direction. You paused, a little hurt, before going back to Pansy and Astoria, joining in their conversation. 

Throughout the night, you caught his glances, only for him to turn away. The common room was cold, and you regretted leaving his jumper. Eventually, you had enough and ambushed him, sneaking up behind him while he was talking with Blaiseand tapping his shoulder. 

He turned, saw who it was and immediately forced a small smile. "Yn." You looked so hurt. Enzo was faking for you now. What happened? 

"Why are you avoiding me now?" You tried to seem curious, but the hurt flooded into in your voice. He picked up on it too, flinching barely noticeably. 

"It's stupid." He sighed, brushing his hair back from his eyes with his fingers. "Not stupid if it means I get my best friend back." You offered, and he tensed. "That's what you want is it y/n? A best friend?" He said, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice. Blaise winced and skedaddled away. 

"What are you trying to say?" You pressed, confused. He groaned. "Nothing, it's stupid, can you just forget about it? Please?" He answered, looking slightly upset.

"I don't want to. You're upset with me, and I wanna fix it." You said softly, looking up at him with pleading eyes. He sighed, meeting your eyes. "Fine, but not here." He led you from the common room, taking you towards the boys dormitories. Theodore looked over and grinned. "AYYYYY FINALLY!" He cheered, before Enzo sent him a murderous look and he quickly shut up. 

Eventually you reached the boys dorm for your year. You sank down onto his bed, quickly noticing what seemed to be every jumper Enzo owned on his bed, you frowned, but weren't given time to think as he started talking.

"Look, I don't wanna mess anything up, but I think we're a little past that now. You're not wearing my jumper." He said plainly, letting his hands fall to his sides. You looked surprised.

"I can go get it, if you want?" You offered, trying to fix things. He shook his head, sighing. "No, y/n, it's not the same, now you're wearing it because you feel obligated, not because you feel what it represents." He avoided your eyes.

"Enzo, what?" You said softly. He looked back at you, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

"When you were talking about the 3rd of December, you said that giving someone your jumper meant you liked them. That it was as good as declaring your undying love for someone or something..." He said, as it started to register with you what was happening. 

"Enzo I don't underst-" You began, but he cut you off.

"No but I think you do, y/n. And it's okay, I give you my jumper, no biggie, just basically tell you in your own language that I really like you, and you wear it, so I'm mistakenly thinking that means you like me too. Then at the first opportunity, it's off, and you clearly didn't mean what you think. Maybe you were just cold after all. And hey, that's fine, I don't wanna screw up what we have already, but it sucks, you know?" He said frustratedly, pacing up and down infront of you. 

"I didn't think you knew what it meant." You whispered, catching his hand as he paced. He looked down at you, surprise flooding his features. "What?" He murmured, taking your other hand in his.

"I thought you were just doing it because I was cold, I didn't think it was because you liked me. I didn't know you knew what it represented." You said, upset obvious in your voice. "I took it off later, even though I didn't want to, because keeping it on meant admitting to myself and to Pansy and Astoria that I like you." You whispered, squeezing his hand. 

"Oh." He breathed, realisation dawning. "Yeah oh." You said, rolling your eyes with a slight giggle. 

"You like me?" He asked, smiling. You nodded vigorously and he crushed you into a hug. When he eventually released you, he was smiling widely. "So will you wear my sweater?" He asked, cocking his head with a smirk playing at his lips. 

You nodded, standing. "I'll go get it." You tried to stand, but he pulled you back down, grabbing a random sweater from the bed. "No, wear this one." He gently pulled it over your head carefully. "There. Now you have two." He murmured, smiling. He looked down at your lips, leaned in slightly, hesitated, then committed, pressing his lips to yours in a gentle kiss, which you reciprocated happily as he grinned into it. 

You pulled back eventually.He pulled you from the mound of sweaters on the bed, which you looked back on. "Any particular reason every jumper you own is on your bed?" You giggled, and he flushed slightly.

"I wanted to make sure I gave you the right one. Now c'mon, let's show everyone your new jumper, hmm?"  He smiled, and led you back downstairs, clad happily in his jumper. 

..............................................................................................................................

A/N: I KNOW I'M VERY LATE TO HEATHER DAY IDC BRO 😔

[rev3rb]

Hey, it’s your monthly anon again. I’ve been thinking more on that doozy of a chapter. Even if Mikaela’s soul is in Yuu, I think either him or our Mika have to have something else going on. Because if Mikaela was dead for thousands of years, how would he have memories of The First’s plan and punishment? Imo the only person that could have such omniscient memories without always being physically alive/present is the floating Yu eye ball of darkness. And it does seem Mikaela was the first original creation it made. So maybe Mikaela has a permanent link to it’s memories? Idk but to me Yuichiro or maybe Mika should have some connection to the original Yu. What do you think?

Oh, I agree that something else has to be going on. We already know the original Yuu that allowed Mika's soul into him already had a soul from one of the fallen angels presumably. It feels like that should be relevant SOMEHOW. I'll be sorely disappointed if it's just written off because something is special about whoever or whatever that is. And even if that isn't what's special here, Mika (the present-day one) has to have something special going on. Why is he Mika yet Mikaela's soul is apparently in Yuu? Is his soul split or something?

Because I went back and reread all those chapters yesterday, I did notice that Rigr/Saito mentioned that Mika just showed up at the Hyakuya orphanage one day and that that orphanage wasn't something he founded and wasn't within the boundaries of his plans. He then accuses Sika Madu of being the cause of all that. If that's true then how can Mika not be special and have something going on? To have Sika Madu (presumably) assign Mika that name is significant. He wouldn't give it to just anyone. But anyways.

I agree with your idea. The fact that Yuuichirou and that floating ball share a name ALSO has to be significant I feel? I suppose it's entirely possible that Sika Madu gave him that name when he saw the connection that Yuu apparently had with Mikaela, but then there's everything you said. It'd make sense that the floating eye Yuu (this is getting confusing omg) would be the only one to properly remember everything that our Yuu and Mika are seeing. I would say you could back this further by the fact that there WAS a floating eye inside of Yuu back when Mika was becoming his demon. I believe Mika was looking into his heart and that's what he saw? I know I just read this yesterday but I read through a lot ;; But anyways, yeah. Again, I agree with what you're saying. I don't have any other answers as to why present-day Yuu would have those memories otherwise since you're right. Mikaela was dead for a lot of what went down in what we saw. The only constant presence was the floating eye Yuu.

[daddy-ul]

tour blurb

I can't say anything BC it's the same (almost) unit of measurement that I apply when I go to concerts.

Smsmksksa (not so much) joking aside, the mic unit of measurement is the most useful and obvious for the concert donut. I know they updated the number and positions of the mics,, so I am now kind of curious of the ratio drum riser/mics on the stage. Like there are 4 battle station on the donut, how many mics between every drum kit? This is a math problem due to monday

*coff* that said did they discussed it in tuning rooms etc bc lars asked James to stay in his line of site for the most of it?

But like, of course for stages like the one in Milan, it wasn't like that, even if it was smaller

[danhoemei]

hi one last time most likely? just wanted to let you know i've finally finished little mushroom including all the epilogues after being busy for a few days and. genuinely. i think this is one of my favourite stories i've ever experienced in my life out of any medium. reading the second volume felt a lot like chewing glass a lot of the time but god it was worth it in the end. off to wait for the rest of the manhua to release/be translated i guess?

one last time, thank you so much for introducing me to this story. have a great day

Oh wow I'm so happy for you :D it's one of my all time faves too 💚 you're so right about the 2nd vol haha, but for me it was in a good way, like heavy stuff being hard to bear but I at the same time not letting me put the book down. I read the 2nd vol in one sitting agsgagshsg i NEEDED to see how it ends. I love this story so much, i think u inspired me to reread it literally right now (i just finished a neuroscientific book about what torture does to the brain and need a break with some fiction). Thank u for sharing your experience with me and have a nice day too 💚

[ccsainzleclerc5516]

Co Parents To Lovers Again (part 2)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x reader

Warnings: fluff (smut in the next part)

part 1

It's been three days since the unfortunate misunderstanding with Charles and you haven't heard from him at all since.

You were overthinking the whole situation that happened on Sunday and couldn't come to any proper conclusion. At the same time, you were sad because he thought you would bring someone else into your bed, even though it wasn't your shared bed anymore, but you couldn't believe that he thought so little of you after all the years you'd spent together.

And yet on the other hand, you were thinking like any woman, you were glad that he was jealous and that the very thought of someone replacing him bothered him because that only meant he wasn't over you and that he still wanted to make things right between you two. Basically, you were torn between your brain and your heart once again and it was just a matter of what would prevail between the two this time.

Even though deep down you knew you couldn't fight yourself. You broke up over some disagreements that when you look at things more closely weren't worth destroying your relationship and your little family. You were both stubborn, he was a little too possessive, you were lacking in understanding, parenting, you spent most of your time alone with Lou and everything came together and exploded.

Now that you look back on the whole year you spent without him, you know that as hard as it is sometimes to be with him, it's ten times harder to be without him. You realize that you both made a rash decision, but then again maybe it had to happen only to make you realize how much you need each other in every way possible.

It's Wednesday night and while you're preparing tonight's dinner and tomorrow's lunch, Lou is sitting at the dining room table drawing. Soon your cooking is interrupted by the ringing of your phone on the kitchen island. A strange feeling comes over you as you wipe your hands on a dish towel and look at your phone only to see Charles' name on the screen.

You want to answer the phone, but you don't want the conversation to end in an argument so before you pick up the phone, you take a deep breath and try to calm down and strengthen your voice so it doesn't sound shaky.

"Hello?"

"Hey, it's me." He says it in a completely normal, calm tone and you're grateful for that.

"Hey, what's up?"

"Umm, I'm leaving tomorrow for the race so I was wondering if you could put Lou on the facetime so I can see her since I won't be able to have her for the weekend?" He asks.

"Sure, just let me switch to facetime."

Once you did, Charles face appeared on the screen and he smiled when he saw yours too. You tried to hide the blush on your face and quickly walked over to Lou putting the phone in front of her.

"Baby, daddy wants to talk to you" You said setting the phone in front of her and leaving them alone to talk.

Since the kitchen and dining room were connected, you went back into the kitchen and could hear everything the two of them were saying. You didn't want to eavesdrop, but you kinda did.

"Hey, daddy!" Lou exclaimed excitedly.

"Mon ange, what are you doing?"

"I'm drawing and-and mommy is cooking" She says.

"Yeah? What are you drawing?"

"I'm drawing you in a red car. See" She says putting up the paper in front of the camera for him to see.

"Good job, baby. It looks great!"

"It's for you, I will give it to you when you come get me" She says forgetting that she won't be spending the weekend with him.

"Thank you, baby, but unfortunately we won't be together this weekend because papa has to work, but we'll see each other next week, okay?"

"Oh.." She pouts.

"Don't be sad, we'll see each other very soon, okay? I miss you so much and I'm thinking of you all the time."

Your heart is completely softened by his words and the immeasurable amount of love he has for your daughter.

"I miss you too, daddy"

"Okay, baby. I'll talk to you soon, I love you."

"Bye, I love you too." She says waving her hand as he blows her a kiss.

You watch her from afar and see how her mood immediately changed when she heard that she wouldn't be seeing him. Shaken by emotions, you move closer to her and squat down next to her.

"What's wrong, bug?" You ask her.

She doesn't look at you but frowns looking down at drawing on the paper in front of her.

"I miss papa" She says, hear eyes filled with tears.

"Can I tell you a little secret?" You say and she nods. "I miss papa too." You whisper making her look at you.

"Would you like to watch him race this weekend?"

"You mean on the TV?" She asks.

"No, I mean how about we go and see him?" You suggest and her eyes light up.

"Really?!"

"Would you like that?"

"Yes, yes! And I can give him this!" She says excitedly and you chuckle at how sweet she is.

"Then we have a deal. Now, finish up your drawing and go wash your hands because dinner is almost ready okay?"

"Okay, mommy. Thank you"

Nothing can compare to the happiness you feel when you see your daughter happy. Both you and Charles would do anything for her, and that's why you decided to quickly run upstairs to your bedroom, turn the hoodie right side out.

When a print of an F1 car was visible on the black hoodie, you took a picture of it and sent it to Charles without any additional explanation, because you knew that everything would be clear as a day to him once he saw it.

After just a few minutes, your phone vibrated in your hands.

'Been looking for it for a while now..' Charles' message said.

'I really fucked up this time, didn't I?' He added.

'You kinda did.' You replied.

'I'm so sorry, y/n..'

'You're lucky your daughter adores you so much and you better send a plane for the two of us so we can make it to the race on time.'

part 3

@charlesgirl16 @aleatorio1234 @teamnovalak @watermelonslut @diaryofarandomkid @sunny44 @tempo-rary-fix @ggaslyp1 @janeh22 @seonghwaexile @seasonswinter @itgirlofthecenturysposts @ricciardosredbull @amz824 @sarx164

[d-z20]

Neighbourly Care part 3 (NSFW)

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x Rio Vidal x Reader

Summary: You go home for Thanksgiving and who else joins your family but none other than their wonderful neighbours Agatha and Rio

-OR-

You struggle to make it through the meal and so does Agatha, but she "accidentally" spills her drink which means you fuck in the bathroom :)

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, top Agatha, top Rio, fingering, oral, mention of humiliation kink

Words: 3.5k

A/N: THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR THE LOVE AND KUDOS!!! to celebrate here is a bonus seasonal chapter :D Happy Thanksgiving to those that celebrate, and to those who don't: enjoy the chapter anyway ;)

AO3 | Part 1 | 2 | 4 | 5 | 6 | Masterlist

A Thanksgiving To Remember

As the morning light filters through the blinds, the hotel room is dim and quiet. You wake up slowly, feeling warm and content, your body still tingling from last night. You shift slightly, realising that Rio is already awake. She’s sprawled comfortably on her side, her head resting on the pillow, her hand absently stroking your arm. Her eyes flicker open as she senses you waking, and she smiles at you lazily.

“Morning, sweetheart,” Rio hums, stretching and running a hand through her hair. “How are you feeling?”

“Good thanks, how about you?" You smile, feeling the pull of her easy, bright energy. Was she always so upbeat in the mornings?

“I’m great. But she,” Rio gestures toward Agatha with a playful smirk, “isn’t a morning person.”

Behind you, Agatha just grumbles in response, muffling her face into the pillow and pulling you closer into her. Rio leans over, a mischievous grin on her face as she brushes Agatha’s hair from her face. “C’mon, darling, I’ll make you coffee,” she offers sweetly, but you can hear the hint of a challenge in her tone. 

Agatha groans again but finally starts to sit up, stretching with an audible crack in her spine. “Fine, fine,” Agatha mutters. “But it better be good, or I’ll go back to sleep.” 

Rio laughs and gets up to make coffee, leaving Agatha to rub her eyes before looking at you. You share a quiet moment, the lingering energy from the night before making the air between you feel heavy with unspoken thoughts.

As Rio busies herself in the kitchenette in the corner of the room, Agatha grabs her phone and starts swiping through it. Not wanting to bother her, you reach for your phone too. You’re happily scrolling when a notification pops up

MILF 1 has added you to the group chat.

MILF 1 named the group chat Check-In Group

MILF 1: There. You can’t ignore us now, sweetheart.

You’re smiling at your phone when you feel Rio standing next to you, coffee in hand

“What are you smiling at? Not another potential date, I hope." She meant it as a tease, but you can hear the hint of jealousy in her voice.

“No,” you chuckle. “In fact, it’s just the opposite; Agatha is making sure that never happens again.” You tilt your phone to show Rio the notifications.

She looks down at your phone, her eyes narrowing slightly at the screen. “Why do you have Agatha saved as MILF 1?” she asks, raising her voice loud enough so Agatha hears.

You laugh nervously and quickly glance at Agatha, who’s sitting up now and lazily sipping her coffee, her attention on the two of you. She raises an eyebrow at you, her eyes glinting with something more than just curiosity.

“Well?” Rio prompts, clearly enjoying your discomfort.

You squirm under their combined gazes, feeling both flustered and slightly turned on. “It’s just the truth,” you admit sheepishly, your voice dropping as you fidget with the comforter. “She is a mom, and, well, I do want to f—” You stop yourself just in time, your cheeks heating as you look anywhere but at them.

Rio raises an eyebrow, a wicked grin curling on her lips. “Oh? And what am I saved as?” she teases, voice low and playful. “Please tell me it’s not just MILF 2.”

Your face goes hot, and you start fiddling with the comforter in your lap. “It might be.”

Rio bursts into laughter. “You really couldn’t think of something more creative?” she asks, shaking her head in mock disapproval.

Agatha’s smile never fades, but her eyes darken, and she stands up, stretching slowly. “Okay, on that note, I’m going to go shower,” she says, cutting through the playful moment. She gives Rio a brief kiss on the cheek before heading toward the bathroom. “You two behave while I’m gone.”

As Agatha disappears into the bathroom, Rio sets her coffee cup on the nightstand and leans closer to you, her expression shifting. There’s an undeniable heat in her eyes as her lips brush against yours in a kiss that’s possessive and urgent. “So you like to fuck us, hmm?” she whispers against your lips, her breath warm as it fans over your skin.

Your breath catches as her words sink in, and your body reacts almost instantly, a tingling warmth pooling low in your belly.

When the bathroom door clicks shut behind Agatha, Rio doesn’t waste a second. She pushes you back against the pillows, her touch both gentle and commanding. The electricity in the air is palpable as her lips find yours again, her kiss deepening with every passing second.

You moan softly when her hand trails down your side, grazing your hip before slipping under your waistband. She pauses just long enough to murmur against your lips, “You’re already so excited for me. Do you like it that much when I humiliate you?” Her tone is teasing, but there’s an edge to it that makes you shiver.

Before you can answer, Rio presses her lips to yours again, cutting off any reply as her hand moves with a confidence that leaves you breathless. Her touch is slow at first, teasing, as though she’s savouring every little sound you make in response. The tension between you builds rapidly, and the air is charged with unspoken need.

Somewhere in the background, you faintly register the sound of the shower running in the bathroom. Rio pulls back just enough to mutter against your lips, her voice low and dripping with desire. “I’ve got about ten minutes until she's done showering.”

Her words send a shiver down your spine, the hunger in her tone unmistakable. You swallow hard, your pulse racing as you meet her gaze. “I don’t think we’ll need that long anyway,” you admit softly, your voice trembling slightly under the weight of her intensity.

Rio smirks, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction at your answer. She wets her fingers with your arousal before burying two of them inside you, igniting a fire in your core that threatens to consume you completely. “So eager for me already,” she murmurs, her voice both teasing and utterly dominating. Her words make your breath hitch, the hint of humiliation in her tone only heightening your anticipation as she begins to fuck you.

There is no slow buildup, and Rio is mercilessly fucking you in seconds, pulling sounds out of you that you didn’t even know you could make; you’re pretty sure that the whole floor can hear you now.

She starts to pump her fingers faster, and you can hear how wet you are. She takes your bottom lip between her teeth and bites down before soothing it with a quick swipe of her tongue. "Shhhhh, baby, try and keep quiet for me; Aggie can’t know what I’m doing.”

The idea that this sex was potentially forbidden pushes you over the edge, and you grip on to her shoulders for dear life as your orgasm comes crashing over you. You pull Rio into a messy kiss to try and dampen your moans as you wind down. She pulls her fingers out, humming with pleasure as she sucks them clean.

“Fucking hell,” you pant.

Rio looks at you with a devilish grin. 

The sound of the bathroom door opening jolts you out of the haze. Agatha steps into the room, towel-wrapped and hair damp, her expression calm as she surveys the scene. Rio immediately freezes, her eyes widening slightly like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

But Agatha doesn’t say a word. She simply raises an eyebrow, a ghost of a smirk tugging at her lips, before turning back to the closet to finish getting ready. Her calm, collected demeanour somehow leaves you even more flustered than being caught outright.

The rest of the morning passes in a blur. After Agatha and Rio get you dressed, they drive you back to your college apartment; their voices light and playful. “Remember to actually text us this time,” Rio teases as she pulls up to the curb. “We’re not just for weekends, you know.”

“Yeah, text us, sweetheart,” Agatha adds with a soft smile. “We like hearing from you.”

“I will,” you promise, glancing at your phone, already thinking of what you were going to text them.

—

Later that evening, you’re mindlessly scrolling on your phone when you notice a new notification in your group chat with Agatha and Rio.

Check-In Group

MILF 2 changed the name to MILFs Anonymous

MILF 1: Rio!

MILF 2: Come on, just let me have this one thing :(

MILF 1: Fine, but Y/N, change our contact names now please

You roll your eyes at Rio’s antics but do as you’re told, not wanting to dissapoint Agatha; you still feel a bit guilty for having sex with Rio this morning.

—

Over the next few days, you find yourself texting with them more and more. The conversations flow easily—Agatha constantly checking in on you, always asking if you’ve eaten or if you’re doing alright. It’s sweet, in a way you didn’t expect, but it’s comforting. Rio, on the other hand, can’t resist sending her terrible dad jokes, which, despite your best efforts, always make you laugh.

MILFS Anonymous

~ 15:48

Rio: What do you call a group of crows that stick together?

You: Oh God, please stop

Agatha: Seriously. You’re not funny

Rio: VelCrows :)))

Agatha: Sometimes I wonder how I fell in love with you

Rio: It’s because I fuck you like there’s no tomorrow ;)

~ 21:17

Agatha: *click to open image*

Agatha: Huh, you don’t look like you’re doing much fucking to me

You drop your phone with a loud clatter. You were not expecting to see a picture of a Rio naked and tied to the bed with a vibrator pressed against her clit and by the looks of it, she had been like that for some time. You spend the rest of your evening fucking yourself to that image. Each time you think you’re done and can't cum any more, the image pops into your mind again, and you start to imagine all the things they would do if you were with them, and before you know it, your hand is back between your legs.

—

Thanksgiving break arrives faster than expected, and the familiar comfort of your parents' home feels like a welcome change from the chaos of college life. You arrive in the early afternoon, greeted by the warm aroma of roasted turkey and spiced pies wafting from the kitchen. It’s a little odd being home after everything that’s happened with Rio and Agatha, knowing they live just next door. You wonder if you’ll see them during your visit.

It turns out you don’t have to wonder for long.

A knock at the front door pulls you from your thoughts, and your dad answers with a cheerful, “Agatha! Rio! Happy Thanksgiving!”

Your stomach flips.

You appear in the hallway just in time to see them stepping inside, Agatha holding a neatly wrapped gift basket and Rio carrying what looks like a bottle of wine. They’re dressed casually but still look effortlessly gorgeous; Rio is dressed in a breezy striped blue shirt that’s half tucked into her jeans. The loose fit of the shirt somehow adds to her charm, her confident movements making it clear she’s completely at ease. Agatha, on the other hand, is the picture of sophistication, her fitted blazer in a warm mustard hue paired with a turtleneck and slacks giving her a commanding presence that turns heads—even in such a casual setting.

“We just wanted to drop this off,” Agatha says, her usual polished tone soft and warm. “A little something for the holiday.”

“Oh, nonsense, you’re not just dropping it off,” your mom insists, appearing behind your dad. “You’re staying for dinner. It’s the least we can do after everything you did for this one when they got locked out in the rain.”

Your heart nearly stops. You glance at Agatha, who meets your wide-eyed look with a calm, knowing smile.

“Really, it wasn’t any trouble,” Agatha says smoothly, a teasing lilt in her voice. “I mean, we could’ve just let them in with the spare key you gave us, but... well, we thought they might prefer a warm bed and some company at ours instead.”

Your cheeks burn as Rio chimes in, her grin bordering on wicked. “And they didn’t seem to mind one bit.”

Your parents laugh, completely oblivious to the deeper meaning behind the exchange, but you feel like you’re about to combust. Agatha and Rio both throw you brief, pointed glances before following your mom into the dining room, leaving you standing there trying to steady your racing heart.

—

Dinner starts off innocently enough, but the air feels charged in a way you can’t quite explain. You’re hyper-aware of Rio sitting across from you and Agatha beside you, their presence consuming all your focus.

Rio’s long fingers wrap elegantly around her wine glass as she listens to your dad talk, but her gaze keeps drifting to you, her lips curving into a faint smirk every time your eyes meet. Meanwhile, Agatha takes every opportunity to lean close, brushing her arm against yours under the guise of reaching for the breadbasket or whispering a sly comment in your ear that sends a jolt of heat straight to your core.

“You look a little flushed, sweetheart,” Agatha purrs at one point, her tone dripping with amusement. “You okay?”

You nod quickly, biting your lip to keep from saying something that would give you away. Rio catches the exchange and arches an eyebrow, her gaze flickering between the two of you knowingly.

It only gets worse as the meal progresses. Rio’s foot grazes yours under the table, lingering just long enough to send a thrill up your spine. 

When Agatha pours herself another glass of wine, she tilts the bottle toward you with a raised brow, silently asking if you’d like more. You nod, not trusting your voice. As she leans over to fill your glass, her lips brush your ear so faintly it feels like a whisper of air. “Behave, sweetheart,” she murmurs, her voice so low and intimate that a shiver runs down your spine.

You clench your thighs and glance up at her wide-eyed, but she only pulls back with that same subtle smile, her expression calm and unreadable.

You do your best to stay composed, but your mind is spinning. Every touch, every look, and every smirk makes it harder to focus on anything else.

Then, as if the universe wants to test your resolve further, Agatha “accidentally” spills a bit of wine on her sweater.

“Oh, shoot,” she says, dabbing at the stain with her napkin.

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” your mom says quickly. “Y/N, show Agatha where the bathroom is, and grab her a clean top from the laundry room, will you?”

You nod, your pulse quickening as you rise from the table. Agatha follows you down the hall, her calm exterior betraying nothing, but you can feel the tension radiating off her like heat. You scurry off to grab Agatha a clean top and quickly show her to the bathroom.

The moment you’re alone in the room, she closes the door behind you with a soft click and turns to face you, her expression shifting from composed to utterly predatory.

“Finally,” she murmurs, stepping closer, her voice low and thick with desire. “Do you have any idea how hard it’s been to keep my hands off you all evening?”

Your breath catches as she backs you against the counter, her hands finding your waist and pulling you flush against her. Her lips are on yours before you can respond, the kiss hungry and demanding, igniting a fire in your chest that spreads through your entire body.

“Agatha, we��” you start to protest, your voice a shaky whisper, but she silences you with another kiss, her hands sliding up your sides to cup your face.

“They’re none the wiser,” she murmurs against your lips, her voice sending shivers down your spine. “Now, let me have you for just a moment.”

Before you can respond, Agatha’s hands drift lower, deftly removing anything on your bottom half that will get in the way of her goal and letting the fabric fall to the tiled floor. Her gaze darkens as she sinks to her knees in front of you, her palms sliding down your thighs, leaving trails of heat in their wake.

Her eyes flick up to meet yours, full of lust and mischief, as she leans in closer. “Dripping everywhere,” she murmurs, her voice husky and teasing, her lips ghosting over the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. “Just like the first time we were in a bathroom together. Seems I have a knack for this, don’t I?”

Your heart pounds in your chest as her words hang in the air, her presence between your legs sending a surge of electricity through you.

It might be Thanksgiving, but your body feels like the Fourth of July when she drags her tongue from your entrance to your clit. She sucks it into her mouth and flicks lightly with the tip of her tongue before releasing it and going back to push her tongue inside you. The woman is on a mission and wastes no time in bringing you close to your climax in record time.

Her hand clamps over your mouth, not willing to risk you letting the whole street know that you’re going to cum, and then, with a final flick of her tongue, you’re glad she did because the orgasm hits you like a fucking 18-wheeler truck, your legs start to shake, and you have to grip on to the sink to stop yourself from collapsing. 

Your breathing comes in ragged gasps as the world tilts back into focus, your body still trembling from the intensity of what just happened. Agatha stands, her movements unhurried and precise as she grabs a tissue and delicately wipes the corner of her mouth, her expression one of calm satisfaction.

"Still as sweet as I remember," she murmurs, her voice low and teasing as she crumples the tissue and tosses it into the small trash can by the sink.

You blink at her, still clinging to the edge of the sink for balance, your legs shaky and your mind a hazy blur of aftershocks. Agatha’s hands are steady as she helps you straighten your clothes, her touch lingering just a moment too long, her fingers grazing the small of your back before she steps away.

She smooths the fresh top you fetched for her, giving herself a quick once-over in the mirror. Perfectly put together, not a single hair out of place. You can’t help but marvel at her composure, especially when you feel like you’ve just been turned inside out.

Agatha turns back to you, a soft, almost maternal smile on her lips as she gives your ass a light pat. “Go on, darling,” she says, her tone playful but firm. “Head back out there before they start to wonder. I’ll be right behind you.”

You swallow hard, willing your legs to cooperate, and make your way back to the dining room, still trying to regain your composure.

The two of you return to the dining room during dessert, the scent of sweet pies and coffee wafting in the air. Agatha looks completely composed now, her clean top fitting snugly as she takes her seat next to you. She even stops for a moment to dab a napkin at the corner of her mouth—the perfect picture of elegance considering she was wiping away the last remnants of your cum. You, however, can feel the heat rising to your cheeks as you settle down, trying not to meet anyone’s gaze too directly.

From the other side of the table, Rio watches the two of you with a smirk that’s far too knowing for comfort. She raises her glass in a small toast, the corner of her lips quirking in amusement before she takes a slow sip.

“So,” she says casually, her tone light but her eyes sparkling with mischief, “did the mess get sorted out?”

Agatha doesn’t miss a beat, shooting her a calm, collected smile. “All taken care of. They were very helpful.” She says, draping an arm around the back of your chair.

Your mother beams, none the wiser. “Well, that’s sweet. Always good to know you’ve got a helping hand.”

Rio stifles a laugh behind her hand, her eyes meeting yours briefly. The heat simmering beneath your skin refuses to let up, and you can only hope that dessert wraps up soon—before someone else catches on.

-----

"we could’ve just let them in with the spare key"

*humming* it was Agatha all along

⚠️Remember⚠️validation saves lives (this fic dies when I believe nobody likes it anymore because I have imposter syndrome)

READ PART 4

-----

taglist: @aceday @valarmorghuli @ctrlamira @lezbean-with-a-side-of-dilfs @noturlondonboy @darkangelchronicles @4theluvofsapphos

[entitled-fangirl]

I'll always be thanking you.

Cregan Stark x wife!reader

Summary: The reader goes through postpartum depression after she gives him yet another girl. Cregan reassures her that he loves his daughters.

Warnings: postpartum depression, recovering from childbirth, sexist culture

Masterlist

A/n: it's a two fic kinda day

...............................................................................

It had happened so suddenly.

Cregan thought all was right in the world. Everything was set in place by the Old Gods as it should be. Everything was perfect.

But he knew that the last two pregnancies had been unkind to her, prompting a horrid depression after them that went on for months. But when it hadn't shown yet for this last one, he thought that perhaps it had stopped completely.

Until now.

He stepped into their chamber with a broad smile, lightly bouncing the two-year-old on his arm. Arya. She giggled with each one, the sound distorted with the force of the bounces. Witnessing the intimidating man turn soft for the little girl was entirely endearing. 

"Your mother is still in bed," he chipped lightly as he observed his wife covered by the furs they shared every night.

"She always in bed," Lyanna, their five year old said as she trailed behind them.

"Not always," Cregan corrected firmly. "She just gave us your new sister. It takes a long time for the body and mind to recover from something that great."

A small shaking of his wife's shoulders from her laying form in the bed caused him to worry slightly. "Lyanna, why don't you take your sister?"

She wanted to complain but knew better than to argue with her father. She took the toddler's hand and they walked out from the room.

Cregan's recovering wife laid in their bed, completely unmoving except for the small shoulder shake he'd seen. It was a quiver and it sent him on edge. She only ever did that when-

"Are you crying?" He whispered as he sat on the bed, her back to him.

Finally she turned. She had been awake the entire time. Her face was red from crying, the paths of her tears evident on her face. Her lips pouted down as she suppressed a sob.

Cregan was quick to comfort her. He practically laid his body over hers, keeping an arm around her to let her weep into his collarbone. And she did so.

He cooed every few moments, his free hand rubbing at her hair. The tears pained him almost as much as watching her endure the harsh labor only a two weeks before.

When the violent part of the crying was over, he pulled her face away to look at her. "Now," he caressed her cheek, "What is all this for?"

She sniffled and hiccuped between words. "It's just… just… Sarra."

His face fell. "Is something wrong with the babe?"

"No. It's just…" she caught her breath. "Another girl."

Cregan's head tilted. "It is," he reckoned. "What is the problem, my love?"

"Can I not give you a boy?" She whispered in fear of the answer.

Realization flooded Cregan. "You're doing nothing wrong," he assured. "I love my girls with all my heart. Did you want a boy this badly?"

"I just want you to be proud of me."

He visibly flinched. The thought of his postpartum wife crying over giving him a healthy baby was too much for him. "I'm proud of you. You've given me three girls now."

"But it's not a boy." Her eyes continually welled up with tears. "I was so sure it was a boy."

"Do you think me that shallow, dear wife?" He asked in a firm tone. "That I'd have you birth children until I got a boy?"

"Two," she corrected. "You need an heir and a spare and I-" her breath caught. "I cannot even give you one. A cursed womb-"

"Don't say that." His voice was a firm growl, his hand grabbing her jaw a bit harder than he meant to. "Do not say that."

A few tears ran down her cheeks.

Cregan forced a sigh and let his anger die down. He sat up a bit, giving her space. "Do you think that all I wanted in this world were two sons? Do you think that is all my heart desires?"

It was clear that she knew deep down how ridiculous she sounded. "Well-"

"-I've said it many times. What does my heart desire? Hmm? What brightens my day more than the sun?"

She let out a breath through her nose.

Cregan continued, tilting his head down to catch her gaze. "My wife and what? What else?"

"Your children," she whispered.

"Hm?" He asked, though he clearly heard it. He just wanted her to say it once again.

"Your children," she said a bit louder. 

He smiled. "Yes, our children." He tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. "Whether we had had one or you give me an army, I shall love them all until my remains in the crypt are long gone. Being a boy or girl doesn't change it."

"But… Winterfell-"

"-We'll deal with the succession when it is meant to happen. Until now, you're going to rest, and I'm going to spend time with our children. But I'm not going anywhere until you've done your part."

"The maester said it would take much longer to heal this time," she muttered. To herself or Cregan, she wasn't sure.

"That's alright. We've got all the time we need for now, don't we? No need to rush things."

"But the sooner we try-"

"-No-"

"-And Sarra was such a surprise-"

"-Stop-"

"-The next one could be sooner-"

"-Love," he said with a slightly raised voice. "When you're healed and ready to try once more, I will be eternally grateful. But I can wait a lifetime if I need to. I have all I need in the world already."

There was a small knock on the door. "Papa?"

No doubt it was Arya.

Cregan grinned and kissed his wife's temple before going to the door. In the doorway stood little Arya, her hair a sandy brown like Cregan's, her bright eyes like her mother. "What do you need?" It was a firm ask from him, but not one without care.

Arya had yet to say complete sentences yet, only a few  words here and there and the lord would be forced to try to make sense of them. She babbled about something and Cregan's brows raised, completely at a loss. "Um… I-"

"Here, darling," Y/n's soft voice came from behind Cregan as she walked to them. In her hand was Arya's doll that she had no doubt dropped earlier. It was a carefully sewn piece from Cregan's bastard sister, Sara, of whom the new babe was named after. "I see Aunt Sara got a new dress for her, hm?"

Arya grabbed the doll quickly from her mother and hugged the doll tightly. 

Cregan wrapped an arm around his wife. He wanted to scold her for getting up but he would refrain from that for now. "Aye. A very pretty dress," he tried to compliment. Cregan didn't know the first thing about sewing or doll making, or even the fashion of ladies, but he tried anyway to please his girls.

Arya's brows came together in clear confusion, prompting his wife to lightly elbow him. He gave a grunt and gawked.

"It's a battle dress," she spoke through her teeth. "It's a doll dressed like a female warrior."

He decided to go along with it, though he clearly didn't understand it. "I mean, what a very fierce dress. Seems very… protective."

Arya accepted that answer and held the doll out for Cregan to truly see. His gruff hand reached out and took the doll, bringing it up to his level to admire. His sister had done well with it, even he could see that. "So very pr-" he caught himself. "So very strong."

Arya jumped up to grab the doll and Cregan handed it back to her. The two parents watched her take off again like nothing had happened. 

"How'd you know what she wanted?" He asked his wife.

She rubbed at her tired eyes, ignoring the slight ache in her thighs. "She said so. Didn't you hear it?"

"We have three lovely girls and I still have so much to learn," he remarked, amusement oozing from his voice.

She gave a tired grin at that. She began leaning more into him than before and he held her hips taught. "Now," he remarked, "to bed with you."

"Sarra might need me-"

"-I'll check on Sarra."

"And Lyanna was hoping to play outside-"

"-I'll see to it."

"And Arya-"

"-What of Arya?" He asked quietly.

She paused. "I- She always needs something."

He let out a deep chuckle, guiding her back to the bed. "I'll see to it all. I promise you. I can be a father, whether you believe that or not."

She hummed. "I do."

"Alright. Then let me." He kissed her cheek, his scruff rubbing at her skin. "We'll get you in bed."

"Can the girls visit later?" 

He couldn't deny those bright eyes of hers. The same ones each of his girls inherited. It was his one weakness. "After you sup, then yes. But that is in a few hours."

Relief and excitement pulled at her shoulders, a comforting feeling washing over her. "Thank you."

As he tucked her back into the bed, he smiled at her. "Don't thank me. You've given me everything. I'll always be thanking you."

................................................

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[yoru-exe]

PHAINON ࣪ ִֶָ ⋆ . call my name

as overly formal and unnecessary as it sounds, the amphoreus' hero has always been lord phainon to you. while it comes with great honour and respect, much like how it applies to your master; lady aglaea, it feels like there's a barrier between you and him, and he doesn't really like that, considering that he'd like to know you better, closer.

so naturally, he revels in making you drop the honourary title, and the best way to make you do so (based on his countless personal experiments of trial-and-error, which he very much enjoyed) is to catch you off guard. shock you enough to make you forget all about the formality, enough to make you see him not as just amphoreus' hero, but as phainon himself.

one of the times that happened was when you found a lost little girl in the wood. so you asked around the village nearby if she's familiar. you were starting to get some leads when you stumbled upon an elderly man who commented, "my, what lovely family you three look".

"no, we're not-".

"well, thank you so much, good sir. unfortunately, they're not family members. we're actually looking for this child's parents. although i'd like to note that i do look forward to starting a family with this woman".

"phainon!".

of course, that's just one method of making you fall into his plan. there's trill in guessing how you'll react. the blush that never fail to paint your face rosy red always manage to make him fall deeper for you. but nothing made him completely weak than you calling his name consciously out of your own choice.

not even mydei's hardest punch to his gut could do as much damage as you do in this situation.

he was looking at the moon one night all alone when you appeared beside him. "someone seems busy with his thought. would he be so generous to share?", a teasing tone laced your words, making him chuckled. you always seem to know how to calm his nerve when it's going wild.

"just.. thinking about the battle to come. do you think we'll make it this time?". from the hill you're standing on, the ruins around the perimeter glowed under the moonlight. the destruction they faced was unmistakable. from the way he sympathetically shifted his gaze upon them, you guessed that perhaps it's from his previous battle, one that you didn't embark together with, one that he failed.

without warning, you took his hand in yours, caressing circles on the scars on it, a gentle smile gracing your lips. "of course we will, because you have me by your side", you announced pridefully, so full of confidence that it felt contagious on him. "and you by mine, phainon".

you voice was so low, as if a whisper of a mother soothing her crying child, or a girl confessing to her lover of her affection. but he heard you loud and clear.

although, he felt like he needed you to repeat that again because his system was in a mess from you saying his name that he didn't get to savour it to its fullest.

"no, that only come once".

safe to say that he spent the rest of the night begging that you call his name like you just did. but where's the fun in a challenge if you just give him what he wants?

⊹₊ author's note ₊⊹

this is kinda silly, but someone implied that phainon isn't as innocent as what we originally thought he would be did something to my brain chemistry. and you know what? good for him. this man needs some fun before he d***

[headkiss]

something more

pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!bau!reader

summary: you and aaron are friends with feelings more obvious than you think. or: 5 times the team suspects you and hotch are dating +1 time they know it.

word count: 6.6k

warnings: friends to lovers, the team being a little nosy, pining idiots!!!, probably inaccurate descriptions of bau jobs (for the plot!), a very small injury, a birthday, a first kiss, and fluff!

a/n: hiii this one has been a long time coming so thank you guys for being so patient with me!!! and special thanks to the anon who requested this one! i hope u guys enjoy it and please please let me know what you think <3 ily

༄

Aaron Hotchner was never someone you thought you could be this close to.

Coming to the BAU, you’d been intimidated more than anything. As Unit Chief, he’s got a reputation that’s hard to ignore. Professional, brave, cold when he has to be. His success and talent were undeniable, and all you wanted to do was prove that you belonged there, too.

Then, you really met him, and he surprised you in a way you hadn’t expected. Hotch was kind right off the bat, welcoming you to the team with a smile that felt like some sort of prize.

He was an excellent boss. Understanding and protective, quick to defend anyone on the team like they were his own family. Except, he was so much more than just your boss.

Now, you’d call him your closest friend, someone who’s number you’d call if you were in trouble. He’s your closest friend and yet you feel so much more for him.

It started slow, a friendship blooming the way a plant does with just enough sunlight. It was a shared smile here, a nudge of the shoulder there. It grew to be a seat next to him reserved for you on every plane ride.

Today, it’s eating lunch with him in his office.

Aaron usually works through lunch, more eager to get things done than he is to worry about skipping a meal. Somehow, with two tupperware containers in your hand and a sweet smile, you’d managed to get him to take a break.

“Whatcha doing?” You’d asked.

Hotch looked up from his paperwork then, dropping his pen because you were in his doorway. “You know, Unit Chief business. Reports.”

“Sounds like you have time for lunch, then.” You set the containers down on his desk, making sure to avoid the papers he’d just been working on.

“I should really get this done-”

“Hotch,” you stopped him, “you and I both know that you’re always ahead on this stuff because you stay here so late. Lunch won’t set you back.”

With a shake of his head and the biting back of a smile, a simple twitch at the corners of his mouth, Aaron agreed and stacked his paperwork off to the side.

That’s how you’ve ended up in the chair that’s usually on the opposite side of his desk, only now it’s tugged to be next to his. Your knees touch every so often when one of you shifts, and the warmth stays with you even when the contact is gone.

“Sorry it’s nothing fancy,” you say as he opens the container you brought for him.

“Don’t apologize. It’s great.” Hotch has a way of saying things that make them sound true, no matter how few words he uses, so you accept it.

“Okay, good!” There’s a small silence, a lull as you both take your first bites. “Can I help with anything?”

Aaron looks from the paperwork to your face, your eyes already on his. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to,” you reassure him. “I think sometimes you forget that you aren’t the only one who can do this stuff.”

He knocks his knee against yours. Purposeful this time. A silent ‘thank you.’

“Like you said, I’m ahead anyways. I’ve got it.”

“Come on, Hotch. I’m already done with my report from our last case. I’ve got time. Let me help.”

He’s always been reluctant to accept help, to ask for it, but when you’re asking so sweetly, when it’ll give him an excuse to spend more time with you, it’s hard for Aaron to say no.

“Alright. You help for an hour, that’s it.”

You grin at him, like his acceptance of your offer was some kind of gift he’d given you. Your nose crinkles a little with it, and his hand flexes in his lap, like he’s fighting not to reach out to you.

“Okay, put me to work, boss.”

“We just started lunch,” he says, a little chuckle puffing out.

“Have you ever heard of multitasking, Agent Hotchner?”

Aaron laughs, shaking his head as he reaches for one of the files in the stack he’d made and hands it to you. He’d call everyone at the BAU a friend, but there’s something different, something more about how he’d describe you.

He’s grown closer to you than he usually lets himself get to people, like you’re the only one with the right tools to break through walls he’s put up. You see each other outside of work (on the rare days you aren’t working), and still, he feels like it’s never long enough.

Hotch briefly wonders if he could just move your desk into his office. He shakes off the thought and what it might mean.

Head bent, you’re now focused on the work he gave you, and Aaron takes the chance to admire you. His eyes flick over your profile, the light hitting your cheeks, the flutter of your eyelashes every time you blink.

As if you could feel his gaze on you, you turn towards him and smile—a small, closed-mouth smile, but a smile all the same—before turning your attention back to the page.

When you take a pause and take another bite of your lunch, a small drop of sauce lands on your thigh. “Oh, shit.”

Aaron grabs a tissue from the box on his desk, wrapping it over his fingertip before wiping the small spot from your leg, his finger a spark against you even through your pants.

“Good thing you wore black,” he says, tossing the tissue in the garbage. His hand, however, stays on your leg, and though the touch is light the weight of it feels the opposite. Heavy, huge.

“Good thing you’re here to clean up after me, more like.”

Your eyes meet, and you share a smile with Hotch the way you often do. Mid-conversation, across a room, it’s a smile you sort of reserve for each other.

In the main office below, Derek, Spencer, and JJ stand together, watching the interaction through the window into Hotch’s office. You and Aaron seem to be in your own bubble, completely unaware of your small audience.

“They’ve gotta be together,” Derek is the first to speak, waving a hand towards the office where you and Hotch are talking. “I mean, come on.”

“I don’t know,” JJ shrugs, “they both seem kinda clueless.”

“We probably shouldn’t speculate about them,” Spencer, always the sweetheart, says. “But, statistically, Hotch never eats lunch. Just saying.”

JJ pats Reid on the shoulder, huffing out a laugh before she heads back to her desk.

You stay in Aaron’s office much longer than an hour that day.

-

Punctuality is important in the BAU. Really, if you’re not early, you’re late. You’ve always got to be ready, wheels up in ten, or five.

You suppose that doesn’t really apply to outside-of-the-office parties at Garcia’s.

It’s rare that you’re all available at the same time, from late nights at the bureau to families, it’s tough to make your schedules line up when you aren’t working, which is why whenever she can, Penelope likes to host drinks for the team.

You’re on your way there now, or, you should be. Instead, you’re getting ready in your bedroom while Aaron waits in your living room.

Hotch has offered to drive you to these things every time, and with every offer, comes your easy answer of ‘yes.’ He’d been outside in his car for five minutes before he decided to call, because you’re usually in his passenger seat within seconds of him pulling over by your building.

The ringing of your phone had your eyes blinking open, squinted against the sudden brightness of your TV. You’d accidentally fallen asleep, and, still disoriented, picked up the phone. “Hello?”

“Hey, everything okay?” It’s Aaron’s voice on the other line, and you pull your phone away for a second to check the time before sitting up quickly.

“Shit, Hotch, I must’ve fallen asleep. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s alright, I can wait for you.” He’d wait as long as you need, he thinks. The thought passes through like a leaf blown in the wind, freely, randomly.

“Have you been waiting long?” You ask, fingers tugging at a loose thread in your pants.

“No, don’t worry. Barely five minutes.”

And he still wanted to check on you.

“Why don’t you come in? My couch is probably more comfortable than your car, right?”

“You sure?” He checks, like he hasn’t been to your place before, like you’d ever not want him there.

“Get in here, Hotchner.”

You hung up before he could reply, and he laughed to himself in his car before shutting it off and doing exactly what you’d told him.

So, now, you’re rushing to find an outfit while Aaron sits on your couch by himself.

Even though he’s in the next room, you can feel his presence around you, the steady security he gives you, the warmth that seeps out of him even when he tries to hide it.

You settle on a knitted sweater, a skirt, and some tights, which you realize as you tug them on aren't the speediest of options, but it’s too late to change your mind now. With your hair figured out and the mascara that had smudged during your nap fixed, you step back out into the living room.

Aaron made himself at home while you were gone (he often feels that way with you, at home), sitting on your couch with his arms spread across the back. He looks better than he should there, suit stretched across his shoulders, and you have to clear your throat to snap yourself out of it.

“Okay, sorry again for the delay. I’m ready to go.”

He looks up as soon as you walk in, eyes skimming over your legs and the tights wrapped around them, your waist, up your neck. His gaze lands on your eyes the way it often does, like magnets.

He shakes his head, “don’t be sorry. We’ll be what they call ‘fashionably late.’”

You laugh, because who would’ve thought that the words ‘fashionably late’ would ever come out of Aaron Hotchner’s mouth.

“Who taught you that one, huh?”

“I like to keep my sources anonymous.”

“Well okay, then. Let’s go be fashionably late, Hotch.”

He lets you lead the way to the car, only jogging up ahead to open your door before you can reach it yourself.

During the drive to Penelope’s, you take control of the music with little objection from Aaron, and when it gets to a song you know he likes, you sing along, encouraging him to do the same.

“Let’s hear it, Agent Hotchner.” You hold your fist out like there’s a microphone in it, looking at him with a grin on your face.

“I can't sing.” Aaron’s fighting off a smile, because you’re sitting beside him, not too shy to sing along, being all cute and, briefly, he thinks about reaching out and grabbing your hand and holding on.

“Sure you can! Everyone can sing, come on.” You unfurl your faux microphone-holding fist and tug on the knot of his tie, “loosen up a little.”

And, because you have some way of convincing him of things—first lunch, now this—he humors you by joining in for one chorus of the song. When your eyes light up a little, and your grin only widens, he can’t bring himself to be too concerned of how bad he probably sounds.

By the time you’re at Garcia’s door you’re a solid hour late, yet you and Aaron walk up to the door with matching smiles all the same.

“I’m getting you to do that every time I hear that song now, I hope you know.”

“That was a one time special,” he says. He reaches over your shoulder to knock on the door. His hand brushes against you, featherlight and quick, a crackle over your skin.

On the other side, Morgan says, “must be the lovebirds” when he hears the sound.

You and Aaron don’t hear him, only broken out of your little shared bubble when Penelope opens the door. “There you guys are! I made your drinks but the ice might be melted by now. You know, ‘cause you’re late.”

You know this is directed towards you more than it is Hotch, because Garcia’s a little intimidated by him still. You also know she’s only joking, and greet her with a hug before stepping in.

Aaron isn’t far behind you, though at these things, he never is.

You’re met with warm greetings from the team when you walk in, and you chat for a bit, but it isn’t long before things split off into smaller conversations. They all know that Aaron drives you to these things, and, as profilers, they’re also all able to see the way you look at each other, the way the knot of his tie sits lower than usual.

In the corner, Emily leans over to Derek, saying, “usually it takes at least two drinks for Hotch’s tie to look like that.”

“I told you, they’re together,” Derek shrugs.

“I don’t think they know that,” Emily replies.

This time, Aaron hears them, and he can’t help but look towards you in the room the rest of the night, thinking and thinking and thinking.

He ends up deciding that they might have a point. That maybe, that shift in his heartbeat when you’re around isn’t nothing, isn’t just friends.

-

The flight home from a case always feels the longest.

On the way there, you’re packing every hour with information about what’s going on, talking to Garcia, reading police reports. You’re all on edge, eager to get out there and help and do your jobs,

Then, on the way home, with another case solved, all you’re thinking about is going home, sleeping in your own bed, and time seems to go slower.

If your name happens to be Aaron Hotchner, you’d spend the plane ride home doing paperwork that actually can wait.

You and Aaron sit next to each other on pretty much every flight, though the seats have never been assigned. It’s an unspoken thing, like your names are written on the fabric of the same two seats on the jet and that’s just the way it is.

The first time was early on in your time on the team. It was a tough case for you, and Hotch seemed to know it without you having to say anything, so, when you got on the jet to come home, he smiled that small, twitch of his lips smile at you and nodded at the seat next to him. You’ve been sitting there ever since.

Today, your flight is on the shorter side, but feels long the way it always does. Trying to keep yourself occupied, you pull out your earbuds and shuffle your playlist, hoping that the songs will speed things up.

“Sick of me already?” Hotch speaks up when he notices your headphones.

You tilt your head to look at him. He looks tired, the way you’re sure you do, too, but never any less handsome. His eyes are soft where they meet yours, paired with a hint of a smile that you’re always able to catch.

“Sick of you, Hotch? Never.” You nod at the file he has open on the small table, “just didn’t want to distract you.”

“I thought you enjoyed distracting me. Always telling me I work too much.”

“‘Cause it’s true,” you say. “That doesn’t mean you listen.”

“I listen to you more than I listen to most people.” Aaron’s voice is gentle when he says it, the words sinking in and melting you just a little, sugary sweet. It could mean absolutely nothing, but with the way he keeps his eyes steady on yours, you don’t think it does.

“Listen to this, then,” you hand him one of your earbuds, and his fingers brush yours when he takes it from you. “But you can’t make fun of me if a musical soundtrack comes on, okay?”

“Okay,” he huffs a small laugh, and you feel a little brighter. “I promise.”

You’re aware of the team having their own conversations in the rows in front of you and Hotch, but you can’t bring yourself to join in, because you and Aaron are sharing your earbuds and his head is bent just a little closer to yours. It’s delicate, and you’ll do your best not to break it.

You talk a little longer, until it naturally fizzles out and Hotch is back to working on his files and you’re bobbing your head along to your songs. Only now, Aaron sits closer to you, his arm against yours.

He’s not sure what to do with his newfound realization that his feelings for you run far deeper than friendship. All Aaron knows is that he likes the feeling of you beside him, and that he’s planning on keeping you there as long as you’ll let him.

It’s quiet between the two of you aside from your occasional ‘this is a good one,’ and his hum of acknowledgement.

Eventually, you’re relaxed enough that your eyes grow heavy, the sleep you’ve been lacking suddenly catching up to you, and when you hit a patch of slower songs you’re fighting to stay awake.

When your head lulls onto Hotch’s shoulder, you jerk your head up, “sorry, Aaron.”

His chest does something funny. A jump. It’s not often you call him Aaron, and he’d listen to the sound of his name on your lips on a loop if he could. Because he can’t help himself, he scooches himself even closer to you.

He decides to call you something different, too, saying, “it’s alright, honey.”

You’re too sleepy to really read into that one, all you feel is the flutter in your stomach and Aaron’s hand on your head, gently guiding it to his shoulder.

When he’s sure you’re asleep, Hotch looks away from his files and over to you. Your cheek is squished against his shoulder, your lashes fanned shut. He thinks you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen.

Aaron doesn’t even feel the smile that spreads over his face as he reaches up and pushes your hair away from your face. He’s completely unaware of the eyes that catch him, far too focused on you.

Emily turned around when she realized she hadn’t heard your voice in a bit, and she did it just in time to catch Hotch’s movement. Instead of saying something, she turns back around and shakes her head to herself.

Hopeless, she thinks.

Sleep doesn’t come so easily with this job, with the things you see, so Aaron can’t help but try and stay steady for you, and if that leads to him letting his eyes close and resting his head on yours, then so be it.

It’s not until the end of the flight that the team checks on the two of you. As everyone stands and grabs their go bags, they notice the two of you, asleep next to each other, earbud wires hanging between you.

“Should we wake them up?” JJ asks.

“Hotch doesn’t get enough sleep as it is,” Spencer chimes in. “Neither does she, actually.”

Of course, Derek finishes with, “let’s leave the lovebirds to it,” before the team gets off the plane.

It’s only about twenty minutes later that Aaron does wake up, but he feels more well-rested than he has in a while, even with the kink in his neck.

Blinking his eyes open, he’s met with an empty jet and the comforting weight of your head on his shoulder. “Shit,” he sighs.

He debates waking you, ultimately deciding that you’d probably rather sleep in your bed rather than the seat of the BAU’s jet. Reaching up, he pulls your earbuds away, setting them on the table. With a brush of his fingertips to your cheek, he coaxed you awake.

“Hey, honey,” Aaron’s nearly whispering, like he’s afraid to scare you. Or, maybe, he’s convinced that if he moves too quickly, too loudly, this whole thing will fade away as if he’d been dreaming. “Wake up, we’re home.”

“Hm?” You grumble, scrunching your nose when he brushes your cheek again.

“We fell asleep, but we landed.”

“Oh, god.” You sit up properly, lifting your head. “I’m sorry, Aaron. Hotch.”

“Aaron is good,” he eases you. “Come on, I’ll drive you.”

Sleep-hazed, or maybe just happy that he can be Aaron to you, you agree easily and take his hand when he offers it, letting him lead you to his car.

-

You’ve been spending more time at Aaron’s ever since that flight. In the car, he’d convinced you to stay over at his place in the guest room, since it was closer. With your go bag already in his car and heavy, sleepy eyes, it was hard for you to do anything but agree.

It’s another slice of his life that he’s let you see, and you can’t help but feel like it means something, like you’re stepping further and further away from being coworkers who are friends and towards something different. Something more.

That flight feels like the catalyst, the thing that caused things to shift into what they are now.

Aaron’s couch is much more comfortable than yours, and though you’ve yet to spend the night again, you’re sitting there with him at almost every chance. The time off you get is rare, and Aaron wanting to spend it with you sends flutters to your stomach whenever you think about it.

You feel like you know him better, getting to see his space, how he chose to decorate, what colors he likes, which ones he doesn’t. You also know what temperature he likes to set his thermostat.

“Do you enjoy living in a refrigerator?” You ask, hands tucked into your sleeves. “Just wondering.”

Aaron laughs, a small huff, “I think you just run cold, honey.”

He’s been calling you that a lot, too. Honey.

“No way, Hotchner. Your house is what runs cold. Or maybe you’re cold-blooded.”

Not with you, he thinks. Years and years of doing what he does, Hotch might even call himself cold when he’s thinking a little too hard. But never cold with you. He thinks that might be impossible for him.

“Shhh, don’t tell anyone my secret,” he says, his arm brushing against yours from where he sits next to you on his couch. “Where are you cold?”

“Can’t feel my toes, Aaron. I might be out of commission for the next case.”

“Well we can’t lose our best girl, can we?” Best girl, he says. Like he means it, like it’s simple. “I’ve got some thick socks you can grab. Bottom drawer.”

Just like that, he’s cracked another wall of his down even further, giving you permission to go into his bedroom as if you’ve been in there a thousand times.

“Really?”

“Unless you’d rather not feel your toes-“

“Okay, okay,” you stop him, unable to fight your smile. “Thanks, Aaron.”

When you stand and head towards his room, Aaron can’t stop himself from thinking that you belong there, in his home, his room, his life. You fit in so seamlessly he wishes you’d never leave.

He stands up too, because the couch suddenly feels sort of empty without you beside him, without your warmth. He walks over to his thermostat on the wall and turns it up for you.

You’ve always thought that you can tell a lot about a person from where they live, and seeing Aaron’s bedroom now solidifies it. His place does too, but there’s something about his bedroom that feels much more personal.

Here, there’s more of him, little bits of his life scattered around. A picture of him as a kid with his parents on the dresser, the newspaper’s crossword sitting completely finished on his nightstand, his bed neatly made.

You smile at the framed photo before slipping the top drawer open and finding the pair of socks he’d been talking about. As much as you’d love to snoop, you don’t want to invade his privacy in any way. Besides, from Aaron, even a glimpse of his space feels special.

You slip on the socks before you leave his room, letting them bunch at your ankles.

As soon as you walk back into the living room, Aaron’s phone rings. Glancing at you softly, almost apologetically though he’s got nothing to be sorry about—you work with him, you know how important a call can be—he picks it up.

“Hotchner,” he says, holding it to his ear. His voice is different this way, more professional, controlled. Never any less pleasing to hear.

He’d wanted to say something about how good you look in his clothes when his phone rang, Garcia’s name flashing on the screen. Aaron wishes it was someone else, only to spend more time with you this way.

“Sorry to call late, sir,” Penelope says. “We’ve got a case. Missing kid; it’s urgent.”

“Don’t be sorry, Garcia. We’re on our way.”

“Wait, we?” She asks, curious as always.

“What’s going on?” You ask Aaron.

“Got a case. I’ll drive, honey.” He lets the pet name slip, like it’s a habit.

On the other line, Garcia’s grinning to herself in her office. She’d had a suspicion of who on the team Hotch would be with outside of work, and hearing your voice, and his use of the word ‘honey’ all sticky sweet, she knows she’s onto something.

“Oh, that’s ‘we,’” Penelope’s voice teases. “Tell her I’ll see you guys soon!”

Aaron shakes his head, fighting his smile. “Bye, Garcia.”

He hangs up and looks from his phone to you, your eyes already on him, corners of your mouth tugged up just a little like you’d heard what Garcia said, heard the lilt in her voice. Like you liked the idea of you and Aaron being a unit. We.

He likes that idea, too.

Back at the BAU, Garcia calls Derek next, who picks up with his classic, “hey, babygirl.”

First, she tells him that he needs to come into the office, that they’ve got a case, then, “you’re never going to believe this.”

Penelope loves to talk, and Derek’s happy to listen, so she tells him about how you’d been with Aaron when she called, and that you were on your way together.

“I give them another week, max, before they’re holding hands when they come in.” Derek laughs, because he can see yours and Hotch’s feelings so easily, plain as day, and he loves to be right about things.

“How mad will Hotch be when he finds out that we talk about his relationship?” Penelope’s mostly joking, only a fraction concerned.

“If the boss didn’t want us talking about it, he shouldn’t be so obvious, sweetheart.”

Once you arrive at the office, you don’t catch Penelope and Derek’s shared looks behind yours and Aaron’s—who happens to be carrying both his and your go bag—backs.

And if anyone notices the loose socks around your ankles, they don’t say anything about it.

-

You’re not supposed to go off on your own unless it’s absolutely necessary. You know that, the team knows that. Aaron, who is always trying to keep you as safe as possible, enforces it.

You guess that this time might be up for debate.

When it comes to what you do, you have to trust your instincts most of the time. And today, your gut told you to make a decision that might not have been safe, but to you, it felt like what you had to do.

Aaron had been on the phone with you, trying to figure out a way to make the car drive any faster to get to you. He’d heard it in your voice, in the tone of it, that he couldn’t convince you to wait for someone else to show up.

“I have to do this, Aaron,” you’d said. While the team would normally probably tease him about you calling him Aaron, as if it isn’t his name, they’d known not to interrupt this time. “You know I do.”

“You don’t have to.” His hands tightened on the steering wheel as he spoke. “We’ll be there soon, alright? Just-”

“I’m sorry.” And then, you hung up.

In the end, going in when you did had been the right move. A life had been saved, and you’d slowed the guy down enough that the police were able to arrest him when they arrived. All it cost you was a cut and a bruise on your cheek.

So, your instincts weren’t so bad.

Aaron, however, disagrees. Logically, he knows that he would’ve done the exact same thing you did, knows the rest of the team would’ve, too. But when it comes to you, he has a hard time thinking logically.

After you hung up on him, all he could do was breathe and breathe and breathe over the heavy thumping of his heartbeat and the worry spinning in his head. He drove the quickest he could manage, the car silent inside. A static.

It’s not that he doubts your abilities—he’s always thought you were incredible, even before the friendship, even before now—only that the idea of you being alone with such a bad man makes him feel sick.

He’d take your place in a heartbeat, if he could, just to make sure you’d be safe.

By the time he and the rest of the team get to the scene, you’re walking out of the building with a hand pressed to your cheek and a paramedic leading you to a nearby ambulance.

Aaron spots you right away, his eyes scanning the small crowd through red and blue lights and conversations surrounding him. When he spots you, everything goes quiet.

His first thought is, thank god she’s alive, then, it’s fuck, she’s hurt.

Without a word to anyone, he heads over in your direction right away. He meets you at the ambulance, where you sit on the small bench inside while the paramedic presses your cheek with gauze.

“Honey.” It comes out in a breath. Relief and pain all at once.

You look over to him, his hair a little messy, his eyes wide and roaming all over you like he’s checking for any other injuries. He cares about you, and it’s written all over him.

“Aaron. I’m okay.” You hold a hand out, and he grabs it, sitting beside you on the bench in the ambulance. “Promise.”

For now, he nods, letting the paramedic do their job bandaging up your cheek. When they’re finished, they hand you a spare bandage saying, “it’s gonna bruise, and it might feel sore for a bit, but you’re all patched up.”

The paramedic leaves after that, probably going to check on other people. The lights inside the ambulance seem to cocoon you, a bright difference to the darkness outside.

The first thing Aaron says is, “let me see.”

His hands reach for your face, rough fingertips gently holding your jaw, tilting you so that he can look at your cheek. It’s a little swollen, discolored where you must’ve been hit. There’s a furrow in his brow, something that looks like a pout on none other than Aaron Hotchner.

“Hey,” you grab his wrists, but his hands stay on your face. “I’m fine.”

Aaron’s always worried, he’s always cared about you and about everyone on the team, but this is different. He was usually able to hide things much better than this. Much better than with you.

Now, all he sees is the tiny bloodstain on your shirt and the bandage on your cheek. All he feels is your hands squeezing his wrists and your eyes locked on his.

“You should have waited,” he says. “I could have been there.”

“Hotchner,” your deadpan tone is intact, which he’ll take as a win, even if it’s directed towards him. “You and I both know you would have done the same. I had to.”

One of his hands shifts to cup your non-injured cheek. Normally, he’d be much more composed while working, but he can’t bring himself to care about how he must look right now.

“I know you did,” he tells you, because he does. “I just wish that you didn’t. I don’t like seeing you hurt.”

Your stomach is tumbling, rolling, your heart doing silly things in your chest. You can hardly feel the pain of your cheek anymore when his hand is on the other, his palm warm against your skin, his gaze even warmer.

“I’m hardly hurt, Aaron. Just a scratch.”

“Right. One that required medical attention. That’s more than just a scratch, honey.”

“If you say so, Hotchner.”

He shifts his hands so that they fall into your lap, palms up and fingers instantly finding yours, tangling together perfectly. Like puzzle pieces.

“Good job, by the way.” Hotch rubs his thumb over your skin once, back and forth. “You did the right thing.”

“Learned from the best,” you say.

You’re both oblivious to the fact that the team is watching from a distance, and that the two of you look so lovesick it’s ridiculous that you haven’t spilled your feelings yet. You’re both absolutely fucked.

Where she stands with the team, Emily shakes her head, “I haven’t seen Hotch like this since… ever.”

Beside her, JJ merely shrugs, like it’s obvious, “yeah, they’re in love.”

Spencer looks at you and Aaron in that ambulance with a smile. “The odds of you guys being right are very, very high.”

-

+1

Aaron Hotchner was never the biggest fan of birthdays. Was never big into the cakes and making wishes, the song and the presents and the fuss of it all.

When he started at the bureau, it stayed that way. Days off were rare enough as it was, so he’d always work on his birthday. And while he kept the signed cards from the team, he treated it as any other day. Nothing special.

This year, you’re on a mission to change that.

While it isn’t the first of Aaron’s birthdays you’ve spent with him, it’s the first one since the two of you have grown as close as you have, since you’ve felt the way you do. You’re just hoping to make it a good birthday for him.

You’ve roped the whole team into it. Decorating the conference room with streamers and balloons and a sign that hangs crooked on the wall, bringing in a cake that reads ‘Happy Birthday Hotch’ in frosting, and keeping it all a secret.

Of course, you’ve all already said happy birthday to him, and you’ve got a present stashed under your desk for later, but you’ve been doing your best to act natural even when the anticipation of your surprise for him eats at your stomach a little.

Surprises are a tricky thing, and there’s no way of knowing whether he’ll like it or not. You’ll just have to wait and see.

While in his office, the team had made it seem like they’d all left for the day, saying their goodbyes to Hotch. Instead of leaving, though, they’ve been hidden in the conference room waiting for you to bring him in.

“Aaron,” you say, knocking on his office door. “I think I lost an earring. Do you think you could help me look for it?”

Because you’re the one asking, Aaron says, “‘course, honey. Where do you think it is?”

You smile, because he’s fallen into your trap easily, because you know that he probably would search for an earring with you if you’d actually lost one.

“I remember having it on in the conference room, so maybe there.”

He stands from his desk, gesturing for you to lead the way with his hand held out. You grab onto it before he can drop it, tangling your fingers and leading him behind you.

Aaron lets you guide him, and when you open the door to the conference room and flick on the lights, he’s met with the team’s grinning faces and a chorus of, “surprise!”

For a moment, he’s speechless, frozen in his spot in the doorway with your hand in his.

No, Aaron’s never been the biggest fan of birthdays, but maybe that’s because nobody’s ever done something like this for him. You came into his life all sweet smiles and now you’re throwing him a surprise party? He’s never ever liked someone the way he likes you.

So much that like is spilling into a four letter word and he’s happy to let it.

You know him well enough to know that he doesn’t like being the center of attention too much, so the only people in the room are those of the BAU. His closest friends. And you, his favorite person.

Before he can say anything he’s being spoken to by the team, getting a ‘happy birthday, boss,’ from Derek, a spill about how hard it was to keep this a secret from Penelope, a grin from Spencer, a tip about how you’d organized all of this from Emily, a squeeze to the shoulder from JJ.

When he finally gets the chance, the others split into their own conversations, Aaron tugs you aside to the corner of the room.

“You did all of this for me?” He asks, head bent to catch your eye.

Although you’d caught the signature Hotchner smile—closed-mouthed and quick—when he saw the surprise, you’re nervous about what he might say. You worry that you’ve done too much, that he’d been pretending to like it for your sake.

“I’m sorry if it’s a bit much,” you start, anxiously tugging at your sleeves. “I wasn’t sure if you liked surprises, I know not everyone does, but I wanted to do something for you because I care about you. A lot. And birthdays are meant to be celebrated, you know?”

Aaron can’t help but let a smile spread over his face as you speak; a real smile. His heart is light, his feelings for you melting through him like the soft pink of cotton candy. He doesn’t think you could ever do anything that he wouldn’t like.

“I’ll clean it all up, too, I prom-”

Your rambling is cut off with his lips on yours. He’s kissing you.

It’s soft, the press of his mouth against yours, and it takes you a second to push back. It stays delicate, a dance between the two of you like you’d practiced a million times before.

His hands skate down your arms to hold your hands, weaving his fingers with yours, squeezing like he’s making sure you know this is real.

You feel it all over, your stomach tumbling, your heart beating in a rhythm that thumps his name. Aaron, Aaron, Aaron, over and over.

It’s a kiss worth a thousand words that you haven’t said yet, a kiss full of feelings and meaning and you know it, just by the way he does it, because you know him and he knows you. It’s you and Aaron, and it feels like the beginning of something huge. Of the rest of your life, maybe.

When he pulls back, Hotch rests his forehead against yours, giving your head a gentle nudge, locking his brown eyes on yours.

“It’s perfect,” he says.

The next thing you hear is Derek Morgan cheering, “I knew it!”

Similar words come from the rest of the team.

“Finally,” from Emily.

“About time,” from JJ.

“This isn’t surprising,” from Spencer, who smiles while saying it.

A sweet, “yay,” from Penelope.

Distracted by Aaron kissing you, you’d sort of forgotten they were there. Bashful, you tuck your head beneath Aaron’s chin, forehead against his collar. He simply tightens his hands around yours.

And when it’s time for cake, this year, Aaron Hotchner makes a wish on his birthday candles. He wishes to spend every other birthday just like this. With you.

༄

thank you so so much for reading!!! if you liked it, please please please consider reblogging/commenting and letting me know what you thought! love you <3

[nereidprinc3ss]

slumber party

in which there's only one bed. fem bau!reader x spencer reid

fluff! warnings/tags: dark humor, (the word molest is used jokingly once but in my defense your honor its completely on brand for early seasons cm humor, if u cancel me u have to cancel the whole cast those are the rules, its just a joke cause reader always flirts w him aggressively, pls don't come for me i have a wife and children and three boyfriends to take care of,) mutual pining, bullying and death threats as flirting, they love each other so much and bicker like children, glasses spencer, (moans), emily and rossi are mentioned bc canon means fuck all to me, i think thats it but this is my most out of pocket duo so if i'm wrong lmk a/n: just a silly little thing that i cooked up, not a masterpiece but i think its cute!! I hope u enjoy!! lmk what you think!! looooveee youuuu

“Oh, there is no way.”

Your duffel bag hits the dingy carpet as Spencer is still closing the door behind you. 

“What? Is it—”

You give him a look over your shoulder, eyebrows raised as if to say, what are you going to do about this?

But he only manages to meet your eyes for a split second before they’re back to the singular queen bed, darting over the white sheets and pillows like he might find another mattress if he looks hard enough. 

Sharing a room with Spencer, you can handle. You've done it before. Whenever the team has to pair up at a hotel, you two are an obvious choice. And while you occasionally butt heads, mostly you adore each other and it's great.

But sharing a bed is a whole other situation.

One you were not prepared for. And evidently, neither is he.

Watching his big anxious eyes flit around the room nervously, you feel sort of bad for your reaction. You know you can be a bit… abrasive, sometimes. 

“It’s fine, I’ll just—I’ll see if I can share a bed with Emily or JJ in their room—”

Just then there’s a knock at the door. Spencer looks relieved to have something else to focus on, turning back around and quickly undoing the latch again before opening the door to reveal your favorite raven-haired SSA. Emily leans past the doorjamb, eyes immediately honing in on the awkward sleeping arrangement. 

“Oh my god! You guys too?”

“What?” You and Spencer ask at the same time. Emily raises her eyebrows at this and glances between you, but otherwise doesn’t comment. 

“Me and JJ only have the one bed. I thought it might just have been us.”

You frown. There goes your plan of sharing a room with them. 

“What about Morgan and Garcia?”

Spencer snorts.

“Something tells me Penelope wouldn’t be too torn up about it if that's the case.”

“Hotch and Rossi?”

The room goes quiet and a little chilly as the thought disturbs everyone equally. Emily frowns deeply.

“I don’t even… I can’t picture that.”

“Can we please not try to picture it?”

“Great. Okay, well. I just wanted to make sure everyone is suffering equally. Good luck, champs.”

“Thanks,” Spencer mutters dryly. Emily smiles, eyes darting between the two of you for just a moment too long, before pushing off the door frame and disappearing from sight. Once the door is closed again, a heavy silence ensues. “I’ll… I can take the floor—”

“It’s fine, Spencer. I’m not going to make you sleep on the floor. We’re both grown-ups. Besides, we like each other, right? It’ll be like a slumber party.”

“I’ve never had one,” he admits. His glasses slip further down his nose as he frowns. Your fingers itch to push them back up. 

“Then I’m happy to be your first,” you tease, facing him fully with your hand on your hip and barely resisting the urge to add, I’ll be gentle. “Do you want the shower first or can I?”

Spencer has a habit of looking you up and down like he doesn’t realize he’s doing it. Some might find it odd, but his utter lack of social graces is, lucky for him, incredibly endearing to you. 

“You can have it first,” he says, meeting your eyes again. “Just don’t do that thing where you get the entire bathroom soaking wet.”

“Aw. But I love doing that. It’s my favorite part,” you tease, scooping up your bag once more.

Twenty minutes later you’re emerging from the bathroom with damp hair, clad in loose shorts and a college hoodie. 

“Nice outfit,” Spencer says from the spinny-chair at the desk, examining your outfit choice with a scrutiny you wish you’d been prepared for. Really, you wish you’d known ahead of time you’d have a roommate and brought some alternate sleeping clothes. “I had no idea you felt so passionately about… Scooby Doo?”

“Shut up right now,” you grit, tossing your bag into the corner of the room and tugging your hoodie down over your cartoon-patterned shorts as far as you can. 

“What?” He’s laughing as he brushes past you on his way into the bathroom, bearing his own bag. “It’s a good look for you.”

Your face is burning as you choose the side of the bed furthest from the door. Springs creak underneath your weight as you sink down, sitting with your legs hanging off the side for a moment before swinging them up onto the mattress, leaning against the headboard and side-eyeing the empty space next to you. There’s really not very much of it. The bed feels even smaller than it looks. 

From the bathroom you hear the sound of the shower squeaking and starting up again—a cacophony of droplets against tile on the other side of the wall. You try not to be nervous as you imagine Spencer filling the space beside you in just a few minutes, hair wet and in pajamas. And yet you spend each second wondering if he’s almost done, wondering if the shower will finally sputter to a halt, and once it does, wondering how long it’ll be before he’s out again. It’s ridiculous how impatient you're getting—and by the time you finally watch the door knob twist you feel crazy. 

“I think that was your longest shower yet, Dr. Reid.”

The teasing affords you a moment to ogle him head to toe, taking in his choice of pajamas—tonight, familiar plaid pants and an MIT crewneck—as well as his hair which has already begun to dry. Briefly you wonder if he does that thing guys do, where they lean down and haphazardly dry their hair with a towel because they have no concern for its texture whatsoever. But you kind of doubt it, because his hair always looks so soft. 

“You were sitting here waiting for me?” He chuckles, and honestly you’d been expecting a shyer response. But you adapt quickly. 

“Maybe I was. Big spoon or little spoon?”

“Ha-ha.” He opens a drawer in the dresser and begins unpacking his clothes into it. It's a funny habit of his. You never unpack your duffel. “You took the better side of the bed.”

“Uh, yeah. I’m the woman. I get to do that.”

“Well you should know that if an intruder breaks in, I’m not fighting him off. You’d probably have a better chance than me.”

“And my chances will be even better if he’s distracted with you first.”

“So I’m just bait?” He scoffs, looking back at you. Strands of wet hair hang so prettily around his face, like the perfect frame around a work of art. You smile sweetly from your spot on the bed before playfully biting at the air in his direction. The message goes unspoken but reads loud and clear. Of course you are. You make such good bait. 

That gets a blush out of him and he has nothing else to say as he turns back to his drawer. Happily you lean back against the headboard, stretching your legs out and bouncing slightly in place. Beneath you the mattress springs groan and squeak in protest. 

“I hope you're not going to be this irritating all night.”

It's clearly lighthearted, but you promptly stop and frown at his back. 

“Call me irritating again and see where you end up sleeping tonight.”

“I just don’t see how you’re even more hyperactive than usual right now. Has anybody ever told you that you’re crepuscular?” Spencer asks, finally sliding the drawer shut and going to shut the overhead light off. Your eyes narrow. 

“Obviously nobody has told me that.”

“It means y—”

“I’m most energetic within the few hours around dusk and dawn. Contrary to your belief, Dr. Reid, other people are also capable of looking up words in a dictionary and remembering what they mean. Are you going to stand in the corner all night or are you gonna come to bed?”

“I am,” he scoffs, clearly embarrassed and shy and embarrassed of being shy. “I’m just… you look like you kick in your sleep. And hog the blankets.”

You shrug, folding your knees to your chest and hugging them quaintly. 

“I’ve never had any complaints. In fact, you should be so lucky to share a bed with me. All five star reviews, baby.” 

You toss a suggestive wink in at the end, which seems garish enough to break the tension so that Spencer can stop lingering in the corner like a sleep-paralysis demon and move to carefully take his place next to you. He almost mirrors your position, but his legs are too long to quite manage your level of compactness and so they simply fold underneath him. A few silent moments go by, in which you have the dumbest smile on your face and you keep glancing over to the side, waiting for him to be looking back at you. 

“This is already the least relaxed I have ever been in a bed.”

“Good thing we’re not going to sleep yet.”

Finally he looks at you, a casual mix of hesitance, concern, and moderate curiosity coloring his features. 

“We’re not?”

“Oh, my god, Spencer,” you snort. “I’m not gonna molest you. We have to do slumber party stuff, remember?”

He flushes again, glancing at the digital clock in his bedside table. 

“But it’s late. We should go to sleep.”

“At slumber parties you have to stay up until you literally can’t keep your eyes open anymore. Those are the rules. I don’t make them.”

Still, your insistence that you follow the international code of sleepover law goes unabided by Spencer. He simply leans over to flick off his lamp, bathing the room in darkness. 

“I appreciate the effort,” he says, and your eyes haven’t adjusted but you can hear the rustle of sheets and blankets as he gets under them, “but unfortunately we have to be awake and alert in five hours.”

“You’re no fun,” you huff, but climb under your own side of the cover and scoot down until you’re flat on your back, covered in blanket and hands folded on your sternum. 

Spencer doesn’t respond. 

It’s silent for maybe five minutes, during which your brain doesn’t slow down at all. Maybe you are crepuscular. Or slightly nocturnal. You have nothing but energy. 

In an attempt to get comfortable, you try adjusting your position.

The mattress squeaks. 

You do it again. 

Another squeak. 

A second goes by, and now you’re intentionally jostling about, squeaking the mattress as much as you can. 

“Would you stop that?” Spencer says, voice already gravelly with sleep. You manage, but you’re already devolving into a fit of giggles. “I’m going to smother you with this pillow,” he threatens, but you hear the disgruntled smile curling his words. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m just not in the mood to rest.”

Another moment passes. He sighs deeply. You smile into the dark. 

“What are you in the mood for?” He asks flatly, and you’ve won. 

“Tell me a secret,” you immediately demand in a hushed tone, flipping on your side to face his back. “Something you’ve never told anyone else.”

“I don’t—”

“Shh! You have to whisper it. Those are the slumber party rules.”

“I don’t have any secrets,” he whispers, clearly flustered, and to your delight, rolling to face the ceiling. “None that you’d want to hear.”

“Oh, now that’s just not true. You’re an enigma, Spencer Reid. You fascinate me.”

You’re only sort of kidding. 

“I… fascinate you?”

“Completely. You know, ever since you moved your desk across from mine I get distracted just staring at you and wondering what you’re thinking about. But you’re very… hard to read, sometimes. I think it’s because you’re a Scorpio.”

“The position of the stars at the time I was born has no bearing on my personality.”

“Fine,” you concede, still in a glorified stage whisper. “But that doesn’t mean you don’t display the archetypal Scorpio traits. You’re all brooding, mysterious. Kinda, I don't know... intense and sexy and unknowable…”

“Sexy?” He laughs, breaking the whisper rule. You grin and let it slide. You’d hoped he would catch that one. 

“Hey,” you snap, losing the smile immediately and lightly shoving against what you hope is his shoulder. “You’re supposed to be telling me a secret, damnit. I won’t let your wiles and charm distract me from getting what I want.”

“When have you ever let anything stop you from getting what you want?”

Truly, your cheeks are going to start aching with this constant back and forth between poker-faced and huge Cheshire smile. 

“Stop flirting and answer my question, Reid.”

With the amount of times you’ve made him sigh tonight he must be dizzy. You chew your lip apprehensively in the silence, picking a loose thread on your pillow. It’s so pitch black in the room, you can’t see him where he lies only a few meager inches from you. But you can feel his presence. You can feel the unexpected bass to his voice when he’s tired and speaking this lowly, which you’ve never heard before.

“All the secrets I’ve never told anyone are just… depressing.”

Your heart sinks a little at the way he swallows between words, like that in and of itself was hard to admit. Unthinkingly your hand slides into the small gap of white cotton between the two of you. 

“Not very good slumber party material, I think,” he laughs self-consciously. 

“You’d be surprised.” 

The sentiment comes quieter and more serious than you’ve been all night. If only you had the words to tell him that he can tell you anything. That you want to hold his secrets for him under lock and key. That you would never, ever do anything less than offer him kindness and support—even if it doesn’t always seem that way when you’re teasing him. 

“Do you have any secrets you’ve never told anyone else?” He murmurs eventually, so soft it could kill you. 

And you do. There are plenty of dark ones, probably not all dissimilar from those he’d elected not to share only a moment ago. 

But you don’t bring those up. 

Instead, you decide to admit to something silly. Still, it makes you nervous as you feel it coming loose in your chest. You’ve really never told anyone this, and it’s perhaps more vulnerable than you’d realized before the words were already leaving your mouth. 

“I, have…” You pause to laugh at yourself, and continue on. “I have a stuffed dragon that I take with me on every single case.”

“You do?” Spencer laughs, so loud and unexpected it almost hurts your ears, angling his head toward you. Blood rushes to your face. 

“Yes. He usually sleeps in bed with me. He’s an excellent listener and has been the origin of several of my most genius breakthroughs. You remember Gibson Cooper?”

“Family annihilator from Houston?” 

“Correct. He’s in prison because Oscar helped me make the Cook Creek Campground connection between the O’Hara and Diangelo families.”

“You have a stuffed profiler dragon named Oscar? Is he here?”

“He’s—I mean, I wasn’t expecting to share a room with someone.”

“So he’s in your bag.”

“Yes,” you seethe, “and I will not be introducing you to him. He doesn’t do well with men.”

“You are genuinely psychotic.”

You huff.

“Fine. I’m sorry I told you anything.”

You’re about to roll over onto your other side—but Spencer surprises you by catching the hand that had been outstretched in his direction. He carefully intertwines your fingers and squeezes gently. 

“You’re right. That was mean. Thank you for telling me about Oscar.” His tone is surprisingly teasing, and you’re so uncharacteristically flustered by this rare show of physicality and affection that you can’t muster an adequate comeback. Spencer doesn’t seem to mind filling your silence, though, sounding a little more solemn now. “I’m sorry I don’t have any secrets for you.”

The way his voice gets all thin and scratchy sometimes—it’s like the earnest sincerity just pours out of him. He can’t control it. He can’t be anyone other than who he is. Maybe that’s a part of why you love him so much. You wonder if he knows how much you love him. It’s not exactly a secret—anyone on the team would be able to tell as much. You’ve been relentlessly teased for the way you are with him. For your batting lashes and your lingering touches and your unabashed flirting. But beneath it all is true affection, and nobody doubts that. 

“It’s okay,” you decide with a squeeze of your own, after a moment of deliberation. “You’ll think of something. ’Cause, y’know—you’re stuck with me for at least a few more days.”

“Oh, god,” he laughs, and releases your hand, rolling over to face away from you. But you don’t mind. You’ll get lots more time to invade his personal space over the coming week or so. “Goodnight.”

“Sweet dreams,” you sing-song, turning away to face the wall with what is perhaps your biggest, stupidest smile yet.

[p1astr81]

Christmas mixup - op81

in which: Oscar accidentally proposes to his girlfriend on Christmas Day.

pairing: Oscar Piastri x fem!reader

genre: fluff

warnings: pet names (babe), not proof read, nothing else

an: If you saw this posted earlier NO YOU DIDNT😭

۶ৎ ۶ৎ ۶ৎ ۶ৎ ۶ৎ ۶ৎ ۶ৎ

Oscar reached an outstretched arm to the top of your shared closet, being sure to select the small box that sat on the left and not the right.

You’d been dating for six years now—since you were both just seventeen years old—and you’ve been living together for about a year.

He found the most gorgeous diamond earrings while racing in Vegas last month. He thought about how much you’d love them and couldn’t resist buying them for you.

While Oscar wasn’t the best gift wrapper, he always tried his best for you. The gifts you wrapped for him always came out in pristine condition, the colorful paper hugging the boxes perfectly. He felt awful when he would carry out piles of boxes and the wrapping paper was crumpled and loose around the sides. Your wrapping job made everything look so perfect and he felt like he was ruining it. It’s just paper, you had told him, laughing it off. You could wrap it in discarded candy wrappers and it would make no difference to me.

This specific gift, he rewrapped it five times before he thought that it looked even remotely good enough. And even after that, he wrapped it three more times until he got it to be perfect.

He smiled at the small box, and took it to the tree with great care. You watched from the kitchen, chuckling as he carried the box like a newborn child.

۶ৎ ۶ৎ ۶ৎ

Christmas morning, you and Oscar sat around the tree, a cup of hot cocoa and a croissant beside the both of you.

You’d both opened almost all of your gifts already, but Oscar withheld one gift until the very end. That tiny box.

“Can I open it now?” You asked him, same as you had after every single other gift. He finally handed it over to you. “Be careful, though.” He warned, a warm smile on his face as he watched your excitement.

You ripped the paper off, and cautiously opened the box. What you saw had your eyes watering, your jaw dropped slightly. You placed the box on the floor, and your hands came up to over your mouth.

Oscar figured you would like the gift, but definitely not this much.

“Oscar,” your voice wobbled with the threat of tears that may spill. You gasped as you tried not to cry.

Oscar’s eye caught the glimmer that bounced off the shiny object, and he quickly realized he didn’t wrap the earrings. No, instead, his eyes met a shiny diamond incrusted band. Your engagement ring.

He didn’t intend to propose this early, no. He wanted to do something extravagant to propose. Not this. Not on Christmas, in your pajamas and at home. He was horrified.

“Yes, oh my god, yes.” You answered without waiting for him to actually ask the question. To you, this was entirely intentional and planned by him. You flung yourself at him, your arms coming around his neck to hug him tightly.

Oscar was significantly less horrified. Your reaction had eased him some, but he still was overcome with an immense feeling of guilt. He thought you deserved a better proposal then this.

But he would play it off. “Thank god you said yes.” He laughed.

۶ৎ ۶ৎ ۶ৎ

A week later, you were both sat on the couch, watching television. He couldn’t help but notice how often you would look down to gaze at the engagement ring on your finger.

“Babe?” He called softly. “Hm?” You hummed, your eyes peering past your lashes to meet his gaze. He could see just how happy you were. It was in the twinkle of your eyes, the curve of your lips, etched in every facial feature.

But the guilt still ate away at him. “I’m sorry it happened like that.” He struggled to meet your eyes, looking down at the band on your ring finger instead. You sat up a little straighter, concerned. “What do you mean?”

He sighed. “Well, I meant to wrap a box of earrings, but I put the two boxes next to each other and I guess I picked up the wrong one. I’m sorry. I wanted to do something big to propose to you. Not that.”

You laughed and grabbed his face. You leaned up to capture his lips with yours, kissing him softly. “There’s no way you could have proposed to me that wouldn’t be perfect. Even if it was at a farm, with a ring made of straw.” He looked in your eyes, seeing the deep love within them, and knew you were telling the truth. And he wondered, how did he get so lucky?