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lcvemiyuki · 6 months ago

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“when they get jealous” | hq

𓂃𓂃𓂃𓊝 ࿐𓂃𓂃𓂃

content: haikyuu boys x reader, when they get jealous over someone else

warnings: disgustingly cute, kenma x reader + tsukishima x reader are established relationships, fem!reader, osamu x reader (y/n is perceived as shorter than osamu)

characters: kenma, tsukishima, osamu

a/n: more! bc these also have been stuck in my head... (not proofread sorry!)

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

Kozume Kenma

'he would get distracted to the point of jeopardizing a game'

It was a weekend afternoon, and Kenma had carved out some precious time to play solos in the gaming room. His specialty was first-person shooter games, and he stayed absolutely silent to focus; a pin drop could be heard from how quiet it was. Only the sounds of his game controller clicking resonated softly in the soundproof room.

You two shared the room, with back-to-back monitors and a personalized setup on each side. Occasionally, you would enter and play a game or two, leaving when you knew he had a stream scheduled.

Today was one of those quiet days, with Kenma fully immersed in his game. His noise-canceling headphones ensured nothing but the game’s audio reached his ears.

You entered the room, aware of his headphones, and left rabbit-cut apple slices next to his keyboard. The colors from his monitor illuminated the slices, casting a soft glow on them as his slender fingers worked like a well-oiled machine.

As you moved, your figure momentarily blocked his sight, and he glimpsed you holding a phone to your ear, a smile plastered on your face as you talked. Kenma's eyes lingered on you for a few seconds before his monitor demanded his attention again. Usually, you would make some sort of light contact to remind him you were there, a gentle touch or a pat on the shoulder.

But this time, you didn’t.

Instead, you turned to your side and plopped down on the plush chair, fully engrossed in your conversation. Kenma wasn't overly nosy, but he couldn’t help but peek out from the side of his monitor to observe you.

‘Who has your attention?’ he wondered.

Knowing he couldn't keep glancing your way without compromising his game, Kenma adjusted his headphones so that only one side covered his ear, leaving the other exposed to the outside world.

Kenma's focus split in half; he tried to concentrate on his game, yet every time he heard your wholehearted laugh, his eyes darted to you instantly. Your joy was infectious, and it pulled at his curiosity with an unfamiliar force.

“Tomorrow? Yeah, that sounds great!” Your voice rang out, clear and cheerful. Kenma's brows furrowed as he strained to make out more of your conversation. His concentration slowly dissipated, the multiple noises becoming a chaotic blend in his mind.

“I can’t wait to see you!” Your exclamation, followed by another giggle, broke his focus entirely. He turned his head fully for just two seconds, enough time for his character on screen to be targeted and shot.

The screen flashed red with ‘GAME OVER’ in bold letters.

Kenma's eyes did a double take as the realization hit—he had gotten distracted a bit too long.

He never lost a game—ever.

He yanked the headphones off, letting them hang around his neck as he leaned back in his chair. A long sigh heaved out, his worn-out hands finding their way behind his head as his legs spread apart for a more comfortable position.

“Okay, I’ll talk to you later, bro. Tell Mom I can’t wait to see you guys!” Now free from his game’s immersive audio, Kenma heard you loud and clear. His eyes squeezed shut, feeling a twinge of annoyance at himself for getting so distracted.

That really cost him a game—yet he couldn't help but feel his heart rate slow down after realizing you were just talking to your brother.

Lost in his thoughts, Kenma didn’t hear you approach until he felt the soft, slightly wet touch of your lips pecking his. His eyes slowly fluttered open to find you staring down at him with a confused look.

“You lost, Kozu?” Your eyes now drifted to his monitor.

He could only softly scoff at himself, a mix of embarrassment and amusement in his tone. “Yeah, I guess I did.” His lips pursed together, noting the twinge of sweetness they tasted.

He would never tell you the real reason, though.

𓇼𓆉𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆉𓇼

Kei Tsukishima

'his smile looks indifferent, yet his eyes shot daggers'

The sound of someone’s cough echoed through the museum as you and Tsukishima passed through another grand exhibit. The exhibits grew slightly crowded at times, prompting you to lightly grasp the edge of his coat, careful not to fully grab him. His strides were slightly faster than yours granted his slight eagerness. Tsukishima turned his head, peering down at your hand clutching his clothes.

“Is this your way of trying to keep up?” His light eyebrows raised slightly in amusement before he reached back, taking hold of your hand to guide you instead.

“Excuse me!” a slightly loud voice echoed in the room, causing you to close your mouth before you could respond. You turned to face the source of the shout, only to find a young man staring right at you.

Tsukishima halted with you, turning his head around with a hint of annoyance at whoever was shouting.

“Do people not know when to lower their voices?” he muttered, his voice laced with irritation. As he was about to finish his sentence, he noticed the man making his way toward you specifically. Tsukishima didn’t miss the way the man’s eyes were solely focused on you.

Turning his attention to you, Tsukishima also noticed how your squinting eyes suddenly morphed into one of pure surprise.

“Y/N? Is that really you!?” the man exclaimed, his voice filled with excitement.

As the man launched into an animated recount of his recent adventures, Tsukishima stood by, feeling a pang of irritation.

Soon enough, a few others caught up to your classmate. Tsukishima couldn't miss the way it took them a few seconds to avert their eyes or the eager way they held out their hands to shake yours.

He couldn’t help but roll his eyes, ‘How shameless.’

“This is my—” you began to introduce Tsukki, but he beat you to it, turning fully to face the group. “I’m the boyfriend.” His smile was anything but genuine.

His tone might have been friendly, but you could tell Tsukki was irritated.

Quickly realizing he might be upset about the abrupt interruption of your date, you hastily said your goodbyes to your old high school friend.

“Aw, c’mon Y/N, how about a reunion selfie before we let you go?” your old classmate nudged, pointing at the phone he was holding.

You awkwardly laughed, trying to think of a way to politely decline. But before you could say no, you felt a gentle but firm pressure on the small of your back, guiding you forward. You turned to see Tsukishima's long fingers splayed out against your back, his touch insistent. The action caused you to straighten up in response, feeling the solid reassurance of his hand.

You quickly took the selfie with your old classmate, offering a polite smile for the camera. Before you could say another brief goodbye, you noticed the three guys in the back all staring in your direction, only to quickly avert their gaze to some random object in the building.

Curious about what had caught their attention, you turned your head to follow their line of sight. Your heart began to race as you saw the reason for their sudden shift in focus.

Tsukishima, now several meters away, was turned slightly to the side, but his eyes were locked onto the guy next to you. His usual could-care-less demeanor was replaced with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. Tsukishima's glare was menacing as if silently placing a bounty on his head. His hands were comfortably placed in his pockets; his black glasses failed to mask the daggers he shot their way.

There was no mistaking it—he was jealous, and not just mildly so.

You quickly excused yourself, murmuring a final goodbye to your old classmate. You made your way over to Tsukishima, your steps quickening with each passing second.

As you reached him, you hesitated for a moment before gently placing a hand on his arm. His eyes flicked to yours, then quickly shifted away, focusing on anything but you.

“Tsukki,” you said softly, “Sorry that took so long.”

“Whatever,” he muttered, his tone begrudgingly agreeing.

“Were their stares bothering you?” you asked, trying to keep your tone light.

Tsukishima’s eyes narrowed slightly.

“They were just...annoying,” he said, his voice clipped. “Like, read the room.”

A mischievous smirk played on your face as you interlocked your hand with his. “Is that why you were death-staring them like they were your sworn enemies?”

“Obviously. Anyone would with how noisy they were,” he replied, trying to sound indifferent.

He would never admit to it, but you could read him all too well.

𓇼𓆉𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆉𓇼

Miya Osamu

'wouldn't care if a purchase or two gets put on the line'

One day, Atsumu, his doting twin brother, waltzes into the semi-busy shop with open arms.

“Take a whiff, boys—the infamous Miya blood mixes with success,” he says smugly.

Osamu doesn't even welcome them once he sees who it is—he simply deadpans and shoves the curtains to go in the back.

With a bright smile that reaches your eyes, you quickly greet the customers. The two unfamiliar gentlemen behind Atsumu had a muscular and tall build—likely hungry athletes in need of rewarding food.

‘Time to sell the whole shop,’ you think with determination.

Although you weren’t an official employee at Onigiri Miya, you wanted to help Osamu as much as you could. That included selling his delicious food to hungry customers.

You devise a quick game plan and target the first tall guy, hastily approaching him. His eyebrows are furrowed slightly as he examines the menu, trying to decide what to eat.

“Hi there! If you’re looking for something delicious, you can’t go wrong with our classic tuna mayo onigiri,” you suggest cheerfully, your enthusiasm catching his attention.

The tall guy’s face lights up at your recommendation. “That sounds perfect, thanks!” he says, his serious expression softening.

Just as you’re about to show him another flavor, Osamu suddenly walks directly between you and the customer, almost bumping into you. “You should try the natto,” he says, grabbing a natto onigiri from the display, his tone a bit sharper than usual.

The customer looks a bit taken aback, clearly put off by the sudden change. “Uh, I’m not sure about natto…” he says hesitantly.

You frown slightly, trying to salvage the situation. “Well, we have plenty of other options too—how about the umeboshi?” you suggest, stepping around Osamu to point at another onigiri.

Osamu, however, doesn’t move, effectively blocking your view. “Natto’s a specialty here. You should give it a shot,” he insists, practically shoving the onigiri into the customer’s hand, his eyes darting briefly to you and then back to the customer.

The customer looks uncomfortable, but Atsumu, ever the opportunist, steps in with a grin. “Look at ya, ‘Samu. Can’t stand to see Y/N sellin’ your onigiri to my pal, huh?” he teases, clearly enjoying the situation.

Osamu’s scowl deepens as he grabs an onigiri from the counter. “Shut up, ‘Tsumu,” he mutters before stuffing the onigiri into his brother’s mouth, effectively muffling his cackle.

Atsumu’s eyes widen in surprise, slightly coughing from practically choking on a rice ball.

Trying to pretend the twins weren’t going at it, mouthing silent threats to each other on each side of you two, you try to make a pitch once again.

“I hope you try out all, but it’s up to you!” you quickly put all three into the man’s hands and in doing so, your hand encloses them and gives it a slight pat.

The shuffling stops as you feel two holes being burned into the back of your head.

You could hear a soft chuckle as Osamu's large hands suddenly and slightly encircled your neck from behind. His weight leaned lightly against you as he crouched down a bit to join the conversation.

"Y/N's putting in quite the effort to sell you these, man. I'd say take them and enjoy," he remarked, his face close enough to yours that you could almost feel his breath against your ear.

With a subtle maneuver, you sidestep out of his grasp and guide the customer towards the register; the mess the very owner put you through just to sell these damn onigiris. You mentally roll your eyes as Atsumu continues to tease Osamu in the background.

As soon as the trio of athletes bid the shop goodbye, the door chiming softly behind them, your attention soon fell on Osamu.

You could feel a slight tension in the atmosphere, the remnants of the earlier exchange still hanging in the air. Osamu stood behind the counter, his back turned to you as he methodically rearranged the onigiri displays. His movements were precise, almost mechanical as if he were trying to distract himself from the task at hand.

"Why the face, Y/N?" Osamu feigned confusion as he went around the stalls to continue his organizing.

You stood by the register with your arms crossed, eyebrows raised in amused disbelief. "Oh, really," you began, "I mean, I get Atsumu—you guys always go at it—but that guy was just like any other customer, 'Samu."

Osamu paused in his task, his expression shifting into a thoughtful gaze as if pondering something. His fingers tapped absentmindedly on the counter before he finally met your gaze. "Yeah, but there's always something more to it," he said cryptically, a faint smile playing on his lips.

You tilted your head, intrigued by his response. "More to what?"

He chuckled softly, a glint of something indescribable in his eyes. "More to everything," he replied enigmatically, leaving you with a curious smile as he continued to work around the shop. His words lingered in the air.

𓇼𓆉𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆉𓇼

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bokutosbabe · 18 days ago

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If I Could Never Give You Peace

( bllk boys when your secret relationship is leaked by paparazzi)

a/n — wrote this on a whim after listening to peace by taylor swift

content — some nsfw but not explicit, fem! reader, cursing , all characters are 18 or 18+, slight ooc maybe?, some characters are repeated

synopsis — what happens when your relationship is leaked?

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆ ' i'd give you my sunshine, give you my best ' ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ the... ' everyone thought you'd broken up '

listen, you knew dating a good soccer player in high school was a big deal, but you didn't realize how big of a deal it really was when he went pro.

this was the same boy ( now man) that you'd been dating since you were 14, so nothing really changed your views on him. if you could love him through his awkward phase, and he could love you through yours, there was no way you'd break up.

again, you didn't realize that your relationship was such a big deal. it wasn't that the two of you were a secret, it was more of a 'private not secret' situation.

so when the two of you woke up in your shared bed because of just how many notifications the both of you were getting, you knew something was up.

and low and behold, something was wrong. when you opened any social media the first thing you saw was a strangely amazing photo of you and your long-term boyfriend kissing. really, if it wasn't a paparazzi photo, it would be your lock screen.

"aren't we just the cutest?" he asked you, phone thrown back onto his bedside table as if he didn't have a care in the world. (and he really didn't, not in this case)

truly, the only thing that may make him angry in this whole situation is the fact that he got woken up far earlier than his usual routine by all the commotion.

but of course, as he was dozing back off, you were reading the comments, as any loyal significant other would.

soccerluvr45: omg is that is gf from high school? i thought they broke up

okay, yeah. he had a rather public instagram account in high school that his rabid fans had found that had pictures of the two of you, but you'd never broken up?

reading through the many comments, it was like everyone had collectively decided the two of you'd broken up.

"mhm...just ignore it. the pr lady will deal with it." he mumbled as he grabbed your phone from your hands, laying it beside his before wrapping his arms around you.

"go to bed, 's too early to deal with all this."

his fans were silly, if they could see you with this bed-head man right now, they'd see there was no way the two of you would ever break up.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ NAGI SEISHIRO, yo hiori, NIJIRO NANASE, hyoma chigiri

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ the... ' pr nightmare '

anyone who knew your boyfriend knew he was...a little extreme.

and unfortunately for you, this also applied when your relationship became public because of a slight slip of focus from the two of you. it wasn't that you were trying to keep your relationship a secret, you'd already been together a year now, but you also weren't trying to out yourselves.

yet, one singular minute when the two of you slipped away to the bathroom together at a soccer banquet...well lets just say a paparazzi was scarily ready to snap someone, anyone's, photo.

so here you were, sitting in a terrifyingly big office with your boyfriend and almost his entire management team.

"do you know what this could do to your reputation?" his manager asked. "it's just two adults doing adult things, they should've been in that bathroom! that would've gotten them—"

"okay, sir..."the pr woman cut him off, ever too enthusiastic to be talking about your private lives.

"you just need to ignore all of this until it goes away, alright? no press interviews after games anymore," she sighed as if this was basic comprehension. (your boyfriend wasn't the smartest but he also didn't need to be treated like an idiot.) "and no posting on any social medias for the time being. do you understand?"

"yeah, yeah. no talking to the grown men after games. and..."he grimaced at the thought of his next condition. " c'mon is posting on my socials that bad? i don't post about us anyways."

"at. all." and the room felt as icy as the pr woman's stare.

"yeah, no, okay i got it. no social media."

after another thirty minutes of this, with them saying basically the same stuff to you (even though you had no real social media presence anyways), you guys finally left.

"no fucking posting? what if i have to talk about a game coming up?" "i'm sure she knows how to do her job, love." you soothed your boyfriend as you got in the car the company arranged to have you two taken up with.

"yeah, well whatever. give me your hand," and who were you to say no to your boyfriend?

he took your hand and placed it on his neck, a place where you could see a few bites and hickeys if you really looked hard enough.

before you could protest he took a picture, posting it on his VERY public account with the caption...

' i love my woman ;) '

before turning off his phone completely.

"let's see them try to get ahold of me now."

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ RYUSEI SHIDO, tabito karasu, EITA OTOYA, oliver aiku

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ the... ' what picture ? '

how do two chronically offline people realize their relationship is now under scrutiny by the entire world?

the simple answer is...they don't!

you've never been interested in social media the way other girls your age had been. really, you'd rather just watch a video essay on every little topic that interests you than sit and watch six second videos then scroll all day.

to say the least, fast and forever changing social media just wasn't your thing.

and your boyfriend? he hardly even used his phone. unless it was for business or you, the thing was practically shoved away somewhere he couldn't care less about.

he would rather be reading or spending time with you out on a date...which is exactly the predicament the paparazzi put you in earlier this week.

the two of you were photographed having a little picnic and reading date at a small park that was pretty far out of town, assuming no one there knew, or even cared, enough to take a picture, but alas, someone did.

you and he had spent the rest of your week in pure, relaxed bliss. he had a game on saturday, so besides him going to practice and working out, the two of you stayed inside almost all week to prepare for the rather hectic weekend.

to say the game was a nail biter would be the understatement of the century. after two additional times, it was your boyfriend who scored the winning goal.

of course, you cheered the loudest, not noticing plenty of fans eyes on you unlike how many used to just chalk you up as an ecstatic fan.

as the post game interview came for him, you decided to stay closer to the door just incase it ran short. sometimes it was a one and done for him and others the questions went on for at least fifteen minutes, it just depended on his mood.

of course, the first question was about his game winning goal, but the second one threw him and you for a loop.

" what do you have to say about the photos of you and your reported girlfriend that have come out this past week? "

"...huh? what photos?"

eventually, the two of you did see the pictures, and all you could do was laugh because...how had you two not found out about this?

and you also made the picture your phone lock screen, but he didn't have to know that.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ RIN ITOSHI, reo mikage, SAE ITOSHI, chigiri hyoma

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆ ' but the rain is always gonna come if you're standing with me ' ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

[ + your faves ! ]

i wrote this in about an hour, and i think it shows but i had to get it out of my brain :))

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

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puckinghischier · 5 months ago

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Falling

Nico Hischier x fem!reader

summary: reader gets hurt and nico is worried about her

notes: y’all i ain’t gonna lie, i went through a bit of a rollercoaster while writing this. i loved it at first, then halfway through started hating it, then somehow started loving it again towards the end. so if it seems a little all over place i’m sorry. also i know very little about how a dislocated shoulder works, so just pretended i didn’t if i got anything wrong. i hope y’all enjoy it!! happy reading!! 🫶🏼

request: from my 400 follower celly - “A hears that B got hurt and rushes over in a panic to see if they are okay” where reader maybe gets in an accident or gets hurt in their sport (nothing major). Bonus points if you add “I can braid your hair for you- I mean, only if you want.”

[4.5k]

part 2

“Yeah, Mom, I’m fine. Nothing’s broken, just a nasty dislocation,” you attempt to calm your mother’s nerves, trying to unlock your apartment door with your good arm while balancing your phone between your cheek and shoulder. “They reset it for me and told me to follow up with my primary care on Monday. Gave me some pain meds and sent me on my way.”

“Well, what about until then? What if you need help? What about work? How will you drive?” she rapid fires questions at you.

“I’ll figure it out, don’t worry. Since it was a work-related injury, I’ll still get paid. And they’re paying all of the medical bills, so that’s all taken care of,” you make your way into your apartment, shutting the door with your foot behind you. “Everything else I’ll handle as it comes.”

She doesn’t seem satisfied with your answer, tsking into her phone, making you picture her trademark displeased headshake.

“What about Nico? Why don’t you stay with him until you’re back to 100%? I’m sure he’d be willing to help out,” she suggests, her tone switching from worried to suggestive.

You roll your eyes, knowing exactly where this conversation is headed.

“Mom, how many times do I have to tell you, Nico and I are just friends. We work together. Just because you think you saw him look at me a certain way when you were visiting doesn’t mean I have to call him every time something goes wrong,” you tell her, placing your bag on your kitchen table.

Ever since your mom came in a few months ago to visit, she’s been on your case about making a move on Nico, it all starting when she witnessed Nico helping you across the ice during a pre-game practice while trying to get some action shots.

You work as a photographer for the Devils, not realizing that being able to ice skate would have been a nice addition to your resume.

Your college advisor arranged the interview for you right before graduation. You had no previous knowledge of hockey, having come from a football family. You told your advisor this, but she insisted you didn’t have to know anything about a sport to be able to take good pictures of it.

During the interview, you made sure to inform your now boss that you didn’t know how to skate, hoping it wouldn’t be a problem. He assured you that you could take pictures from the stands or the players bench, the chance of you having to step onto the ice slim.

For the first few months of your job, it was smooth sailing. You were mostly taking pictures from the camera holes in the glass or being told to cover locker room and arrival pictures. You worked with one other photographer, a seasoned sports photography veteran named Phil. Phil was a New Jersey native, having grown up skating, so he took over the duties of any major action shots the director wanted from on the ice.

Unfortunately for you, Phil’s wife had convinced him to retire early, losing his help right before the league’s short Christmas break.

Seeing as they had just hired you, and it was the middle of the season, the hunt for a replacement for Phil was put on the backburner, more important team matters taking precedence.

You were forced to take over Phil’s duties, meaning you were now responsible for any on the ice shots. You had found a way to slowly scoot across the perimeter of the rink, staying out of the way while also getting the shots you needed.

Your system was working well until the morning of a gameday, having gotten permission from your boss to bring your mother along to this particular practice, wanting to show her all aspects of your job.

For this particular game, the players were especially focused on practicing their skills and running drills during morning skate. You were doing your typical shuffle while clutching the edge of the waist-high wall when someone came zooming past you, causing your feet to start sliding uncontrollably, not being able to find your footing on the slick ice.

You felt the moment you were about to fall, waiting for the impact of your butt on the cold ice, but it never came. You felt yourself fall into a body covered by plastic pads, gloved hands shooting out to grab your upper arms.

You looked up, seeing Nico smiling down at you in amusement.

“It’s a bit slippery out here, huh?” he jokes, making sure you’re standing steady on your feet before letting go of you.

“Well, we are standing on ice, so….” You trail off, grabbing onto the wooden ledge again, preventing another near fall.

Nico laughs, looking down and shuffling his skates back and forth.

“Well would you look at that? We are on ice ” He flashes a smile, looking back up at you.

You stick your tongue out at him, earning another chuckle from the team’s Captain.

“You know, most people use these great things called ice skates when they try to walk on ice,” he tells you, lifting one skate up for emphasis.

Rolling your eyes, you scoff out a “Oh wow, why didn’t I ever think of that?”

“Just some food for thought,” Nico shrugged as he placed his foot back down on the ice, skating in a little circle, as if to say “See, told you so.”

You let go of the ledge to cross your arms, forgetting that you needed the stability. When you try to shift your weight from one leg to the other, you lose your footing again, this time falling forward into Nico. You let the camera in your hands fall, grabbing onto his biceps to stay upright, thankful for the camera strap around your neck.

His hands shoot out to grab your forearms.

“You know the sad thing is, even with the skates, I’d still be as clumsy, considering I have absolutely no idea how to use them,” you tell him, the two of you still holding on to one another.

Nico shakes his head at you, placing one of your hands on his forearm, moving you from in front of him to beside of him.

He starts slowly skating towards the bench while you shuffle your feet along, putting all of your focus on keeping yourself upright until you reach your destination.

When you finally reach the bench, you step off of the ice and let out a breath of relief.

“Thanks, Cap. Would’ve hated to make a fool of myself out there while my mom’s watching,” you thank him, looking over to where your mom sits, a smile on her face.

Nico follows your gaze and waves to your mom, matching her smile.

“Well, we wouldn’t want that now, would we? What if she found out her daughter was a skating fraud?” he teases, leaning in to whisper the last two words.

“It’s her fault for never taking me to the rink my town would throw up once a year at Christmas. Who knows, maybe I would’ve been a skating prodigy if given the chance,” you shrug.

A mischievous smile makes its way onto his face. “I think we should put that theory to the test,” he tells you, causing your eyes to latch onto his.

“Come again?” You raise your eyebrows and tilt your chin down.

“I mean, I can’t have some photographer out on my ice during practices that can’t even stand up,” he keeps his tone light, making sure you know he’s just teasing, “So, I’m going to teach you how to skate, and see if you really would have been a skating prodigy.”

He skates off, winking before resuming his practice.

You don’t have a chance to speak to him again until after the game, when you get at text from an unknown number reading “Rink, tomorrow, 2pm. I’ll bring skates, just bring your prodigy skills.”

After that, you meet with Nico twice a week for skating lessons.

The two of you quickly form a friendship, Nico bringing you coffee on gamedays and you slipping him snacks on the bench during games. You even started inviting him over for dinner after your lessons, insisting the least you can do is feed him to repay him for preventing you from making a fool of yourself on the ice.

Today, however, you did make a fool of yourself on the ice.

You were standing behind the net, telling the players to skate towards you so you could get some shots for the team’s Instagram account by request of the social media manager.

Once you were pleased with the amount of shots you had gotten, you left your spot from behind the net, skating slowly towards the benches, still a little wobbly on your skates.

You were looking down at your camera, thinking of how you’ll have to get Nico out here after the game to get some shots, knowing he’s currently doing pre-game interviews in the locker room.

You weren’t paying the slightest bit of attention to the pucks littering the ice in front of you, skating right into one and losing your balance, holding your camera up with one arm while trying to catch yourself with the other.

You felt the way your shoulder shifted, crying out in pain as players turned and started rushing towards you on the ice.

The team doctor came out and told you he was pretty sure your shoulder was simply dislocated, but sent you to the hospital to make sure nothing’s broken.

The ER doctor confirmed your diagnosis, putting your shoulder back into place before pumping you full of pain meds and placing your arm into a sling.

Which leads you to where you are now, back at your apartment, explaining to your mother why Nico can’t be at your beck and call.

“Honey, when are you going to realize that boy is in love with you? I’m telling you, the way I saw him look at you that day I came to visit, the skating lessons and dinners,” she starts, giving you her typical speech when you tell her Nico is just a friend.

“Mom, it doesn’t matter what you think you saw, we’re seriously just friends. And he’s busy, his schedule is too hectic to spend his time babysitting me,” you interrupt her, not wanting to hear her Nico speech for the thousandth time, regretting ever telling her about the skating lessons.

She sighs into the phone.

“I’m just trying to help you, you know…” you hear your mother start, but you tune the rest of her words out, focusing on the three loud knocks on your front door.

Your head turns to your door, the unexpected noise causing you to jump, the sudden motion tipping your bag over, the contents spilling all of your kitchen floor.

“Honey, are you alright? What was that?” your mom halts her one-sided conversation, worry in her tone.

“Shit!” you exclaim, watching the container of memory cards fly open, the small squares sliding across the linoleum floor.

You forget about the sling on your arm, crouching down and trying to reach for the cards with your bad arm, a searing pain shooting through your shoulder at the movement.

Letting out a loud yelp, you bring your arm back to its resting positing in the sling.

“Y/N, what’s going on? Did you hurt yourself?” you barely hear your mother’s voice through the phone speaker, not being able to think about anything other than the throbbing pain in your shoulder.

You hear three more pounds on your front door, this time a voice following the knocks.

“Y/N! Open up!”

You groan, trying to stand up, too many people trying to get your attention at the moment.

“Honey, talk to me. Is someone in there with you? I heard another voice,” your mother asks you as you stand, making your way over towards your front door.

“Someone’s knocking on the door,” you grit through your teeth, trying to think about anything but the pain in your shoulder. “I dropped my bag and tried to pick something up with my bad arm. I’m fine. Just hurts,” you tell her, opening your door to see a frantic Nico standing there.

His wide eyes scan your body, stopping once they see the sling on your arm.

You notice his wet hair and lack of socks on his tennis shoe covered feet.

“Are you okay? They told me you had to be taken to the hospital before the game started, but no one knew what really happened,” he rushed out, looking up at your face.

“Hey, Mom, gotta go, Nico’s at my door,” you tell her, a little stunned that the object of your conversation just appeared, hanging up the phone before she could make any comments about it.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Are you?” you ask him, pointing towards his feet, an amused smile on your face. The shock of seeing him at your door making you completely forget about the pain in your shoulder.

Nico looks down at his own feet, looking back up at you with red cheeks.

“Oh, uh, I couldn’t find my socks after the game and i couldn’t get you to answer your phone, so I rushed over to the hospital to see if you were still there, and they told me you left about an hour ago, so I hopped in my car and came over here to make sure you were okay,” he tells you, not meeting your eye.

You’re shocked at his confession, not expecting him to be so concerned about your impromptu trip to the hospital.

“Well, I’m here and still standing,” you awkwardly stand in your doorway, not knowing what else to say, thinking about how if you weren’t arguing with your mom over Nico on the phone, you might have gotten his calls.

“Yeah, I see that now,” he shoves his hands in the pocket of his hoodie.

The two of you stand there, not really knowing what to say to one another.

“Do you want to come in?” you ask him, moving out of the doorway to let him step into your apartment.

Nico shakes his head yes and walks past you, looking towards the mess on the floor in your kitchen.

“What happened here? Is this the crash I heard?” he asks you.

“Yeah, the bag fell and spilled everything. When I went to pick it up, I forgot and used my bad shoulder,” you gesture to your slinged arm.

Nico shakes his head at you, crouching down to pick up the camera disks all over the floor.

“Oh, no, you don’t have to-“

“Well you’re sure as hell not trying to pick them up again,” Nico interrupts you, standing and placing the now full box of disks on your table.

You roll your eyes at him, walking over towards your fridge.

“So, what exactly happened? Jack told me you hurt your shoulder?” he follows you over to your fridge, watching you scan its contents, or lack thereof.

“Well, I was looking at my camera and skated right into a bunch of pucks on the floor, then was too focused on saving the equipment instead of remembering how to fall properly,” you told him, remembering his words during your first skate lesson, telling you not to catch yourself if you fall on the ice.

“See, I told you to just let yourself fall. Never try to catch yourself,” he echoes his words in your thoughts.

“Yeah, well, it’s a lot easier said than done,” you deadpan, shutting your fridge door and looking at Nico.

Your stomach growls at that exact moment, making you groan at your lack of food in your fridge, not having eaten since before your accident.

“When was the last time you ate anything?” Nico asks you, looking down at your growling stomach.

“Uhhh, breakfast?” you recall.

Nico’s eyes widen. “It’s almost midnight. Did they really not feed you at the hospital?” he asks you.

“Considering they were busy doing x-rays and scans to make sure nothing was broken or torn, no,” you walk over to your cabinets, finding them also bare.

“Alright, go sit down and I’ll order us something to eat,” Nico shoos you out of the kitchen, walking over and opening the drawer where you keep all of your takeout menus.

You wonder how he knows where your menus are, forgetting for a moment that he’s over at your apartment at least twice a week after your skating lessons. Sometimes more, the occasional movie night making its way into your weekly routine.

“What do you want? Sushi? Chinese? Burgers?” he questions, flipping through your menus.

For some reason, your brain chooses this moment to register how much you enjoy the sight of Nico in your kitchen, looking through your takeout menus and offering to order you dinner.

You think back to all the times he’s helped you make dinner, laughter filling every moment of your time together. You think about how he always wear his pjs when he comes over for a movie night, bringing a different chocolate candy to put in the popcorn each time. You think about how he somehow learned your coffee order without you ever telling him, bringing you a coffee every morning, even at away games.

You think about your mother’s words, and how you didn’t even have to ask Nico to come over tonight, or to give you skating lessons. You think about how you never have to ask Nico to do anything he does for you – which is a lot, you’re realizing – he just does it. He does it because he wants to, because he’s kind and caring and wants to spend time with you.

“Hello? Earth to Y/N, what do you want for dinner?” Nico snaps you out of your sudden revelation.

“Sorry, spaced out for a second. Must be the pain meds,” you tell him, knowing that your mind isn’t the least bit impaired right now.

“Okay, go sit down, we need to get some food in you then,” he fishes his phone out of his pocket, mumbling out “Can’t believe they pumped you full of meds on an empty stomach.”

You make your way to your couch, sitting down and taking your shoes off, making yourself as comfortable as you can.

You remove a stray piece of hair that fell onto your face, knowing how awful it must look.

When you fell on the ice, the claw clip that was holding your hair in its up-do broke, causing it to fan out over the cold, wet ice. Once you got to the hospital, you were put in and out of so many different machines, you can only imagine the tangled, matted mess it is.

You get up and go to your bathroom, finding your brush and trying to comb it out. The task proving to be difficult with only one hand. The tangles keep pulling your head back and hurting your tender scalp, but you keep trying, whimpering each time the brush gets stuck on a particularly bad tangle.

You don’t even hear Nico approach your bathroom, just a sigh and “I told you to sit down,” before the brush is taken from your hand and you see Nico’s reflection behind you in the mirror.

Without another word, he proceeds to brush your hair for you, ensuring every tangle is gone before setting the brush on your sink.

The two of you make eye contact in the mirror, neither one wanting to break the silence during the surprisingly intimate moment.

You clear your throat, looking down after the silence got too intense, causing Nico to avert his eyes as well.

“I really wish i could wash my hair, but i know that’s a no go tonight,” you chuckle, wishing your bathroom was a little bit bigger in this moment.

“I can braid your hair for you,” Nico starts, staring at you in the mirror, watching your eyes snap up to meet his. “I mean, only if you want,” he stutters out.

“Really?” you ask him, a little stunned.

“Yeah. I used to help Nina with hers all the time when I was younger,” Nico mentions his older sister, grabbing your hair lightly and starting to section it off. “Anytime she would have a sleep over I would always weasel my way into the party. So one day, she made me sit in a braiding chain and learn how to braid her hair.”

You let out a giggle, picturing a smaller version of Nico sitting at the end of a line of girls, braiding their long hair.

“Then, Nina claimed I got so good at it she always wanted me to braid her hair before her volleyball matches, then her friends all started wanting me to do theirs, too,” he continues talking, nearly lulling you to sleep with the soft movements of his hands as you listen to him speak.

“I think that’s adorable,” you quietly speak, closing your eyes.

“What can I say? When a pretty girl needs her hair braided, who am I to keep my skills to myself?” he jokes, making you wonder if he meant you or his sister’s friends.

“I’m sure it’s any little boy’s dream to have an entire volleyball team at his mercy, all those pretty volleyball players begging him to play with their hair,” you tease him, handing him the hair tie that you always keep on your wrist.

“I don’t know, I think playing with a pretty photographer’s hair is better, if you ask me,” he ties the hair tie around the bottom of the braid, reaching up to pull the braid loose, making sure it’s not too tight.

You keep your eyes closed, knowing he can likely see the redness on your cheeks at his words.

“Alright, eyes open. Need to make sure you like my work,” he places his hands on your biceps, making sure to keep his touch feather light on your bad arm.

He turns you around so you’re facing him, holding a handheld mirror that was laying on your sink in front of your face, allowing you to see the reflection of the braid.

You’re shocked to see the flawless Dutch braid that cascades down your back.

“Nico, you’re like…really good at this,” you reach your good hand to the back of your head, running it down the braid.

“Told you, I had a lot of practice,” he shrugs, setting the mirror down.

You yawn, the relaxing nature of having your hair braided allowing you to realize how tired you are from the day’s events.

“Nuh-uh, gotta keep you awake until we get some food in you,” he tuts, taking his hands and patting your cheeks.

You groan, leaning into his palms that stay resting on your face.

“C’mon, let’s get you changed and on the couch,” he motions for you to leave the bathroom.

You walk to your room, Nico helping you carefully remove your sling before leaving and giving you some privacy.

You change into your pajamas, somehow managing to get your arm into an oversized Devils shirt you found at the bottom of your drawer.

Nico is standing outside of your door when you open it, helping you back into your sling.

He stands in front of you, staring at you with a look that you can’t decipher.

“Is…everything okay?” you question him, noticing his stare after adjusting your sling.

His eyes snap up to you, seemingly unaware that he was even staring at you in the first place.

“Uh, yeah, sorry. I just- is that my shirt?” he asks you, pointing to your pj shirt.

You look down at the oversized shirt, trying to think of where you got it.

It had just showed up in your laundry basket one day, assuming it was one they gave you when you got your job, but Nico’s question makes you think harder.

You realize, suddenly, you do remember where you got it.

During one of your post lesson dinners, Nico had spilled his drink all over his shirt. You offered to wash it for him after he changed to a shirt in his duffel.

You meant to take it back to him after you washed it, but forgot about it entirely, packing it away in your pajama drawer.

“Oh, crap, it is. Do you want it back, I can go change?” you ask him, worried he’s upset that you forgot to give it back.

“No…no it’s fine. Keep it. I have plenty,” he shakes his head, glancing down at it once more.

The two of you make your way to your couch, finding something to watch on tv when there’s a knock on the door, signaling the arrival of your food.

You start to stand to go get it, but Nico sternly tells you to stay put.

Rolling your eyes you sit back down, grabbing the remote and continuing to channel surf.

Nico’s gone for longer than you expect, causing you to sit up and turn back towards your kitchen, wondering what’s taking him so long.

You see him walking over to you, a tray full of food in his hands.

He had ordered from your favorite sushi place, figuring it would be the easiest for you to eat one handed.

As he sat down the tray on the coffee table in front of you, you realized what took him so long.

Nico had put a toothpick in each piece of your sushi, knowing using chopsticks with your non dominant hand would have been hard for you. He poured soy sauce into a small container, allowing you to simply pick up each toothpick and dip it in the sauce before popping it in your mouth.

He had also ordered you a bottle of cherry coke, which he knew was your favorite, and placed it on the tray with the lid unscrewed and a straw peeking out of the bottle next to a glass of ice, just incase you wanted it that way instead.

You looked up at him, feeling that funny feeling in your chest like you did earlier in your kitchen, blown away at how he always seems to think of everything he can to help you out, even when you’re not injured.

You must’ve been looking for longer than you realized, because he cocks his head at you, confusion present on his face.

“What?” he asks, not understanding what’s wrong. “Did you not want sushi? I thought you said it was always the one thing that could cheer you up?”

You shake your head at him. “No, sushi is perfect,” you tell him, a small smile on your face as you look up at him.

He smiles back for a few moments, then started scooting the coffee table towards you so you don’t have to reach to grab your food. He moves around the table to sit beside of you, the size of the small table causing him to sit so close to you that you can feel the warmness of his large thigh against yours.

You once again think about all of the things he’s done for you without you even having to ask. Now including coming over after a game—no doubt exhausted and sore—and taking care of you without even thinking twice. Braiding your hair and calling you pretty. Staring at you unintentionally wearing his t-shirt. Modifying your food so it’s easier for you to eat with one hand.

You sit there, staring at the man you fear you’re falling in love with, already planning out the apology text you’re going to have to send your mom.

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axeeglitter · 3 months ago

Text

Back from the Vault: Alexa

“What do you mean you forgot your passport?!” asked Simon through his phone.

“I don’t know dude; I was sure I had it but I can’t find it anywhere. Can you go and check in my room if I didn’t put it on my desk or somewhere else, please?”

“Alright, I’m on my way, but dude, really, you have to be more careful!”

Simon and Michael had been roommates for almost four years now. They’d been paired together in their first year of uni, and since they were getting along pretty well and their shared bedroom was small, they decided to look for an apartment together. Things turned out great, and they’ve shared the same apartment since then. When they met, Simon was pretty shy and lacked confidence, but thanks to Michael, he really came out of his shell and found the courage to live fully. He started going to the gym, taking care of himself, and making some friends along the way. He even managed to find someone he found attractive. They just started dating a few weeks ago, and he hoped he would manage to bring his love interest home while Michael was away.

Michael had always been the more outgoing of the two. Always chatting and laughing with everyone, his big dumb smile plastered on his face, letting his perfect white teeth shine and illuminate his face. Sure, Michael wasn’t the brightest student, and even though he preferred working out to spending his evenings studying, he still did everything he could to succeed in his studies and at his part-time job as a bartender. He also managed to have some free time to play video games, practice sports, and, most of all, play with the parameters of his Alexa.

When Michael saw the ad for Alexa’s new features a couple of years ago, he fell in love with the concept. The first thing he did when they both got the apartment was to put Alexa everywhere in the house. Simon was a bit skeptical about this artificial intelligence listening to them all the time, but Michael was so happy. Michael couldn’t stop having fun with his new toy. Alexa turned the volume up, Alexa lit up the kitchen. Alexa added ketchup to the grocery list. As time passed, Simon got used to it and didn’t even realize it was there anymore.

“Ok dude, I’m in your bedroom. Damn, you could have cleaned up a bit; for fuck’s sake, there are dirty underwear and socks everywhere! Gross!”

“Sorry bro, was in a bit of a hurry. I thought my flight was tomorrow, not today! Listen, my passport should be somewhere around my desk. I remember taking it out and putting it on my desk to finish packing. Look around if it’s not there, please.”

“Okay, hold on, putting the speakers on,” Simon said as he clicked on the button to activate it and turned the volume all the way up before placing his phone on the desk.

“You sure you put it there? I can’t find it anywhere, dude!”

“Yes, I am! It must be somewhere around. Take a look on my nightstand,” Michael said, half-listening to what his friend was saying as he was stressed and still searching for it in his backpack.

VOICE DETECTED

“Bro, I can’t find it anywhere. I don’t know where you’ve pu… What the fuck? What was that?” said Simon, not understanding where the voice was coming from. “Dude, did you just say something?” Simon asked again, waiting for an answer.

INTRUDER PROTOCOL ACTIVATED�� STARTING INTRUDER PROTECTION PROGRAM

As Simon heard this voice again, he heard a beeping sound coming from Michael’s computer. Suddenly, the screens lit up with a weird-looking graphic. Simon tried to understand what was happening, still asking if this was a prank from Michael. “Dude, can you hear me? I don’t know what you are up to, but it’s not funny. You know what? Fuck you, I’m out of here!” said Simon as he started walking out of the messy bedroom.

“Bro, I know, maybe it’s in the closet!” answered Michael, not listening to what his bro was saying and still looking for it in his suitcase.

All of a sudden, Simon felt something grabbing his right ankle. He tilted his head only to realize his foot was stuck in some kind of cable knot. He smiled a bit, thinking all of this was getting on his nerves, but as a shy laugh escaped his mouth, the knot tightened on its own, and another cable wrapped around Simon’s left ankle. Then they started pulling him. Simon fell on his butt right onto a pile of dirty jockstraps and used socks. The cables resumed their pulling. Simon tried to resist, but it wasn’t working.

“Michael, help!!” he screamed loud and clear, but Michael had put his phone away as he was asking about his passport to his family.

“HELP ME!!” Simon screamed once again as he was dragged across the dirty floor. Then it all stopped. He was not moving anymore. His ankles were still tied to the cables, and as he tried to get back up, he heard a whipping sound and turned his head just in time to see two new cables grab his wrists and tie them up too before spreading them apart, resulting in Simon being held down against his will in the middle of Michael’s dirty bedroom floor.

“Michael, help me!” screamed Simon again, and this time Michael answered just as the voice started talking again.

INTRUDER NEUTRALIZED… WAITING APPROVAL TO START INTRUDER PROTECTION PROGRAM…

“YES!” screamed Michael from afar. “I knew I had packed it!” Michael’s voice got louder as he got his phone back to his ear. “Sorry bro, I’ve found it! My mom was keeping it and didn’t tell me. Sorry! I’ll catch you in a month after my family trip. I’ll grab you something from Disney World, bro. See you!” And with that, Michael hung up on Simon.

MASTER4S VOICE DETECTED… STARTING PROTOCOLS IN 3…2…1…

Simon was terrified. He couldn’t move, and now his only hope, Michael, had just hung up on him. As he realized he would have to find a way to free himself on his own, the cables started to tense again, pulling his limbs a bit more until his legs and arms were outstretched. Now he couldn’t move at all anymore.

STARTING SCANNING AND BACKUP PROTOCOL…

Simon lay there, immobile and jerking as much as he could in the hope of untying one of the knots when he saw a new cable starting to move on its own. It undulated on the floor in Simon’s direction, and as it got near his head, it floated in the air above him. There it stood just long enough for Simon to see it. It was different from the ones holding him down. This one had a device plugged into it, looking like something used for scanning. As Simon thought about that, the device turned itself on and illuminated Simon’s body in a blue hue, going from the tip of his feet to his head. As it scanned along, Simon saw a weird blue holographic square pattern projected onto him.

“What the fuck is all of this?” thought Simon as the device finished its work.

INTRUDER SCAN FINISHED… SAVING OF THE DATA… DATA SAVED… RESUMING PROTOCOL…

Simon heard again. Suddenly, the scanning device lit up again, but this time it was not a blue light. This time it was red. It started scanning all over his body again, but Simon felt like something was heating all around him. As he felt this weird but not painful sensation, he realized he was feeling something on his right ankle. He lifted his head only to see that wherever the red light touched, his clothes were disintegrating. His socks and brand-new Air Forces were already gone, and now he watched as his favorite pair of jeans was getting destroyed right in front of his eyes. Simon screamed and moved as much as he could in every direction, hoping to stop all of this, but it was not working. Worse, the voice started again.

INTRUDER NOT STANDING STILL, SPEEDING UP PROCESS BY 50%

Simon watched in fear as he felt his whole body getting naked faster. With the blink of an eye, Simon was standing there, tied up and naked on the floor. “Please, make it stop. I’m Michael’s roommate. I’m not an intruder. I live here!” Simon tried to talk with Alexa, but the only response he heard froze him in terror.

VOICEPRINT INCORRECT… RESUMING PROTOCOL IN 3…2…1…

As he heard those words, he saw new cables flying from every corner of the room. They were like snakes ready to strike, and the only thing he could do as he saw them freezing in place waiting for orders was close his eyes as tears built up on his cheeks.

Suddenly, all the cables jumped onto his body. He felt them plugging into his biceps, forearms, pecs, abs, and legs. He even felt some getting plugged into his fingers and soles. Simon was in excruciating pain. It felt like he was being stabbed all over his body at once. Just as he was about to faint, he heard the voice again.

MODIFICATION PROCESS STARTING IN 3…2…1…

Simon felt all the cables attached to him vibrating harder and harder. It was like his whole body was being shaken. His nerves were on fire, and he felt like he was about to be torn apart. Tears of pain streamed down his cheeks as he suddenly felt an electric shock inside his body. He was in such pain that he couldn’t even turn his head to see what was happening to him.

Just before Michael left for his family vacation, he received a notification on his Amazon account about a new version of Alexa. Being Michael, he jumped on the opportunity and upgraded it right away, without paying much attention to the modifications. The only new feature he was interested in was the “Intruder Protection Program” and its assimilation feature. “Cool,” he thought, “Just before leaving for a month, this new version is released. What perfect timing!”

Once the download was done, Alexa needed information to register who was welcome and who was considered an intruder. Michael did so and, just as he finished entering his information and was about to input Simon’s details, Alexa reminded him that his flight was leaving in 4 hours. Surprised, Michael jumped out of his desk, packed as much as he could into his backpack and suitcase, and rushed to meet his family at the airport, not realizing he never entered Simon’s information into Alexa’s database.

Simon lay frozen in pain on the dirty floor as he felt his bones cracking and compressing. He heard cracking everywhere, and at some point, he thought maybe all of this was a nightmare and he was about to wake up. But what jolted him from this thought was the excruciating pain in his feet. Simon felt his size 39 feet starting to grow longer until they were now a size 45 and a half. The pain was awful. He fell as his toes elongated and became more articulated. It felt like he had more movement in them than before. Then the same happened with his hands, and it was too much for Simon’s pain tolerance. As he fainted from the pain, the changes didn’t stop. Once the bones were modified, Simon’s muscles were next.

All his muscles entered a vibration state. They grew larger and larger until his previous slim, athletic frame was replaced by that of a gym god. His muscles bulged in every direction. Once the muscles were done, the vibration moved to his head. His nose was the first to break into pieces before being remolded into a larger, less slim version. Then the same happened with his chin and brows. Once the bones were done, the muscles in his face also started to vibrate, resulting in a more angular, jockish face.

Then the scanning device came back to life and started scanning Simon’s fainted body with a green light. Every inch of skin touched by the light tanned to a healthy golden shade. Once done, the device turned a yellow light and focused on specific zones: the legs, armpits, head, chest, and most importantly, the pubic area. There, it started to light up and remained immobile on the skin until a certain number of hairs had sprouted. This resulted in Simon’s body having slightly hairy legs, chest and an imberb face (except for hair and brows), hairy armpits, and, most notably, curly brown pubes.

When all the hair had been scanned, the device focused back on Simon’s head and his eyes. This time, the device emitted a purple hue. Unbeknownst to Simon, his blue-gray eyes started to change until they were a warm brown color. The scanning device turned off and fell next to Simon’s head, only to be replaced by another cable with a peculiar apparatus at its end. It looked like a tube.

The cable started to undulate toward Simon’s crotch and then, out of nowhere, jumped onto his 5-inch cock and grape-sized balls. Alexa spoke again.

LOADING BACKED UP DATA…

The device began to suck harder and harder, and suddenly, Simon’s cut cock started to grow and harden. It grew bigger and bigger inside the tube until it was now an 8.5-inch uncut cock with huge testicles.

GENITALS MODIFIED…

The device detached itself and fell just between Simon’s legs. Simon’s body remained immobile for a couple of seconds before he slowly opened his eyes. The first thing he saw was two huge pecs in front of his sight. He screamed and turned his head to the right and left, watching as his arms had also become huge.

“WHAT THE FUCK!” he screamed, but the only response he got was another notification from Alexa.

BODY MODIFICATION PROTOCOL COMPLETE… STARTING THE ASSIMILATION PROTOCOL IN 3… 2… 1…

Simon watched in fear as a new cable appeared in his sight. This one looked similar to the others that had plugged into his body, but it stood right between his eyes. That’s when he understood what Alexa had just said.

“No, Alexa, stop! STOOOO…”

The cable jumped into the middle of Simon’s eyes and plugged itself directly into his brain. For Simon, it felt like a switch had been turned off. He was still feeling everything but couldn’t move anymore. It was like he was no longer there, and for a moment, he thought he might have died. Then he heard Alexa’s voice again, but this time it was clearer and louder, as if it were directly in his brain.

SAVING AND DUPLICATING INTRUDER’S INFORMATION

Simon felt like something was off. It felt like he was being scanned deeply, and then suddenly, he felt himself falling into darkness. It was like falling into an endless pit of obscurity, and he couldn’t grab onto anything to stop his fall.

INTRUDER’S INFORMATION SCANNED AND SAVED… STARTING ASSIMILATION…

Simon stood in darkness, hearing Alexa’s voice but unable to move or react. He was frozen in time and floating in a dark place. Suddenly, right in front of him, he saw a bright, intense, and warming light. From all around, he saw movie clips floating toward it, merging together, making it grow bigger and stronger. Simon was forced to watch these clips until one caught his attention. It was a memory of himself and Michael playing Mario Kart. Simon remembered this night perfectly because it was when he realized Michael was a true friend, and he was happy and thankful to have him in his life. But it was strange because in his memories, he was on the right side of the sofa, not the left. It was as if the memory was mirrored. That’s when he realized.

“Wait, why am I watching myself playing Mario Kart in this clip? I should be looking at Michael, not myself!”

Simon panicked and tried to find another clip, only to see once again himself in front of his eyes, not Michael. Now he understood. Simon was not looking at his memories but Michael’s.

“ALEXA, STOP, PLEASE!” Simon screamed, but nothing happened. Instead, more and more movie clips merged in front of his eyes until the last one was Michael downloading the new version of Alexa called “Intruder Protection Program” in his room. Simon screamed as loud as he could, only to be cut short by Alexa once again.

ASSIMILATION DONE…

In the outside world, all the cables unplugged themselves and unknotted from Simon’s ankles and wrists.

Simon’s body lay sweaty and naked on the dirty floor for a couple of seconds before Alexa spoke once more.

INTRUDER PROTECTION PROGRAM TERMINATED… CAN I DO SOMETHING FOR YOU, MICHAEL?

Michael opened his eyes, and Simon watched, trapped inside his own brain, as his body betrayed him. He felt everything but couldn’t move anymore. He felt his body starting to blink before opening his mouth and speaking in a deeper voice, mimicking Michael’s.

“Nah bro! I’m good. Thanks, Alexa!”

With that, Michael’s body began to get up and realized he was naked. Worse, he was getting excited watching himself in the mirror.

“Well, guess I have to take care of you,” he said, gripping his huge veined cock before spitting on it and starting to pleasure himself.

Simon was in hell. He felt everything and couldn’t do anything to stop his body and this new Michael personality. Then he felt his body tense up and prepare to explode. He grabbed one of the dirty underwear on the floor, smelled it, laughed a bit, and said “Noice” before finishing himself in it. He then sat on the bed, the dirty jockstrap still stuck between his calloused hand and his hard cock.

The new Michael closed his eyes and slowly fell asleep.

TIME TO WAKE UP, MASTER, IT’S 8 AM, YOU’RE GONNA BE LATE…

Michael woke up with his dick still tucked inside the crusty jockstrap. He got up, looked at the time, and thanked Alexa. He looked around his bedroom to see what he was about to wear and only after 2 minutes of running naked did he realize he still had the jockstrap stuck to his cock. He laughed and grabbed it before putting it on. He then jumped into cargo sports shorts and a pair of well-used Nike socks before putting grabbing a red and white tank top under his arm and his favorite necklace.

As Michael left his bedroom, he screamed through the house.

“Simon bro, gonna be late, I’ll see you tonight!”

Before leaving, he never realized that Simon was, in fact, stuck in his own head, screaming for this nightmare to stop and for him to be freed.

As Michael closed the door and jumped into his car, Alexa started again.

MICHAEL OUT OF HOUSE… STARTING INTRUDER PROTECTION PROGRAM…

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hey guys, here is the first story I've retrieved from my vault. You may have already read this one a couple of months ago, but unfortunately, it got lost over time. So, I decided to post it again after refining it a bit and adding new pictures kindly created by @tf-vigilante for this story. As always, let me know what you think of it, and feel free to leave a like, share, or send me a message if you want to talk about this story or anything else :)

Let me know if you’d like to see a continuation of this story, as I have plans for Michael, Simon, and Alexa.

If you have any ideas or plots you'd like to discuss, feel free to send me an ask or a DM ;)

In the meantime, take care, and see you soon for more stories resurrected from my vault!

#male transformation #my writing #personality change #straight to gay #mental change #reality change #Alexa #digitized #machine tf #gay #Transformation story #nerd to jock #nerd to hunk #unwilling tf

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h0ttestgrlinm0urgu3 · 10 months ago

Text

your friend isn't always a genius

request

dom! aaron hotchner x brat reader

summary: Aaron's been on a case for to long reader decideds to be a brat but he gets home sooner than expected, turns out aaron got some advice from his friend.

warnings: use of y/n, masturbat!on fem, consensual voyeurism, being a brat, punishments, recording, daddy kink, mentions of spencer reid

it's been almost two weeks since aaron went on a case. it wasn't anything major, but with the towns police hindering the investigation due to a lack of knowledge and experience, he's had to stay longer than planned.

you know you can't blame aaron for being on a case, but having a break in routine always results in you bratting. so honestly, he shouldn't have expected less.

you currently sat on your knees infront of your full body mirror dressed in only a pair of pretty pink lace panties and one of aarons sleep shirts, taking pictures that you knew you'd get in trouble for. it didn't matter tho, you loved aarons punishments. you loved the way his hand felt when he spanked your ass or when you'd go brain dead from him fucking you so good. if you were being honest it was one of your favorite things.

sending the pictures to aaron you sit and wait for him to see it. it's around nine, and he's usually in the hotel by now unless they had a break in the case. you check and seeing that he read the text you pussy dampened and your heart speed up. waiting for a reply you sit there, and sit there, and sit. it's about 5 minutes when you decide to call him.

the phone ringing 3 times before he answers. 'hey sweetheart' he answers like he would normally. 'why didn't you answer my text?' you question, opting out of a greeting. 'because your not supposed to do that' he replys plainly. 'so? what you were just gonna ignore me?' you ask him letting your voice raise.

' I was' aaron says as if it's a normal thing.

' you never ignore me ' you say pouting as if he could see you. ' and you continue to be a brat. ya know spencer and I got the talkin and he said that if someone constantly has the same punishment every time they acted out, it'd become less effective.' he states, making you wonder what in their conversation made them talk about this and why he thought it pertained to you.

because it does.

'and? the fuck does that mean aaron?' you pout feeling the urge to really pass him off now. I mean if he was gonna change up punishments you can change up what your getting punished for.

'watch it' he warns urging you to not play this game. decideding he was beyond wrong and that you'd not only play this game, but win. you hung up the phone, removing your underwear you sat up the camera to where your pussy was on full display. hitting record, you let your fingers travel down your cheest, over your stomach past your clit collecting all of your juices on your fingers. bringing then back up to your clit you make eye contact with your camera as you start to play with your pussy.

moaning at the pleasure, you couldn't deny how good it felt, but you also couldn't deny how much it felt nothing like aaron. bringing your fingers down to your entrance, sliding them in as your eyes roll back and toes curl.

'oh fuck it feels so good' you moan out. you continue to fuck yourself on camera for about five minutes before you realize something. 'fuck I can't cum' you groan out. not knowing why but still wanting to win. so you crop the last bit of the video and send aaron the gold parts.

confused on why it's been five minutes of really good pleasure, and yet you haven't cum yet. you decided to get a toy, recording yourself play with it for a while before groaning and giving up at the same out come.

editing that video and again sending only the good parts you guessed that you must have became camera shy out of nowhere. so you play with your pussy while the camera isn't on. you try everything in the span of 6 hours, reaching for your phone at hour 3 to watch porn because maybe you need a little help.

which lead to realizing aaron once again left you on read.

you genuinely felt as though you could cry now. that's when the realization hits you. you've must of been so hardwired to aaron that it's impossible for you to cum without him now.

feeling angry, not necessarily at aaron, but at the fact that he probably knew you couldn't come without him, that's probably why he was okay with ignoring you.

getting cleaned in the bathroom before going back to the bedroom with a frown on your face, you let out a huff as you plopped on the bed.

☆

waking up the next morning, you check your phone. feeling your heart drop and crawl it's self back in place you read the one message from aaron. sent hours after you went to bed, about 1 a.m., telling you how they had a break in the case and caught the guy in the act. which means he'd be home anytime today.

that'd usually make you ecstatic, but with aarons newfound discovery of ignoring you only God knows what your punishment will be.

☆

you spend the day cleaning the apartment, cooking aaron his favorite meal, even going as far as making brownies. also thinking it was better to clean the whole apartment too just in case.

☆

almost perfectly on time, when you're taking the brownies out, aaron walks through the door. 'hey baby' he greets, walking over to hug you. "at least he's not that mad" you think to yourself. 'hi' you reply shyly, letting your head rest on his chest.

you've missed this, and if kinda makes you feel bad for being a brat. looking around the kitchen, aaron smiles fondly at the food you prepared. then picks you up whole he spins to look at the whole apartment, he knows it's because you didn't expect him home so soon after acting out, but he still loves it.

'enjoy the time you have sugar, cause after we eat your ass is done for' he smiles grabbing a handful of your ass and pecking your lips, before letting you down and making his way to the table.

let let out a groan, but honestly expecting that food and dessert wasn't gonna save you from your punishment.

☆

your weren't that hungry so you finished before aaron. as soon as the last piece was gone from his plate, you shot up to start cleaning the kitchen. 'Ah, that can wait baby' aaron tells you as he gets up from the table and motions for you to follow. 'what? noo, I got it' you answer starting to wash the dishes.

aaron walked behind you, an amused smile on his face. which goes away after he sees that your purposely washing slowly 'the longer you take on the dishes, the more time is added to your punishment' he says, making you drop the fork out of your hands. 'what? that's not fair'. you try to argue only for aaron to turn around and make his way to your shared room.

saying fuck it you decided not to do the dishes and follow him to the room. 'you done?' he asks 'fuck you, yes' you reply. making him laugh while he sat on the edge of the bed.

'get undressed baby' aaron commands you. decideding to choose your battles wisely and not have you outfit ripped apart, knowing aaron is not only good for buying clothes but destroying them, you undressed.

moving over, you sit in the center of the bed like he always tells you. waiting for him to say something you patently wait playing with your fingers.

he gets up from the edge of the bed and turns to you 'had fun without me?' your boyfriend asks you. 'not at all daddy, it was so boring' you answer back. ' so glad your back now' you add smiling up to him.

he lets out a loud laugh at your answer. 'seems to me you had all the fun in the world' aaron says. shacking your head no, while he shakes his head yes 'I know you did baby and it's okay.' he speaks as he makes his way to the chair in your room. 'how many times did you cum?' he ask while getting comfortable.

'don't ask me that daddy' you groan. he chuckles while un doing his tie. 'you don't want to tell me baby?' he questions. Shacking your head no he just smiles at you before speaking 'go ahead nd show me baby'.

confusion feels your body as aaron watches you from across the room. 'what?' you whispered, silently praying that you misheard him.

'baby I want you to play with your pussy while I watch' he admitted as if it was a mundane request. 'show me what you did while I was gone' he told you with a smirk.

shacking your head no, you desperatly thank of anything to get you out of this. 'that's so embarrassing daddy' you tell him as you pout.

your pussy is getting wetter by the second but you didnt know if you'd be able to cum. or even worse if you'd be allowed to.

before you could blink aaron got up and exited the room. you were confused to say the least and once he returned with a lighter that confusion only grew.

that was, until he went into your shared closet.

your jaw hit the floor as you see him walk out with one of your favorite pairs of heels. 'aaron what are yo-' 'shh baby' he cuts you off tossing your heels infront of the bed.

'they're just encouragement' he says as he reclaims his seat, lighter in hand 'but know that you'll be punished one way or another' he says plainly.

letting out a whine 'this isn't fair' you tell him wich in return earns you an eye roll. '10 minutes' he speaks. 'huh?' you question '10 minutes' he repeats.

'10 minutes to cum or you'll have 10 minutes to say goodbye to your shoes. you pick.' he clears up slightly shrugging his shoulders.

expecting your embarrassment you lay back down and prop your knees up. 'is that good?' you ask to which you get no reply. you drag two fingers through your slit and to your entrance. collecting your juices before letting them dip in.

you let out a moan, letting your body relax as you bring your finger out and back in. you cant lie about how good it feels, humiliation and all.

dragging your fingers out you bring them to circle your clit. you look at aaron and notice his intense gaze on your pussy in return you let out a whine and feel your pussy clamp around nothing.

you speed up your fingers and bring your other hand up to grope your breast. surprisingly to you, you can feel your orgasm building up.

adding more pressure to your clit to chase your orgasm it seems to finally click for aaron that your about to cum. to say you could see the disappointed on his face would be an understatement, "ill let her have this tho" , he thought to himself.

your shut your eyes as tight as they could as your feel the coil in your abdomen burst 'oh fuck daddy' you moan out as your orgasm washes through you.

breathing deeply as your legs twitched you finally opened your eyes to see your boyfriend on his phone. 'aaron what the fuck are you doing' you question as you see him typing away.

he barley spears you a glance before going back to typing and saying 'spencer said you wouldn't be able to cum on your own by now'

tag : @jxvipike

a/n☆ this is the 3rd version of this story bc tumblr deleted the other two 😺 not proof read, so mb for any mistakes😻😽 - daisy

#girlblogging #aaron hotchner x reader #black fanfic writer #x black fem reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #bau x reader #aaron hotchner x reader smut #aaron hotchner x you #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds smut #anon ask #bimbo reader #hottest girl in mourge #brat reader #bd/sm brat

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norrizzandpia · 11 months ago

Note

Hiiii I love your writing so much!!! Can I request an imagine where Lando is streaming and the reader says something and lando is like “when I marry you” and the reader is like WHEN? And lando is all like in love and the stream goes wild. Then she leaves the room and lando is like “I can’t wait to marry her “ or smth…. Thank uuuuuu

When? (LN4)

Summary: Apparently, to Lando, it is not a question of if he will marry Y/n, it is when.

Warnings: none

Sitting in a swiveling chair beside him, Y/n peaks over Lando’s shoulder, watching as his car on the video game spins out of control before crashing into the barriers.

“Shit!” Lando screams, his body flying forward from his chair to hunch over.

Y/n giggles in the background as the chat berates Lando for his poor sim skills whilst also being a Formula 1 driver, “You’d think you’d be so good at this game?”

Lando shoots her a look over his shoulder, a warning glance, before he shakes his head with a snicker, “You try it, then.”

Y/n shakes her head, “Nah, I’m good. Leave it the professionals.”

Lando nods with a tsk, finding her presence and her words funny nonetheless. There’s a ringing on her phone that shakes them from their moment, Y/n picking it up and noting the unknown number.

“Hello?”

Murmuring sounds from the other side of the phone before realization flows through Y/n and she nods as she speaks, “Yes, sorry. I will ask my boyfriend for that right now. I’m not sure what the exact code is.”

The word code makes Lando mute his microphone, knowing if people found his apartment with the knowledge of the code to get in, all hell would break loose.

“Who is it?” He asks her.

“The delivery guy. What’s the code to get into the building?” Y/n replies, her free hand landing on his bicep as he turns around to fully face her.

Lando’s body warms at her touch, “2576.”

She nods and he unmutes the microphone, the couple going back to their old ways.

“You know, you could just make it easier for me and write the code on a piece of paper for me. Or at least let me write it in my Notes app. I always forget it.” She chuckles, noting the way the delivery man texts her he’s making his way up the stairs, gaining closer to the apartment.

Lando mindlessly laughs, “I don’t want it to get leaked or for you to lose the paper. Maybe when I marry you, I don’t know.”

The chat erupts as silence ensues behind him. Lando sneaks a glance at Y/n behind him, the girl jaw dropped, “When?”

His eyebrows furrow, “Yeah, when. What about it? You think I don’t want to marry you? You think I don’t already have it all planned out in my head?”

Y/n shakes her head, disbelief bleeding from her being, “Well, what a nice surprise!”

She giggles, still a bit taken aback, before leaning forward and planting a slobbery kiss on his cheek. One which he grimaces at and wipes away, although his heart beats faster in his chest at the gesture.

She smiles down at him as she stands up, mumbling about the food being there, as she lays another kiss yet this time meeting his lips. She stares at him a bit more before leaving the room, the two being lovesick in the way their eyes shimmered.

Lando, let alone for the moment, read through the chat and laughed at their words, “What do you mean ‘I’m crying, that’s so cute’ I thought people knew how serious I was about her?!”

Max laughs from the other end of the call, “Yeah, what? Lando has been talking about marrying Y/n since he first met her.”

More messages flood through and Lando can only smile blissfully, “Well, you heard it here first, folks. I can’t wait to marry that woman.”

At this point, the chat is triggered into a frenzy and Y/n looks bewildered when she comes back with the food, slightly overwhelmed at the volume of words infiltrating the screen.

“Jesus Christ, did Lando moan again?” She jokes, though by the way Lando doesn’t answer she actually worries for a moment.

He’s quick to reassure her though, “No, just informing the chat on how in love I am with you because apparently they didn’t know.”

Blush rises to her cheeks and Lando pulls her down onto his lap, the two digging into the two bowls balancing in her lap. There’s a chowing session between the two, their hunger taking over, as they continue to converse with the chat and Max.

Truly funny, though, the way the conversation steered into the topic of Lando and Y/n getting married as the engagement ring rest in the depths of his sock drawer, begging to be taken out and displayed on the finger of his favorite girl.

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soobinsonly1bf · 2 months ago

Text

a simple head can't ruin a friendship, right?

(soobin x m!reader)

warnings: nsfw, sub!loser!soobin, m!meandom!reader, oral (male receiving obviously), degradation, A LOT of dirty talk, a whole lot of cursing, in reality reader is sweet, soob is just a massive freak (and a homosexual)

!!nsfw under the cut, minors dni!!

you were laying on your best friend's bed, like everyday, while he was playing some stupid video game on his computer, also like everyday. he was venting for the last few hours about some girl not wanting to go on a date with him. not like you were exactly listening to him, you were too focused on your phone.

"jeez, soob, all that talking only because of some girl? come on, bro..." you chuckled, not even hiding the amusement over the whole situation.

"hey, it's not funny! she's really pretty... and she was really different over texts. i thought that after our first date she will want to go on another one, but... she just refused."

"she just saw how much of a loser you are and panicked!" you said, laughing. "i bet she realized that even if she would let you hit, she would have to fake her orgasm."

"you're saying that as if you'd be able to make anyone cum." he said, frowning and stopping his game. he turned around on his chair to face you.

"it would be really nice if you could shut your mouth for once, you know?" you said, trying to ignore him and respond to some random person texting you.

"you don't even look like you'd be able to make anyone make a sound." soobin continued, he was the one to laugh now.

hearing that you just put your phone away, looking at him with annoyance painted on your face. "bro, you're a fucking virgin, so don't even try to be so damn cocky now."

"what? i'm just telling the truth!"

"is this a challenge?" you asked, getting up from the bed. "maybe you could shut your mouth if i kept them occupied." you said simply, just ignoring the way the other boy looked at you.

"what if- what if that is a challenge?"

"then you'll lose pretty quickly." you said, chuckling, as if it's the most normal conversation in the world. well, considering how long you know each other, it kinda was the most normal conversation. you knew this can turn out to be fun... or to be the biggest regret of your friendship.

"maybe-"

"on your knees." you interrupted him, genuinely curious of what his reaction even would be. your eyes opened wider at the sight of your friend getting on his knees in front of you, without a second thought, as if his body reacted to your words faster than his mind.

"oh my... you really are that desperate for some action? or maybe you just like dick after all?" you looked down at him, meeting his dark eyes, locked on yours. "which one is it? or maybe both?"

after soobin stayed quiet, you spoke again. "open your mouth for me and be good, yeah?"

once again, soobin without any hesitation opened his mouth, waiting for your next move. with every moment, you were getting more anxious about doing this with him, but if you already went that far... besides, he would tell you if something was wrong, you're sure of it.

you quickly unzipped your jeans, letting them fall to your knees. soobin was keeping eye contact with you non-stop, not even daring to look down at your cock the moment you took it from your boxers and gave it a few pumps.

maybe it was embarrassing, but seeing soobin on his knees right in front of you, ready to obey and please, was enough to make you hard. he was waiting for your cock, his mouth open. both of you already forgot about the whole challenge thing, now the only thing on your mind was what was about to happen.

"you know, you look pretty when you're on your knees... but if that girl saw you like that, she'd laugh in your face. hope you know that." you said and took a small step forward, now touching soobin's cheek with your dick. you chuckled, smearing your precum on his skin.

"you never did this before, yeah? let's just hope that will shut you up for good." you almost put your dick in his mouth, but you spoke again. "if anything's wrong, just pinch my thigh, alright? now, stick your tongue out a bit and keep your teeth away... don't force yourself." you said, putting your cock in front of his mouth, letting him start at his own pace, which he probably would thank you for, if he wasn't already licking along your length.

soobin immediately went to work, excitement obvious on his face. carefulness thrown through the window, he already put your dick in his mouth, trying to take it deeper. you hissed at the too sudden friction.

"jesus christ, soobin, calm the fuck down." you said, taking a handful of his hair and pulling him away. "start slowly or you're gonna hurt both yourself and me. i seriously didn't know you were so damn desperate to have my dick in your mouth." you sighed, your grip on his hair loosening, but still being there, to remind him to take it slow.

he only mumbled something you didn't even catch and licked the head of your cock. "yeah, just like that. don't try to fucking deepthroat me the second you see my dick."

he gave long licks along your lenght and little sucks on the head, his eyes closed. you fully let go of his hair, letting him do what he wants. now enjoying both, the feeling and the sight, you can't help but chuckle. you never expected to have soobin of all people giving you head. you couldn't complain though.

"tell me, have you always wanted to do that? it really seems like it." you wanted to laugh, but to your surprise, a groan was pulled out from you. soobin took your dick in his mouth again and looked up at you.

you felt yourself throb and you weren't sure if it was because of the sight in front of you or the way soobin rolled his tongue around the head of your cock. probably a mix of both, actually. "fuck, is this really the first cock you have ever sucked? you're a goddamn natural, bro. i'm starting to think it would be a waste if you got yourself a girlfriend."

it didn't took long for the taller boy to have his mouth fully occupied, bobbing his head up and down on your length. he wasn't able to take your whole dick, but for some reason it was still completely enough for you to get closer and closer to the edge. you weren't sure when, but your hand was back in his hair, your head thrown back in pleasure. you couldn't care less about staying quiet. god, soobin really was good with his mouth.

"shit, i'm close." you warned him, feeling the familiar sensation in your lower abdomen. at your words, he only started bobbing his head faster. "pull- pull away..." you said, knowing it won't take long till you cum. when he didn't move, you needed your full self-control to do it yourself.

he whined at the burning sensation on his head, caused by you roughly pulling him away from your dick by his hair. you couldn't even say anything and you were already cumming right on his face.

when your cock stopped throbbing, you took a deep breath, trying to calm down your breathing. you finally looked down at soobin, who just sat on his ass where he was kneeling a moment ago.

"i told you to pull away." at that he just shrugged, smiling. you sighed, but an amused smirk appeared on your mouth at the sight of your friend's face all dirty with your release. "god, look at you. you're really fucking proud of yourself, aren't you?"

"hell yes i am, i just made you cum." he said in a "duh" manner, making you chuckle. his voice was a big rough, his face all red and hair messy. you couldn't help but think he looked perfect like this.

"you're really fucking dumb... but you did well, bro. even really well, i'd say." his stupid grin only grew wider at this. "now go clean yourself, my cum is not becoming your new skincare product."

———————

a/n: i highkey want to write a part two where they remember about the challenge and reader shows soobin he can make him make noises he didnt even know hes able to make...

#txt smut #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #soobin smut #soobin hard hours #soobin hard thoughts #soobin x you #soobin x male reader #soobin x reader #txt x reader #txt x you #txt x male reader #sub txt #sub!txt #sub!soobin #kpop x male reader

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kiwriteswords · 1 month ago

Text

It's strange what desire will make foolish people do

Part I in the Wicked Game Universe (Can be read on its own, though!)

Masterlist || Ao3

AN: I can't stop writing Hotch x 'someone from his past' stories. I loved writing this one, though. I'm really excited to share this one with you. I have taken a break from some of the shy!reader fics and really, truly leaned into a reader (I probably embarrassingly identify with too much)...the bold, unapologetically-flirty!Reader, who tends to let her mouth get her in trouble more often than not! Also, thank you to @spoonpine for walking through this idea with me in the comments of my o.g. post!

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader

Word Count: 11k

Tags/Warnings: Slow Burn, Fluff, Angst, Sexual Tension, Undercover Mission, Mutual Pining, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Banter, Teasing, Emotional Vulnerability, Flirting, Team Dynamics, Slightly Suggestive Themes, Brief Mentions of Violence (related to the case), Tension Build-Up, Slight NSFW, professor!reader if you squint

Sypnosis: After years away from the BAU, you return to the team you once called home. Some things feel familiar, but your dynamic with Aaron Hotchner has changed. What started as playful banter now carries an undercurrent of something more, and the line between professionalism and desire begins to blur. In a world where control is key, the tension between you and Hotch is about to reach its breaking point.

It had been years since you last walked the halls of Quantico.

Back then, things were different. You were a profiler, standing shoulder to shoulder with the likes of Agents Gideon, Rossi, and Hotchner.

You had a deep understanding of how the human mind worked—specifically, how it could be unraveled and manipulated. Your background in psychological torture had set you apart from most, and it wasn’t long before your work at the BAU made you a name within the Bureau.

But as the years went on, you found yourself taking a different path—one that led to the world of academia. Teaching at an Ivy League university seemed like the natural next step. It gave you the chance to share your knowledge, write books, and shape the next generation of criminologists. But as fulfilling as it was, something was missing.

The adrenaline. The stakes. The feeling of being out in the field, making a difference in real-time.

At the BAU, Rossi had seen it for a while now: the way Hotch carried the burden of the job, rarely letting himself relax.

It wasn’t about setting him up with someone; it was about challenging him, waking him up again. You—sharp, confident, and always able to push his buttons—had a way of doing just that.

Years ago, there had always been a fire between you, something unspoken yet undeniable.

Rossi didn’t need to fan those flames—he just knew that having you nearby would reignite something in Hotch, force him out of his controlled, measured existence. You were one of the few who could challenge him in ways no one else could.

It wasn’t just about making Hotch feel young again but making him feel alive.

When Rossi reached out, you hadn’t needed much convincing. The new age of teaching wasn’t what it used to be anyway, and the BAU--it had always felt like home.

“Come on, kid,” Rossi’s voice crackled through the phone. “You know you miss the action. Sitting behind a desk teaching criminology to a bunch of Ivy League kids? That’s not you.”

You chuckled, leaning back in your chair. “Don’t knock it, Rossi. There’s a certain charm in watching them squirm when they realize the real world isn’t as glamorous as they thought.”

“Maybe,” Rossi replied with a laugh, “but you belong in the field, not in front of a chalkboard. The team misses you.”

You smirked, unable to resist teasing him. “The team, huh? Or is this your way of saying you’re getting old and need someone to keep you on your toes?”

“Please,” Rossi shot back, “I’m timeless. But we could use a little more… fire around here. You always had a way of lighting things up.”

“Is that your way of saying you miss me, Rossi?”

“Maybe,” he replied smoothly. “And maybe Hotch could use the challenge, too.”

“Ah, now I see. You’re just trying to stir the pot,” you teased, your voice light. “Fine, I’m in. But don’t think I won’t be bringing my own brand of chaos.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” Rossi said, a smile in his voice. “Welcome home.”

When you worked together years ago, before Hotch became Unit Chief, there had always been something between you—unspoken, simmering beneath the surface. The chemistry was undeniable, though you both kept it buried under layers of professionalism.

At the time, Hotch was married to Haley, and you had been in a relationship of your own. The affection you had for Haley, knowing how much she meant to him, made the idea of crossing that line impossible. There was a mutual understanding that, no matter the tension between you, it couldn’t be acted upon.

But that didn’t mean it wasn’t fun to play around.

You were always a natural flirt. Charisma came to you as easily as breathing, and sometimes, you didn’t even realize you were doing it.

But with Hotch… it was different. He was reserved, controlled, and steady in a way that made the small cracks in his composure so satisfying to witness. And it became impossible to resist pushing him, just a little.

Watching him squirm under the weight of your words and subtle glances became a game—a game where you were always two steps ahead.

You knew how to push his buttons, and he let you.

He always had.

The distance between you, built by circumstance and respect for your respective relationships, had kept everything in check back then. It was that very distance that allowed the two of you to maintain your professional connection without ever letting the attraction get in the way.

The two of you had kept in touch over the years--various bureau events…the typical bureaucratic crap that you two would often bond over rolling your eyes at.

But now, things were different. There were no more barriers. Haley was gone, your own relationship had long since ended, and that old chemistry still lingered—stronger, maybe, after all the time and distance. And this time, there was nothing to stop it from burning brighter.

There was something freeing knowing you could push a little further. The idea of it, acting on this attraction you couldn’t even deny you’ve had over the years, was thrilling.

On your first day back, the team gathered in the briefing room. Rossi had greeted you like the old friend you were, a sly smile on his face as if he already knew what was coming. Hotch stood off to the side, arms crossed, his eyes catching yours as the rest of the team exchanged introductions. He stepped forward, and for a moment, it was like no time had passed.

“It’s good to have you back,” Hotch said, his voice steady but lower than usual, as if acknowledging the weight of the years that had passed since you last worked together. “Things have changed a bit.”

You shook his hand, feeling the weight of familiarity settle between you, his grip warm and steady. “Yeah, I noticed. You’re the boss now,” you said, tilting your head slightly, your tone playful but your gaze steady. “Guess I’ll have to get used to taking orders.”

Hotch didn’t respond immediately, but his brow lifted just slightly, a rare flicker of amusement in his eyes. His thumb brushed across your hand before he released it, stepping back. “We’ll see how well that goes.”

The others—Morgan, JJ, Reid, and Prentiss—had heard of you, of course. Your name was well-known in FBI circles, especially since you’d been one of the few women to pave the way for others in the Bureau. They respected you immediately, not just because of your accolades, but because of how you carried yourself—confident, self-assured, commanding respect without demanding it.

The case briefing began, and Hotch, ever the professional, gave the rundown of the unsub’s profile. You couldn’t help yourself. As he stood in front of the team, rattling off key details, you crossed your arms and leaned back in your chair, a small, teasing smile tugging at your lips.

“Still delivering profiles like they’re carved in stone, Hotchner?” you teased casually, just loud enough for the others to hear.

Hotch’s eyes flickered toward you, a brief flash of something behind them before he cleared his throat.

“I prefer to think of them as accurate,” he replied, his voice smooth but with an edge. “Just like always.”

The corner of your mouth lifted into a knowing smile, and you saw it—the tiniest twitch of discomfort in his jaw.

Oh, you still had him.

Rossi, sitting nearby, chuckled softly. “Watch out, everyone. The professor’s back.”

The rest of the team exchanged glances. JJ leaned toward Emily, whispering, “Is it just me, or is there something… more there?”

Emily raised an eyebrow. “You’re definitely not imagining it.”

In the days that followed, it became clear to the rest of the team that there was a thick tension between you and Hotch—an almost palpable current that crackled whenever you were in the same room.

You couldn’t help the way you flirted with him. Sometimes, it was a subtle comment, a lingering glance, or the way you stood just a little too close during case briefings. Other times, it was more overt—a casual touch on his arm, a playful quip when you knew the team was listening.

You’d always had a rebellious streak when it came to authority, sometimes you wondered how you got as far as you did in your career with that mouth of yours.

Hotch—rigid, rule-following Hotch—was just too tempting a target. You’d once jokingly referred to yourself as a “brat” when it came to pushing buttons, and in your case, that usually meant defying authority with a smile on your face.

But something was different now. Back when you worked together years ago, Hotch would brush off your teasing with calm professionalism, barely giving you a reaction. He’d remain composed, seemingly impervious to your provocations. Now, though, he seemed more willing to engage, to push back just a little more than you expected.

You weren’t often surprised by people, but Hotch’s newfound ability to meet your wit with his own had caught you off guard.

It wasn’t just his typical stoic self anymore—there was an edge to his responses, a glint in his eye that made it clear he wasn’t just enduring your teasing; he was playing along. And it threw you off balance in a way you didn’t quite anticipate.

It wasn’t just in front of the team, either. In private, away from the others, Hotch’s responses had started to take on a different tone—quieter, more personal, laced with something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. There were times, especially late at night when the office was nearly empty, when his voice would drop low as he answered one of your playful jabs, turning the tables on you in a way that made you squirm just a little.

And that was something new. You weren’t used to being the one caught off guard. Hotch had always been steady, collected. But now, you noticed the way his eyes would flicker down to your lips when you spoke, the way his voice dropped just a little lower when he addressed you directly. He never let it show, at least not on the surface, but you knew. You always knew.

It was late, the bullpen quiet save for the soft hum of computers and the occasional shuffle of papers. You had finished most of your report and were about to call it a night when you spotted Hotch still in his office, the faint glow from his desk lamp highlighting his focused expression. Naturally, you couldn’t resist.

You knocked lightly on his door, smirking as you leaned against the frame.

“Burning the midnight oil, Hotchner? You know, even you need sleep sometimes,” you teased, the playful lilt in your voice familiar.

Hotch didn’t look up right away, but you saw the small smile tug at the corner of his lips. “Funny, I was going to say the same to you.”

You stepped into his office, crossing your arms as you leaned against his desk. “Well, unlike you, I still know how to have fun. Late-night drinks can be productive, you know.”

This time, Hotch raised his eyes to meet yours, his expression calm but something else lurking behind it. “Is that an invitation?”

You blinked, caught completely off guard by the unexpected shift in his tone. “I—what?”

He closed the file in front of him slowly, standing up from his desk to face you fully. His voice was steady, a quiet challenge in his words.

“You said late-night drinks could be productive. If you’re offering, I might just take you up on that.”

For a moment, you were at a loss for words, something that almost never happened. You could feel your pulse quicken, the confidence you usually wielded slipping as Hotch’s eyes stayed on yours, unflinching.

Recovering quickly, you gave him a slow, teasing smile, though your heart still raced. “Are you sure you could handle it, Hotch? You don’t strike me as the type to let loose.”

Without missing a beat, he tilted his head slightly, his gaze unwavering. “Maybe you’ve underestimated me.”

There it was. The subtle, confident way he turned the tables, leaving you scrambling for a response. You weren’t used to being on the receiving end of this kind of banter, especially not from Hotch.

You felt a flush rise in your cheeks, and Hotch’s eyes flickered down, just briefly, as if noticing. When he looked back up, there was a slight smile playing on his lips, but he didn’t push further, leaving the weight of the moment hanging between you.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you replied, your voice a touch quieter than you intended, the flirtation still there, but now with an undercurrent of something else. Something deeper.

Hotch simply nodded, his expression softening, though his gaze didn’t falter. “Good night, then.”

You turned to leave, feeling the warmth in your cheeks as you walked out of his office, your mind spinning from the unexpected encounter. You had always been able to push his buttons, but tonight… it seemed Hotch had learned how to push yours.

Over time, the team grew used to the rapport between you and Hotch, much like how they had come to accept the flirtatious banter between Penelope and Derek. But with you and Hotch, it was different—sharper, more restrained, but no less intense.

The others would exchange knowing glances when your conversations got a little too charged, but they respected the unspoken boundaries you and Hotch danced around.

And the truth was, those boundaries wouldn’t stay unbroken forever.

There was this push and pull—a game of tug-of-war. You both knew how to push each other's buttons, but you also knew when to let go before the rope broke or one of you fell flat on your faces. It was a delicate balance, and somehow, neither of you ever crossed the line. At least, not yet.

It was late, and the harsh lighting of the local police station did nothing to alleviate the exhaustion that hung over the team.

The case had finally been wrapped up, and now it was just a matter of packing up and heading home. Everyone was scattered around the room, collecting files and closing laptops, the weight of the long hours evident on all of your faces.

You were finishing up, leaning casually against one of the cluttered desks near Hotch, who was meticulously stacking paperwork into his briefcase. He always took his time—never rushed, even at the end of a long case. It was one of the things that both fascinated and frustrated you about him.

“Come on, Hotch,” you teased, watching him with a smirk. “You ever think about leaving the paperwork for tomorrow? Or are you afraid the world might end if you don’t have everything perfectly organized before we leave?”

Hotch looked up from his task, his expression as stoic as ever. “The sooner it’s done, the sooner we can all go home,” he replied, his voice even and calm.

You couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Home? You mean you’re actually going to leave this place?” you asked, your tone playful. “I always thought you just… stayed at the office, brooding until the next case rolled in.”

Across the room, Morgan and Prentiss were packing up their own gear, but your voice was loud enough to catch their attention. Morgan glanced over, smirking. “Brooding’s definitely on-brand for Hotch,” he muttered to Prentiss, who hid a smile behind her hand.

Hotch closed his briefcase and stood up, straightening his posture as he turned to you, and this time, there was a flicker of something in his eyes—something that caught you off guard.

“I don’t brood,” he said, his tone just a little too smooth. “And I think you’d be surprised at how well I can unwind.”

You blinked, momentarily thrown by the unexpected comeback. “Oh yeah?” you challenged, crossing your arms and leaning against the desk a bit more. “Guess I’ll need proof of that. Can’t have the Unit Chief pretending to be fun when there’s no evidence.”

Hotch didn’t miss a beat. He stepped closer, his voice dropping just enough that only you could hear, though the team was watching from across the room.

“Careful,” he said quietly, his gaze unwavering. “You might not be able to keep up.”

Your breath hitched slightly, your pulse quickening in response to the subtle challenge in his words. You weren’t used to Hotch pushing back like this, and it caught you off balance for a second. You had always been the one to make him squirm, but now… now, he was the one getting under your skin.

“Did Hotch just—” Prentiss began, her eyebrows raised as she glanced at Morgan, who looked just as surprised.

Morgan leaned back in his chair, a slow grin spreading across his face. “I think Hotch just played her at her own game.”

Prentiss smirked, shaking her head slightly in disbelief. “I didn’t know he had a game.”

Morgan chuckled. “Oh, he does. He’s just been keeping it locked away until now.”

Across the room, Rossi, who had been quietly observing the exchange, gave an almost imperceptible nod, clearly pleased with what he was seeing. He had known you would be good for Hotch, and seeing the dynamic between the two of you now only confirmed it.

You quickly regained your composure, leaning in just slightly as you shot back, “I’m pretty sure I could handle it, Aaron.”

Hotch’s lips quirked in a subtle smile, but he didn’t respond right away. Instead, he stepped back and grabbed his coat, leaving the challenge hanging in the air.

“We’ll see,” he said, his voice calm, but there was a teasing undertone to it now.

As Hotch walked toward the door, the rest of the team finally let out the breath they had been holding.

“Wow,” JJ said, eyes wide. “Did we just witness Hotch flirting?”

“I’m not sure I believe it,” Reid chimed in, looking genuinely puzzled.

Morgan crossed his arms, a wide grin spreading across his face. “It’s about time someone shook things up around here.”

Rossi walked past you, slapping a hand on your shoulder as he did. “Keep it up, kid,” he said with a satisfied grin. “Looks like you’ve got him right where you want him.”

You rolled your eyes, though a smile tugged at your lips. “I think he’s the one keeping me on my toes now,” you muttered under your breath.

As the team gathered their things and headed for the SUVs, you couldn’t help but steal another glance at Hotch. The way he had engaged with you tonight—subtle, teasing, but undeniably flirtatious—left you with a strange mixture of excitement and surprise. You’d always known how to push his buttons, but now? Now it felt like Hotch was finally ready to play the game.

And for the first time in a long while, you weren’t sure who had the upper hand.

Weeks had passed since that night, and though the tension between you and Hotch still simmered beneath the surface, the team had moved on to a new case, throwing you both back into the rhythm of work. The dynamic had shifted, but the game remained—unspoken but always present. Now, out in the field with Morgan, the familiar tension crept back in as you prepared to relay critical information to Hotch.

The case had taken a sharp turn, and every second mattered. You dialed Hotch’s number, knowing the information you were about to relay could be critical. But, as always, the tension had you slipping into your usual rhythm of teasing—almost like second nature when things got stressful.

Hotch answered on the second ring. “Hotchner.”

“Hey, got something for you,” you said, catching a breath. “We spoke to a witness. Black SUV, partial plates, seen leaving the scene about an hour ago. I’m starting to think I’m carrying this whole case. You sure you don’t need me running things for you while you take a day off?”

Morgan shot you a sharp look, trying not to laugh. The timing wasn’t great, and he fully expected Hotch to cut you off with a firm, no-nonsense response. After all, this was Hotch.

There was a brief pause on the line, and Morgan mouthed at you, “He’s gonna kill you.”

But then, Hotch’s voice came through, low and steady. “Careful,” he said, his tone calm but carrying an unmistakable note of amusement. “If you keep talking like that, I’ll start thinking you’re trying to get yourself reassigned to paperwork duty.”

You blinked, momentarily stunned. That wasn’t what you expected at all. Was that… Hotch teasing you? It was subtle—typical Hotch—but unmistakable. Your mouth opened to respond, but for once, words didn’t immediately come.

Morgan’s eyebrows shot up, clearly floored. “Wait, did Hotch just—” he started, but you waved a hand to silence him, still processing the fact that Aaron Hotchner had just flirted back, in his own serious, dry way.

“Well,” you finally managed, “as long as I can file it in your office, I’m sure I’d manage just fine.”

Another pause. “I think you’d find my office much less entertaining than you imagine,” Hotch replied smoothly, the same playful edge to his voice.

Morgan let out a disbelieving laugh, throwing up his hands in mock defeat. “Okay, what is happening right now?”

“I—uh, yeah, I’ll get those plates to you,” you said, trying to regain control of the conversation, but there was a heat in your cheeks that wasn’t from the work. “I’ll, uh, check in when we’ve got more.”

“Understood,” Hotch said, his tone back to business, though you could still hear the amusement lingering beneath the surface. “Keep me updated.”

Something shifted. The playful banter that had always come so easily felt heavier now, charged with something unspoken. For the first time, you both sensed it—this wasn’t just a game anymore. The teasing, the flirting—it had blurred the line between fun and something far more real. Neither of you said it out loud, but you could feel it in the weight of every word, in the way the silence lingered a second too long after each response.

When the call ended, Morgan stared at you like you’d grown a second head. “You gotta be kidding me. Hotch? The man barely cracks a smile, and here he is giving you hell?”

You shrugged, trying to act nonchalant despite the lingering warmth in your face. “He’s still my boss,” you said, playing it cool. “He’s just… keeping me in line.”

Morgan snorted. “Yeah, right. If I said half that stuff to him, I’d be doing desk duty for a month. You’ve got some kind of magic over him, I swear.”

Meanwhile, back at the local precinct, Hotch ended the call and glanced up to find Rossi watching him with a knowing grin. Rossi had caught the tail end of the conversation and didn’t need to ask to know what had just happened.

Hotch raised an eyebrow at him. “Something you want to say?”

Rossi chuckled, shaking his head. “Nothing at all, Aaron. Just nice to see you loosening up.”

Hotch gave him a steady look, but the faintest hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Someone has to keep her in check,” he said, slipping his phone into his pocket.

“Sure,” Rossi replied, clearly enjoying the exchange far too much. “Though I don’t think you’re trying that hard to stop her.”

Hotch didn’t respond, but there was a quiet understanding between them. Rossi had always known how to read between the lines, and Hotch’s small smile confirmed that Rossi’s instincts were right.

Back in the field, Morgan still hadn’t let it go. “I seriously don’t know how you get away with it,” he said, shaking his head as you both climbed into the SUV.

You shot him a sidelong glance, the smirk creeping back onto your face now that you had recovered from the surprise. “What can I say? I’m special.”

“Yeah, well, you better be careful,” Morgan teased, pulling out of the lot. “Because if Hotch ever does snap, it’s going to be spectacular.”

You laughed, leaning back in your seat. “I think we both know he likes playing this game as much as I do.”

Morgan chuckled but didn’t disagree. As you drove away, you couldn’t help but think back to Hotch’s voice on the phone, how he’d turned your usual banter right back on you. For once, he had left you the one a little off balance.

Later that day, as you and Morgan returned to the bullpen, Penelope swirled into the room with her usual dramatic flair.

"Well, well, well," she began, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "I heard a little birdie tell me there was some serious verbal sparring going on between you and the boss-man in the field today. Dare I ask how it ended?"

Morgan chuckled, throwing you a knowing glance. "Oh, it ended alright. But for once, I think Hotch had the upper hand."

Penelope gasped in mock horror, her eyes widening. "Our resident queen of sass, left speechless by Hotch? This I have to see."

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. "It’s nothing I can’t handle," you said, but the truth lingered in your mind. This was only the beginning, and even you didn’t know where it would lead.

As the days passed, you found yourself thinking more and more about that shift with Hotch, but before you could dwell on it too much, the next unavoidable event crept up on you—a formal Bureau gala.

It was a rare occurrence—one of those formal Bureau events where the invitations were non-negotiable, the kind you couldn’t avoid no matter how much you wanted to. This time, it was a benefit gala, an annual gathering of Bureau brass and political figures. Most of the team had managed to find a way out, but you, Hotch, and Rossi had drawn the short straws.

Rossi, ever the diplomat, had no issue attending these sorts of events—especially since Strauss had already invited him as her plus-one, an arrangement that left you and Hotch both slightly bemused.

“Looks like it’s just you and me,” you teased when you and Hotch were left figuring out your own arrangements.

Hotch looked at you for a moment, something unreadable in his expression. Then, to your surprise, he said, “You could come as my date.”

You blinked, caught off guard for a second. Hotch rarely flirted so openly, and the ease with which the words left his mouth left you momentarily speechless.

“Your date?” you repeated, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “You sure you can handle that?”

“I think the better question is whether you can behave,” Hotch replied, his tone measured but carrying that dry, teasing edge you were beginning to recognize more and more.

You raised an eyebrow, recovering quickly.

“Behave? Where’s the fun in that?” you quipped back. “Alright, deal. But you better not leave me to fend off the Bureau’s old guard on my own.”

Hotch gave a small, amused smile. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

The night of the gala approached faster than you expected, and soon enough, Hotch was back in his office, preparing for the evening ahead.

As Hotch finished straightening his bow tie, he heard the familiar knock on his office door. Rossi stepped in, leaning casually against the doorframe, his eyes sharp as ever.

“You clean up nice,” Rossi said with a smirk. “But that’s not what’s got me concerned.”

Hotch looked up from his desk, brow furrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Rossi stepped closer, his tone softening just slightly. “Aaron, I’ve been watching you. You’ve got that look—like you’re fighting something inside.”

Hotch sighed. He didn’t have to ask what Rossi meant. “It’s complicated, Dave.”

Rossi gave him a pointed look. “It’s only as complicated as you make it. Look, I know you. You’re holding back because that’s what you do. But maybe this time, you don’t have to. Let loose. Lean into it. You deserve that.”

Hotch’s jaw tightened. “I’m not sure I can afford to.”

Rossi smiled knowingly. “You deserve to feel alive again, Aaron. Don’t miss your chance.”

Hotch didn’t respond, but the words stayed with him long after Rossi left the room. He just continued to run through his thoughts as he grabbed his keys and made his way to the SUV to go pick you up.

You’d never have imagined Hotch picking you up in a tux, let alone for a Bureau gala where you’d be going as his date.

It had started as playful banter, something you never thought would lead to more. But the moment you accepted his offer to be his date, something shifted. There was a weight behind it, an unspoken connection that ran deeper than either of you had let on.

And now, as you smoothed your dress one final time before he arrived, a flutter of nerves settled in your chest. This wasn’t just flirting anymore. You could feel it—something real, something that went beyond the game you’d been playing for months.

When Hotch pulled up in front of your place, he stepped out of the car to greet you, and the sight of him in a sharp black tuxedo made you momentarily lose your train of thought. He was always put-together, but tonight? Tonight, there was an extra edge to his appearance, something that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Right on time,” you quipped as he opened the door for you. “Very punctual, as always. Does that come with being Unit Chief, or is that just your way of keeping everyone else on their toes?”

Hotch gave you a small smile, his eyes flickering over your dress for just a second longer than usual. “Some habits are hard to break,” he replied evenly. “You look great, by the way.”

You slid into the car, throwing him a playful glance. “You too, Hotch. I didn’t even know you owned anything that wasn’t a suit. What, no bulletproof vest tonight?”

He chuckled under his breath as he started the car, his hands gripping the wheel in that familiar, controlled way. “I figured it wasn’t necessary for a Bureau gala.”

You leaned back in your seat, smirking. “Well, you never know. Some of those higher-ups look like they could start a fight at any moment. Good thing you’ve got me as backup.”

Hotch gave a small shake of his head, amusement flashing in his eyes. “I’m sure you’ll be able to handle yourself just fine.”

As the car sped through the city streets, you couldn’t resist pushing him a little more. “Come on, Hotch. You’ve got to be at least a little excited. Big fancy event, all dressed up. We might even see you smile tonight.”

He glanced at you, his expression calm but with that familiar, dry edge. “You might want to lower your expectations.”

You grinned, leaning a little closer to him as you teased, “What, are you saying I’m setting the bar too high?”

His eyes flicked to you briefly before returning to the road, and you caught that subtle tension in his posture. “I’m saying you always seem to enjoy pushing limits.”

You blinked, momentarily thrown by the way he’d turned the banter back on you. You opened your mouth to respond, but his quiet confidence left you feeling like he had gained the upper hand.

“Well, someone’s gotta keep things interesting,” you muttered, trying to regain your footing.

For the rest of the drive, you continued to pepper him with lighthearted comments—teasing him about his serious demeanor, joking about the politics of Bureau galas, you even talked about Jack a few times—but underneath it all, there was a tension growing. Each time Hotch shot back with his calm, dry responses, it felt like a game you were both playing, and you were starting to realize you might not be in control of it anymore.

When you arrived at the gala, Hotch stepped out of the car and opened the door for you, offering his hand as you stepped out. You were about to throw another teasing comment his way, but when you looked up at him, standing there in that tux, the words caught in your throat.

He met your eyes with a steady gaze, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. The teasing, the banter—it all fell away, leaving behind the raw tension that had been building since he picked you up.

“You alright?” he asked quietly, his voice just loud enough for you to hear over the sounds of the city around you.

You blinked, quickly recovering. “Yeah, just… surprised that you’re really here, taking me as your date.” Your eyes flicked over him, taking in how good he looked, even though that wasn’t the real surprise. “But, I mean, you do clean up nice, Aaron.”

Hotch tilted his head slightly, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Surprised I asked you?” His voice was calm, but there was a flicker of something deeper in his gaze. “I thought it was about time.”

You smiled, the tension between you thickening. “Maybe I am

Inside the gala, the atmosphere was elegant, with the sounds of soft music and quiet chatter filling the room. You and Hotch had already made your rounds, engaging in small talk with Bureau officials and shaking hands with people you didn’t particularly care for. But through it all, the tension between you and Hotch lingered.

After an hour or so, you found yourselves at the bar, taking a moment to escape the crowd. You leaned against the counter, watching Hotch as he ordered a drink for himself and one for you.

“See?” you said, giving him a teasing smile. “This isn’t so bad. You’re surviving, and you even managed to crack a joke or two. I think we can count this as a win.”

Hotch raised an eyebrow, “You’re the one who said I needed to loosen up,” he said evenly, his voice carrying that quiet, playful edge. “I’m just following your advice.”

You grinned, the energy between you shifting, the tension you’d been playing with all night coming to a head. Now was as good a time as any to test his limits a little further.

“Oh, I’ve got plenty of advice for you, Hotch,” you said, leaning in just enough to catch his full attention, your voice dropping to something more suggestive. “And I bet if I really tried, I could get you to loosen up a lot more.”

Hotch’s gaze sharpened, lingering on yours longer than before. There was a flicker of surprise there—just for a second—but it quickly turned into something else. Amusement. Challenge.

“You might want to be careful,” he replied, his voice still smooth but now edged with something darker, something more dangerous. “You’re playing a game you might not be ready to finish.”

You laughed softly, unbothered by his attempt to warn you off. If anything, it only made you push harder. “I don’t think you’d mind that one bit,” you said, your tone bold. “Besides, I’m not the one who’s holding back.”

Hotch’s lips quirked into the faintest smile, but there was a glint in his eyes that told you he wasn’t going to let you off that easily. “Is that what you think? That I’m holding back?”

You tilted your head, “Oh, I know you are. You’ve been doing it all night.”

For a moment, there was silence between you, the tension thick enough to cut through. Hotch’s eyes flicked down to your mouth for a second before returning to meet yours, and when he spoke again, his voice was lower, almost a growl. “You might be playing with fire.”

The words sent a shiver down your spine, and for the first time that night, you wondered if you had pushed him a little too far. But then again, that’s exactly what you’d been trying to do, wasn’t it? Test the waters. See how much you could make him bend before he snapped.

But Hotch didn’t snap. Instead, he leaned in, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, “I’m not the one who’ll break first.”

Your breath caught, and before you could respond, the bartender breaking the moment. You took a step back, trying to compose yourself as Hotch straightened, his expression calm and controlled once again—though the look in his eyes told you the game wasn’t over.

“Here you go. Anything else for the happy couple?” The bartender placed the glasses in front of you both.

You froze for a second, the bartender’s words hanging in the air. You were about to correct him when you glanced at Hotch, curious to see his reaction.

Hotch, to your surprise, didn’t immediately deny it. Instead, he gave the bartender a polite smile and said, “We’re fine, thank you.”

As the bartender moved on, you turned to Hotch, raising an eyebrow. “Happy couple, huh?”

Hotch shrugged, taking a sip of his drink. “It seemed easier than explaining.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head as you leaned in closer. “I think you’re enjoying this a little too much.”

He met your gaze, his expression calm but with that unmistakable glint of amusement in his eyes. “Maybe.”

The air between you felt heavier now, the flirtation and tension building to a point where it felt like something was bound to break. You weren’t sure how much longer you could keep up the banter without it tipping over into something more.

“You know,” you said softly, your voice dropping, “if we’re going to play the part, we should at least make it convincing.”

Hotch’s eyes flickered down to your lips for just a second before meeting your gaze again. “Is that what you want?”

For once, you weren’t sure what to say. The teasing had turned into something real, something you hadn’t expected, and now you were standing at the edge of a line neither of you had crossed before.

“I don’t know,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “Maybe.”

Hotch didn’t move, but the weight of his gaze stayed locked on yours, the tension between you stretching tight, waiting to snap.

“Are you ready for what comes next?” he said quietly, his voice soft but firm, and you knew—whatever happened next, you wouldn’t be able to go back.

Your pulse quickened at his words, but before either of you could act on the weight of the moment, the evening continued on, pulling you both back into the motions of the event.

As the night was winding down, you and Hotch found yourselves standing with Rossi and Strauss near the exit. The tension between you and Hotch had been brewing all evening, and Rossi, as always, hadn’t missed a thing.

With a dramatic sigh, Rossi glanced between you two before smirking at Strauss. “You might want to start drafting those HR consensual relationship forms, Erin,” he teased, eyes twinkling. “Looks like there’ll be a couple on your desk by Monday.”

Strauss rolled her eyes, but there was a smile tugging at her lips. “Oh, and what about your paperwork, Dave?” she shot back, raising an eyebrow at their own not-so-subtle fraternizing.

Rossi grinned, unbothered. “I’m grandfathered in. But these two?” He gave you and Hotch a knowing look. “Better watch out.”

You chuckled, shaking your head, while Hotch remained calm, though you saw the flicker of amusement in his eyes.

“Duly noted,” Hotch said, his voice steady, but you could feel the charge between you.

Strauss sighed, giving one final glance between you and Hotch. “Just make sure I’m not dealing with fallout from both of you by Monday.”

Rossi patted her arm, chuckling. “Only if you sign the forms first.”

As Rossi and Strauss headed out, you turned to Hotch, smirking. “Looks like we’re on notice.”

Hotch’s lips curved just slightly. “Seems that way.”

You both shared a brief, knowing look, the tension still simmering beneath the surface.

The night had stretched on, and as the crowd in the ballroom began to thin, the tension between you and Hotch had reached a breaking point.

The teasing glances, the subtle brushes of his hand, and the simmering heat had become too much. Hotch, ever composed, had kept his professional demeanor in front of the others all night, but you could feel the pull between you both—like you were walking a tightrope.

You both stood off to the side after the last round of handshakes, observing the room in comfortable silence. But out of the corner of your eye, you caught Hotch glancing at you, his expression unreadable, though there was something different in his gaze tonight—something less guarded.

“Need some air?” he asked quietly, his voice just loud enough for you to hear.

You hesitated for a second before nodding. “Yeah, I think I could use a break from all the small talk.”

Hotch didn’t say anything more, but you followed him as he led the way toward a quieter part of the venue, away from the buzz of the event.

It was a subtle move, deliberate yet not rushed. You could feel your heart beating a little faster, though neither of you had said anything more.

He pushed open a door to a quiet, unused room, likely an office set aside for event staff, and gestured for you to follow him inside. You did, your breath catching slightly at the realization of how close you were now to being truly alone.

Once inside, the door clicked softly behind you, and the hum of the gala faded into the background, leaving the two of you standing in the dimly lit space. Hotch remained still, keeping a respectful distance, though the tension in the air was palpable. His body language was controlled, but the way his eyes flicked to yours made it clear he wasn’t unaffected by everything that had passed between you tonight.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice steady, but there was a subtle edge to it—like he was testing the waters, gauging where you stood.

“Yeah,” you replied softly, meeting his gaze. “Just… a lot tonight.”

Hotch nodded, his eyes lingering on you a moment longer.

“You know exactly what you’re doing,” he said, his voice quieter now, low and controlled. There was no accusation, just a quiet acknowledgment of the game you’d both been playing.

Your breath hitched, but you couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. “You seem to be holding up pretty well.”

“Barely,” he murmured, his eyes flicking to your lips. His response surprised you, but also intrigued you.

He moved in closer, his presence almost overwhelming as he pressed you gently against the wall, his hand bracing beside your head.

For a second, neither of you moved. His body was just inches from yours, and you could feel the warmth radiating from him. The tension, the push and pull of the game you’d both been playing, was about to snap.

Before you could say another word, Hotch’s hand moved to your face, his thumb brushing the corner of your lips, lingering there in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. His touch was soft but deliberate, and it took every ounce of restraint not to close the small gap between you.

Just as you leaned in, lips almost touching, Hotch’s phone buzzed in his pocket, the sound cutting through the moment like a knife. He sighed, the frustration clear, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he fished out his phone with his free hand, glancing at the screen.

“Hotchner,” he answered, his voice immediately shifting back to its usual authoritative tone, though his body stayed pressed close to yours, his hand still resting on your face.

You thought he might step back, put some distance between you, but he didn’t.

Instead, as he spoke into the phone—likely discussing the logistics of the case—his thumb traced the curve of your bottom lip, soft and slow, like he couldn’t help himself.

It was such a contrast to the professional tone of his voice that it made your head spin.

You tried to focus on what he was saying, but the heat from his touch, the way he stayed so close, made it impossible to think clearly. You felt every breath he took, the tension between you even more potent now that you were both so aware of it but unable to act.

After what felt like an eternity, Hotch finally hung up the phone, but he still didn’t pull away. His eyes locked onto yours, the intensity of the moment thickening all over again.

“We’ve got a case,” he said softly, his voice a little rough, like the weight of what almost happened hadn’t left him unaffected.

You exhaled, a frustrated but soft laugh escaping your lips.

“Figures,” you murmured, your heart still pounding.

Hotch’s thumb brushed over your lip one last time before he finally stepped back, giving you just enough space to breathe again. But the tension between you remained, unbroken.

“We’ll finish this later,” he said quietly, his eyes holding yours for a moment longer before he turned toward the door.

As you both walked out of the room and back into the world of the FBI, you knew he wasn’t making an empty promise. Whatever had started tonight, it wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

Whatever was staring you two in the face was too good to ignore.

Within the hour, the team gathered in the briefing room, the atmosphere charged with the usual mix of focus and adrenaline that came with starting a new case. You were still thinking about the gala—about how close you and Hotch had come to crossing that line before the case pulled you away. Now, the professional walls were back up, and things were business as usual. Or so you thought.

Garcia had laid out the details of the new case on the screen, and you listened as she explained the suspects and their patterns. The unsub was targeting high-profile events, blending in by posing as part of the upper-crust social scene while his victims were unaware.

The most recent lead? A high-end party happening the next evening, where undercover agents would need to infiltrate to catch the suspect in the act.

Rossi glanced around the room, his gaze landing on you and Hotch, a spark of amusement in his eyes.

“Well, looks like we need a couple,” Rossi said, his voice casual but with a teasing edge. “A couple that can really sell it. High-class, a little… steamy.”

You felt your stomach flip slightly, the underlying tension from last night creeping back in. Hotch remained composed beside you, his expression as unreadable as ever. But before you could respond, Morgan leaned forward, grinning like he knew exactly what was about to happen.

“You know,” Morgan began, his eyes darting between you and Hotch, “I think we’ve already got the perfect pair for this.”

You blinked, your eyes widening slightly as the attention in the room shifted toward you and Hotch. “Wait—us? No.”

Morgan leaned back, smirking. “You two would be perfect. Got that whole chemistry thing down already.” He gave a mock shudder. “Not sure I’m ready to see what happens when you actually lean into it, though. Might witness something real go down out there.”

Hotch shot Morgan a brief but sharp look, clearly unimpressed with the teasing, though you could see the faintest hint of discomfort in his posture.

“I’m not sure this is the best idea,” Hotch said, his voice calm but firm.

Rossi raised an eyebrow, his expression amused. “Come on, Aaron. You and her? The chemistry’s already there. Plus, you’re both the best at keeping your cool under pressure.”

You opened your mouth to protest, unsure how this had suddenly turned into you and Hotch going undercover as a couple, but JJ spoke up before you could.

“They’re right,” she said with a soft smile. “You two could pull this off. If anyone can make this look convincing, it’s you two.”

Hotch’s jaw tightened, and you could feel the weight of his gaze on you, but he said nothing. You, on the other hand, decided to lean into the banter, if only to diffuse the tension.

“Well,” you said with a grin, glancing at Hotch, “I guess I’ll have to be on my best behavior. Don’t want to push your buttons too much while we’re out there.”

Morgan let out a low chuckle, and even Reid smirked behind his stack of files. “I think the real question,” Morgan said, glancing at Hotch, “is whether he can keep it together when you start leaning into the role.”

Hotch’s eyes narrowed slightly, though his composure remained intact. “I’m perfectly capable of maintaining professionalism,” he said, though the tension in the room suggested that everyone—including Hotch—knew this undercover assignment was going to be anything but easy.

With the decision made, the plan was set: you and Hotch would pose as a couple attending the high-end party, posing as wealthy socialites while the team monitored from a distance.

As the meeting wrapped up, you caught Hotch’s gaze, the weight of everything unsaid between you settling back in. This assignment was going to test both of you, and it wasn’t just about catching the unsub—it was about how far you could push the chemistry that had been simmering between you for months.

As the team dispersed, Morgan walked by, shooting you both a playful glance. “Good luck out there. Just don’t make it too real, alright?”

You shook your head, giving him a light punch on the arm. “Don’t worry. I’ll try not to break your Unit Chief.”

Morgan laughed, but before he could respond, Garcia’s voice piped up from behind, her eyes wide with dramatic flair. “Oh, sugar, please keep it together out there. I don’t think the universe can handle you two actually playing couple for real.”

Emily smirked, glancing between the two of you. “I have to admit, I’m almost curious to see how well you sell it. Key word: almost.”

You rolled your eyes, fighting the smile tugging at your lips. “I’ll behave. Promise.”

“Better you than me,” Emily added, giving you a playful wink before heading off with Garcia in tow.

Morgan chuckled as he walked away, leaving you and Hotch standing there for a moment. The teasing from the team faded as the reality of the situation set in, the tension between you suddenly palpable.

“You sure about this?” you asked quietly, your voice carrying more weight than before.

Hotch’s eyes softened just slightly as he looked at you, but his voice was steady. “We’ll make it work.”

There was something in the way he said it that made you believe him, even as your heart raced at the thought of what was about to unfold.

The small, dimly lit prep room had been quiet as you finished getting ready for the undercover assignment.

You adjusted the delicate lace garter holster on your thigh, securing the small, discreet weapon inside, while slipping the matching lingerie into place. The deep red fabric, though meant to be functional, added an unexpected level of sexiness to the outfit—a necessary piece of your undercover role, but one that made you feel the weight of the assignment in a different way.

You were just about to slip on your dress when there was a soft knock on the door. “It’s me,” Hotch’s familiar voice came through, steady and calm as always.

“Come in,” you called, expecting him to go over last-minute details. But when the door swung open, Hotch stepped inside and froze.

His usual calm composure faltered for just a moment as his eyes fell on you, standing there in nothing but your lingerie and garter holster, the silk and lace framing your body in a way that was far from professional.

He didn’t speak right away, his dark eyes taking in the sight of you with a stunned silence that was so un-Hotch it made you smile.

“Cat got your tongue, Aaron?” you teased, feeling the tension rise between you like a thick fog. The way he looked at you—completely unguarded, caught off balance—was more of a reaction than you’d ever expected.

He cleared his throat, his jaw tightening slightly as he tried to regain his composure, but the subtle flush in his cheeks told you all you needed to know.

“We have… ten minutes before we leave,” he said, his voice sounding a little rougher than usual.

You smirked, turning to grab your dress from the hanger.

“I know. Just finishing up,” you said casually, like the air between you wasn’t crackling with tension.

You slipped the dress over your head, the soft fabric falling against your skin, but the zipper in the back was out of reach.

Without missing a beat, you turned your back to him, lifting your hair with one hand and glancing over your shoulder. “Help me with the zipper?”

Hotch hesitated for a second before stepping closer, his fingers grazing the smooth fabric of your dress as he reached for the zipper. His touch was light but deliberate, and as he slowly pulled the zipper up, you could feel the tension building with every inch.

The proximity was dizzying, the heat of his body just behind yours making your pulse race. You could sense his restraint, the way his breath caught slightly as his fingers brushed the bare skin of your back.

When he finished, his hands lingered for just a moment too long, and you turned to face him, the atmosphere between you thick with unspoken desire.

“Thanks,” you said softly, your eyes locked on his. You could see it—he was fighting it, the same tension that had been building between you both for months.

Hotch stepped back, his jaw tight, his expression unreadable but his eyes giving him away.

“We need to stay focused out there,” he said, his voice low, though there was an edge to it now, a struggle between control and something else.

You smiled, that familiar spark of playfulness returning to your voice. “Relax, Hotch. We’ve got this.” You took a step closer, your eyes gleaming with mischief. “Unless you want to practice playing the part before we go out there? You know… make sure we’ve got the chemistry down.”

For a moment, Hotch didn’t move, the weight of your words hanging between you like a challenge. His eyes flicked to your lips, his breath steady but shallow. The tension was unbearable, thick with everything unsaid.

He leaned in just slightly, his voice barely above a whisper. “We both know there’s no time to finish what you’re starting.”

Your heart skipped a beat, but before you could say anything else, he stepped back, the tension breaking just enough for him to regain his composure.

“Let’s go,” he said, turning toward the door, though his voice carried the weight of everything still lingering between you.

You smiled to yourself as you followed him out, knowing that the real game was just about to begin.

The ride to the event was quiet, the tension between you and Hotch hanging in the air like a storm waiting to break. You could feel the weight of his gaze on you as you both stayed focused on the task at hand, but every glance he threw your way only reminded you of the moment back in the dressing room.

The team had set up their surveillance positions nearby, and you both stepped out of the car in full undercover mode.

The luxurious mansion in front of you was buzzing with high-profile guests, and as soon as you stepped into the party, you both had to sell your roles.

It wasn’t hard for either of you to slip into your roles. The emotions you had to display today felt natural, blurring the lines between the act and the very real tension coursing through both of you.

Hotch offered you his arm, and you slipped your hand through it with a practiced ease, the two of you moving through the crowd like you belonged there. But as you leaned in to whisper in his ear, part of the act, the tension returned full force.

“You’re playing the part well,” you teased softly, your lips brushing just close enough to his ear that it sent a shiver down your spine.

Hotch didn’t falter, but you could feel the slight shift in his body. “Just doing my job,” he replied smoothly, though there was an edge of heat in his voice that didn’t go unnoticed.

As you mingled with the guests, you stayed close, playing the part of the affectionate couple. His hand rested on the small of your back, his touch burning through the thin fabric of your dress, reminding you of every charged moment you’d shared.

At one point, you found yourselves standing at the bar, close enough that your bodies brushed together as you ordered drinks, keeping up the charade. Hotch leaned in, his voice low in your ear. “We’re being watched. Stay close.”

You nodded, feeling the warmth of his breath against your skin, the moment too intimate for comfort—but necessary for the mission. You leaned into him, playing along, your fingers lightly trailing down his arm as you whispered, “I’d say you’re enjoying this a little too much.”

You couldn’t resist the teasing grin that spread across your face. “Should we put on a show?”

Before Hotch could respond, a voice crackled through your earpiece—Morgan's voice, full of amusement. “Easy, you two.”

His gaze flickered, caught between amusement and caution, and he opened his mouth to respond—but then your eyes caught a sudden movement in the corner of the room. Your heartbeat quickened, not from the tension between you, but from the job itself. One of the suspects.

You straightened, your body still close to his but your focus shifting, your muscles tensing. “Target spotted,” you said softly, your eyes never leaving the suspect.

Hotch’s hand lingered for a second longer before it withdrew, his expression sharpening, professional mode slipping back into place. His eyes met yours—still aware of the heat simmering between you both—but the job came first.

“Let’s move,” he said, his voice low and controlled, his attention now fully on the mission.

Just like that, the tension between you was replaced by the sharp focus of the mission, though the heat between you never fully disappeared. It was there, simmering beneath the surface, waiting for the next moment you’d be forced to confront it.

As you and Hotch made your way back to the car after the undercover operation, the air between you felt different—heavier, quieter. The playful tension from earlier had faded, replaced by something more serious. Neither of you spoke for a few moments, the sound of your footsteps filling the space.

Finally, Hotch broke the silence, his voice low. “You played the part well.”

You glanced at him, searching his expression. His usual guarded demeanor was still there, but the weight behind his words told you there was more he wasn’t saying. “So did you,” you replied softly, your own voice a little more vulnerable than before.

He nodded, his gaze fixed ahead. “It felt… real, at times,” he admitted, his words careful, like he was testing the waters.

You swallowed, feeling the gravity of what he was saying. “Yeah,” you said quietly, the teasing tone gone from your voice. “It wasn’t just an act, was it?”

Hotch stopped, turning to face you. His eyes met yours, and for the first time, there was no pretense. No game. “No. It wasn’t.”

The silence that followed was thick with understanding, and for once, neither of you felt the need to fill it with banter. This moment—whatever it was—was real.

The drive back to the BAU had been quiet, filled with unspoken words that neither of you seemed ready to address, but now, with the case behind you and the rest of the team gone, the tension that had built throughout the night felt heavier than ever.

The rest of the team had gone home, leaving the building unusually still. Hotch had stayed behind to finish reports, the soft glow of his office light spilling into the empty hallway.

Standing outside his office, Hotch paused, his hand hovering just above the door handle. For months, he’d kept this quiet, simmering tension between them at bay—tucking it away into the same compartment where he'd stored every personal feeling since Haley’s death. It had been easier that way. Safer. But now, with the team gone, the quiet hum of the building around him, and the weight of tonight pressing on his chest, it felt impossible to ignore.

Maybe he was tired of being safe.

Maybe, after everything he’d lost, he deserved to feel something again.

He pushed the door open.

You were sitting on the edge of his desk, legs crossed, a knowing smile playing on your lips as your eyes met his. The sight of you—so calm, so collected—sent a shock of tension straight through him.

“You’re here late,” he said, his voice low and steady, though the crackle of something darker threaded through it. He closed the door behind him, the lock clicking softly as if sealing the two of you in.

“I figured we had some unfinished business,” you replied, your fingers lightly tracing the polished surface of his desk. “And I’ve always wondered what it would be like to sit here.”

Hotch didn’t respond immediately, but his eyes darkened as he took a few slow, measured steps toward you. He kept his composure, but you could see the tension in his posture, the tightness in his jaw. He stopped just in front of you, his presence overwhelming, but still he held back.

“Why my desk?” he asked, his voice even quieter now, as if afraid of where this might lead but unable to stop it.

You leaned back, resting your weight on your hands, your gaze unwavering. “It just seemed… fitting,” you said softly, your voice filled with the same playful edge you’d always used to push him. “I’ve imagined this. Right here.”

Hotch’s breath hitched just slightly, his control slipping as he stepped closer, his hand resting lightly on the edge of the desk beside you. “You’ve imagined this?” His voice was deeper now, his eyes searching yours as if he was still trying to convince himself this wasn’t happening.

You raised an eyebrow, your lips curving into a slow smile. “Haven’t you?”

His silence spoke volumes. The tension in the room was palpable, the space between you charged with all the things neither of you had said for months. He stared at you for a long moment, the weight of his hesitation hanging in the air—until finally, the walls he’d built around himself crumbled.

Hotch’s hand slid to your waist, tentative at first, as if testing your reaction. When you didn’t pull away, he stepped even closer, the heat of his body pressing against yours. “I shouldn’t,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over your hip, though the way he looked at you said something entirely different.

You leaned in, closing the small gap between you, your breath brushing his lips as you whispered, “Then don’t.”

That was all it took. In an instant, the restraint he’d been holding onto for so long shattered. His hand slid up your back, pulling you toward him as his lips crashed against yours, the months of tension between you igniting in a kiss that was both hungry and desperate.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer as his hands gripped your waist, lifting you slightly so that you were perched on the edge of the desk. His kiss was firm, controlled at first, but as you responded, matching his intensity, it deepened, the urgency between you building with every second.

His hands moved over you—up your sides, along the curve of your back—claiming every inch of you as if he was trying to make up for all the time he’d spent holding back. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, pressing your body against his as the kiss grew hotter, more demanding.

He pulled back for just a moment, his breath ragged as he looked at you, his eyes filled with something raw and unguarded. “You’ve been driving me crazy,” he murmured, his thumb brushing your cheek, his voice barely above a whisper.

You smiled, your fingers tracing the edge of his jaw. “Good.”

Without another word, he kissed you again, this time deeper, more insistent, as if there was no going back now. He moved you farther onto the desk, stepping between your legs as his hands roamed your body, your lips parting for him as the kiss deepened.

The world outside his office disappeared, the only sound the soft, ragged breaths you both took between kisses. Hotch’s control had always been something he prided himself on, but now, in this moment, with you, that control was gone. The only thing left was the heat between you, the connection you had been avoiding for so long.

His hands tightened on your thighs, pulling you impossibly closer as he trailed slow, heated kisses along the side of your neck, his breath sending shivers down your spine. The feel of him, so close and unrestrained, made your mind race, the fantasy you had harbored for so long now becoming a reality.

When you whispered, “I’ve wanted this for a long time,” his movements paused for just a second. He pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours, breath ragged as he took you in—your flushed skin, the hunger in your eyes. His gaze dropped to your lips, then back to your eyes, dark and filled with desire.

“Is this what you imagined?” Hotch asked softly, his voice thick with heat as his hands slowly slid up your thighs, teasing, testing your resolve. He lingered close, the teasing tone in his words a rare show of vulnerability mixed with control.

You swallowed hard, your breath catching in your throat as the intensity of the moment deepened. “It’s better,” you whispered, your voice shaking slightly, your fingers tangled in his shirt as you tugged him closer. “But I was hoping we’d get to… the next part of my fantasy.”

Hotch’s lips quirked into the faintest smile, and he let out a low, deep hum, clearly enjoying the way you were unraveling beneath him. “The next part?” he murmured, his lips grazing yours as he spoke. “What exactly did you have in mind?”

You couldn’t help the small smile that played on your lips as you held his gaze, the tension between you electric. “I’ll show you,” you breathed, your voice filled with a teasing edge, daring him to let you take control.

Hotch’s eyes flashed with a mixture of amusement and desire, and he shifted slightly, his hands roaming back to your waist, pulling you closer. “Go ahead,” he whispered, his voice low and rough, “show me.”

The challenge was clear. He wasn’t going to stop you. He was going to let you guide him through the very fantasies you had imagined on so many long nights.

And with that, whatever was left of the restraint he’d been clinging to dissolved completely.

Tag List:

@zaddyhotch

@estragos

@todorokishoe24

looking1016

@khxna

@rousethemouse

#aaron hotchner #criminal minds #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotch hotchner #kiwriteswords #flirty!reader #criminal minds fanfiction #writing #aaron hotchner one shot #wicked game

292 notes · View notes

blueberrymocha · 6 months ago

Text

texting them

gon

✰ he didn’t grow up with much technology

✰ and he def did not have a phone

✰ so since he isn’t in the habit of using it often, your messages are all on delivered

✰ he also prefers to live in the moment instead of checking his phone all the time

✰ unfortunately for you that means you’re better off calling the person he’s with if you need to reach him

✰ once you talk to him about it though, he’ll be sure to answer within a couple hours

✰ he’d save your contact as a pet name, personally i can see him using “sunshine” or “honey” for you

✰ you’d be pictureless until killua points it out to gon and explains that you can add pictures to someone’s contact

✰ but once he does learn he’ll use a cute coupley picture of you guys from one of your first dates

✰ would have trouble deciphering your abbreviations

“btw ur gna be back asap right?”

“huh.”

✰ its fine, he prefers to call (loves to hear your voice) anyways

killua

✰ y’all would be so mischievous together

✰ prank calls as a weekly ritual

✰ you’re mostly safe from them but don’t think he’ll never do it to you

✰ probably won’t text you first but always responds within the minute

✰ would only call if he’s checking up on you, like when you’re sick or he’s on an adventure

✰ will use the most abysmal, disrespectful picture he has of you

✰ your name on his phone is either an inside joke or an insult like “sleeping ugly 🧚‍♀️” (he’s out for blood omg you overslept once)

✰ i just know alluka is confused af

✰ he’ll change it to something else whenever you see it, which you will eventually

“y/n can you check my phone?”

“sure! babe why is my name ‘dumbass’ heart emoji, wizard emoji?”

kurapika

✰ you can see this one from a mile away…

✰ his phone always got that silent mode + dnd + texts muted combo

✰ he does all that but would fully expect you to pick up if he called you

✰ speaking of which, he would call probably daily if either of you were away

✰ never forgets an “i love you” “be safe” “see you soon” etc

✰ if something happened, would want you to know that

✰ you guys would fall asleep on calls

✰ but mostly him

✰ your contact might just be your name for a while

✰ but i could also see him using something tame like “love” or “sweetheart”

✰ hes also the type to leave you on read

✰ especially if you’re asking when he’ll be back or how his mission is going

✰ generally just keeps his work separate from home unless he needs to vent or it’s extremely relevant to you

leorio

✰ wishes he could talk more often

✰ school just keeps him really busy

✰ will be upfront with you if he needs time to study, make dinner, or anything of that nature

✰ you’d get in the habit of leaving voicemails

✰ he listens to them all and leaves some for you too

✰ also good morning and good night texts, always

✰ your picture is whatever picture of you he finds the hottest tbh

✰ your name would be a pet name such as “shorty” or “beautiful”

✰ idk why but i feel like he’d misplace his phone often

✰ so if he doesn’t respond by the end of the day, you’ll probably get a call from his roommate’s phone saying how he lost his own

hisoka

✰ lets it ring out and then calls back a minute later

✰ “oh did you need something?”

✰ this man can’t stop playing games, the call cuts off halfway through what you’re saying

✰ then he calls back again acting like it was the wi-fi

✰ don’t worry——that’s only like a quarter of the time

✰ depending on his mood, he’ll be mostly serious

✰ imagine the look on his face when he realizes you’re calling because you’re in the hospital or smth

✰ yeah so he’s better at responding now!

✰ your contact picture is gonna be from the most stalker angle

✰ like it’s just you sleeping

✰ you found that a little odd but maybe your clown just wants to capture those memories

✰ …while you’re walking home on the opposite sidewalk

✰ if you’re in a longer, serious relationship, your name is something romantic like “my dove” but it’ll take a while to get there

illumi

✰ you’d be so surprised to find that he loves to call

✰ he travels a lot as an assassin, so he needs something to do

✰ would always text you formally it’s scary

“have you arrived at the manor yet, y/n? be sure to notify me immediately once you do.”

✰ he’s giving you customer service type responses

✰ you’ll also get updates about his missions

“i’ve just finished killing the target, expect to see me home in four days”

✰ the contact is just your name and if you convince him, he’ll add a picture of your choice

chrollo

✰ has like six phones

✰ if you didn’t know he was the leader of a gang you might‘ve thought he was cheating

✰ you also have the numbers of most of the spiders

✰ so if he ever has to disappear (like after yorknew) they’ll be sure to let you know what’s going on

✰ he’ll text you a few times a day if he’s able to

✰ would ask about your day and remind you to take care of yourself

✰ the conversations usually focus on you, while he listens or prompts you

✰ like kurapika, doesn’t want to involve you in troupe business so it’s very rare for him to even mention them

✰ he doubts you even want to hear about how he robbed an old man today, or killed a woman who didn’t hand over a jewel

✰ on his top secret personal phone, he’ll give you a contact photo with both of you in it

✰ your name would be a classy pet name, maybe “princess” or “beloved”

#hxh x reader #hxh hcs #hxh headcanons #adult trio #kurapika x reader #killua x reader #chrollo x reader #gon x reader #leorio x reader #hisoka x reader #illumi x reader #hisokas a lil out of character lmaoo

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milktei · 7 months ago

Text

Homecoming

Ushijima Wakatoshi x gn!reader

Genre: Sickfic, hurt comfort

Warnings: Slight manga spoilers

Requests: Closed*

a/n: hello hello! (is acting like i haven’t been gone for forever), can you believe i found this just sitting on a random note in my phone 90% done???? i literally wrote this over a year ago and never found the motivation to finish it ;-; due to its age toshi might be a bit ooc.

anyways, i’m not entirely back yet but i keep seeing lovely comments and reblogs that just make me want to start writing again ;-; maybe with the haikyuu movie being released soon my motivation will amp back up. ALSO i’m gonna try to start reblogging regularly again

*request box is still technically “closed” but if anyone has some genshin or *ahem* Baldurs gate 3 requests, i may be inclined to write if they pique my interest :)

enjoy!

If there was one thing that you knew for an absolute fact. it would be that volleyball would always be his main priority.

You knew this well before you started dating him, it was part of the reason you refused to admit your true feelings for him. You refused to take him away from his first love. Something that he was so visibly passionate about.

So you stayed on the sidelines, watching wistfully as the boy you had a crush on rose higher and higher, while you stood on the ground looking up in awe. This was comfortable, you were content with just watching and admiring. It was all you thought you were able to do.

Until he had asked you out first.

You had genuinely thought that Tendou was joking when he had told you that the Ushijima Wakatoshi saw you as anything more than one of the team’s managers.

His face was always devoid of emotion. Your interactions were limited to him nodding in thanks as you gave him a towel or water bottle, or him humming in acknowledgment as you relayed to him the notes you took after the most recent practice match.

And yet you found yourself standing in front of him, just outside the gym after practice, heart absolutely racing as he asked you out on a date.

Your first date was awkward to say the least. Having never spoken outside of club activities, you found it hard to keep a conversation flowing as you two sat in a cafe sipping your drinks.

He had walked you back to your dorm that day, but before you could go in, he had grabbed your hand.

You stared in shock at the large hand enveloping yours, “Ushijima?”

Suddenly, you felt a tiny gust of wind and a slight pressure against your forehead. You could only stammer dumbly as you realized the pressure was his lips.

He pulled away after a moment. He was heavily avoiding eye contact and turned his head to the side, but you could see the tips of his ears turning red.

“I don’t know much when it comes to this stuff. But I know I would like to go out again… if that’s okay with you of course.”

You gaped at the boy in front of you “I- um we…” you took a deep breath to centre yourself and smiled “Yes I would like to go out with you again Ushijima.”

Your relationship progressed quite fast after that. More dates, hanging out with him and Tendou in their dorm.

You were there for everything, cheering him on during games, you were the first person he would seek out when he won, you comforted him after a loss.

Your relationship lasted through high school and even university. It wasn’t long before you two ended up moving in together.

When Wakatoshi found his place with the Schweiden Adlers you were ecstatic. You had also just landed a great job and it felt like your two were simply cruising through life with ease.

Unfortunately your seemingly perfect life would never last forever.

Being in the v-league, volleyball seemed to fill his schedule more now than ever. Constant practice, games outside of the city even in other countries sometimes.

You hardly saw Ushijima anymore despite living with him. Even when you did, he was tired or just about to leave for practice.

It felt like you were pushed back into the sidelines. Watching hopelessly as he rose higher and higher, to places where you could not reach. It was no longer comfortable, you could no longer look in awe, but in despair as you watch him slip from the already loose grasp you had on him.

You couldn’t even remember the last time you went on a date. Every time you mentioned doing something in his free time he had brushed you off.

Which led you to now.

You woke up to an empty bed yet again. It was your day off so you weren’t rushing to get out of bed.

Yet you felt off.

The dryness in your mouth and throat is what you felt first. Then how runny your nose was. Finally, the cold sweat you were experiencing.

You were definitely sick.

You groaned to yourself and pulled the blanket to your chin. Hoping that you could possibly sleep it off.

Yet your efforts were in vain. After what felt like hours of trying to fall back asleep you realized that you were just going to feel even more miserable without anything to eat or at least drink.

You pushed yourself up onto your elbows and immediately regretted it. The world spun around you and your entire body shook. You collapsed back onto your pillow and panted at the exertion it took.

As you caught your breath you turned your head towards your bedside table, where your phone sat charging.

Weakly, you lifted your arm and with a bit of effort you were able to grab your phone. As it turned on you winced at how bright the screen was and with bleary eyes you managed to open your contacts.

The words seemed to blend together as you searched through your contacts, you nearly sobbed in relief as your eyes finally focused on the name of your best friend.

You clicked the call button and dropped you hand to beside your ear, preparing for the way your throat would undoubtedly hurt as you spoke.

After a couple rings you heard the person on the other side pick up and you quickly began speaking, desperate to get them to come quickly so that you could hopefully feel better.

“Hey, I’m sorry if you’re busy but do you think you can bring me some drinks and maybe food? i’m not feeling the best and I don’t know if I can get up at all.”

The person on the other end of the phone began talking but you could barely decipher it as your head spun and your body shivered despite how warm you were.

“-/n….y/n?”

You froze at the deep voice on the other side of the phone. You pulled away an looked at the screen, nearly breaking down at the sight of Wakatoshi’s name instead of your friends. Quickly you put it back against your ear

“Ah I’m sorry Toshi. I meant to call a friend you’re probably busy you don’t have to come back home.” you said quickly, actually sitting up as you rambled nervously, reprimanding yourself for interrupting his practice.

You had called and texted him during practice before. At one point he was fine with it, responding during breaks or calling you back once practice had finished. But lately you had been greeted with one worded responses, or you were just ignored.

One time you even tried to pry once he got home from practice, asking him about his odd lack of response. That day, he had turned to glare at you.

“I’m busy y/n. I don’t have time for things like that.”

“You’re sick?” your thoughts were interrupted by his voice again. He used a tone much gentler than the one he had used that day.

“A little bit, nothing to worry about I can just call-“ you cut yourself off with a harsh cough, unable to hold back the whimper as your throat throbbed in protest.

“I’m coming home.”

Whether from his words or the fever you couldn’t tell, but a chill ran down your spine

“N-no toshi you don’t have to I’ll be fine don’t leave practice just because of me”

“I’ll stop by the store for some ingredients don’t get out of bed.”

And with that the call ended. Slowly, you took the phone away from your ear and looked at it in shock. He was leaving practice early. Something you weren’t aware he was willing to ever do.

At least not recently.

Only when the shock settled, did you realize just how much your body was protesting you sitting up. So, despite your better judgment, you lied back down, waiting in nervous anticipation for him to come home.

What might have been half an hour felt like forever as you laid in bed. Shivering underneath the comforter despite sweating profusely, rubbing your nose raw from having to blow it constantly, all whilst it felt like you were spinning.

In your haze you didn’t even hear the front door or you bedroom door open. How could you when your body demanded all the attention you had?

Wakatoshi stood frozen in the doorway, a plastic bag hanging off his arm, silent as he took in the state you were in.

How hadn’t he noticed before he left? you couldn’t have possibly entered this state within the couple of hours he was gone.

He felt a tug of unease pull at his heart and willed himself to walk up to you.

“y/n,” he called softly. sitting on your side of the bed.

You flinched at the sound of his voice not knowing he was in the room. Slowly, you opened your eyes and winced at the light in the room.

“Toshi,” you croaked pathetically.

His face softened and he brushed your damp hair away from your face, frowning when he felt how warm your forehead was.

“Hey,” he greeted, he lifted a hand and that’s when you saw a thermometer from the medicine cabinet in his hand “can you open your mouth please?“

Weakly, you did as he asked, and as it sat in your mouth, he quickly walked towards the master bathroom. Mumbling something about a towel.

You didn’t hear him however as you turned your head back towards the ceiling and already felt your eyes drooping again.

You only came to when you felt something cool against your forehead, you opened your eyes to see Toshi looking down at you with furrowed eyebrows. The thermometer beeped and when he looked at the reading the crease deepened.

Toshi disappeared for a moment again, making his presence known when he began to take the comforter off of you.

You whined as he did so, shivering even harder as air hit your body. You even sat up to try and grab it back.

“‘s cold toshi,” you slurred.

He was quick to place a thinner sheet on top of you “I know dear, but we have to get your body temperature down.”

As you pulled the blanket closer Wakatoshi opened the bag he brought with him. You heard the rattle of a pill container and then the crack of a bottle being opened. Wakatoshi turned to you and held out some medicine and water.

You reached out a shaky hand to take the medicine, placing the pill in your mouth. Wakatoshi helped you hold the bottle, noting how weak your arms were.

You sighed in temporary relief when you finished drinking, glad that your mouth felt less dry.

Wakatoshi allowed a small relieved smile to cross his face and he quickly helped you lay back down.

“I’ll make you some food, stay here.”

Once he was sure you were comfortable he made his way to the kitchen quickly getting his ingredients ready.

It was only when he was midway through washing some rice when he took a moment to pause.

When was the last time he had cooked for you?

Wakatoshi continued his task albeit feeling guilty thinking about how you’ve been the one cooking and eating dinner alone for some time now. It used to be a shared responsibility. Now he usually came home late so you would put a plate aside for him or he would go out to eat with the team.

He was still deep in though as he pushed the bedroom door open with his back, a tray consisting of a bowl of rice porridge and a cup of tea left a trail small trail of steam as he walked.

You were asleep but woke easily at the sound of his footsteps. It took a moment for your eyes to focus on him.

He gestured with the tray, “Do you think you can eat?”

You looked at the food, perfectly plated and garnished, your mouth watering slightly at the savoury smell.

“I think so. At least a little bit.”

He helped you sit up, and when he saw the weakness still in your arms he fed you himself.

You hummed contently at the first bite of food. You had missed this more than you thought you did.

After about half the bowl was done and your tea finished, you signalled that you stomached as much as your body would allow. Now with your body temperature having gone down and your stomach full you could feel yourself becoming less and less loopy. You watched quietly as he put the tray on the bedside table. When he was finished with that, he sat still on the bed and stared at the wall.

You looked at his face, despite it deceptively lacking emotion, you knew better than anyone else that something was bothering him.

However before you could ask he began to speak

“Why wasn’t I the first person you contacted when you realized that you were sick?”

You froze, looking down in your lap fiddling wIth a loose thread in the blanket.

“…Well…you’ve been busy as of late….I didn’t think it was important enough to take you out of practice. Someone less busy would have probably been willing to come.”

He slowly turned to face you. “You didn’t think that your wellbeing was important enough?”

You shrugged, “Well volleyball is always going to be your biggest priority. I’m just sick it’ll pass.”

Obvious distress crossed Ushijima’s face “y/n, you are my main priority.”

You paused. Perhaps it was time to tell him how you were really feeling instead of dancing around the subject.

“…It hasn’t felt that way lately.” you say hesitantly, your voice small.

Wakatoshi faltered. You kept looking down, almost scared to look him in the eye.

“I was content with that at first, your love of volleyball is admirable, it’s was drew me to you at first. But it always made you seem unattainable. When you asked me on that date all those years ago I was over the moon,” you paused to clear your throat huffing in annoyance as your sickness interrupted you.

“But I can only endure so much Toshi. Nowadays it feels like your going where I can’t reach. You’re always busy, which is understandable for a professional athlete… I just wish it wasn’t to the point where I’m worried about your reaction if I were to try to talk to you.”

There was a shift in the mattress. Then familiar arms that you had been longing for wrapped tightly around you.

“Toshi you’re gonna get sick.”

“It’s fine,”

“but-“

“I’m sorry y/n.”

you stiffened but stayed quiet to let him speak.

“You’ve done so much for me without complaint and I have done so little in return. i’m sorry for letting it get to this point. It took you getting this sick for me to realize.”

A stormy look crossed his face, “I… I’ve been struggling to balance work and home, in return I’ve been neglecting you and letting how tired I am influence my reactions. you don’t deserve that. you are my first priority y/n, I don’t know what I would do without you.”

You sniffled and wiped a tear that fell from your face. You didn’t even know you were crying. For a man usually so quiet and stoic, he always knew what to say to you when he needed to. It was always so endearing to you.

“If I had known you were going to take it this well I would’ve said something earlier,” you say softly.

He smiles sadly, “I haven’t been making it seem that way hmm?”

You shake you’re head but smile back, “no”

He sighs to himself but places a gentle kiss against your forehead much like how he did all those years ago. Your eyes flutter shut and you make let out a pleased sigh. You were much more comfortable than you were when you first woke up.

“We’ll talk more once you get better. I promise,” He eventually says. holding you a bit closer to him.

You nodded and snuggled closer to his chest. While it wasn’t an immediate fix, it was a start.

“Sounds good to me Toshi.”

He smiled down at you “Sleep, I’ll be here when you wake up.”

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu reader insert #haikyuu oneshot #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu!! x reader #ushijima x you #ushijima imagine #ushijima x reader #ushijima wakatoshi #wakatoshi x reader #haikyuu wakatoshi #hq angst #haikyuu angst

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