#and i've never put a work on ao3 that i wasn't finished with or in the active process of finishing it

[sharkneto]

Hm. I've got an annoying lack of words right now, but not a lack of random WIPs.

If I edited up some of my Five's Time In The Apocalypse Fic (that was originally supposed to be like. a 10k piece about Five's relationship with Delores but is now over 30k words and only in the first year, still) and threw it up on AO3 with no plan or schedule for further updates except "Eventually" - would that be something you guys would be interested in?

[seth-whumps]

I MADE A WHUMP EVENT: get ready for July folks

welcome to the Whumperless Whump Event of July! for your sickfic, situational, and completely apersonal whump needs--comfort included, of course. follow @whumperless-whump-event for more information and details!

Image transcripts, tagging rules, and guidelines under the cut!

RULES

Any and all art types allowed (GIFs, drawings, music, writing, etc.)

No AI generated content allowed

OCs and Fandom works alike are welcome :)

Trigger and content tags required, even if the prompt explicitly requires the content (eg. Vomiting still needs the emetophobia tag)

NSFT and NSFW are allowed, if tagged appropriately. This blog will not reblog them, as minors do follow it. However, you're still free to write as you please :)

If enough interest is shown, I will make an Ao3 collection (edit: ao3 collection is made and can be found here)

Side note: please let me know if there's anything I can do to make this post or event more accessible. Should I put the image transcripts on the ID too? Is the formatting causing issues? What can I do?

This is not a contest, just an event. The only awards will be announcements for people who completed the whole darn thing. My entries will not receive any announcements or awards, because I'm hosting

TAGGING

Tag with, per example: #whumperless whump event day 1; #whumperless whump event; and (optional) #whumperless whump event day 1: alcohol as a sanitizer

Tag @whumperless-whump-event please! If not, I may not see it or be able to reblog it!

If desired, tag the medium you used

Trigger tag and content warn (including nsfw/nsft)

If posting early, tag with #wwe early entry. If posting late, tag with #wwe late entry. If posting just for fun, no need to tag these!

IMPORTANT:

There are NO OTHER RULES. Do one prompt! Do seven! Do 'em all! Repeat the same prompt six days in a row! Switch them around and do them all out of order! Post them eight months after the event is over! Finish the prompt list early! Write one long-ass story that deals with every prompt or do a one-sentence drabble for each one! Recommend your favorite scenes regarding the prompt! Write, draw, sing, play music, make playlists, do fic recs or show recs or episode recs or book recs, fucking crochet or something! FOLLOW THE VIBE. DO WHAT'S FUN.

Prompts (text):

Emergency First Aid: Self-done stitches / Alcohol as sanitizer / “It's just a scratch, I've had worse.”

Does your insurance cover this?: Car accident / Bystander caretaker / “Eyes open, ambulance is almost here.”

Like a record, baby: Vertigo / Struggling to stand / “Is the room spinning, or is it just me?”

It's every day bro: Chronic pain / Massage / “I'm used to it.”

Stealing my breath (give it back): Wheezing / Light-headed / “I'll count, you just breathe.”

Summer is a curse: Heat Stroke / Panting / “Why don't we… find some shade, quick?”

Accidental Cryotherapy: Falling through a frozen lake / Hypothermia / “Hey, c'mon, you gotta stay awake.”

Put your head on my shoulder: Migraine / Light & Sound Sensitivity / “I can close the curtains…”

White and red handkerchief: Coughing up blood / Can't speak / “You just can't shake that cough, can you?”

Your work is never finished: Forced to work while ill / Workplace emergency / “...sit down, I'm calling HR.”

A minor annoyance: Stuffy nose / Hate to be sick / “I'm fine, I can work.”

It's going down (I'm yelling timber): Building collapse / Trapped under rubble / “I can't move my legs.”

It's just a pebble: Avalanche / Stuck in the mountains / “Well, this wasn't how I thought the hiking trip would go.”

Lay down your sword: Fighting back a cold / Cuddling / “Just let yourself be sick so you can get better.”

I'm going down (you're yelling timber): Passing out / Exhaustion / “I've got you, let's sit down, I've got you.”

Say goodbye to filters: Half-conscious / Delirious / “You would never say that in your right mind…”

In hot water: Dangerously high fever / Cool baths / “We have to get that number down somehow.”

I don't see it: Hallucinations / Fever dreams / “It's just a nightmare. You're safe.”

The whump morning after: Tending to injuries / Domestic hurt comfort / “Let's check the bandages, okay?”

It's not fun if you're panicking: Stuck in an elevator / Claustrophobia / “Get me out.”

Where's the exit: Lost / Stuck in the wilderness / “Surely someone will notice we're gone.”

Better out than in: Nervous Stomach / Vomiting / “I got your hair, it's fine.”

Well, that doesn't taste right: Accidentally poisoned / Allergic reaction / “My tongue feels like bees, is that normal?”

Be one with the fish: Drowning / Rescue Breaths / “Why did you think that was a good idea?!”

We didn't start the fire: Severe burns / Running into flames / “I know it hurts. Breathe.”

That's no barn spider: Venomous bite / Arachnophobia / “You'll be okay, we can help.”

What's your name again?: Concussion / Temporary Amnesia / “I don't remember what happened to me.”

Nothing behind the eyes: Fully unconscious / Force feeding / “It's just me, go back to sleep.”

Wrong place, wrong time: Robbery / One of many hostages / “Stay behind me, I can take a hit.”

I don't mean to get emotional: Fear / Breaking point / “I can't stop crying, I'm sorry--”

Only way out is through: Tunnel collapse / Accidental Journey / “We can't just sit here and wait.”

ALTERNATES:

Seizure

Choking

Withdrawal

Mugged

Wild animal attack

Hangover

Strain/sprain

Broken bone

Bloody nose

Panic attack

[citrus-moonlight]

As I often do, I've seen a few posts going around lately lamenting the lack of interaction with fanfiction/fanart here on Tumblr as well as AO3, but after reading a particular comment last night I just need to say this:

If someone tells you that the lack of response to sharing their writing is making them feel so upset that they're thinking of quitting writing altogether, don't tell them that's not a good mindset to have and they should just have fun with it and write for themselves. (have you just tried not being sad? you'll feel so much better!)

Even if you're a writer who felt that way once upon a time but then you changed your mindset so that you don't rely on others' feedback for validation and now you're so much happier, that's not helpful. Because that's obviously not what the person who is feeling sad and defeated is able to do right now, and for most writers/creators that's never going to be possible.

And it shouldn't have to be.

Especially here. Especially fanfiction.

Fanfiction is something that's created because someone loves something and wants to share it with others who love the same thing. And this is specifically a fandom space, somewhere that is supposed to be a community where discussion and dialogue can and is encouraged to happen between the people who write and the people who read. So when there's radio silence when you share something in this kind of space, do you really not see how that would be discouraging?

Because of course I write for myself - I would never get anything down on the page if I didn't - but I share because ultimately I want someone else out there to read what I wrote, and with any luck, to get some joy out of it. But if no one tells me they did, how am I supposed to know? As far as I know I've just been yelling into the void. As far as I know, all that work wasn't worth it.

A metaphor I've seen as an example is that it would be like having someone invite you over and cooking an entire delicious, heartfelt meal, you eat it all without saying anything, and then just leave. Do you not see how that would be upsetting?

We put so much of ourselves into what we write, bits of our hearts and souls and the things that we love and are exploring and are interested in or confused about. It's such a vulnerable thing to share something you've created, so when you tell someone that they shouldn't care if someone else reads what they wrote or tells them that they liked it, you're dismissing a very real and valid experience for so many creators out there.

Because regardless of how slow or fast a writer is, or how big or small their fandom is, it's still hard and takes time and energy and dedication and love - all of it in between our day to day lives from the mundanities to the heartbreaks - to even get something to the point where we're comfortable sharing.

Now, I know that not everyone thinks that writers are silly or selfish or entitled when they ask for feedback. Before I started writing again after many, many years, the main reason I didn't really comment on fics very often wasn't because I didn't think that the authors deserved feedback, it was more that I didn't really think that it would matter. That my comments would just be noted - if read at all - and brushed aside and then they would continue on about their day.

I could not have possible been more wrong. You might think you're just one person and it's just one comment but it's amazing how it can turn a day (or week, or month) around. How it can encourage someone to finish a story, or make a connection they'd been struggling with, or even just manage to add 500 words to a WIP. It is truly incredible to hear that someone loved something I wrote, and if you've ever commented on or reblogged one of my fics, please know that it truly means the world to me.

I've gone through a rough time with all of this lately myself, but I'm doing a bit better now (for the moment), so I just wanted to say this, in part to remind myself when it inevitably gets hard again:

If you're reading this, whether you're a friend or you've never seen me on your dash and never will again: I'm sorry it hurts right now. I'm sorry you feel discouraged and lonely, that it doesn't feel like it's worth it anymore, that you're struggling to find a reason to continue.

But I desperately hope that you keep writing. I hope you keep sharing. You're worth it. I know it's hard, and if you don't want to and you're just tired of the cycle of giving so much of yourself and getting so little in return, I understand that, too. It's ok to be in your feelings about it, it's ok to feel drained by it, and even though knowing you're not alone in your experience doesn't change anything and it still sucks, it's normal and valid and there's nothing wrong with you feeling the way that you do.

But I hope that you are able to find the joy in it again, because you deserve it. ❤️

[kiwriteswords]

If put to the test, would you step back from the line of fire?

AN: This got out of hand!! But kinda became one of my favorite stories I have written! I was up WAY too late today and in between meetings at work finished it, so I hope you enjoy it!! Let me know what you think!

Other Writing | Ao3

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Female!Reader

Word Count: 19k

Rating: Mature

Tags/TW:  canon-typical themes, angst, fluff, injuries, fade-to-black smut, sexual tension, banters, enemies-to-lovers, suggestive comments.

Summary: New to the BAU, you quickly find yourself at odds with the unit's stoic leader, Aaron Hotchner. What starts as a clash of wills and a battle of stubbornness soon transforms into a connection neither of you anticipated. With each case you work, your fire-fueled banter and undeniable tension grow, challenging your carefully constructed walls. As you both navigate the line between professional rivals and something more, you're forced to confront the truth you’ve been hiding—from each other and yourselves. In a world where control is your armor, letting someone in could be the biggest risk you've ever taken.

The bullpen buzzed with the usual energy as you made your way to your desk, the new addition to the BAU. You knew the reputation Aaron Hotchner held in the unit: stoic, precise, and tough on new recruits—especially women. You’d heard the stories from the team about how he handled Emily's arrival and Jordan’s brief stint. You were determined not to let him rattle you.

But what you didn't expect was how quickly the two of you would clash.

"Agent Y/L/N," Hotch called out from his office, barely looking up from his paperwork. "I need that report on the recent case by the end of the hour. I hope you understand the urgency of deadlines here."

"I've been doing this job for a while, Hotchner," you replied with a clipped tone. "I don’t need a reminder on how to meet deadlines."

His eyes narrowed slightly, and a hint of a smirk played at the corner of his lips. "Good. Let’s see if your actions match your confidence."

The tension between you two was palpable, and the rest of the team took notice almost immediately.

"They fight like an old married couple," Derek muttered under his breath, nudging Emily as the two of you clashed in yet another heated debate. There was a flicker of surprise in his eyes, watching you stand toe-to-toe with Hotch—a rare sight, considering most people didn't dare to challenge his authority so openly.

"She's got guts," Emily said, raising her eyebrows in amusement. "I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone go head-to-head with Hotch like that. And he's actually... engaging?"

Derek let out a low chuckle. "Oh, he's definitely engaging. Usually, he shuts people down in seconds flat, but with her? He’s giving as good as he gets."

Emily grinned, shaking her head in disbelief. "Think they realize they're basically the same person?"

"Not a chance," Derek replied with a smirk. "They’re too stubborn to see it. And honestly, I’m not sure I want to be around when they do."

The rest of the team exchanged amused, almost disbelieving glances. It was clear they’d never seen Hotch behave like this before. He wasn't just tolerating your defiance; he seemed almost... entertained by it, as if he was finally facing someone who could match his intensity and push back just as hard.

And while you both seemed entirely focused on proving the other wrong, the team couldn’t help but notice the way Hotch's lips twitched ever so slightly when you fired back at him—a hint of a smile that suggested he was enjoying the sparring far more than he let on.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The case had taken a toll on everyone. It was late, the team was exhausted, and emotions were running high. As you laid out your plan to corner the unsub at the next location, Hotch cut you off mid-sentence.

"No, that won't work," he said firmly, his voice colder than usual. "You're making assumptions without enough evidence to back them up. We need to think this through logically."

You clenched your jaw, trying to keep your temper in check. "I am thinking logically, Hotchner. If we don't act fast, we'll lose any chance we have of catching this guy before he strikes again. We have to take the risk."

"And that's exactly the problem," he snapped, his eyes boring into yours. "You're too impulsive. This job isn’t about charging in headfirst without a solid plan."

Your hands balled into fists at your sides, the frustration bubbling over. "I'm not impulsive! I’m trying to save lives, which, correct me if I’m wrong, is the point of this whole job. But you wouldn't know anything about taking risks, would you, Hotch? You always play it safe, no matter what it costs."

A flash of anger crossed his face, and he took a step closer, his voice lowering to a dangerously calm tone. "You don’t know a damn thing about what it costs, Y/L/N. I’m not playing it safe; I’m making sure my team comes home alive. Something you might want to consider before throwing yourself into situations you’re not ready for."

The team watched in stunned silence. No one dared to intervene as you and Hotch stared each other down, both too stubborn to back down. They were used to disagreements in the field, but this level of intensity was something new—even for Hotch.

"I’m not some rookie you can bully into submission," you said, voice shaking with barely restrained fury. "I’m here because I’m damn good at what I do. And maybe if you took your head out of your own ego for two seconds, you’d see that."

Hotch's jaw tightened, and for a moment, you thought he might actually shout back. But instead, he spoke in that calm, unnervingly quiet voice of his. "The minute your 'damn good' plan puts any of my team at risk, I’ll pull you off this case so fast, you won’t know what hit you."

The team exchanged uneasy glances. It was clear this wasn’t just about the case—it was about control, about power, and about two people who couldn’t stand the fact that they met their match in each other.

As you turned on your heel to walk away, you couldn’t help but notice the looks on the faces of your colleagues. They weren't just surprised by how fiercely you stood up to Hotch—they were stunned that he actually seemed to respect you more for it.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The case wrapped up successfully, just as you had predicted. Your plan, the one Hotch had so firmly shot down, ended up being the key to cornering the unsub. It wasn’t without risks, but in the end, it worked, and no one could argue with the results.

As the team gathered their gear, Hotch remained silent, his face stoic as always, though there was a flicker of something else in his eyes—a mix of reluctant admiration and irritation that he couldn’t quite mask.

Rossi, ever the perceptive one, sidled up to Hotch with a knowing smile. "You know, Aaron," he said, his tone dripping with amusement, "it wouldn’t kill you to admit when you’re wrong. I mean, it's not every day someone out-thinks the great Aaron Hotchner."

Hotch shot Rossi a pointed look, his jaw tightening just slightly. "I wasn’t wrong," he muttered defensively. "I was... cautious."

Rossi let out a chuckle, shaking his head. "Cautious? Is that what we’re calling it now?" He cast a glance in your direction, where you stood a little ways off, giving instructions to a local officer. "She was right, you know. And from the look on your face, I'd say you know it too."

Hotch's gaze flicked back to you, the tiniest hint of a smile tugging at his lips before he quickly wiped it away. "She was lucky," he said, more to himself than to Rossi, as if trying to convince himself of that fact.

Rossi raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Right. Lucky.”

Hotch opened his mouth to argue, then thought better of it. Instead, he gave a noncommittal grunt and turned his attention back to his paperwork, his expression a mask of irritation mixed with something that looked suspiciously like pride.

"You’re a tough nut to crack," Rossi said, his tone softer now, more serious. "But maybe that’s exactly why she’s the perfect match for you."

Hotch shot Rossi a glare, but it lacked its usual sharpness. "Don’t start, Rossi," he warned, though there was no real heat in his voice.

Rossi simply laughed, clapping Hotch on the shoulder. "Just saying, my friend. Sooner or later, you might want to let that wall of yours come down—before she knocks it down for you."

As Rossi walked away, Hotch allowed himself one last glance in your direction. He'd never admit it out loud, but in that moment, he couldn't help but feel a grudging respect for you—along with a nagging realization that maybe, just maybe, this wasn't the last time you'd get under his skin.

But he wasn't ready to give you the satisfaction of knowing that. Not yet.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Weeks passed, and while your clashes with Hotch became routine, you couldn't deny that you had developed a strange rhythm with him. You knew each other’s moves like pieces on a chessboard—always anticipating, always one step ahead.

Despite your frequent arguments, there was a mutual respect building beneath the surface that neither of you wanted to acknowledge.

During a late-night case discussion, Hotch had his arms crossed, leaning against the table. "Your theory is flawed," he said, his voice laced with skepticism.

You squared your shoulders, refusing to back down. "It’s not flawed. You’re just too stubborn to admit that my way might actually work."

Hotch raised an eyebrow, his eyes glinting with a challenge. "If I admit you're right, does that mean you'll stop trying to strangle me in these meetings?"

Your lips twisted into a smirk. "Don't flatter yourself, Hotchner. If I ever strangle you, it’ll be out of pure frustration."

Hotch leaned in, his voice dropping to a low rumble. "Oh, Y/N, I didn’t know you were into that."

You blinked in surprise, your cheeks heating slightly at his boldness, but you quickly recovered. "Only if it shuts you up," you shot back, trying to ignore the way your pulse quickened.

The rest of the team watched from a distance, exchanging amused glances. They could see the crackling energy between you two, even if you both stubbornly refused to acknowledge it.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The air between you and Hotch was still charged, the underlying tension refusing to fade. The rest of the team had taken to watching your interactions like a live sport—wondering who would land the next verbal blow.

You were in the middle of the bullpen, poring over case files, when Hotch approached, his expression as stern as ever. "Y/L/N," he said, his tone clipped and professional, "I need your analysis on the suspect's profile by end of day. And make sure it’s thorough this time."

You looked up, eyebrow arched. "Oh, don’t worry, Hotchner. I’ll make it as ‘thorough’ as you like," you replied, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "Wouldn’t want you to have to redo it when you realize I was right all along."

Hotch’s eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of irritation sparking to life. "This isn’t a contest, Y/L/N. It’s about accuracy and professionalism—two things you might want to brush up on."

You stood up, matching his gaze with equal intensity. "And maybe if you stopped micromanaging every move I make, you’d see that I know exactly what I’m doing."

The tension between you was thick enough to cut with a knife, both of you glaring at each other like two opposing forces locked in an endless struggle. The bullpen went silent, eyes darting between the two of you in surprise at how openly you challenged him—again.

Hotch opened his mouth to retort, but then he paused, his gaze softening just a fraction. He seemed to consider his next words carefully, as if he knew he was about to cross a line he wasn’t ready to cross.

"You know," he said slowly, his voice dangerously calm, "for someone who claims to know what they're doing, you spend a lot of time second-guessing your decisions. Almost like you’re afraid to be wrong."

You bristled, feeling the sting of his words hit a little too close to home. "I’m not afraid to be wrong," you shot back, eyes blazing with defiance. "I’m just not used to being treated like an amateur by someone who refuses to admit when they’re outmatched."

Hotch’s lips twitched, a brief flash of something resembling a smile crossing his face before he quickly hid it. "Outmatched? By you?" he said, raising an eyebrow. "If that’s what keeps you motivated, Agent Y/L/N, then by all means—keep believing it."

Before you could fire back, Rossi’s voice broke through the tension. "You two done sparring, or should we set up a ring in the conference room?" he quipped, amusement dancing in his eyes.

The rest of the team chuckled, clearly entertained by the ongoing battle between you and Hotch. Despite their jokes, they were all aware that there was something different about the way Hotch responded to you—how he engaged with you in a way he didn’t with anyone else.

"You know," Morgan added with a grin, "most people don’t stand up to Hotch like that. You must really like getting on his bad side."

"She’s practically setting up camp there," Garcia chimed in with a wink. "It’s like their own twisted form of bonding."

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. "Please. If I ever start bonding with Hotchner, you have my permission to stage an intervention."

Hotch cleared his throat, shooting the team a look that was more amused than annoyed. "Alright, that's enough," he said, but there was a softness to his tone that wasn't there before, a hint that maybe—just maybe—he respected you for pushing back.

As the team dispersed, Hotch caught your gaze one last time. The moment was brief, but it lingered just long enough to make you question whether all this fighting was really about animosity—or if it was something else altogether.

And just like that, the fire between you reignited, burning hotter than ever.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The team was in the middle of a tense operation, a situation that demanded quick thinking and decisive action. You had taken a calculated risk, making a call in the field that didn't go as planned. The unsub got away, and while no one was hurt, it set the case back significantly.

The second you returned to the makeshift command center, Hotch was waiting for you, his eyes dark and unreadable. You barely had a chance to open your mouth before he was on you.

"What the hell were you thinking?" he barked, stepping closer, his voice rough with barely restrained anger. "That decision of yours just put everyone at risk, and I'm not sure we can afford that kind of recklessness again."

You shot back, adrenaline still coursing through your veins. "I was thinking that if we didn’t take the shot, we’d lose our best lead! But of course, you'd rather sit around playing it safe while the unsub walks free!"

Hotch's eyes narrowed, and his jaw clenched so tightly it looked like it might crack. "This isn't about playing it safe, Y/L/N! It's about not acting like a reckless amateur who puts the entire team's lives at risk because they have something to prove!"

Your hands shook with the force of your frustration, and before you could stop yourself, you snapped, "Oh, spare me the lecture, Hotchner! You act like you're the only one who knows how to do this job, but the truth is, you're just terrified of making a mistake. You’re so damn scared of letting anyone in that you push people away the second they don’t fit your perfect mold!"

The words seemed to hit Hotch harder than you expected, his eyes darkening even further. He took a step closer, his voice dropping to a dangerously quiet tone. "You think you know me, Y/L/N? You don’t know a damn thing. At least I’m not so afraid of being alone that I act like I don’t need anyone. You're more isolated than anyone on this team, and the saddest part? You overcompensate by pretending you don’t care."

Your breath hitched, but you were too angry to back down. "Oh, that's rich coming from you, Hotchner! The great Aaron Hotchner, who’s too afraid to be human around us because it might make him seem weak. You can't even let people in enough to let them see that you're a father first, can you? You act like this job is all that defines you, but deep down, you know you're failing at the one thing that really matters."

The moment the words left your mouth, you saw the flash of pain in Hotch's eyes—a wound laid bare for everyone to see. But before you could take it back, before you could even blink, Hotch struck back, and this time, it was a direct hit.

"You don’t get to talk to me about failure," he said, voice shaking with a mix of anger and hurt. "You walk around here like you have something to prove, like if you’re tough enough, no one will notice how desperately you need to be part of something—anything—to avoid facing how alone you really are. But here's the truth: no matter how loud you are, no matter how many arguments you win, you’re still just trying to convince yourself that you’re enough."

The team collectively held their breath, the weight of the confrontation settling over them like a dark cloud. You could see the shock and discomfort on their faces, how they tried to look away as if that would lessen the impact of the words you and Hotch had just exchanged.

You opened your mouth, ready to deliver one final blow, but something in his eyes stopped you. The hurt, the frustration, the betrayal—it was all there, mirrored in your own gaze. And you knew, in that moment, that you’d gone too far. So had he.

Before either of you could say another word, a voice crackled over the comms, interrupting the heated exchange. "We have a new lead on the unsub," Garcia’s voice came through, urgent and breathless. "I need you back at the command center, ASAP."

The tension snapped, and you both pulled back, breathing hard, eyes locked in a shared look of something like regret. You could see it—the recognition that the words you’d thrown at each other couldn’t be taken back.

Without a word, you turned and walked away, your shoulders tense, refusing to let anyone see how deeply the argument had cut. Hotch stood there for a moment longer, his face an unreadable mask, before he, too, walked in the opposite direction, his movements stiff and deliberate.

As you both moved to your respective corners, the team exchanged glances—expressions of concern, sadness, and a little fear. Even they could tell that this fight had gone way beyond professional differences. It had become personal. Too personal.

"You think they'll be okay?" JJ asked softly, breaking the silence that had settled over them.

Rossi shook his head, his face lined with worry. "Not sure," he said, glancing over at the two of you from a distance. "That was more than just anger. That was hurt. And that’s a lot harder to come back from."

Derek looked from you to Hotch and back again, his face serious. "They both know they crossed a line," he said quietly. "But the question is, can they find their way back?"

Hotch knew he’d struck too close to home, just as you did. The damage was done, and as much as you both wanted to pretend it didn’t matter, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something between you had changed forever.

And for the first time since you joined the BAU, neither of you was sure how to fix it.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

In the days that followed your explosive argument, neither you nor Hotch said a word about what had happened. Both of you were too stubborn to apologize, too proud to admit that you might have gone too far. But even as the tension between you remained thick and uncomfortable, something in the way you interacted began to shift.

Despite your so-called hatred, you and Hotch started doing little things for each other—things that neither of you ever mentioned aloud. He'd leave a coffee on your desk, exactly how you liked it, when you’d had a particularly rough night. You’d order lunch for him when he was too buried in paperwork to take a break. It was as if you were both trying to say "I'm sorry" without actually uttering the words.

The team noticed the change, the way you two danced around each other, trying to make up for the damage in the only way you knew how—without acknowledging it outright.

And whenever one of you tried to express gratitude, it always came out as an insult wrapped in sarcasm.

"Thanks for the coffee, Hotchner," you said one morning, not meeting his eyes. The words were gruff, but there was a softness beneath them that you couldn’t quite hide. "I didn’t realize you were capable of being considerate."

Hotch shrugged, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Don’t get used to it, Y/L/N," he replied, voice laced with mock indifference. "Just trying to keep you from falling asleep in the middle of your presentations. Wouldn’t want you to embarrass yourself in front of the team."

You rolled your eyes, a reluctant smile breaking through despite your best efforts to stay annoyed. "Oh please, Hotchner. If I did fall asleep, it’d probably be because your voice has all the excitement of a tax seminar."

He gave a small chuckle, the tension between you two easing just slightly, even if neither of you would admit it. It was as if every sarcastic comment and light jab carried with it a hidden message—"I’m sorry," "I didn’t mean it," "I care more than I should."

And so, the unspoken apologies continued, buried beneath layers of pride and wrapped in your shared rhythm of bickering. The gestures were subtle but unmistakable, a silent acknowledgment that despite the walls you both put up, you were trying to make things right in the only way you knew how.

But even then, the fire between you still burned hot, and neither of you could quite bring yourself to let go of the pretense of animosity. Not yet.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The days were filled with a strange tension—one that wasn’t entirely unpleasant. The biting remarks between you and Hotch were still there, but they were laced with something different now, something that had the team raising their eyebrows and sharing knowing looks. The biting anger had started to twist into something that almost resembled…flirting.

One afternoon, you were both standing by the coffee machine, trying to get through another endless stack of case files. You reached for the last cup of coffee at the same time as Hotch, your hands brushing against each other. You snatched it up quickly, smirking in his direction.

"Careful, Hotchner," you said, raising the cup to your lips. "You keep getting in my way like this, and I might just have to pin you to the wall."

Hotch’s eyes glinted with amusement as he raised an eyebrow, leaning in slightly. "Bold move, Y/L/N," he replied, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Didn't realize you were in the habit of getting physical on the job."

Your breath caught for a second, but you quickly recovered, narrowing your eyes at him with a teasing smile. "Only when someone deserves it," you shot back, your voice light but your gaze steady. "And trust me, Hotchner, you've earned it."

He smirked, the kind of smile that made it clear he enjoyed pushing your buttons, and that little spark in his eyes hinted at something more than just professional rivalry. "I’ll try to contain my excitement," he said, voice smooth and challenging, the playful banter lingering in the air between you.

You opened your mouth to fire back a retort, but no words came out. Instead, you found yourself laughing—a real, genuine laugh that caught both of you off guard. The sound of it seemed to disarm Hotch for a moment, his expression softening as he looked at you.

"Just admit it," he said, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "You’d miss our arguments if they stopped."

You raised an eyebrow, pretending to think about it. "I’d miss putting you in your place, Hotch. But don’t get used to it—I’m still keeping score, and I’m winning."

Hotch let out a low chuckle. "We’ll see about that."

The team observed from a distance, exchanging amused glances at the way you two were sparring. But this time, it wasn't just hostility—it was something far more complicated, like the first sparks of a fire that neither of you wanted to put out.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The night had not gone the way you’d hoped. The date you’d forced yourself to go on—an attempt to prove to yourself that you could open up to someone, anyone—ended as all the others did: in disappointment. You’d spent the entire evening trying to connect, trying to be someone you weren’t, only to come home with that familiar ache in your chest and a little too much wine in your system.

Stumbling slightly, you sank onto a bench outside the bar, phone in hand, replaying Hotch's words in your mind from your previous argument. "You’re more isolated than anyone on this team, and the saddest part? You overcompensate by pretending you don’t care."

The truth of it stung more now than ever. You felt the weight of his words pressing down on you, and you didn't have the strength to fight against it. Maybe he was right, you thought bitterly. Maybe I am going to end up alone because I can't let anyone in.

Before you could stop yourself, your fingers dialed his number, the alcohol-fueled haze making you braver—or more foolish—than you would have been otherwise. The phone rang once, and then you heard his familiar voice, steady and calm.

"Hotchner," he answered.

You hesitated, suddenly feeling ridiculous for calling him of all people. But then, you let out a shaky breath and said, "I...I don’t know why I called you. I’m fine. I’m—" Your voice cracked slightly, betraying you. "I'm not fine."

He didn’t ask you where you were. He didn’t hesitate or question why you’d reached out to him. Instead, his voice softened, and you could almost hear the worry in it. "Tell me where you are, Y/N," he said, his tone more gentle than you’d ever heard it. "I’m already on my way."

You told him the name of the bar, and before you knew it, Hotch’s car pulled up to the curb. He got out, looking every bit the composed leader he always was, but there was something else in his eyes—something softer as he took in your disheveled state.

Without a word, he draped his coat around your shoulders and led you to the passenger seat. The drive was quiet, the hum of the car the only sound between you. You kept your eyes on the window, embarrassed by your outburst but too drained to put your walls back up.

When he pulled up to your place, he helped you out of the car, his hand lingering at your back, a silent comfort. You let him guide you up the steps to your door, but when you fumbled for your keys, he stopped you, turning you to face him.

"You didn’t have to come get me," you said, your voice small, more vulnerable than you wanted it to be. "I’m just a mess tonight."

He looked at you, really looked at you, and for a moment, you saw the mask he always wore slip just a little. "You’re not a mess, Y/N," he said quietly. "You’re human. We all are."

You laughed bitterly, shaking your head. "You don't get it, Hotch. I keep trying to let people in, and I can't. It's like there's this wall I can't tear down, and I'm starting to think I’m going to end up just as alone as you said."

Hotch's jaw tightened, and he reached out, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "You’re not alone," he said, his voice low, almost tender. "And for what it's worth, I never meant to make you feel that way. You’re tougher than anyone I know, but you don’t always have to be."

You looked up at him, feeling the weight of his words settle in a place deep in your chest. For once, there was no sarcasm, no biting remarks—just a quiet honesty that took you by surprise.

"Why did you come?" you asked, your voice barely more than a whisper. "After everything I said to you?"

Hotch hesitated for a moment, his eyes searching yours, and then he said, "Because I know you. And I knew that when you finally let your guard down, even a little, it wasn’t something you’d do lightly." His voice softened even further. "I couldn’t just leave you alone tonight."

The silence stretched between you, heavy with unspoken words. He moved closer, his hand still resting on your shoulder, and you let yourself lean into his touch, even if just a little.

He just stood there with you, holding you steady when you couldn’t hold yourself up, letting you see that maybe, just maybe, letting him in wasn’t as terrifying as you’d thought.

"Thank you," you finally said, looking up at him with something that felt like gratitude mixed with a hint of something deeper, something you weren’t ready to name yet.

Hotch gave you a small, almost shy smile. "Anytime, Y/N," he said simply. "And for the record, I’m not going anywhere."

You nodded, the walls between you still there, but just a little lower now. And as you stepped into your apartment, you knew that this was the beginning of something different—something you weren’t ready to admit but couldn’t deny anymore.

The fire between you still burned, but it felt like a fire that could warm you instead of one that would consume you.

The door clicked shut behind you, the weight of the night’s events settling over you like a heavy blanket. Hotch stood in your entryway, his hands in his pockets, looking more out of place than you’d ever seen him. This was Aaron Hotchner, the unflinching leader of the BAU, but right now, he looked like a man unsure of what to do next.

You leaned back against the wall, running a hand through your hair and letting out a sigh. "I’m not usually like this," you said, your voice rough around the edges, still tinged with the effects of the alcohol. "I don’t usually call for help."

Hotch gave a small, almost reluctant smile, his eyes softening as they met yours. "I know," he said quietly. "You’d rather bite off your own arm than ask for help. That’s why I came."

You blinked at him, a bit taken aback by the way he said it, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. The honesty in his eyes made something in your chest tighten—a mix of frustration and relief that you couldn’t quite put into words.

"You think you have me all figured out, don’t you?" you muttered, looking away to avoid the intensity of his gaze.

Hotch’s lips twitched into a smirk, that familiar fire sparking back to life in his eyes. "Well, you do have a habit of making it a challenge," he said, his voice taking on that dry, teasing tone. "But you’re not as complicated as you think, Y/N. I see right through that tough act of yours."

You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest in a weak attempt to shield yourself from the truth of his words. "Oh, please, Hotchner," you said, trying to regain some of your usual bite. "The last thing I need is you trying to psychoanalyze me."

Hotch took a step closer, his gaze never leaving yours. He was close enough now that you could see the concern etched in the lines of his face, the way he was holding back something he wanted to say. "You’re right," he said, his voice gentler now, almost a whisper. "I’m not here to analyze you. I’m here because I care."

Those last words hit you like a punch to the gut, the sincerity in his tone catching you completely off guard. You opened your mouth to say something, anything to deflect, but all that came out was a shaky breath.

"You care?" you repeated, a mixture of disbelief and sarcasm lacing your voice. "Is this the part where you tell me you’re my knight in shining armor?"

Hotch let out a small, rueful laugh, shaking his head slightly. "Hardly," he said, a hint of that familiar smirk creeping back. "More like the guy who has to keep you from making a fool of yourself because you’re too stubborn to admit you’re human."

You wanted to snap back, to put up the walls again, but you were too tired, too raw. Instead, you just looked at him, really looked at him, and saw something in his eyes that you hadn't allowed yourself to see before—genuine concern, warmth, something that made you feel seen in a way you hadn’t in a long time.

"You know," you said, your voice quieter, softer than it had been all night. "You’re kind of infuriating."

Hotch’s smirk grew into a smile, the kind that crinkled the corners of his eyes in that rare, almost boyish way that you hardly ever saw. "And you’re impossible," he replied. "But we’ve established that already, haven’t we?"

For a moment, you both just stood there, the air between you thick with unspoken words. You should’ve felt awkward, but instead, there was a strange comfort in the silence, like you were both finally seeing each other without all the defenses in place.

You let out a deep breath and nodded toward the couch. "Stay," you said, surprising even yourself. "Just for a while. I could use the company."

He didn’t argue. Hotch gave a small nod and moved to sit on the couch, his movements careful, deliberate, as if he didn’t want to push too hard, too fast. You sat down beside him, not too close but not as far as you might have a few weeks ago.

The two of you sat in silence for a few minutes, your head leaning back against the couch, your eyes closing as you tried to process everything. You felt Hotch’s presence beside you, solid and grounding, the quiet rhythm of his breathing strangely soothing.

"Thank you," you finally said, breaking the silence, the words almost too quiet to hear. "For coming to get me. For…not letting me be alone tonight."

Hotch turned to look at you, and when you opened your eyes, his gaze was softer than you’d ever seen it. "Anytime," he said simply. "And I mean that, Y/N. You don’t have to go through everything on your own."

You felt something crack open inside you, just a little—a small space where the walls had been, making room for him in a way you never thought you’d allow. And maybe, just maybe, that terrified you even more than anything else.

As you both sat there in the quiet, the tension between you still simmering but somehow warmer now, you realized that for all your fights, your arguments, and your stubborn pride, you didn’t hate him. Not even close.

You didn’t say anything more that night. You didn’t have to. The silence said enough, and for once, neither of you felt the need to fill it with words.

The fire between you had shifted, turning into something new, something unspoken but undeniably there. You didn’t feel quite so alone.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The next morning, the BAU office buzzed with its usual energy, but everything felt different. The night before lingered in the back of your mind like a half-remembered dream, and you couldn’t quite shake the image of Hotch sitting beside you on the couch, his quiet presence more comforting than you’d ever expected.

You walked into the bullpen, forcing yourself to adopt the mask of professionalism you always wore, your steps just a touch more deliberate to hide any trace of a hangover or vulnerability. You were determined to pretend like nothing had changed, like the night before was just a glitch in your well-oiled machine of stubborn denial.

But as soon as you stepped into the room, you felt Hotch’s eyes on you. He was at his desk, his expression calm and controlled, but there was something different in the way he looked at you—softer, more attentive, like he was seeing you in a way he hadn’t before.

You met his gaze, and for a second, the rest of the office seemed to fade away. His eyes held yours, and you could feel that unspoken connection between you, the memory of his steadying hand on your back, his whispered words in the dark.

But then you broke the gaze, clearing your throat and throwing up your usual walls. "Morning, Hotchner," you said briskly, moving past his desk like it was business as usual. "Let’s hope you’re ready to keep up today. Wouldn’t want to have to drag you along."

Hotch’s lips twitched into that familiar half-smirk, but there was something in his eyes that wasn’t there before—something almost like pride. "Careful, Y/L/N," he said in that smooth, controlled voice of his. "If you’re not careful, people might start to think you’re actually enjoying this partnership."

You opened your mouth to fire back a retort, but JJ and Morgan chose that moment to walk in, their eyes darting curiously between the two of you. You could see the knowing smiles tugging at their lips, and you knew they’d sensed the shift in the air.

"Everything okay over here?" Morgan asked, a teasing lilt to his voice. "I thought I saw sparks flying for a second there."

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest to regain some semblance of your defenses. "Please, Morgan," you said, a hint of sarcasm in your tone. "If I wanted sparks, I’d go rub two sticks together in the woods."

"Uh-huh," JJ said with a grin, not missing the way Hotch’s eyes followed you, a little softer than they usually were. "Well, you two seem to have your own language these days. Should we be worried?"

Hotch straightened in his chair, his expression slipping back into that stoic professionalism, but you caught the flicker of amusement in his eyes. "I think you have more important things to worry about," he said evenly, glancing at the case files on the table. "Like solving this case."

Morgan shot you a sideways glance, his grin widening. "Man, they really do bicker like an old married couple," he said under his breath to JJ, loud enough for you and Hotch to hear.

You rolled your eyes dramatically, but you couldn’t quite hide the smile tugging at the corner of your lips. "Keep dreaming, Morgan," you said, flicking your gaze to Hotch for a split second before turning back to the files. "If I ever settle down, it’ll be with someone who actually listens."

You didn’t miss the way Hotch’s eyebrow twitched at that comment, the slightest hint of a challenge in his eyes. He gave you a look that said he was holding back something—something that both of you were too stubborn to acknowledge.

"Who said anything about settling down?" Hotch replied, voice smooth as ever. "I thought you were the kind of person who lives for the argument."

"And I thought you were the kind of person who likes to be right," you shot back, smirking. "Guess we’ve both been wrong about each other."

There it was—the unspoken truth lying between you both, hidden beneath the layers of sarcasm and banter. You could feel the shift, the way your arguments had started to feel less like battles and more like dances, each of you knowing the other’s moves before they even made them.

As the day wore on, you found yourself glancing at Hotch more often than you cared to admit, catching him looking at you with that same intense focus that he usually reserved for unsubs. The problem was, this time, you weren’t sure whether he was profiling you or trying to figure out how to get past your defenses.

Later in the day, as you grabbed another cup of coffee, you felt his presence next to you before he even said a word. He reached for a file on the counter, leaning in slightly closer than necessary, and murmured just loud enough for you to hear, "I meant what I said last night, you know."

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard. "Which part?" you asked, trying to sound nonchalant but failing miserably.

Hotch's gaze held yours, unflinching, unwavering. "The part about not going anywhere," he said softly. "And the part about you not having to be alone. Not if you don’t want to be."

You swallowed hard, the words sticking in your throat. You knew what he was offering—a chance to let him in, to take that next step, whatever that might be. And it terrified you more than you’d ever admit.

"That’s a dangerous game, Hotchner," you said, trying to deflect with a smirk, even though your heart was pounding in your chest.

Hotch gave you that slow, almost maddening smile that seemed to unravel something deep within you. What you couldn’t see—what he hid beneath that calm exterior—was the way his mind was still racing with everything that had happened the night before. The way you'd let your guard down, even for just a moment, had left him more shaken than he wanted to admit.

He wasn’t a man who let people in easily; it took a lot for his interest to be piqued, to feel something more than detached professionalism. But you—you had managed to get under his skin. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about that glimpse into your world, the vulnerability you showed him when you thought no one else was watching. It was raw, real, and it stirred something in him that he didn’t want to let go of.

He was intrigued by you in a way he hadn’t been in a long time, and now that he’d seen that side of you—the part you kept hidden from everyone else—he didn’t want you to close that door again. He wanted more than just the sharp banter and the fiery arguments. He wanted to see the layers beneath, to understand the person you were when the armor came off.

There was this part of him that saw you as this rare enigma, but also a part that saw a mirror looking back at him--someone who finally carried their world in the same way as he did. 

"You’ve never been one to play it safe, Y/N," he replied, his voice low and warm, the hint of a challenge still lingering. "Why start now?"

There was a flicker of something in his eyes, something almost like hope mixed with determination. He was giving you a choice, but deep down, he knew he didn’t want you to pull away, to retreat back into the walls you’d built so carefully around yourself.

You didn’t have an answer for that. At least, not one you were ready to give him. The truth was, the idea of letting him in—of letting anyone in—scared you more than you wanted to admit. But his steady gaze, the way he was looking at you as if he was ready to hold that door open as long as it took for you to walk through it, made it harder to hide.

So instead, you just nodded, your walls still there but not quite as high as they’d been before. "We’ll see," you said softly, more to yourself than to him. "We’ll see."

And as you turned away, you couldn’t help but feel the weight of his eyes still on you, watching, waiting. Hotch knew that if you closed yourself off now, it would be ten times harder to find his way back in. But he also knew he couldn’t push you—not yet. All he could do was make sure that when you were ready to open that door again, he’d be right there, waiting for you.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

A few days passed since that quiet moment at the coffee machine, and while you tried to push it to the back of your mind, it kept creeping up on you. Hotch’s words, the look in his eyes—it all felt too real, too close, and you weren’t ready to let it unravel everything you’d built around yourself.

The trouble was, Hotch wasn’t making it any easier.

He was still his usual composed, authoritative self during briefings, but every now and then, you’d catch him watching you out of the corner of his eye, as if trying to figure out what was going on beneath your surface. It was disarming, the way he seemed to see straight through you, and it annoyed you to no end that you cared what he thought.

Today was no different. The team was deep into a new case, the type that pulled everyone’s focus with its twists and turns, but you still felt that nagging awareness of Hotch’s gaze tracking your every move. You tried to shake it off, to focus solely on the details of the profile you were presenting, but when your eyes met his, you hesitated for a fraction of a second—a slip that didn’t go unnoticed.

As you finished laying out your theory on the unsub, you expected Hotch to challenge you like he always did. Instead, he gave a small nod, his eyes never leaving yours. "Solid work, Y/L/N," he said, his voice steady, but there was a trace of something else in it—something that felt like he was acknowledging more than just your profiling skills.

Morgan raised an eyebrow at the rare praise coming from Hotch. "Wow, did I just hear that right?" he teased. "Hotch giving a compliment? Are we sure we’re not in an alternate universe?"

You rolled your eyes, fighting to keep the blush creeping up your neck from reaching your face. "Don’t get used to it," you shot back, forcing a smirk. "I’m sure he’ll find something to disagree with in about five minutes."

But when you glanced back at Hotch, you caught the smallest hint of a smile pulling at his lips, like he was amused by your deflection. It was such a fleeting moment that if you hadn’t been watching him closely, you might have missed it. But it was there, and it sent a ripple through you that you couldn’t quite shake.

Later that evening, as the rest of the team wrapped up for the day, you found yourself alone in the conference room, staring at the evidence board. The case was getting under your skin in a way that you couldn’t quite explain, and you were too restless to go home.

"Working late?" Hotch’s voice broke through the silence, and you turned to find him leaning casually in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. He looked at you with that same unreadable expression, and you hated how your pulse quickened at the sight of him.

"Just tying up loose ends," you said, your tone clipped, but even you could hear the exhaustion in your voice. "Can’t leave things half-finished."

He nodded slowly, stepping further into the room, his gaze never leaving you. "You’ve been distracted," he said, not as a question, but as a statement of fact. "Is it the case, or something else?"

You let out a humorless laugh, shaking your head. "Always profiling, aren’t you?" you said, turning back to the board to avoid looking at him. "Maybe it’s both. Or maybe I’m just tired of being stuck in my own head."

Hotch moved closer, close enough that you could feel his presence like a tangible weight in the room. "You know, you don’t always have to carry everything alone," he said quietly. "You’re allowed to let someone in."

You turned to him then, your eyes locking onto his, the vulnerability of that night flashing in your mind. "I thought you knew me better than that, Hotchner," you said, your voice laced with a mix of defiance and something softer. "I’m not good at letting people in."

Hotch held your gaze, and this time, he didn’t look away. "I know," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I also know that when you finally do, you don’t want to regret it."

The words hung between you like a dare, and for a second, you saw past the stoic exterior he always wore, straight into the man who’d been just as guarded, just as wary of letting anyone see the cracks beneath his armor. It was unnerving and comforting all at once.

"I don’t want to close that door again," he admitted, his voice steady but his eyes revealing a flicker of uncertainty, as if saying it out loud made him vulnerable in a way he hadn’t been before. "You let me in, Y/N, even if it was just for a moment. And I don’t want to lose that."

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words died in your throat. You could feel your defenses crumbling, piece by piece, under the weight of his gaze, and it scared you. But it also made you feel something else—something you weren’t ready to put a name to.

"I don’t know what you expect from me," you said finally, your voice softer, almost hesitant. "You know I’m not the kind of person who’s good at this… at letting someone get close."

Hotch’s lips curved into that maddening, gentle smile, and he reached out, his fingers brushing lightly against your arm. It was a simple touch, but it sent a jolt of warmth through you. "I’m not expecting anything," he said, his voice calm, reassuring. "I just don’t want you to shut me out when you don’t have to."

For once, you didn’t have a quick retort, no sarcastic comeback to throw up as a shield. Instead, you found yourself nodding, the smallest sign of surrender, as if silently agreeing to let this—whatever it was between you—take its own course.

"Goodnight, Y/N," Hotch said softly, his hand lingering on your arm for just a moment longer before he turned to leave.

"Goodnight, Hotch," you replied, your voice barely more than a whisper as you watched him walk away.

As he disappeared through the doorway, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. The fire between you wasn’t just simmering anymore—it was building into something that felt inevitable, something that terrified and thrilled you all at once.

You didn’t feel the urge to run away from it.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

It had been a long week for the team, the kind that left everyone mentally and physically exhausted. The case had taken a toll on each of them, but none more so than Hotch. You could see it in the way his shoulders sagged slightly when he thought no one was looking, in the tightness around his eyes that no amount of professionalism could hide.

He’d been quieter than usual, more distant, even with you. It was a stark contrast to the way he’d been drawing closer lately, as if he’d built up his walls all over again. And for some reason, that made something inside you ache.

You found him alone in his office late that evening, the light dim, a half-empty cup of coffee growing cold on his desk. The tension in his posture was palpable, and he didn’t look up when you knocked lightly on the doorframe.

"Hotch," you said softly, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. "You look like you’re about to tear that case file in half. What’s going on?"

He didn’t answer at first. He just kept staring at the paper in front of him, his jaw clenched tight, the muscle ticking in his cheek. For a moment, you thought he might brush you off, that he’d snap back into his guarded self and shut you out completely.

But then he let out a slow, shaky breath and finally looked up at you. There was a weariness in his eyes that you hadn’t seen before, something raw and unguarded. "It’s Jack," he said quietly, his voice barely more than a whisper. "I missed his soccer game today. I promised I’d be there, and I missed it."

You blinked, surprised by the admission. It wasn’t like Hotch to let his personal life bleed into the job. He was the master of compartmentalization, always keeping his professional mask firmly in place. But right now, that mask was slipping, and you could see the guilt and pain beneath.

"I’m sorry," you said, the words genuine and uncharacteristically soft. "I know how much he means to you."

He gave a short, humorless laugh, rubbing a hand over his face as if trying to scrub away the exhaustion. "It’s not just that," he said, finally meeting your gaze. "I try so hard to be there for him, to make up for all the time I can’t get back. And every time I fail, it feels like I’m failing him all over again."

You took a hesitant step closer, your defenses lowering in response to his vulnerability. "You’re not failing him, Hotch," you said, your voice firmer now. "Jack knows you’re doing everything you can. You’re a damn good father, even if you don’t give yourself enough credit."

Hotch’s eyes softened as he looked at you like he was seeing something in you that he hadn’t allowed himself to see before. "It’s just hard," he said quietly. "Balancing everything. Being there for him and still being the kind of leader this team needs. Sometimes I don’t know if I’m doing either one right."

You took another step closer, your hand hovering near his on the desk. "You don’t have to be perfect, Aaron," you said, using his first name intentionally, letting it roll off your tongue like a promise. "You’re allowed to be human. To mess up. To let people help you when you need it."

His breath hitched slightly when you said his name, and you saw the way his defenses cracked just a little more, like he was allowing himself to believe you, even if just for a moment. "You say that," he said, a small, wry smile forming on his lips. "But you’re not exactly the poster child for letting people in either."

You felt a reluctant smile tug at your lips, even as your heart pounded in your chest. "Touché," you said, your voice gentler now. "But maybe we could both stand to learn a little."

Hotch stared at you for a long moment, his eyes searching yours as if trying to decide whether he could really let you see him—really let you in. And then, almost imperceptibly, he reached out, his hand covering yours where it rested on the desk.

"You know," he said, his voice low and rough, "it’s easier for me to tell you not to close yourself off than it is to follow my own advice."

You looked down at his hand on yours, feeling the warmth of his touch seeping into your skin, and you squeezed his fingers lightly. "Yeah, well," you said, your voice soft but steady, "lucky for you, I’m not going anywhere either."

His eyes softened even more at your words, a quiet gratitude filling them that made your chest tighten. He was letting you see him—not the stoic leader, not the unflinching profiler, but the man beneath all that. The one who was just as scared of opening up, just as afraid of failing the people he loved.

"Thank you," he said finally, his voice thick with emotion. "For this. For not letting me push you away."

You offered him a small smile, one that felt more real than anything you’d given him before. "Don’t thank me yet," you said, a teasing glint in your eyes. "I’m still going to make your life hell in the field."

Hotch let out a soft chuckle, the sound breaking the tension in the room like a breath of fresh air. "I’d expect nothing less," he said, the warmth returning to his gaze. "In fact, I’d be disappointed if you didn’t."

The two of you stood there, hands still linked, the silence stretching out but not uncomfortable anymore. It was filled with a promise, an unspoken understanding that things had changed between you—that neither of you was quite as alone as you used to be.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The bullpen was buzzing with the usual chatter as the team wrapped up another case. The mood was lighter than it had been in days, and everyone seemed relieved to have a few moments to breathe. You stood at your desk, reviewing some final notes when you felt that familiar presence beside you.

"Y/L/N," Hotch said in his even tone, but there was a hint of playfulness in his eyes that only you could see. "I noticed a couple of discrepancies in your report. Care to explain?"

You raised an eyebrow, smirking slightly as you turned to face him. "Oh, Hotchner, I didn’t realize you were that nitpicky," you said, leaning in just a fraction. "I thought you were more of a big-picture kind of guy."

Hotch’s lips curved into that maddening smile, his eyes glinting with mischief. "Details matter," he replied, his voice dropping a notch. "And if I didn’t keep you on your toes, where’s the fun in that?"

The rest of the team was watching this exchange with poorly concealed amusement. Morgan exchanged a look with JJ, and Garcia's eyes were practically sparkling with glee.

"You two are at it again," Morgan said, shaking his head with a grin. "I swear, the tension between you two is so thick we could cut it with a knife."

"More like set it on fire," JJ added, nudging Garcia, who was already leaning forward, her mouth wide with anticipation.

"Oh, please," you said with a mock roll of your eyes, but your smirk was undeniable. "If Hotchner could actually manage to light a fire, he’d probably try to put it out just to avoid making a mess."

Hotch’s eyebrow shot up at that, and he took a small step closer to you, his voice barely above a whisper but loud enough for everyone to hear. "I don’t know, Y/N," he said, his eyes locking onto yours with a challenging glint. "I think you’d be surprised at how good I am at playing with fire."

The room went silent for a beat, the rest of the team exchanging looks that screamed oh my God, did he just say that?

Garcia’s jaw dropped dramatically. "Okay, that’s it!" she exclaimed, pointing between you and Hotch. "There is no way you two don’t have some unresolved sexual tension going on here. Spill the beans!"

You opened your mouth to retort, but before you could say anything, an alarm went off on the conference room monitor. Garcia’s eyes widened as she quickly typed on her laptop. "We’ve got an urgent update from the field team," she said, all traces of her previous amusement gone. "It looks like the suspect we apprehended escaped during transfer."

Hotch’s face shifted instantly into his no-nonsense mode, all traces of flirtation gone as he snapped back into action. "Everyone, gather your gear," he ordered. "We’re heading out now."

As you all hurried to grab your things, you felt Hotch’s hand on your arm, his grip just a bit tighter than usual. "Stay close," he said, his voice low and serious. "I don’t want any surprises."

You nodded, but there was a fire in his eyes that hadn’t been there before—a look that sent a thrill through you despite the situation. You didn’t have time to dwell on it as you jumped into the SUV, your focus shifting to the task at hand.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The stand-off had gone sideways fast. The unsub, cornered and desperate, made a reckless move, and in the chaos that followed, Hotch took a hit—a deep gash to his arm from a knife as he shielded you from the unsub. He stayed in control, his face a mask of determination as he secured the suspect, but you could see the pain etched in the tight lines around his mouth.

"Hotch!" you shouted, rushing to his side the second the threat was neutralized. Your heart was pounding in your chest, but you forced yourself to stay focused, your eyes darting over the wound. "You couldn’t just dodge or take a step back like a normal person?"

He gave you a half-smile that somehow still had that infuriating charm. "I had to make sure you had a clear shot," he said, his voice calm despite the blood seeping through his sleeve. "Besides, if I’d let you take the hit, you’d never let me live it down."

"Yeah, well, now you’re stuck listening to me complain about your lack of self-preservation," you muttered, shaking your head even as you helped him over to the waiting ambulance.

The paramedics wasted no time guiding Hotch into the back of the ambulance, their hands moving efficiently as they assessed the wound. You followed closely, trying to keep your expression neutral, but the sight of blood seeping through his sleeve made your stomach twist with worry you couldn’t quite hide.

"How bad is it?" you asked the nearest paramedic, doing your best to sound calm even though your insides were in knots.

"Deep cut," the paramedic said as he worked quickly to clean and bandage Hotch’s arm. "He’ll need stitches but no major damage. He got lucky."

Hotch’s eyes flicked up to yours, a small smirk forming on his lips despite the pain. "Lucky, huh?" he said, his voice slightly strained but still holding that familiar edge of sarcasm. "Looks like I’m harder to get rid of than you thought."

You let out a shaky breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding, and for a moment, your guard slipped completely. The rush of adrenaline from the standoff was fading, leaving nothing but raw fear and relief in its wake. Without thinking, you reached out and gave his good shoulder a light but frustrated punch.

"You reckless idiot," you muttered, your voice cracking despite your best efforts to hold it steady. "Do you have any idea how worried I was? You scared the hell out of me, Hotch."

The words came out harsher than you intended, your emotions bubbling to the surface faster than you could control them. Hotch’s smirk softened into something gentler, more genuine, and he looked at you like he was seeing right through your bravado to the fear and vulnerability beneath.

"Y/N," he said quietly, his tone different now—gentler, sincere. "I didn’t mean to worry you."

But before he could say anything more, you felt your chest tighten, overwhelmed by how close you’d come to losing him. Hotch reached out slowly, his uninjured hand wrapping around yours, holding on in a way that felt both grounding and intimate. His thumb brushed lightly over your knuckles, and you didn’t pull away.

Hotch hesitated, then reached out to gently touch your hand, his voice almost a whisper, "I’m right here, even if you don’t know what to do with that."

You blinked rapidly, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill, and you squeezed his hand harder than you meant to.

"You infuriating man," you said, your voice trembling as you tried to hold onto the last shred of your composure. "You just had to go and make me care, didn’t you?"

The laugh that escaped Hotch was soft, almost disbelieving, and his eyes were filled with something you’d never seen before—something that made your chest tighten and your defenses crumble even more.

"I’m glad you care," he said, so quietly that it was almost lost in the noise around you. "More than you know."

Your breath hitched at his words, and you bit your lip to keep the tears at bay. Desperate to deflect, you let go of his hand and turned away, taking a deep breath to steady yourself.

"You had to make me feel something, didn’t you?" you said, throwing him a wry smile over your shoulder as you blinked back the tears that refused to fall. "Next time, try not to make a mess of it, okay?"

Hotch's eyes softened as he looked at you, the smallest hint of a smile tugging at his lips despite the pain. "No promises," he said, a warmth in his gaze that wrapped around you like a lifeline. "But I'll try not to scare you again."

You nodded, biting your lip to keep your composure, and then without another word, you turned and walked away, each step heavier than the last. You needed to get some distance before you completely fell apart in front of him.

But as you reached the end of the ambulance, you heard his voice, softer and closer than you expected. "Y/N," he called out, making you pause. "You know I’m not going anywhere, right?"

You didn’t turn back, but you felt the faintest smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. "You’d better not," you said, voice just loud enough for him to hear. "You’ve got a lot to make up for."

And as you walked away, you realized that letting him in didn’t feel like a mistake—it felt like the only choice that made sense.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Hours later, after a tense and exhausting standoff, the team finally returned to the BAU headquarters. Everyone was drained, their nerves frayed from the adrenaline crash, but there was a palpable sense of relief in the air—the suspect had been recaptured, and despite the close call, no one was seriously hurt.

But you couldn’t shake the image of Hotch sitting in the back of that ambulance, blood staining his sleeve, his eyes meeting yours with that maddening calmness he always managed to keep. The memory made your chest feel tight, like something was lodged there that you couldn’t swallow down.

You headed to the quiet of the briefing room, too wired to sit still. You started pacing, the adrenaline from the night's chaos still buzzing through your veins. All you could think about was how close you’d come to losing him and how much that realization had rattled you more than you wanted to admit.

Just as you were about to let out a frustrated sigh, you heard footsteps behind you. Turning around, you found Hotch standing in the doorway. His usually neat tie was loosened, and his composed demeanor seemed a little frayed around the edges.

"You okay?" he asked, his voice softer than usual, his gaze fixed on yours with an intensity that sent a shiver straight down your spine.

"Yeah," you said, but your voice wavered, betraying the emotions that had been building all night. "Just trying to come down from the rush, you know?"

Hotch stepped closer, the space between you shrinking, the room suddenly feeling too small to contain everything unspoken between you. His injured arm was bandaged, but he didn’t seem to notice or care. He was looking at you like you were the only thing in the room.

"You handled yourself well out there," he said, his voice steady but tinged with something else—something like pride, mixed with relief and maybe even a touch of vulnerability. "You always do."

You gave a shaky smile, but you couldn’t help the words that slipped out next. "You didn’t have to get hurt for me to prove it, you know," you said, your voice cracking just a little. "What were you thinking out there?"

Hotch's lips twitched into a faint smile. "I was thinking," he said, meeting your eyes with that steady, unwavering gaze, "that if it came down to protecting you or getting a scratch, I’d take the scratch every time."

You let out a breath, something between a laugh and a scoff, your defenses slipping in a way that was becoming too familiar. "You’re impossible," you muttered, shaking your head. "Always playing the hero, aren’t you?"

"Only when it matters," he said softly, taking another step closer. His voice dropped to a whisper, the kind that sent a rush of warmth straight through you. "You’re important to this team—to me."

The air between you was crackling with the kind of tension that had been building for weeks, maybe even months. It was as if all the arguments, the banter, the fire had been leading up to this moment, and you both knew it.

"Hotch," you said, barely more than a whisper, taking a step closer to him. "What are we doing here?"

He took a deep breath, and you watched as his gaze flicked down to your lips for the briefest of moments before returning to meet your eyes. There was a crack in his usual stoic demeanor, the tiniest flicker of vulnerability shining through, like he was finally letting you see the part of him he always kept hidden from the world.

For once, Aaron Hotchner didn’t look like the unshakeable leader of the BAU—he looked like a man on the edge, torn between staying in control and letting his guard drop completely.

"I don’t know," he admitted, his voice rough, tinged with a hint of something you’d never heard from him before—fear, maybe, or hope. "I’ve spent a long time pretending this wasn’t happening... I don’t think I can anymore."

He took another step closer, and you could see the hesitation in his eyes, like he was terrified of making a move that couldn’t be undone. 

His voice softened, almost to a whisper, as he added, "I’ve been trying to ignore this," he admitted softly, his eyes never leaving yours, "but it’s not that simple anymore."

The words hit you like a punch to the chest, knocking the air right out of your lungs. You’d always known he was guarded, that he kept his distance as a way to protect himself, but hearing him say it out loud, seeing the raw vulnerability in his eyes—it shook you to your core.

For a heartbeat, you stood there, your emotions tangled, your heart pounding so loudly you were sure he could hear it. The weight of his words, the confession in his voice, crashed over you like a wave, breaking down every last wall you’d built between you.

"I don’t know how to do this either," you said, your own voice barely holding together, a touch of desperation leaking into your words. "I’m so used to keeping people out, and then you come along and—" You shook your head, letting out a shaky breath. "You scare me, Hotch. This scares me."

His gaze softened even further, his thumb grazing over your knuckles as he reached for your hand, holding it like it was the most natural thing in the world. "You don’t have to be scared," he said, his voice so gentle it almost broke you. "Not with me."

The tenderness in his touch, the way his eyes held yours with so much quiet intensity, like you were the only person who existed in that moment—it was more than you could take. And then, with a boldness you didn’t know you had, you reached up, grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, and pulled him into a kiss that was anything but gentle—fierce, desperate, a release of all the frustration and desire you’d been bottling up for so long.

The moment your lips met, it was like the world stopped turning. The kiss was electric, searing, filled with all the unspoken words and pent-up tension that had been building between you. It wasn’t just a kiss; it was a collision—a clash of everything you’d both held back, all the things you were too afraid to say out loud.

Hotch responded instantly, his good hand sliding to the small of your back, pulling you against him as if he was afraid you’d slip away. His kiss was just as intense as yours, almost rough, like he was staking a claim, like he’d been waiting for this moment just as long as you had. His fingers tangled in your hair, his breath mingling with yours, and he kissed you like he was pouring everything he had into it—all the fear, all the hope, all the need he’d been trying so hard to hide.

When you finally broke apart, gasping for breath, you saw that the mask had shattered completely. The intensity in his eyes was unlike anything you’d seen before—raw, open, unguarded. Finally, you saw Aaron Hotchner not as your stoic boss or your sparring partner but as the man who had somehow slipped past every defense you’d ever built.

"You," you whispered, your voice trembling with a mix of disbelief and relief, "You make everything so damn complicated."

Hotch’s lips curled into a slow, almost wicked smile, his thumb gently stroking your cheek as he held you close. "And you wouldn’t have it any other way," he said, his voice low, roughened with emotion.

"Maybe not," you said, a shaky laugh escaping despite the tears welling in your eyes. "But damn you, Hotch…you’re going to ruin me."

He brushed his lips against your forehead, soft and lingering, his breath warm on your skin. "Only if you let me," he whispered a promise in his voice that made your chest tighten almost painfully. "And I really hope you let me."

At this moment, you realized that maybe letting your guard down wasn’t a sign of weakness; maybe it was the bravest thing you’d ever done. And maybe, just maybe, you were ready to be brave with him.

Just as the charged silence wrapped around you both, the door to the briefing room swung open. You and Hotch sprang apart, a little too quickly, both of you turning to see Derek Morgan standing there with an expression that was equal parts surprise and amusement.

Morgan's eyes flicked between you and Hotch, taking in the slightly disheveled look on both of your faces. A grin spread slowly across his face, and he raised an eyebrow in mock innocence. "Whoa," he said, holding up his hands as if surrendering. "Did I just walk in on something, or is this one of those 'don't ask, don't tell' situations?"

You felt your cheeks heat up instantly, your mind scrambling for a response. But before you could even open your mouth, Hotch, ever composed and unreadable, turned to Morgan with the kind of calm authority that only he could pull off.

"We're just wrapping up, Morgan," Hotch said, his voice steady, but there was the slightest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth—one that only you seemed to notice. He kept his gaze locked on Morgan, his posture relaxed yet still protective, as though daring anyone to comment further.

Morgan's grin widened, but he knew better than to push his boss too far. He gave you both a knowing nod, eyes twinkling with mischief. "Alright, alright," he said, backing out of the doorway with his hands still raised. "I’ll let you two get back to 'wrapping things up.' Just remember, Hotch, the team’s got eyes everywhere."

As soon as Morgan disappeared, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, a half-laugh escaping your lips. You turned back to Hotch, who met your gaze with a look that was a mix of exasperation and reluctant amusement.

"Well," you said, shaking your head with a smile, "that went better than expected."

Hotch's lips twitched into a wry smile, the hint of a challenge in his eyes. "You realize this isn’t going to go unnoticed by the rest of the team," he said, his tone a little softer now, almost conspiratorial.

"Oh, I know," you replied, your smile turning playful. "But I’m not planning on making it easy for them."

Hotch’s gaze held yours for a moment longer, something unspoken passing between you—an agreement, a promise, that whatever came next, you’d face it together. And with that, the tension in the room shifted once more, the unspoken understanding between you deepening into something neither of you could—or wanted to—deny.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The rest of the night passed in a blur of paperwork, debriefings, and quiet conversations as the team began to wind down after the exhausting case. But no matter how much you tried to focus, your mind kept drifting back to what had happened with Hotch in the briefing room—the way his touch had lingered on your waist, the heat in his eyes, and the quiet promise of something more.

You couldn't shake it. Every glance in his direction sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through you, a reminder of the kiss, of the way his lips had moved against yours, demanding and tender all at once. The tension between you hadn’t just simmered—it was boiling over, and the thought of leaving it unresolved made your heart race.

As the rest of the team filtered out, leaving the office empty and quiet, you found yourself lingering by your desk, unable to shake the feeling that tonight wasn’t over yet. And then, as if on cue, you felt him before you even saw him—Hotch’s presence filling the room, his footsteps slow and deliberate as he approached.

When you looked up, your breath hitched at the sight of him. His tie was still loosened, the first few buttons of his shirt undone, and his sleeves were rolled up, revealing the bandage on his arm from earlier. There was a slight shadow of exhaustion around his eyes, but it did nothing to dampen the intensity of his gaze.

He didn’t say a word as he reached your desk, his eyes never leaving yours, and suddenly the air between you was thick with everything that had been left unsaid.

"You’re still here," he finally said, his voice low and rough, laced with something that made your skin tingle.

"So are you," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady, but the way he was looking at you made it nearly impossible. You swallowed, the tension between you two practically vibrating. "We need to finish this, don’t we?"

Hotch didn’t hesitate. His lips quirked into the faintest smile as he nodded, the movement slow and deliberate. "I think we do," he said, his voice dropping an octave. His gaze flicked to your lips for just a moment before meeting your eyes again, and you could see the unspoken question in them—are you ready for this?

You were.

He stood close, closer than he ever had before, his fingers brushing the back of your hand in a touch that seemed to linger just a little too long. He didn’t say anything, but the way his gaze dropped to your lips and then flicked back to your eyes spoke volumes. It was a silent question, one he wasn’t quite ready to put into words.

Without thinking, you leaned in, a slow, tentative movement that felt like testing the waters. His breath hitched, and just as your lips barely brushed his, he hesitated—only for a second—before closing the distance, his kiss soft and controlled, as though he was savoring a secret he’d kept locked away for too long.

Hotch responded instantly, his good arm snaking around your waist and pulling you flush against him, his lips moving against yours with an intensity that made your head spin. His kiss was demanding, fierce like he was making up for every moment of restraint, every fight, every time he’d held back. His hand slid to the back of your neck, holding you to him, deepening the kiss as his tongue grazed your lower lip.

You let out a soft gasp, and he took the opportunity to take control, his tongue slipping past your lips in a way that sent a jolt of heat straight through you. You pressed against him harder, your hands fisting in the fabric of his shirt, desperate to get closer, to feel every inch of him.

He groaned into your mouth, the sound vibrating through your chest, and it was like something inside you snapped. You reached up, running your fingers through his hair, tugging just hard enough to make him pull back, his breath coming in sharp, ragged gasps.

"Careful," he warned, his voice rough and low, his eyes dark with a mixture of desire and control. "You’re playing with fire."

You smirked, your lips brushing against his ear as you whispered, "I thought you liked that."

His grip on your waist tightened, and before you could tease him again, he spun you around, pressing your back against the nearest wall with a swift, fluid movement that left you breathless. His body pinned you there, his chest rising and falling heavily as he stared down at you with an intensity that made your knees weak.

"I do," he murmured, his lips brushing against your jaw as his hand slid beneath your shirt, his fingers skimming over your skin in a way that made your pulse race. "But I don’t think you know just how far I’m willing to go."

You shivered under his touch, your breath hitching as his fingers grazed the curve of your waist, his lips tracing a hot path down the side of your neck. "Then show me," you whispered, barely able to form the words as the heat between you both threatened to overwhelm you.

Hotch’s lips curled into a wicked smile against your skin, and without another word, he kissed you again—harder this time, more demanding, more possessive. His hands explored your body with a hunger that matched your own, sliding beneath the fabric of your shirt, tracing every curve, every dip, until you were arching against him, desperate for more.

You tugged at his shirt, fingers fumbling to unbutton it as you kissed him back with just as much intensity, your heart pounding in your chest as the desire between you grew hotter, more insistent.

"Y/N," he groaned, his breath hot against your lips as you finally managed to push his shirt off his shoulders, your hands exploring the hard lines of his chest, the warmth of his skin beneath your fingers. "God, you’re going to drive me crazy."

You smiled against his mouth, tugging him closer. "Good," you breathed, your voice a mix of teasing and need. "I’ve been waiting for this."

He let out a low, rumbling laugh, his hands sliding down your body until they were gripping your hips, holding you tight against him as he kissed you again, harder, deeper. It felt like you were both caught in a storm, a whirlwind of desire that neither of you could control, and you didn’t want to.

You didn’t know how long the kiss lasted, how many times you lost yourself in the feel of his lips on yours, the heat of his body against yours. All you knew was that it wasn’t enough—it would never be enough.

When Hotch finally pulled back, both of you were breathless, your bodies pressed so close together you could feel the rapid beat of his heart against your chest. He stared down at you, his eyes dark and full of desire, but there was something else there too—something deeper, something that went beyond the heat of the moment.

"You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this," he murmured, his voice rough with emotion, his forehead resting against yours as he tried to catch his breath.

You smiled, your fingers tracing lazy patterns on his chest. "I think I do," you whispered, your voice soft, full of affection and heat.

For a moment, neither of you moved, the intensity of what had just happened settling between you like a silent promise. But the fire was still there, simmering just beneath the surface, waiting for the right moment to burn even hotter.

The air in the bullpen was electric, the tension between you and Hotch almost crackling as you both stood there, chests heaving, lips swollen from the kiss you’d just shared. The reality of where you were hit you like a bucket of cold water, and you glanced around, grateful that the rest of the team had already gone home.

"Hotch," you said, voice still breathless, a hint of a smile tugging at your lips as you took in the sight of him—tie askew, shirt half-unbuttoned, looking thoroughly disheveled in a way you’d never seen before. "As much as I’d love to continue this… display, I’m pretty sure the FBI frowns upon public displays of—well, whatever this is."

He let out a low chuckle, the sound rumbling from deep in his chest, his hand still resting on your waist, like he wasn’t quite ready to let you go. "You make a good point," he said, his lips quirking up into that maddening smirk that drove you insane. "Wouldn’t want to scandalize the rest of the team more than we already have."

You raised an eyebrow, giving him a teasing look. "Oh, I don’t know," you said, a sly smile spreading across your face. "I think Morgan’s probably got a running commentary ready for the next team meeting. Maybe we should give him more material."

Hotch’s smirk widened, a flash of mischief sparking in his eyes. "You really are trouble, aren’t you?" he murmured, his fingers trailing lightly up your arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. "I knew it the moment you walked into the BAU."

"You sure that’s what you thought?" you shot back, your voice laced with challenge. "Because I’m pretty sure the first thing you said to me was how I needed to 'fall in line' if I wanted to survive on this team."

Hotch let out a short laugh, the kind that sounded like he was finally letting himself enjoy this. "And you’ve been driving me crazy ever since," he said, his voice softer, almost reverent, as his thumb brushed across your cheek. "In the best possible way."

You felt your cheeks flush, but you couldn’t help the smile that broke across your face, the one you couldn’t hide anymore. "You know," you said, tilting your head slightly, your tone shifting back to playful, "for a man who claims to be the master of control, you really have a habit of losing it around me."

He raised an eyebrow, his smirk turning almost predatory as he leaned in, his lips brushing just shy of your ear. "Oh, I haven't lost control yet," he whispered, his voice a low, dangerous rumble that sent a shiver straight down your spine. "But keep pushing, and I might just have to show you what that really looks like."

Your breath hitched, and you had to fight the urge to pull him back into another kiss right then and there. Instead, you pressed your hand against his chest, pushing him back just slightly, a teasing smile playing on your lips. "Promises, promises, Hotchner," you said with a wink. "But you’re right—we should probably get out of here before this turns into an official FBI incident."

He chuckled, shaking his head slightly, but the fire in his eyes never dimmed. "My place or yours?" he asked, the question laced with a hint of playfulness that made your heart skip a beat.

You pretended to think about it for a moment, your lips quirking up into a sly grin. "Yours," you said decisively. "Wouldn’t want you thinking I’m too comfortable letting you into my world just yet. Gotta keep you on your toes."

Hotch’s eyes sparkled with amusement, his smirk widening into a full grin. "Ah, so we’re back to this, are we?" he said, shaking his head as if he couldn’t quite believe how much he was enjoying this. "Fine. But don’t think this means I’m going to let you win our next argument."

You laughed, the sound coming out light and genuine, surprising even yourself. "Hotch," you said, leaning in close enough that your lips almost brushed his, "you never had a chance of winning. I’ve been three steps ahead of you since day one."

His expression softened, his eyes locking onto yours with that intensity that always made you feel like he was seeing right through you. "And that’s exactly why I’m not letting you out of my sight," he said, his voice rough with honesty. "You’ve already got me hooked."

Your teasing smile faltered for a heartbeat at the sincerity in his voice, and you felt the air between you shift—deepening into something more than just banter, more than the physical pull you couldn’t resist. You reached up, cupping his jaw in your hand, and for a moment, you let yourself just look at him—this man who’d somehow become everything you never knew you needed.

"You coming or what, Hotchner?" you finally said, pulling back just enough to flash him a challenging smile, the one he loved to see on your face.

He let out a breath, his smile softening into something almost tender. "Oh, I’m coming," he said, taking your hand in his, lacing his fingers with yours as he pulled you toward the elevator. "And don’t think for a second that I’m letting you out of my sight."

As the elevator doors closed behind you, the teasing banter between you faded into silence, replaced by a different kind of tension—one that promised tonight was only the beginning of something that neither of you could walk away from now.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The car ride to Hotch’s apartment was silent but not the uncomfortable kind. It was the kind of silence that crackled with tension, filled with every word neither of you dared to speak aloud. Every glance he stole in your direction made your pulse quicken; every brush of his hand against yours made your breath hitch just a little. You were both wound tight, like two live wires sparking dangerously close.

When you finally reached his place, Hotch opened the door with a practiced calm, but you could see the fire still simmering just beneath his composed exterior. He let you step inside first, and the second the door clicked shut behind you, something seemed to shift between you—a silent understanding that whatever happened next would change everything.

"You know," you said, turning to face him, your voice teasing but your smile almost too genuine, "I never thought I’d end up here, with you, of all people."

Hotch raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth as he took a slow step toward you. "Trust me," he said, his voice low and rough, "I never planned on it either. But somehow, you’ve got a way of turning my plans upside down."

You let out a breathless laugh, the kind that felt like a release of all the pent-up tension between you. "I guess I have a knack for getting under your skin, huh?" you teased, taking a step closer to him, so close now that you could feel the heat radiating off his body.

"Under my skin?" Hotch murmured, his gaze darkening as he reached out, his hand cupping your cheek with a tenderness that made your heart skip a beat. "You’ve done a lot more than that."

He leaned in, his lips just a breath away from yours, the anticipation almost unbearable. But before he could close the distance, you pulled back slightly, a mischievous smile playing on your lips.

"Easy there, Hotchner," you said, a teasing lilt in your voice. "Are you sure you can handle this? I wouldn’t want you to lose control on me now."

He let out a low chuckle, shaking his head, and in one swift movement, he had you pinned against the wall, his hands on either side of your head, caging you in. His face was so close to yours that you could feel his breath against your lips, warm and teasing. "Oh, I’m more than ready," he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper, "but don’t think for a second that I’m letting you call the shots tonight."

Before you could muster a retort, his lips crashed onto yours, the kiss fierce and consuming, a raw release of everything you’d both been holding back. This wasn’t the careful, testing kiss from before—this was a battle of wills, a clash of all the fire and passion that had been building between you for so long.

You responded just as fiercely, your hands fisting in the fabric of his shirt as you pulled him closer, your mouth opening under his, desperate to taste every inch of him. His hands slid to your hips, gripping tight as he pressed his body against yours, pinning you to the wall in a way that left no space between you.

You pulled back just enough to catch your breath, your lips brushing against his as you whispered, "Come on, Hotchner, that’s the best you can do? I thought you’d at least make me work for it."

His eyes flashed with something wild and hungry, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Oh, sweetheart," he murmured, voice rough like gravel, "I’m just getting started."

Without another word, he scooped you up in his arms, his grip firm yet gentle, and carried you through the hallway, his lips never straying far from yours. He kicked open the door to his bedroom, the darkness of the room swallowed up by the heat between you two. He set you down on the bed with a deliberate slowness, his eyes drinking you in like he was memorizing every detail.

"You have no idea how much you’ve messed with my head," he said, his voice a mix of frustration and longing as he leaned over you, his fingers brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. "How many nights I’ve spent wanting you, hating you for making me feel this way."

You reached up, cupping his face in your hands, your thumb tracing the line of his jaw. "Believe me," you said softly, all the teasing gone from your voice, "I know exactly how you feel."

Hotch's expression shifted then, something raw and unguarded flickering in his eyes, and he crashed his lips onto yours again, this time with a desperation that bordered on reverence. He kissed you like he was pouring all his unspoken words into it—all the frustration, the longing, the need that he’d kept buried for so long.

You tugged at his shirt, pulling it off him in one swift motion, and his hands followed suit, sliding under your top, lifting it over your head with a quick, impatient motion. His fingers traced the bare skin of your waist, sending shivers down your spine as he drank in the sight of you like he was seeing something he’d been waiting for his entire life.

"You make this harder than it needs to be," he said, his voice a rough whisper against your lips, his hands caressing your skin with a touch that was both tender and possessive. "But I wouldn’t have it any other way."

"Good," you murmured, your lips brushing his as you smiled, that fiery spark still dancing in your eyes. "Because I’m not done driving you crazy yet."

His answering laugh was low and rough, a sound that made your toes curl. "Bring it on," he growled, his mouth crashing onto yours once more, claiming you with a kiss that left no room for doubt, no space for second-guessing.

This wasn’t just a moment. This was everything—the culmination of all the fights, the banter, the fire you had both sparked from the beginning. The dance had finally peaked, and you knew there was no going back now.

As he pulled you closer, his hands mapping every inch of your body with a hunger that matched your own, you realized that you didn’t want to go back. Not to the arguments, not to the distance, not to the days of pretending this wasn’t inevitable.

Whatever this was—this fire, this madness, this undeniable connection—you were both all in, ready to let it burn as bright and as hot as it needed to.

And as his lips moved over yours, the night stretching out ahead of you, one thought echoed in your mind with a clarity that was impossible to ignore: This was only the beginning.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The first light of dawn crept through the blinds of Hotch’s bedroom, casting soft shadows across the room. You blinked awake, a lazy smile spreading across your face as the events of the night slowly came rushing back—how it had started with teasing banter and ended with the two of you tangled together in ways that left no room for ambiguity.

You turned your head slightly to see Hotch lying next to you; his face softened in sleep, a look of peacefulness that you rarely saw on him. The lines of stress and worry that usually creased his brow were smoothed out, his breathing even and slow. At this moment, he looked almost boyish, vulnerable in a way that made your heart squeeze just a little.

Careful not to wake him, you let yourself watch him for a moment longer, taking in this rare sight of Aaron Hotchner—not the stoic leader of the BAU, not your sparring partner in the bullpen, but just a man who’d let his walls down for you.

Just then, Hotch’s eyes fluttered open, and the soft sleepiness was quickly replaced by that intense gaze that never failed to set your pulse racing. He gave you a small, almost shy smile—a look you hadn’t seen on him before and one that did dangerous things to your heart.

"Morning," he said, his voice low and rough from sleep, the sound sending a pleasant shiver down your spine. His hand reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face, his touch gentle, almost reverent.

"Morning," you replied, unable to keep the smile from your face as you met his gaze. "So, about last night…"

A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, and he raised an eyebrow in that infuriatingly charming way of his. "You mean the part where you practically tackled me against the wall or the part where you admitted you’ve been three steps ahead of me this whole time?"

You let out a breathy laugh, rolling your eyes playfully. "Oh, please," you said, leaning in slightly. "If I recall correctly, you were the one who said you were 'just getting started,' Hotchner."

He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that made your stomach flip. "Touché," he said, his fingers lightly tracing circles on your bare shoulder. "But I have to say, if this is what happens when we stop fighting, I’m not sure I want to go back."

You paused, the teasing smile fading slightly as you looked at him, something softer, more vulnerable settling in your chest. "You’re really okay with this?" you asked, your voice quieter now, the question carrying more weight than you intended.

Hotch’s expression shifted, the playfulness giving way to something deeper, something that spoke of sincerity and warmth. He reached out, taking your hand in his, his thumb brushing gently over your knuckles. "More than okay," he said softly, his eyes locked on yours. "I know this changes everything, and that scares me a little—but not as much as the thought of pretending this didn’t mean something."

You opened your mouth to respond, but he stopped you with a gentle press of his lips against yours—a kiss that was so different from the ones last night. It was soft, slow, like he was savoring the taste of something he’d finally allowed himself to have.

When he pulled back, you gave him a lopsided smile, your voice teasing but with a hint of tenderness. "You know, for a guy who spent so much time trying to get me to fall in line, you’re awfully good at breaking your own rules."

Hotch let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head. "Maybe I’ve always been a little too good at breaking them when it comes to you," he said, a hint of that old mischief dancing in his eyes. "Besides, it’s only fair—you’ve been breaking down my walls from the start."

You arched an eyebrow, smirking at him. "Who knew all it took to get through to the great Aaron Hotchner was a little bit of sass and a lot of stubbornness?"

"Trust me," he said, his smile turning soft, almost shy again, "it’s more than just the sass and stubbornness. You’ve always had a way of seeing through the tough exterior, straight to the heart of it all. Even when I didn’t want you to."

The sincerity in his words made your heart skip a beat, and for once, you found yourself speechless. You stared at him, the man who had always seemed so distant, so unreachable, now lying here beside you with his guard completely down.

"You know," you said finally, your voice barely more than a whisper, "I didn’t expect this to happen."

"Neither did I," Hotch admitted, his hand tightening around yours, "but I’m not sorry it did."

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. "I’m not sure how we’re going to explain this to the team. You know they’ll never let us live it down."

A slow, wicked smile spread across his face. "Oh, I’m counting on it," he said, leaning in closer until his lips were just a breath away from yours. "Besides, I’m pretty sure they already have us pegged as the bickering married couple of the team. This will just confirm their suspicions."

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the smile that crept onto your face. "Oh great, so now we’re giving them material for years to come. Just what I needed."

Hotch chuckled, his lips brushing yours in a kiss that was playful and sweet yet still carrying that hint of fire that never seemed to go away. "Well, if we’re going to give them something to talk about," he murmured against your lips, "we might as well make it worth their while."

You raised an eyebrow, your smile turning into a smirk as you gave him a light shove. "You’re impossible, you know that?"

He grinned, pulling you back into his arms, his voice a low whisper against your ear. "And you wouldn’t have it any other way."

You realized he was right. You wouldn’t have it any other way. The fire, the fights, the laughter—it was all a part of what had led you here, to this moment, to him.

And as the morning light continued to filter through the window, warming the room, you knew that whatever happened next, you and Hotch were in it together.

And that was more than enough.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Walking into the BAU the next morning felt different—like the air itself had changed. As you and Hotch stepped into the bullpen, you couldn’t help the way your shoulders brushed, the way his gaze lingered on you just a moment longer than usual. The two of you had agreed to keep things professional, at least while on the job, but there was an undeniable shift between you—like a secret that wasn’t much of a secret at all.

As you both moved to your respective desks, trying your best to look like everything was perfectly normal, you were acutely aware of the way the team's eyes tracked your every move. Morgan and JJ were huddled near the coffee station, grinning like they were in on the world’s biggest joke, while Garcia’s jaw practically hit the floor the second she spotted you two.

"Well, well, well," Morgan said, straightening up with a grin so wide it looked like it might split his face in two. "If it isn’t the lovebirds gracing us with their presence. How was the night, you two?"

You rolled your eyes, a hint of a smirk tugging at your lips. "Please," you said with a dismissive wave of your hand, "you act like this is something new. We’ve been driving each other crazy for months."

"Oh, trust me, we noticed," JJ chimed in, her grin just as wide as Morgan’s. "But judging by the way you two walked in this morning, I’m guessing the banter took a… different turn last night?"

Hotch, ever the picture of composure, adjusted his tie as if this was just another day at the office. "I’m not sure what you’re implying, JJ," he said in that calm, collected tone of his, though you could see the hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

"Oh, come on, Hotch," Garcia said, practically bouncing on her toes with excitement. "So, anything new happening here that we should know about?

"Remind me to never play poker with any of you," you said dryly, raising an eyebrow at the lot of them. "You can’t hide anything."

Morgan leaned against his desk, crossing his arms with a knowing smirk. "And here I thought the toughest thing to crack in this office was the newest unsub," he said, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Turns out, it was the two of you."

Hotch offered a small, controlled smile, giving Morgan a pointed look but saying nothing, his silence more telling than any words.

"Exactly," you said, turning to Hotch with a grin. "Might as well own up to the fact that I’ve been right all along, and you’ve been falling behind since day one."

"Oh, is that how you remember it?" Hotch replied, raising an eyebrow in challenge. "I seem to recall you being the one who couldn’t keep up."

You felt a laugh bubbling up, the banter between you as natural as ever, but now it was tinged with something lighter, something softer. "Keep telling yourself that, Hotchner," you said, crossing your arms with a teasing smile. "We both know I’m the one who’s three steps ahead."

Morgan let out a loud laugh, shaking his head. "Oh, this is going to be fun to watch," he said. "You two are never going to stop, are you?"

Hotch gave Morgan a look that was both calm and controlled, but there was a slight softening at the corner of his mouth, a hint of a smile that only you would recognize. "Let's try to keep it professional," he said in his usual authoritative tone, though you could see the glimmer of amusement hidden in his eyes.

You couldn’t help but smirk at his response, the challenge still present between you even if he wasn’t openly saying it. "Of course, Hotch," you said with a touch of mock seriousness. "I wouldn’t dream of making things too easy for you."

Hotch’s lips twitched ever so slightly, almost imperceptibly, as he turned back to his desk, his expression as unreadable as ever to the rest of the team. But in that brief glance, you saw it—the silent promise, the unspoken words that lingered between you: this is far from over.

The rest of the team exchanged amused glances, their smiles wide and knowing. It was clear that this was the moment they’d all been waiting for, the confirmation of what they’d suspected for far too long.

As the team gradually settled back into their usual routine, you felt Hotch’s hand brush lightly against yours, a subtle touch that sent a thrill through you. You turned to look at him, and he gave you a small, private smile—a look that was meant only for you.

"Think you can handle the rest of the day without causing too much trouble?" he asked, his tone teasing but his eyes warm.

"I don’t know," you said, leaning in just a little closer, your voice a soft whisper only he could hear. "Trouble seems to be the one thing I’m really good at."

Hotch’s smile widened, and he shook his head slightly, a glimmer of affection in his eyes. "Good," he said softly. "Because I have a feeling we’re just getting started."

And as the day carried on, with the team throwing you both teasing looks and sly smiles, you knew that things were never going to be the same again. The banter, the fire, the arguments—they were still there, but now they were wrapped in something new, something deeper.

And this time, you were both all in, ready to face whatever came next together.

The worst-kept secret in the BAU was out, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Tag List:

@zaddyhotch @estragos @todorokishoe24 @khxna @rousethemouse

[anticomedygarden]

hair

Annabeth had a complicated relationship with her hair.

also on ao3

-

"Ow!" Annabeth whined when Thalia pulled on another messy blonde tangle.

"Sorry," Thalia said, probably for the millionth time. The older girl was kneeling behind Annabeth on the floor of their current hideout and attempting to get the knots out of Annabeth's hair. None of them really knew the last time it had been brushed - probably not since she ran away. "I don't really know what I'm doing here."

"You just gotta unknot it!" Annabeth said. She didn't see why it was so hard; Thalia was 14 and should know how to untangle hair by now. Annabeth did.

Thalia laughed at her, but it sounded strained. "I don't even have a brush, Squirt. Plus, I've never had long hair."

Annabeth's mouth dropped open. "Really?" She thought all girls had long hair at some point.

"Yep."

"Why?"

"I don't really like it. I like yours, though." Annabeth beamed, at least until Thalia tugged again, and she whined.

Suddenly, there was another set of hands in her hair. "Let me help," Luke said.

Thalia put a hand against Annabeth's back, and the younger girl tried not to buck it off. She was independent! "You can try, but I don't know how much better it can get without a wash and a brush."

Luke sighed. "I can at least try."

(Annabeth had never particularly cared about her hair. It wasn't that she didn't like it or anything, she just really didn't have any strong feelings toward it. She liked that it's there, liked the comforting weight and extra warmth in winter, but she'd figured out at a young age that the yellow color did nothing but hinder her in her pursuits, so she didn't bother with it. She could deal with it, but she wouldn't put any extra effort into it.)

When Annabeth left the showers, Percy was waiting on the steps of her cabin, lurking awkwardly.

"What are you doing?" she asked. It was a surprise, to say the least. She would've expected him to be hanging out with Grover or training in the arena. Besides, she had just gotten out of the shower. A blush worked its way into her cheeks.

"I don't know, I thought we could hang out," he said. Then, he caught sight of her fingers tangled in her knotted hair. "What happened?"

Her blush deepened. "It hasn't recovered from the quest yet." And she hadn't had the patience to brush it out in the few days since they'd been back, compounding and compounding the knot until she couldn't get it out if she tried. "I might have to cut it."

"Oh." Percy looked at her funny and stood, then made a move like he was gonna touch her hair. She stepped back on instinct, and he raised his hands. "I can try and get it out."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Seriously?"

"I can work a brush." He almost sounded offended.

Normally, she would refuse, balking at the prospect of someone touching her hair, but after the quest, she found she didn't mind the thought as much as she thought she would. Plus, the knot was really bad, so he couldn't make it much worse, and it'd save her a lecture from Silena. She shrugged. "Fine."

Then, she went and got her hair brush from her bunk and went back out the door and sat on the step in front of him.

"Holy crap, what did you do to it?" he exclaimed.

She turned to give him a disbelieving look. "I went on a quest! When do you think I had time to untangle it?"

He didn't really look like he believed her, but he didn't say anything else.

"All right," he muttered. The first pull through had her jerking her head back and grabbing his hand behind her.

"Don't try and do it all at once, you'll just make it worse," she scolded. "Start from the bottom."

She felt him gently pull the lower half of her hair and start brushing it. "Sorry."

"It's fine."

After a minute, she relaxed, actually kind of enjoying the feeling. It was nice.

Finally, he finished and handed her back the brush. "I'm done."

"Wait, really?" She reached back to feel her hair and sure enough, it was back to its usual wavy strands, unknotted and flowing. "How'd you do that so fast?"

He shrugged. "I dunno. It probably helped that it's wet. Do you wanna spar?"

Mouth still open, she nodded. She'd have to keep that little affinity of his in mind.

(As she got older, she couldn't help but think that indifference was an asset. Quests certainly didn't provide any time or supplies for hair care. Plus, having Percy around made sure it was wet with dirty water half the time, so why try.)

"Remind me why we're out here, again?" Percy asked as they picked their way through the forest.

"Because Tyson said he smelled something funny," Annabeth answered. "And be quiet, you're gonna scare whatever it is away."

Percy stuck his tongue out at her but stopped talking, and they continued walking through the forest until they heard a sound from a ways away.

They froze. One look and they were heading off toward the noise.

It soon became apparent they were heading for nothing as the ground beneath their feet became squishier and squishier.

Then, there was another noise, and she stopped abruptly.

Too abruptly, apparently, because the next thing she knew, she was face down in muddy swamp water.

Groaning, she didn't stay down long and jumped up, knocking Percy over into the water. (He'd be fine.)

"What the Hades, Seaweed Brain?" she said.

He stood slowly. "Why'd you stop?"

"I heard something," she said, reaching up to get some of the gunk off her face. When she touched her hair, though, she paused. It was soaked through with the brackish water. The only thing that could clean it now was a good shower.

Well. It's not like she really cared all that much.

That was her only consolation as they trudged back to camp.

(She didn't think she'd ever want to chop it off; no, it was a part of her, a part she did kinda love on good days, even if it was a nuisance. And she loved having that connection to Percy, and Silena, in a way.)

"Damn, girl, what did I tell you?" Silena said from her spot behind Annabeth's chair. The older girl was attempting to rescue the blonde mass from its latest adventure, and Annabeth was afraid it wasn't looking too good.

"I was kidnapped by a titan, I couldn't exactly take care of it," Annabeth grumbled, wincing when Silena gave a particularly rough pull. She'd been sitting in this chair for years for the daughter of Aphrodite to cut her hair and just generally take care of it, and she still couldn't stand watching herself in the vanity mirror. She looked away.

"Well, I'm afraid I may have to cut it."

"That's fine," she said. It wouldn't be the first time. She looked at herself one final time to mourn the current length and caught sight of the grey streak. "Wait!"

"What?" Silena said, sounding surprised. "What's wrong?"

"Are you sure you can't untangle it?" she asked.

Silena sighed and picked up the knot of hair again. "I can try, but it'll take a while."

"That's fine," Annabeth said definitively. Hair grew at approximately half an inch per month, but Annabeth wasn't sure how the stress from holding the sky would affect the growth rate or the return to its normal color. However, she wasn't going to hurry the process along, at least, not as long as Percy still had his.

Not that she would ever tell anyone that.

So she sat as patiently as she ever had while Silena untangled her hair.

(Probably the longest Annabeth ever went without brushing her hair was when Percy was missing. Without his fingers to run through it or Silena to pester her about it, she just didn't think of it. Or want to think of it.)

"Okay, no. Come here."

Annabeth looked up from the map she was staring at on a table in Bunker 9 to see Piper walking towards her. "What?"

Leo glanced over from whatever project he was working on with a similar expression of bewilderment on his face. Clearly, he didn't know what Piper was talking about, either.

"Annabeth, your hair. When was the last time you brushed your hair?" Piper asked exasperatedly, steering Annabeth to sit down in a chair.

"I was in the middle of something," Annabeth protested.

"You can go back to staring at that map after I fix this rat's nest," said Piper. "Seriously, I know you have a brush. When was the last time you used it?"

Accepting her fate, Annabeth just shrugged. Her hair was rarely, if ever, on the front of her mind.

When Piper attempted to drag a brush through it, they both winced. "Oh my gods, there's a ponytail in here? How long has that been there? And how long has it been since you washed it?"

Once again, Annabeth shrugged. She honestly had no idea, though, come to think of it, it had been pretty itchy lately.

"Okay, well, that ends now." With that, Piper went to work on the knot, attacking it with the brush. "I'm gonna have to cut the ponytail out."

Annabeth startled. "Wait - the hair or the rubber band?"

"The rubber band," Piper said, causing Annabeth to breathe a sigh of relief. She knew it was stupid, but she didn't want there to be any risk of Percy not recognizing her when they found Camp Jupiter. "Your hair is completely wrapped around it."

Without waiting for a response, she whipped out Katoptris and sliced the rubber band out. Annabeth's hair didn't move much.

"Good lord," Piper muttered. "Here we go." The daughter of Aphrodite then went at the knot with the same vigor as Annabeth going at a training dummy. It did not feel good.

Piper was far less gentle than her sister. Piper was far less gentle than Percy.

Annabeth didn't like that thought, didn't like thinking of the dead, and she really didn't like thinking of Percy as missing.

But when she squirmed to try and get away, Piper gripped her shoulder, keeping her from standing. "Piper, I-"

"Hold still."

"I can do it-"

"But you won't, will you?" Piper said, raising an eyebrow.

Even Annabeth had to admit that she was right, but that didn't make it any easier. "I promise I'll-"

"No," Piper said with finality. However, it was what she said next that rooted Annabeth in place. "Let me do this for you, please."

She paused. It had never occurred to her that Piper might be trying to help in whatever way she could, that she didn't have the mechanical skills to help build the ship or the memories to help try and pinpoint where exactly Camp Jupiter was. "Fine."

"Thank you."

So, she sat there while Piper untangled her hair and only winced every so often.

Finally, probably an hour later, she was done, and they both stood. "Now, you're going to go eat dinner, then you're gonna shower, and then you're gonna go to bed."

Annabeth blanched. "I still have so much work to do."

Piper put her hands on her hips. "And it will still be there in the morning."

They stared at each other, neither one willing to relent, until Leo giggled from across the bunker. "Someone's in trouble."

Piper snorted. "I don't know why you're laughing, Repair Boy, you're going, too."

Annabeth didn't have to see his face to know his mouth had hit the floor. "I never agreed to that!"

Piper's eyes narrowed, and she went to grab Leo from his work bench. "I don't care." She pointed at the door. "Now, both of you, dinner, shower, bed."

There was no way Annabeth would agree to that, not when there was still so much work to do on the ship, maps to study, star charts to examine - really, she didn't have time. "How about dinner and bed, then shower in the morning?"

Piper's eyes hardened from where she was dragging Leo by the collar over to the door, then she pushed Annabeth's back until the blonde was also standing outside the door. "Dinner, shower, bed." She turned around to lock Bunker 9 behind them. "And for the love of the gods, wash your hair. Yes, Leo, both of you."

(Annabeth needn't have worried about Percy recognizing her. She probably could have shaved her head and painted her face to look like Iron Man, and he would recognize her, even in the depths of Tartarus.)

"What do you think of me cutting my hair?" Annabeth asked.

Her and Percy were limping along the Phlegethon at the approximate rate of a Zamboni in a swamp. Pain and soreness had settled into every corner of her body, but Annabeth was somehow thinking of her hair tangled at the back of her neck and stuck to her face with sweat, and how the hell she would fix it if they made it back to the mortal world. (When. When they made it back to the mortal world.)

She barely felt Percy turn to look at her. "I think you should do whatever you want with it."

Aw. She probably should have predicted that. "Come on, tell me the truth."

He paused. "You know I love your hair."

When he didn't say anything else, she pressed her fingers against his waist. "But?"

"But," he started. "But it's your hair."

"I know that," she said with more force than she meant to.

If she could see anything in the dark, she would've seen his brows furrow. "Do you really wanna get rid of it?"

She bit her lip. "No." She couldn't bear to let go of everything it meant to her now, the memories it carried beyond just the grey streak: Thalia, Luke, Silena, Piper, Percy. It was hers to care for, hers to maintain, and she hated that it took Tartarus for her to realize that. "I just don't know how it's going to recover from this."

"Hey," he said, stopping them. "It's gonna be fine. It'll get through it." She gave him a disbelieving look, though she wasn't sure he could see it. "Do you know how I know?"

Her hands fiddled with the back of his shirt where they were wrapped around his waist. "How?"

"Because it's so bright that it's one of the only things I can see right now."

She pressed her face into his chest. "All right. If you say so."

He rested a cheek on her head. "I do."

(Then, of course, there were the practical purposes.)

"Okay, I think I'm finally getting this," Percy said above her.

"Thank the gods."

He had been messing with her hair for about two hours now trying to figure out how to do a French braid. Without technology, his only resource was a book he found at the library, and it wasn't like Annabeth knew how to do it.

Though she may want to learn soon for the same reason Percy was. He was gonna have a little sister, one that, for all intents and purposes, would probably grow up with Annabeth as an older sister figure which was absolutely insane for her to think about. She technically had plenty of experience as a counselor and an actual older sister (though that qualification was debatable), but it was a whole other thing when it was Percy's baby sister.

It was very hard not to think of Silena, and even harder not to think of Thalia. If she was half the older sister to the new little girl that Silena and Thalia were to her, she would have succeeded.

But for now, she could help Percy learn to be a big brother.

(So maybe she did love her hair. Just a little bit.)

[cottoncandyafterdark]

Senku Discovering Reader is a Mermaid (Drabble)

Fandom: Dr Stone

Character(s): Senku Ishigami

Warnings: None

Notes: Requested by LadyIshtar on ao3! Well, they requested this premise with a few other characters too, and I will write those at some point, I am working on them, but it's been forever since I've posted anything on ao3, so I figured I'd just go ahead and post Senku's, which I finished a bit ago, just to like, prove I'm alive lol. Thanks for your patience by the way, everyone, my classes are over for the semester so I'm gonna try to write more often for the next few months til they start again! Enjoy!

Senku stared. Just... Stared. You weren't sure you'd ever seen him so speechless before.

"Um..." You laughed nervously. "Surprise...? I, um, wanted to tell you sooner, but I didn't know how, I didn't really think you'd believe me...."

He blinked quickly, and finally seemed to snap back to reality.

"You were right, I wouldn't have believed you, if you'd told me instead of showing me. But..." He approached and placed a hand on your tail. "This is real." He ran his hands over the scales, and you couldn't help but shudder a bit. "Either that, or you spent hours upon hours making it look and feel real as hell to trick me into looking stupid."

"It is real-!" You started to protest, but Senku laughed.

"I know. You wouldn't do that, you're much too sweet to pull that kind of prank." He chuckled again and you blushed, but he quickly shifted back to an intense look of curiosity and analysation, trying to put everything together in his head- you smiled. Senku really never did change.

"So. How does it work?" He asked. 

"What do you mean?"

"Well, a lot of things, but let's start with the fact that you usually have legs. Currently you have a fish tail. How do you do that?"

You shrugged. "It just happens naturally when I'm submerged in water."

"Hm." He ran a finger down the middle of your tail, almost like he was looking for a seam- there was none, of course. You twitched a little, not used to the sensation of someone touching the tail you've worked so hard to keep hidden, though it wasn't unpleasant. It kind of felt nice, actually, in the same way that someone running their fingers through your hair would. "Does it hurt?"

"No, not at all. It just wears off after a little while when I dry off."

"Interesting...." He knit his eyebrows together further, surely already trying to figure out exactly how that could possibly work. 

You almost didn't want to say it, but you had to- "Honestly, Senku, I think it's just magic."

Senku, to your surprise, laughed. "You know, they used to call lightning strikes and solar eclipses "magic", too. Once we understand how it happens, it stops being magic, and starts being science. Which is why you're coming back to the lab with me as soon as you get your legs back."

His enthusiasm was infectious. You couldn't help but smile a little bit too, although the idea of being analyzed and experimented on made you... A bit nervous. But it was Senku. You knew he'd never hurt you. "Just remember that I'm your partner, Senku, not a science experiment," you gently chided him anyways, just to keep him on-track.

"Of course , I couldn't forget that. But can you blame me for being curious?"

"No, of course. I wouldn't expect anything else from you." You smiled up at him, and he finally looked up from your tail to give you a reassuring smile back. It almost felt silly, now, that you'd put off telling him the truth about yourself for so long. You really shouldn't have expected anything else.

[asnowdriftsomewhere]

Daylight pt 7

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

Cassian x f!reader

AN: Sorry this took so long! I was working on other writing projects, and this was put to the back burner, but i hope you still enjoy it!

Also, if you like this, i am writing an OC/Helion/Azriel story over on Ao3 called A Court of Myth and Rain :) Go check it out!

Summary: The fall out from dinner

Warning: talk of illness and death

Word count: 1336

“What the hell was that?” Cassian hissed at Mor while she pretended not to see him and continued idly drinking from her glass of wine; as if she hadn't just pulled a truth from you that had shaken him to his core.

“Y/N is in the garden with Elaine and Feyre is putting Nyx to bed,” Rhysand slipped his hands into his pockets as he entered his office where Cassian had all but dragged Mor after she released you from her power. It had terrified him to realize what she was doing to you. How even after he'd told her to stay out of it, she'd still taken it upon herself to force you to tell everyone things you clearly weren't ready to talk about. Even more than that, it absolutely broke him how you simply shut down once she let you go. How your eyes went vacant and your face remained blank. Every tear that slid down your cheek was like a knife to his gut, and he planned to make the female in front of him answer for everyone.

“I did you a favor,” Mor kept her face impassive as she finished her glass. “Now you know what she was hiding. You said it was bothering you.”

“I said she wasn't a problem,” he crossed his arms over his chest. “I told you to leave it alone.”

“You said there was something off about her,” she pointed out with an arched brow. “I've never known your instincts to be wrong, so I decided to get to the bottom of it.”

“The problem Mor,” Rhysand stepped in as Cassian released a growl of frustration, “is that Y/N is not a threat, she never has been and your use of your power to force her to reveal her private information is more than just a betrayal of Helion as our ally. You violated her.”

“I protected this family,” she seethed at him, “Something you seem incapable of doing lately. I will not apologize for making sure she wasn't going to slit Cassian's throat in his sleep. Or destroy the library with all the Priestesses still in it. You just let her into our home, Rhysand. A stranger who could destroy everything-”

“This is about Keir?” Cassian demanded, cutting her off. “Seriously, Mor? You did that to an innocent female because Rhys made a deal with your father?”

“He has nothing to do with it,” she growled as the glass in her hand shattered to pieces.

“Regardless,” Rhysand's lips were a tight line as he looked at his cousin. “Y/N has been a trusted advisor for Helion and his father before him for more than three hundred years. I've been aware of her existence since before Under the Mountain, even though I'd never met her before a few weeks ago.”

That made Mor pause, her eyes softening just a touch, “You have?”

“I have,” he confirmed, his voice hard and expression tense. He simultaneously looked guilty that Mor was still so angry at him and equally furious that she used her gifts on you. Forced you to tell a truth you did not want to share. Not yet.

Mor's frown shifted into a look of regret, “I didn't know.”

“No, you didn't,” Rhysand sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Where do we go from here?”

“I have to talk to Y/N,” Cassian crossed his arms over his chest. His wings tucked in tight as he looked at his High Lord.

Rhys nodded, “Make sure she's okay and if she's not,” violet eyes flicked towards Morrigan and back again “get her whatever she needs.”

“Handle this, Rhys,” Cassian's tone was low, a warning.

“Take care of her, Cassian.” There was no warmth in his brother's voice. The voice of the High Lord.

Without another word, the Illyrian turned and left the room. The moment he was alone in the too quiet hall, he felt the world slip out from under him. She was sick. Y/N was sick. And she didn't know if it was worth it to try and fight her disease or if she should just let it kill her. He didn't know how to process it. How to comprehend it. The fae did not get sick like humans did. Succumbing to seasonal viruses or a chill that sets into their bones. Fae illnesses were lethal, nearly every time.

Y/N was sick. It was nearly a guarantee that she would die, and Cassian could do nothing to stop it - to save her.

He didn't know why the news gutted him as it did. He didn't know why he felt like he was falling without beginning or end and that cruel darkness was swallowing him whole. He didn't know when this mystery female made of sunbeams and a gentle breeze had become whatever she was to him. He didn't know when she had shifted from a mere curiosity to something integral.

Elaine appeared before him. Brown gold curls and fawn colored eyes filled his vision as she placed a soft hand on his cheek and wiped away a stray tear that had trickled down his face.

“Pull yourself together,” she ordered, her voice sounding nothing like the gentle female he’d come to know. It was enough to startle him from the spiral his thoughts had taken him in. He blinked at her, and she held his gaze. “She has enough to deal with. Don't make your emotions her problem.”

Cassian nodded, and she dropped her hand as he wiped his eyes clear of tears. Once he'd regained his composure, he looked to the middle Archeron sister who studied him closely before seeming satisfied. She handed him a hot mug of tea and gestured towards the doors that led to the garden still blooming thanks to her careful dedication.

Taking one more calming breath, Cassian pushed open the doors to where you were sitting in a lowback chair. Your eyes were wide and clear as you watched the stars twinkle. Your hands were clasped together in your lap, and your head was tipped back as the lights seemed to dance and shine for you even as you sat so still below them. Your skin glowed faintly in the dark, a flicker of gold that had the flowers around you leaning in as if to drink in the daylight you brought with you wherever you went.

Cassian went still to see you there. An angel with broken wings. Fallen star longing for home.

“Are you going to stand there, General, or are you going to join me?” Your voice was low and breathy, as if you were exasperated by him, and he felt something sink in his chest.

“I brought you tea,” he answered you slowly as he set the mug in your hands and sat down in the seat beside you.

“Thank you,” you whispered. Your voice was still as brittle and broken as it had been when Mor had pulled the truth from you against your will. You didn't blame the female. You understood why she did it. If someone was a threat to the people you loved, you would burn the world down before you let a hair on their head be harmed. That didn't mean you were okay with it. You felt betrayed and violated, and it would be a long time before you could face the female that had done this to you.

“Y/N…” Cassian started but trailed off as his gaze met yours. His eyes were so sad, so unsure as he tipped his head to the side and searched for something to say. Anything to fill the silence.

You sighed deeply and turned back towards the sky. “Look at the stars, General.” You let the ghost of a smile pull at the corners of your lips as you spoke, “Look how they shine.”

Cassian obeyed. Turning his head to the night sky that enveloped you, he looked up, and together, you watched the stars shine.

Part 8

[reina-petrova]

You Have My Word ・❥・ Elejah

“Elena, you don’t have to just be a doppelgänger… you have to be a virgin. So, theoretically, if you lost it to someone, the ritual wouldn’t work.” “Are you serious?” “Yes, but there’s a catch…” “Of course there is. What is it, Bonnie?” “It has to be with an Original.” ↳AU where Elena discovers that Klaus’s hybrid ritual requires a virgin doppelgänger sacrifice and Elena never lost the V-card. Now her only hope is a certain Original. Set around season 3 during ripper!stefan and pining!Damon, post Elijah!haircut and post Elena's 18th birthday.

↳Warnings: Smut, virgin kink, dirty talk, light dom/sub undertones if you squint.

↳6.7k words

↳Cross-posted to AO3 here

↳Song rec: Terrible Thing by AG (A/N: this is just a silly AU fic that popped into my head, it’s only a vehicle for smut so be forewarned the canon details/timeline may be off 🤪)

・❥・

[text: 2:48pm] I found something. Call me l8tr. - Bonnie

Elena let out a shaky breath at the text in front of her. She finished putting the last of her books into her locker and slung her bag over her shoulder. She could hardly look away from the text as she shut the metal door closed, typing a quick response to Bonnie in the meantime.

[text: 2:49pm] I will. Thx B. - Elena

It almost seemed too good to be true, and as Elena returned to her car, she allowed herself a brief moment to envision a happy ending where Bonnie's new plan would actually work and they'd kill Klaus. Stefan would return to her. The Originals would be gone. Her town would be safe. She'd live.

Still, after so many run-ins with the supernatural, she'd learned to keep a healthy dose of reality mixed in with her positivity. Every plan was sure to work until it wasn't, and unfortunately, the last few indeed hadn't. It wasn't her life she was so worried about saving, it was everybody else's. With Klaus gone, they would be safe. But while Bonnie searched for any answers she could find, putting in all this time and effort, Elena had to at least try.

The moment she arrived home, she called Bonnie.

"Hey Elena,"

"Hi Bonnie, you said you found something? What's going on?" Elena sat down onto her bed with a small sigh.

"Yes and no. It's more of a loophole than anything else." Bonnie seemed a bit unsure, which gave rise to uncertainty in Elena. She prepared herself. Nothing was out of the question anymore.

"Okay, I'm ready."

"Like I said before, most of my grimoires don't go back far enough for the hybrid ritual, it's way too old. But I did find something in my oldest one, a description of it that included a word I've never seen before - virgino, in Latin."

Elena paused at that. She couldn't be hearing this correctly.

"As in...?"

"Yep. Virgin." Okay, so she had heard correctly.

"So what does that mean?"

“Elena, you don’t have to just be a doppelgänger… you have to be a virgin. So, theoretically, if you lost it, the ritual wouldn’t work.”

Elena's brows furrowed in confusion. She'd never heard that part of the ritual before. She wondered how accurate this description of the ritual could possibly be.

“Are you serious?”

“Yes, but there’s a catch…” She heard Bonnie's voice grow more dim, and she knew it was nothing good.

“Of course there is. What is it, Bonnie?”

“Well... in order to ensure total loss of purity... it has to be with an Original.”

・❥・

“Thank you for meeting with me, Elijah.”

Elena’s fingers fidgeted around the coffee mug, her nails tracing over the width of it with anxiety. Elijah inclined his head politely, sitting opposite her at the Mystic Grill. It was far from a private place to speak, but Elena chose it for that very reason. Though the conversation was awkward at best, she didn’t know how she’d react if the two of them were alone. She didn’t even know how he’d react.

Despite all his wisdom, she knew he’d never guess why she’d asked to meet here.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, Elena?”

He cut a handsome figure, wearing a perfectly tailored black suit that accentuated his shoulders with a matching black collared shirt underneath. The shirt opened at his throat and exposed the smallest peek of his clavicle. His hair was shorter now, brushed back and away from his face. A gold ring encircled one of his fingers. Noticing these details certainly wasn’t helping her nervousness. She swallowed the dryness in her throat at sound of the word pleasure.

Their “relationship” was built on shifting sands and she knew that, a tentative trust that both she and he tested the boundaries of. This would certainly cross the next three boundaries.

“Well, Bonnie was reading more into the hybrid ritual, trying to find a loophole. Trying to find our opportunity to kill Klaus.”

Elijah’s eyes searched hers but he said nothing in response, patiently waiting for her to continue. The words seem to spill out of her mouth as slowly as possible, yet her heart rammed in her rib cage. She was grateful he couldn't read her mind but doubtless he heard that at least.

What if he says no? How embarrassing would that be? And if it happened, how would she even explain to Stefan and Damon why suddenly the ritual wouldn’t work? Why it had to be Elijah?

“Yes.”

His smooth voice broke her from her reverie. She cleared her throat and tried again, taking another sip of her coffee. Matt had courteously slipped an extra something in her coffee when she’d asked, figuring even a drop of liquid courage would do her some good. It burned like a low ember in her stomach. Elijah’s tea stood in front of him, untouched.

“She found one other way that the ritual could be dismantled, apart from all the other options.” The other options being actually dying, becoming a vampire, etc. She’d gladly give her life if it meant her friends and town were safe, but killing Klaus would ensure safety forever. She had to at least try.

“Apparently, it’s not just the sacrifice of the doppelgänger… it’s the sacrifice of a virginal doppelgänger. So if the doppelgänger is no longer... you know, it won't work.”

Elijah’s brow furrowed, and she held some small victory in the fact that she was able to catch him so completely off guard. It made her feel less ridiculous in suggesting this, but also showed that not even the Originals knew all.

“But how can this be? I’ve never heard of such a requirement.”

“I guess it’s just one of the old failsafes from that era, tied in with the idea of innocence and purity in the face of…” She trailed off hesitantly.

“Evil.” He finished for her with a slow smile. She allowed herself a small smile in return.

When silence settled upon the conversation once more, Elijah took up the mantle, shifting to lean closer to her across the table. “And I assume you are a-“

“Yes.” The word was barely a whisper but she knew he heard it loud and clear.

Elijah raised his brows in some surprise, a smirk crossing his lips for the briefest of flashes. His hands quickly moved the teacup to the side of the table, the drink long forgotten. His fingers tapped slowly at the wooden table in thought, and Elena took a small breath into her lungs and held it.

“Forgive me, but with both Salvatore’s at your heels, and if I recall their history with Katerina-“ Elijah’s palm turned upwards, his eyes casting downwards for a moment.

“I am not Katherine.”

Then his gaze flickered up to hers, amusement clear in his warm brown eyes. She thought she saw a small look of admiration somewhere in those eyes.

“No. You are certainly not, Elena.”

Elena took another sip of the coffee, begging for the alcohol to provide some inspiration. As it was, her words were failing her and they hadn’t even gotten to the brunt of it. Part of her hoped he’d ascertain it himself without her even needing to say it. Though she wouldn’t be surprised if he wanted to hear he’d say it either. Elijah was a noble man, and he ensured any and all terms of a deal were clear. He was the key to their plan to kill Klaus, and innuendos would never do, not when there was so much on the line. Thankfully, he wasn’t one for vulgarity either.

“So, if I’m understanding correctly, there’s only one thing left for you to do.” The amusement still never left Elijah’s eyes and it made her squirm in her chair. His gaze was so intent and heavy on her, his presence commanding. He was a man unlike she’d ever known. “But I’m assuming there’s a reason you called me here.”

"Yes." Here goes nothing. "The only way to ensure the total-“ she cleared her throat again. “-loss of purity is for it to be with an Original.”

Realization dawned on his features in the blink of an eye. Then, ever so slowly, she watched his face darken with something else. Her eyes dropped back to her fingers, nails digging into her nail beds. She wanted to disappear, to melt right into her chair.

“And further ensure the division of the family.” Elijah murmured. “If it can only be an Original, then only Niklaus’s own family can betray him.”

A small knot of fear tied itself in Elena’s stomach. If he refused, if he changed his mind about killing Klaus, all hope was lost. She tried her best to gauge his reaction, but he was unreadable at best, a stone statue at worst. Elijah never let his hand slip, and she could no more understand him than she could an ancient language.

Suddenly, her nerves got the better of her. The caffeine outweighed the alcohol, and she felt herself standing to her feet, grabbing her bag from the back of the chair.

“I’m sorry, this was a ridiculous idea. We’ll find another way-“ She took no more than a step away from the table, prepared to flee the building when she felt his hand take hers gently.

“Elena.”

He pulled on her hand slightly, just enough that she stepped back towards him and towards the table. Even in the smallest, most delicate of gestures, she felt his strength thrumming in his fingertips. She turned to face him, and he’d stood to his full height, his broad frame dwarfing hers.

It was then that she allowed herself the opportunity to even process what she was asking. She’d been so caught up in trying to kill Klaus, prevent any more innocent lives lost, that she hadn’t thought about what this would. mean. Her and Elijah. Together.

A flash of their bodies intertwining appeared in her mind, the heat of his hand on hers suddenly feeling like a searing flame on her skin. The knot of fear began to dissolve, and something else pooled in her lower stomach.

The same feeling she saw in his eyes just then.

Four little words, and despite herself, she felt her heart flutter.

“You have my word.”

・❥・

“I can’t believe this is happening.” Bonnie repeated for the fifth time that evening. Elena shot her a half annoyed glance, to which Bonnie grinned in response.

“I know.” Elena repeated for the sixth. All too well. Though she had a feeling she had no real idea.

Elena sat down into the bed with a quiet sigh. Bonnie had brought the grimoire where she found the loophole so Elena could see it for herself. Though her Latin was nonexistent, there was no denying that word. Virgin. She'd even brought a few extras she didn't have time to go through earlier in case they had any other information to offer. So far, nothing. The books shifted slightly towards Elena in their careful piles as her weight settled into the covers.

“What about Stefan? I thought you guys were waiting.”

The reminder of Stefan struck a chord in her heart, but one that had been struck too many times lately. She believed in her and Stefan’s love, but with him firmly in Klaus’s grasp, she could hardly recognize him. As it was, she had little time to wait.

“Stefan’s lost right now, Bonnie. And if this could get him away from Klaus and save his life, I’m going to try.”

“And Damon?” Bonnie offered quietly, with some note of derision in her voice. Elena knew how she felt about him, but there was also no denying Damon's obvious feelings for her, and how protective he'd become. It was almost too much to think about. Instead, she stood up and began aimlessly tidying the room, putting things away in random drawers. What does one do to prepare for this situation?

“He doesn’t know- he can’t know. He’ll lose it. He’ll say it’s a bad plan.” Along with a few choice words for Elijah and maybe a dagger dipped in white oak ash. Then they’d have no plan.

“Well I wouldn’t say it’s a good plan.” Bonnie responded sardonically.

Elena’s mouth dropped in fake disbelief as she put her diary away.

“This was your idea!”

“You’re the one going through with it! And I mean, Elijah? He’s kind of scary.”

“As opposed to who?” Elena responded with a mirthless laugh. “And he’s not that scary. He’s just… aristocratic."

“No? Oh.” Bonnie teased coyly. “I forgot how well you’re acquainted…" She cocked a brow at Elena's pattering around the room "Are you actually cleaning right now?”

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.” She admitted. “How does one seduce an Original?”

Bonnie started flipped some of the grimoires closed, and Elena looked up nervously at the clock. He would arrive in 30 minutes. Anticipation buzzed through her veins at the thought. Bonnie slid off the bed once the books allowed a path and stood in front of Elena, taking her hands in hers as a show of strength.

“I'm sorry, Elena, this is a big deal. Your first time but it comes with the caveat of saving your life and everybody else's. Not to mention it's happening with a thousand year old vampire. Just be your normal, charming self. This is a common interest of killing Klaus and nothing more.”

“Right,” Elena smiled. Nothing more. Right?

“But-“ Bonnie reached behind her and pulled one of the drawers she’d just shut open and retrieved her hair brush. With a shrug, she handed it to Elena. “Couldn’t hurt.”

Elena smirked and took the hairbrush from her hands, combing it through her locks gently.

・❥・

After Bonnie left, Elena paced for another ten minutes incessantly. She'd brushed her hair, done minimal makeup, but left herself in her usual outfit of jeans and a tank top. Anything else felt like it was trying too hard.

She sat down onto edge of the bed and glanced at her phone. A few messages from Damon and Caroline. Nothing from Stefan. She dropped the phone onto the bed and waited. With each passing minute, she felt her heart beginning to race faster and faster.

This is insane. How is this my life?

The fact that it was happening in her bedroom was even stranger. Elijah had been inside of her house before but this was something else entirely. He'd been perfectly gentlemanly in allowing her to choose the location, but there weren't many options. Elijah had no permanent domicile as of yet, and a hotel room felt too seedy, even the nicest one in town; though he'd even assured her he'd take care of the cost.

Only after she ensured Ric and Jeremy wouldn't be home did she suggest her place, a small level of familiarity in this situation. She wasn't afraid per se, but the way her body reacted to his was jarring. There was something deeply forbidden about it, and she couldn't help but be drawn to it. Being home would help ground her.

His knock came, short and sweet. Elena's heart nearly jumped out of her chest as she stood up and walked down the stairs to let him in. Her fingers curling around the knob, she took one more quiet breath. No going back now.

She opened the door to Elijah standing on her porch, clad in his usual tailored suit. The black fabric looked heavy and luxurious with the way it laid on his shoulders, accentuating his broad frame. The dark shirt he was wearing that afternoon was replaced with a crisp white one, and the tie he wore was black to match the jacket. There was stubble on his jaw, she noticed with a note of appreciation. It gave him a slightly more disheveled look than usual. Her nervousness began to melt away at the sight of his handsome face and his calm demeanour.

He was wearing the same gold ring as before, and she only noticed when she spotted the crimson red rose in his fingers. With a smile, he extended it to her. "Elena."

"Elijah." Elena reached out and took the rose from his hands, giving a slight smirk. "A flower. Very symbolic of you."

Elijah let out a quiet laugh. "I assure you, I meant no such innuendo. It didn't seem right to come without a gift."

"Well, it's beautiful. Please come in."

He stepped in as invited and she shut the door behind him. Now that they were well and truly alone, her heart picked up the pace once more, but she busied her fingers with the stem of the rose so as not to betray it. The man was a thousand years old and undoubtedly had known countless women. Her experience to his could not pale more in comparison. "I'm sorry, this is a bit... overwhelming."

"Undoubtedly."

Elijah stepped towards her slowly, closing the distance between them more than they ever had before. Elena stared upwards at him, her eyes barely at the level of his lips. His gaze was compelling but warm as it fell upon her, and she felt a breath hitch in her lungs at the nearness of him. "I want to make this experience comfortable for you, Elena. Your terms."

Elena nodded slowly, swallowing back her saliva. "Should we go upstairs?"

Elijah inclined his head with a small smile to which Elena smiled back. As intimidating as he could be, he was trying to put her at ease, and she appreciated it. She led the way up the stairs and to her bedroom, Elijah trailing behind. Once upstairs, she placed the rose delicately on the top of the dresser and then turned to face him.

Elijah looked incredibly out of place in her bedroom. Finely dressed and with an air of sophistication only a thousand years on earth could garner, he was like an ancient relic pulled straight from the history books. He looked better suited to a battlefield than a modern-day bedroom. But if he was ill at ease, he certainly never showed it.

His eyes met hers again and Elena's stomach flip-flopped. He had barely even touched her yet, and she was already reacting so viscerally to the vampire in front of her. Again, snapshots of their bodies entwining flashed in her mind like a promise of what was to come. Amusement crossed his chiseled features and he raised a hand to gently place his thumb and forefinger on her chin. "I can hear your heart beating, Elena."

Beating was an understatement. It felt like it was about to pop out of her chest. His touch on her face certainly wasn't helping that matter.

"Are you nervous?"

She thought before answering, their eyes searching each other, trying to gauge the other's feelings. But despite what she'd initially thought... she wasn't. Excitement thrummed within her, her arousal beginning to simmer at the seductive way he seemed to be looking down at her. He knew exactly what kind of power he held, and he enjoyed it. It was unnerving, but it was thrilling.

"No."

"Good. I want you to enjoy yourself, Elena. To let go and give in." To me, his eyes seemed to say. Give in to me completely. She managed a nod but found that words had escaped her completely. Was he moving in closer?

His fingers never dropped from her chin and she had nowhere to look but directly at him. Warmth bloomed from inside her stomach, her body signalling just how much she wanted to give in.

Using his other hand, he lifted a single finger to trace over the curvature of her neck, beginning from her collarbone all the way up to where her jaw began. His finger pressed just so behind her jawbone where her pulse was strongest, and she felt her blood sing in response to him.

"I meant what I said. Your terms. You're in complete control."

"I know..." Closer still. Their lips were a hairsbreadth apart.

"Yes?" She could feel the smile in his lips.

"Yes."

His lips met with hers and she felt herself crumble. His kiss was as captivating as she could've imagined, without a trace of insistence. He was telling the truth; the pace was in her hands. At first, shyness won out. Elena returned the kiss slowly at first, but as her lips deepened, so did his.

His hand had fallen from her face and instead, he pressed his palm to to her mid-back. It dipped no lower. Ever the gentleman, she thought, unable to supress the smile between their kiss.

He seemed to sense her amusement because his hand fell lower not a moment later, placing itself into the small of her back. He pressed her body closer to his, her chest landing flush with his as though he were challenging her.

Something sparked within Elena as the warmth of Elijah's hand spread through her hips. A need to know, a need to discover. She found the courage to touch him back, raising her hands to slip over his shoulders, fingers delicately tracing over the back of his neck. The fabric of his suit was soft to the touch, his skin softer still.

She'd done some things with Matt and Stefan before, but with Elijah, it felt as though she knew nothing at all. In this, she wanted him to take the lead. It seemed he intended to to some degree as both of his hands came down to her waist, the large expanse of his hands burning through her shirt. Desire began to take over, and their kisses grew deeper still. She ran her fingernails along the nape of his neck, coming down to scratch over his shoulders.

His hands pressed into her hips again before he broke the kiss. Elena felt how flushed she was, cheeks pink and lips swollen from his amorousness. She saw a muscle work in his jaw and he regarded her with half-lidded eyes. He raised a graceful hand and indicated towards the bed with a half-smirk.

"Please."

Elena pulled herself away from Elijah and obeyed, sitting on the side of the bed before lying down. Not once did she look away from him as he shrugged his jacket off, then loosened the knot of his tie. Desire pooled in the deepest parts of her at the sign of him so untidy. He looked like every woman's dream as he unbuttoned the cuffs of his white shirt and rolled them up slowly, exposing tanned forearms corded with lean muscle.

He returned to her, eyes appreciatively slipping from her neck downwards to her chest and her hips. "Good girl."

Slowly, he leaned down and captured her lips in a kiss again, his arms on either side of her head. The night had fallen in earnest now, the single lamp she left on providing a faint warm glow in the room. Elijah’s body swallowed her, the broadness of his shoulders and the dimness of the room entombed her in what felt like an eternity of him.

Elena reached up and twirled her fingers around his tie, giving an experimental tug to pull him down closer to her. He chuckled against her mouth and she did it again, pleased with the way his weight settling on her felt.

"Not that good." She whispered against his mouth.

"No? Show me."

Passion reignited, his mouth was suddenly everywhere. On hers, trailing kisses along her jaw, her collarbone, between the valley of her breasts. When his mouth stopped where her shirt ended, his fingers tugged upwards at the bottom of it, and she broke the kiss to pull it over her head.

With practiced ease, he unbuttoned her jeans and began to tug them down. She sat up slightly to help pull them off, then fell back in only her bra and underwear. Just before he could continue, she reached for one of his hands and tentatively placed it between her legs. Elijah raised his brows at her but acquiesced.

One arm outstretched between her thighs, the other bent as he hovered over her, he gazed down at her with darkened eyes. "I think you'll be good for me."

Elena's breathing pitched into a soft moan as she felt Elijah's fingers press against her underwear. Moving softly but with intent, his index and middle finger rubbed upwards, careful to barely brush against her covered clit, just where she needed him most. Her hips shifted at the pleasure, lips parting as another moan escaped her lips. His fingers were trained and precise.

"Won't you?" He asked, and she could hardly piece together a sentence. His voice was deep enough it reverberated in her chest. She felt herself growing wetter and she knew he could feel it too.

"Yes, Elijah."

"Mm."

She reached for his tie again to pull him down into another kiss. In the meantime, his fingers brushed the edge of her underwear aside and as his fingers slipped against her pussy, she gasped into his mouth. Finally, after a few moments, his fingers slowly came to her clit, and she felt every nerve sizzle in her body at the feeling.

He pressed another kiss to her lips as his fingers slowly slipped inside of her, and she suppressed another moan into his mouth. They moved slowly, collecting her wetness and teasing her. Her hips bucked lightly, chasing the feeling.

"So innocent... What do you want, Elena?" His fingers paused over her clit and she let out a soft whine at the cessation.

"I want you to touch me, Elijah. Please."

His touch felt like electricity as his fingers returned to run against her clit, and her body tensed as the pleasure swam through her. She already felt spent and yet he was still fully clothed.

Her hands reached for his shirt, but his hands captured hers before she could even the score. "Not yet. Not until I think you've had enough."

Her head and shoulders fell back onto the bed as his fingers picked up their pace. He alternated between slipping inside of her and pressing his thumb against her clit, until the energy building inside of her threatened to spill over. Her hands found his shoulders and her fingernails dug into his shirt at the pleasure, brow creasing as it threatened to overtake her.

Finally, with one last roll of his fingers, she felt the wave crash into her, sending ripples of sparks down to her very fingers and toes. If he were a mortal man, the grip she had on his body would've left marks. Elijah's mouth swallowed the last of the moans escaping from Elena's lips as his fingers rode out her orgasm, his thumb occasionally brushing against her sensitive clit, causing her to jump.

"I like the sight of you like this, sweet Elena. Undone, writhing. Your pleasure in my hands."

"And yours in mine." She panted.

Elena pushed up on Elijah's shoulders and he allowed it, the positions reversing until she straddled his hips. His hands came up to her waist, gripping it as she slowly rolled them over his. His desire was evident in the bulge of his pants, and it gave her immense satisfaction to know she had the same effect that he did on her.

Her fingers made quick work of his belt, unbuttoning while pressing her hand against the outline of him. He released a quiet groan at the feeling of her touch, and she wanted to hear more. His fingers came away from her hips to divest himself of his tie properly, slipping the satin from around his neck.

She slid from off his hips and stood at the foot of the bed, leaning over to tug him towards her by the loop of his trousers. He stood, his shirt half unbuttoned and creased, and his belt hanging around his hips. Elena felt herself grow wetter as she sank to her knees in front of him, and he watched with dark eyes as she began to pull his trousers and underwear down, just low enough to release his cock.

He was long and thick in her hand, and his head fell back as she leaned forward and licked a trail from shaft to tip. Slowly, she took him into her mouth, licking and sucking his heavy length until she could take him no more.

A deep growl emanated from Elijah’s chest, his hand coming up to rest against the back of her head. He let her set the pace, but his fingers knotted themselves in her hair as she swirled her tongue around his tip, tasting every last inch of him.

“You wicked little thing.” He sighed, his jaw clenching and his muscle tensing. She could see he desperately wanted to move his hips, but stayed in full control as she pressed him deeper into her mouth.

She placed her hands on his thighs, gripping the fabric of his trousers to give herself more balance, and she felt his fingers brush the hair away from her face and behind her ear before lightly collecting it into his grip. The small gesture made her heart skip as she set a quick rhythm.

He groaned again in pleasure, allowing himself a few more moments before delicately tugging on her hair to bring her back up to standing position. In a flash, the moment she stood, he had her trapped against the wall, his chest pressing into her shoulder blades. Her fingers bent and scratched against the wall, seeking purchase as her lungs seemed to give out. His scent enveloped her. His mouth was hot against her ear.

“So innocent and yet so wicked. So ready to be defiled. Will you give into me, Elena?” Give in, her mind whispered.

She found herself pushing back against the wall to be closer to him, the outline of his body providing delicious heat against hers. She felt his strength emanating from every muscle, both hands pressed on either side of her. Using one hand, he tilted her jaw until her neck was exposed to him. For a moment, she thought he would drink from her, but instead, he placed gentle half-kiss-half-bites along the slope of her neck. His hand then dipped to her back where he quickly unhooked her bra and slipped it off her shoulders. Her underwear was tugged down until it fell. Goosebumps rose all over her skin at the thought of being fully naked in front of Elijah Mikaelson.

“I want to give in, Elijah. Give me all of you.”

Her back was pressed into the mattress before she realized, her body softly settling on the bed. Elijah undid the last of the buttons on his shirt and pulled off his trousers.

“So beautiful.” He murmured, his hand coming up to cup her breast, thumb tracing over her pebbled nipple. Elena sighed at the feeling.

Elijah’s body was just as beautiful, she thought. The expanse of his chest was strong, his abdomen and arms both lean with taut muscle. A deep V-line followed into his hips, his cock erect.

Just as their lips moved to reconnect, Elena’s eyes met his again. Suddenly, this became more than just breaking a ritual. Both were entrenched in their desire, desperate to for release in the other’s body. Nervousness bubbled up inside of her again as she realized it was time. Everything else she had done before, but not this. She knew generally what to expect of sex, but certainly not when it came to a thousand year old vampire being her first.

“I’ll be gentle.”

Elena nodded at his kind words, fingers reaching up to his shoulders again. He balanced on one arm as the other reached out to touch her slick heat, and instantly, she felt the unreleased desire come flooding back. Satisfied, Elijah slowly guided himself between her legs.

Her chest arched upwards at the feeling. Heat spread from her hips as her pussy stretched to accommodate his length. True to his word, he moved slowly as he rolled his hips towards her, sinking deeper into her with every breath. She could feel him gauging her reaction and moving only so long as she allowed it.

Elena felt as though she might burst from the feeling, her breathing devolving into moans as he settled himself to the hilt inside of her. One of her legs was bent, the other laid straight, and one of his hands gripped her thigh as he used the other to balance himself over her, watching her face.

Once the burn of the stretch passed, pleasure began to trickle in. He felt immense inside of her, overwhelming in every aspect of his body as he stilled his hips against hers.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes- yes.” Her eyes fluttered closed.

“Does it feel good, Elena?”

He slowly rolled his hips back and she let out an involuntarily moan at the feeling of him moving inside of her. When he rolled his hips forward again, pleasure erupted from within her, and her nails dug into the skin of his shoulders.

“Yes, yes!“

Elijah pressed a kiss to her lips, and obeyed. He set a slow but sensual rhythm to his hips as he moved in and out of her with deliberate care. Any discomfort long forgotten, Elena felt her own hips moving in tandem, hissing in delight at the friction their hips created.

He chuckled at her reaction. “So good for me.”

The praise was like an extra douse of kerosene to the flame.

“Please, Elijah- more.”

“More what? Hm?”

All the while, he never stopped moving, his hips picking up a faster pace. In that moment, the hand resting on her thigh slipped between their two entwined bodies. His fingers immediately located her clit, and the combination of him pumping in and out of her, and his thumb pad rolling against her clit, her moan nearly turned into a scream. She could hardly think past her own name.

“Use your words, Elena. Tell me what you want.”

But she couldn’t. Her body shook with pleasure, her nails digging crescent shaped impressions into his skin.

“I’m so close, please…”

His fingers and hips slowed down ever so slightly, and she whined at the feeling of her release slowly ebbing away.

“Do you want more?” He asked again.

“Yes.” Her voice was thick with desperation. All she could think about was the way his hips moved in between her thighs. The length of him hit all of the most inner parts, sending shockwaves of pleasure up her spine. She wanted more of anything he would give her.

He slowly pulled out of her, releasing his grip on her and flipped their positions once more. He kneeled behind her on the bed while she lay flat on her stomach, then he slowly moved until his body hovered over hers.

She pressed her thighs together, trying to gain back some friction, frustrated at the loss of him. She felt him press a kiss to her shoulder blade and in the same moment, he lifted her hips and slowly slid back into her.

She gasped at the feeling, her hips rising to meet his, and he settled back onto his knees, gripping her hips as he set a quicker pace. She felt herself dripping between her thighs, moans slipping past her lips as Elijah thrusted in and out.

She was desperate for release, and as his hips stuttered a bit, she knew he was too. He reached forward for her, pulling her back towards him until her back was pressed to his chest once more. One arm encircled her waist while the other hand reached for her clit. She nearly folded at the feeling, but his arm kept her to him, and suddenly she was right at the precipice of her release once more.

“Will you be good for me, Elena?”

She managed a nod, fingers digging into his forearm. His cock and fingers were relentless against her, and she felt like she was about to scream.

“Yes, I’ll be good for you, Elijah, I’m so- so close.”

“So good...” He murmured. “Cum for me.”

The pleasure erupted inside of her, her hips stuttering and her pussy clenching around him as she reached the brink of orgasm. Elijah groaned at the feeling of her coming undone around him, his hand falling away from her clit. He gripped her to him and thrusted inside of her a handful more times before spilling inside of her. Elena relished in the feeling of him in those last moments before he released her.

It was done.

Elena collapsed onto the bed with Elijah close by, unable to move, to think, even to breathe. He shifted himself over so as not to crush her, the pair panting deeply in the thralls of their desire.

The phrase total loss of purity echoed in her mind as she opened her eyes and looked upon Elijah. The shameless way she begged for him, the way her hips moved in search of him. She had corrupted herself entirely. Defiled by an Original.

In more ways than one, they were linked together forever.

After a minute, their breathing settled into silence.

“Do you think it’ll work?” She whispered.

Elijah looked over at her, sitting up slightly. He raised a hand to gently move one of the strands of her hair away from her face. It felt as intimate as anything they'd just done. The heat having died down between them, there was nothing left to do but face the music.

"I have long learned to keep hope at bay whenever Niklaus is involved."

Elena nodded. Of course he was right, but she tried not to look too concerned. He seemed to notice.

"I hope you don't regret this night too deeply if it does not. I recognize what a sacrifice this must've been for you."

Elena shook her head, mirroring him as she slowly sat up as well.

"I don't regret it, Elijah."

He smiled softly, and she returned it.

"Neither do I."

・❥・

The next morning after Elijah left, Damon arrived at her house. She could tell he was relieved that she was indeed alive, but simultaneously annoyed at having been ignored. He wore his usual leather jacket, black jeans and boots, with a few strands of black hair falling into his eyes. She couldn't help but compare the two men that were at her door just a few hours apart. A leather jacket and a suit.

"Oh good, you're still standing. Would've been nice to know." He raised his cellphone up as he crossed the threshold. "You know these nifty little things called cellphones? I called like three times."

She'd passed out almost immediately after Elijah had left, though she'd only been able to sleep a few hours before she couldn't ignore Damon any longer.

"Sorry, I just fell asleep. Bonnie and I were going through some old grimoires trying to find something." I hope that's convincing enough. She'd even made sure to shower and change after Elijah had left, not wanting Damon to risk sensing anything had been awry. She led him upstairs back up to her bedroom, desperate to go back to sleep.

"And? Did our witchy encyclopedia find anything?"

"She did, actually."

"Mhm. I bet."

Elena looked over at Damon with a raised brow at his suspicion and he met it with a smirk.

"You hatched a plan, didn't you?" He did the eye thing. Elena blinked and turned away, giving a noncommittal shrug.

"Not really. It was barely a plan."

"Fine, don't tell me." Damon closed the space between them with a single stride until he was looking down at Elena. He gave another smirk. "Just promise me it wasn't anything stupid."

Elena smiled. "You have my w- I mean, I promise."

Damon nodded once, then reached over her shoulder to grab something from her dresser. Elena's heart dropped when Elijah's red rose came into view. Damon twirled it between his fingers with narrowed eyes and a crooked smile.

"What's this, then?"

・❥・

Fin.

[seekerwingzcg]

KinkTober #6: Anonymous Interface (D-16/Orion)

(Sado/Maso wasn't working out so I changed it)

Aaaaaaandd, it's a mini fic! :)

Fanfic below👇(and also on my AO3 in bio in the next two days)

Tension

By: Peace_Through_Empathy

          D-16 and Orion were drilling in the mines and had been hard at work for the past three days. It felt like it was never going to end.

          Once he filled up a cart with energon, D-16 kept drilling, entranced on his job at hand.

          Orion pat his shoulder with a distinctive clink next to his left audial, “Hey, Dee, I'm about to check in with Elita and see how progress is going. I'll come pick up whatever you uncover when I come back to you.”

          Dee turned and nodded, giving him proper optic contact to show that he had acknowledged him. Once he saw Orion fade off and disappear to the right down a corridor, he continued his work. 

          How he wished he could just put down the drill and hit the washracks. The dust agitated every seam and his frame needed refueling but it was just part of a miner's work, he decided.

          Orion was uncomfortable emotionally. He wanted badly to just hide away for the evening and recharge to forget the day and allow the day's events to melt away with a good nap.

          Elita stood in the center of the main mining hub as Orion came up to her, “We've finished another cart full. How's our progress?” He stood tall, looking up into her optics.

          Her expression lightened and her lip curved into a smirk as she typed in another cart mined, “Looks like our group is owed a free day. You and D-16 have done us some good. Go ahead and take a break. I'll let D-16 and the others know via com.”

          “O-of course! Glad to hear we're making a difference.” Orion smiled, his shoulders raising with positivity. That had improved his dampened state of mind, “Thank you! Oh, and by the way, I wish you best of luck on that promotion!” He added, quickly heading out of the mines and towards the washracks to clean up.

          As he walked away, he could hear her communicating with the others. He knew for a fact Dee would be happy to hear the good news as well. That had given him a plan.

          The simple thought of getting some more time to spend with him was enough to tighten his equipment under his interface panels. He hadn't been able to use them much and this would be the best opportunity before getting stuck back in the mines.

______

          After getting some energon and cleaning up, D-16 went to the barracks and began walking to his locker to grab a data pad to type on until he saw a note stuck in his locker door.

          “Suspicious” he thought to himself as he pulled it away, unfolding it to read it.

          “I've been interested in you for a long time and I think we should get together. I'm hidden in plain sight during the day, I'm just afraid to let you know how I feel. If you're up for a little frag in the dark, meet me in the maintenance closet on this hallway and find me for a good time at exactly midday. Don't be late. If you are, I'll be gone.”

          Dee’s spike burned with a desire he had never felt before and couldn't help that this sounded fun. He had nothing to worry about, really, and wanted to interface badly. He couldn't remember the last time he had overloaded.

          That had settled it. He was going to do this. He spent the last joor freshening up even more-and possibly using the time without other bots around to give his valve a little love. It was going to be a great day. He could tell.

____

          Orion had his energon beside a window then walked down the hallway. It was almost a few minutes before D-16 would be visiting him. He looked around nervously and when he saw that no one was around, he went in, locking himself inside.

          Dee was down the hallway and walked down the corridor with a burning desire. He was very excited to say the least. He could feel his spike dripping transfluid in its housing.

          He walked up to the maintenance room door and knocked, “You wanted to ‘face?” He said, voice rumbling, attractive even to himself.

          Hidden to the side, he opened the door. Once Dee walked in, the door snapped shut behind him. The lock initiated and Orion could tell that Dee’s optical adjusters were disabled because he was staring into the darkness, smirking mischievously.

          D-16’s servo slowly slid down to his spike panel. A click was heard as his spike bounced out, eagerly dripping transfluid.

          Orion stared in awe at its erect state. He had not seen Dee’s spike in all its glory. He let his instincts take hold and opened his valve panel, dribbling fluids down to his knees joints.

          Dee heard the snap and began panting, “Soo, how is this situation going to-” Orion’s aft made impact passionately and his spike tip slid in, drawing a long, drawn out moan from Dee. He knew that he would probably disappoint if this mystery mech wanted a long session. His spike throbbed and he pressed forward, feeling the valve ripple around him.

          Orion couldn't speak. It would give him away, but he weakly whined as he began grabbing his hips from behind to pull him. He eventually leaned against the wall and felt D-16 begin hungrily humping him into it, his feral grunting turning him on more and more as he trembled in Dee’s grip.

          “You have a sopping wet valve, gorgeous. Ohh, you must want me badly. I can't wait to find out who you are. Aah, I'm not g-gonna last very long. I apologize.” Dee continued sweet talking him and felt his hips up. They felt familiar and he had no idea how. There were only a few bots he had ever touched there. It didn't matter. He was feeling all of his tension build in the head of his spike.

          Orion begged for more by pushing his hips further up his spike, eating the thing to its hilt. Hopefully Dee understood that he was telling him “It's okay, Dee. Let it out.” How he wished to actually talk back. That only caused him to to draw nearer to the end.

          Dee could feel a servo trail to his hip and pull him closer. That in itself was enough to almost lose it. “I- I'm so close! Ahh, C'mon. Jus’ tell me who it is… I need you to let me kn-” that's when a loud groan rumbled underneath him.

         “Aah, come! P-please!” Orion couldn't help it anymore. His valve fluttered around Dee in an attempt to wait it out, but he was losing the battle. His valve cycled down and little whimpers filled the air as he coated the wall and his own pedes in transfluid.

          Dee’s processor couldn't help but fill with thoughts of Orion and his spike followed in a massive overload. Waves pulsed through him and he moaned against the side of the other bot’s audio as they both fell to the floor onto their knees.

          Once the panting and moaning stopped, Orion felt a difference in the touches against his hips, pulling him off of the floor and stroking his helm.

          “Orion… Let's do this again very soon. I feel so much better.” Dee turned him to embrace Orion properly, giving him a passionate kiss.

          All Orion could do was blush. He couldn't hide it. He had wanted him so badly that he simply couldn't keep quiet. 

          They made out and interfaced again and again and eventually dragged their exhausted frames to their recharge slabs to get the best rest they had ever had with servos intertwined this time.

By far one I sucked a bit at cuz it was rushed, but I like the thought of them not knowing who it is and finding each other out lol

[crosshairs-dumb-pimp-gf]

"I want you there ..."

Tech Grief Ficlette

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Warnings: Sad, Grief.

Summary: A grown up Omega has some news for an old friend.

WC: 661 Read on Ao3

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Omega’s boots crunched along the gravel of the familiar path. It had been a while since she had trekked back to Pabu, now the sea breeze danced about her, caressing her cheeks like a welcome from an old friend. 

Her portfolio case swung from one hand, the familiar broken goggles from the other. She was almost never seen without them. Today though, she was heading to a special place on Pabu… the place she came to talk while she finished growing up. Talk to him. 

The cliff line finally broke, giving her a gorgeous view of the sunset. Brilliant orange, just like the amber glass in her hand. She sat at the rocks edge, opened her portfolio and with a sigh, slipped on the goggles. 

She hit record. 

“Hey, Tech… it's been a while, I wanted to update you on what I've been up to…”

It had been forever since she talked to him like this, panic and dread had set in one day when she realized the internal data storage was running low. She didn't want it to loop and record over anything but today was worth talking to him… formally. 

She pulled out the first etching, a dark umbra alive with bonfires and crude little drawings of people. 

“I've been doing well with the rebellion, we won an important skirmish a few months ago, Partied after harder than Hunter says you guys did… but I guess he might have down played what you boys got up to…”

She trailed off, stroking the figures around the little fire, just to have her hand come away black with sooty medium. She furrowed her brow, and wiped her fingers on her pants before drawing out another sketch. 

“This… well, I was trying to design a call mark for the hull of the marauder… nothing really worked out,”

There were over a dozen half finished figures with exs through them, and scattered notes. It wasn't what she was really after. She looked more carefully through her etchings, finally pulling out one of a full body figure. Their back was on full display and every detail and shadow had been filled in lovingly. 

…

“I'm getting married soon… it's gonna be here, on Pabu. I met them out there and well, life is short on the battlefield… you know that more than any so…”

A lump was starting to form in her throat but she swallowed the old pain gracefully, continuing. 

“I'm planning on wearing your goggles… so you can come to, I just wanted to give you a heads up before… before you were just, walking me down the aisle… I hope that's okay,”

It was nonsense, but it always felt like putting his goggles on and pressing record… it was like Tech could open his eyes again for a brief moment. 

“I was always gonna wear them anyways… Hunter insists he should be the one to walk me, but Wrecker said it was unfair and I think it upset Crosshair too… they're taking turns now. Hunter starts, Wrecker in the middle and Cross'll finish it… but you'll be with me the whole time… I want you there…”

She stopped the recording and whipped the goggles off, squeezing her eyes as a few hot tears grazed her cheeks. It had been a long time since she last cried for Tech, but the heightened stress of the past few weeks left her vulnerable to the old wounds. 

I'm sorry, I shouldn't have insisted we go, it's my fault…

She caught the thoughts there, releasing them with a shaky sigh as the cycles of grief lit through her for the life that should have been. Thoughts she'd never be rid of even though she knew they weren't true, almost a comfort that she could still feel his absence so greatly… that she never forgot. 

Catching her breath, she checked the remaining storage. Only a few hours left… 

I hope this is okay … I want you there. 

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

[halfmoth-halfman]

Leaving this blog.

With my mini-series finishing up soon, I've decided to leave this blog as well as my AO3 account once it’s finished. This is not a decision I've made lightly, but circumstances have left this a place where I no longer feel safe.

As of now, I won't be deactivating this blog and will be leaving my fics up for anyone who'd still like to read them. I can't say this decision won't change later, but right now I feel that I've put too much work into this blog to simple delete it.

Below the cut is an explanation of why I'm making this decision, and what has been happening on this blog since the end of last year. It's not required to read or anything to understand the gist of this post; it's simply for my own peace of mind knowing that I spoke up about it. There will be topics that are possibly triggering such as harassment, threats, and racism so please mind the warnings and tags.

The mini-series is queued to finish next week, but there will be no more fic polls or wip wednesdays. I'll still be on here to make sure the queue does its job, and maybe post some stuff from my old drafts as a last bit of fun.

I'll have dms tentatively open for the next two-ish weeks for those who'd like to follow my new account, however I will not be answering anything from empty blogs. After that, asks and dms will be turned off, and I won't be coming back to this blog very often, if at all.

I cannot say thank you enough to the wonderful readers I've had and the amazing people I've met. I don't think I would've ever continued writing without your support and friendship. There's nothing I can do to show my appreciation for all of you.

Maybe we'll see each other again. If not, I hope your inspiration is always flowing, and 2024 treats you kindly.

Mothie 💜

Again, TW: rape/death threats, violent racism, repeated harassment, and mental health.

Back in November, I started getting rude, mean-spirited anons. It wasn't anything I was too bothered with because it didn't happen often and, honestly, my inbox gets flooded for a week or so anytime I post about certain topics. I blocked, deleted, reported and moved on thinking whoever it was would get bored and leave.

However, what started as a few rude anons calling me a bitch or stupid turned into a lot of anons being vile and racist which only worsened over the next few months.

I spoke about it in this post (link) near the end of November. In that post, I mentioned that those were the nicer asks and that was not an exaggeration. I have gotten my fair share of shitty anons as seen here (link) when I had to take a break from my blog because of said anons, but I have never gotten the amount of vitriol that I saw in these asks.

When I turned anon off, I started getting even worse messages from empty blogs that would either be blocked or deactivate within a week. When I turned my askbox off, I started getting hateful DMs. When I turned DMs off, it jumped from Tumblr to my other social medias which I had to private, completely avoid, or outright delete.

I got messages attacking my writing, calling me slurs, threatening to find me and rape or kill me, sending me explicit porn and rape videos while insulting my sexuality, and going into gross detail about how much people I interacted with hated me or how I would never be as good as them. I tried to power through it, pretending everything was fine while I pulled away from this blog, from writing, from friends that I loved and talked to every day. Everything about this blog, the fandoms I enjoyed, the people I talked to, made me so anxious because of these constant messages.

I took several breaks while dealing with this in therapy, repeatedly trying to come back and get comfortable on this blog, but within a few days of coming back the messages would start up again, either here or on any of my social medias I tried to unprivate, and I couldn't deal with it.

Only in the last week or two has it started to slow down and stop on a few of my other socials, which is the only reason I even feel comfortable making this post. However, in regards to this blog and my feelings toward it, the damage is done.

I don't think I can ever truly convey how isolating this has been. So many of these messages were about how I've spoken about my struggles as a black woman in fandom, how much of a burden it puts on the people who interact with me, how inferior I am to them and that I am everything that's wrong with fandom.

I felt scared and anxious to talk to anyone about this, especially people mentioned in those messages, out of fear that this harassment would jump to them. There are friendships that I stepped away from that I will never get back because of that. There are friends that I've felt like I was betraying by never telling them about what was happening because I felt too ashamed about letting this get to me.

I constantly worried that making a post like this would feel like, "Oh, Mothie's whining and trauma-dumping into the void about fandom racism again", that those messages would be right and it would force people to feel like they had to support me. Or worse, that people would agree and it would only make things worse. I've wrestled with so much guilt trying to decide to make this post and figure out what to do to make me trust myself again.

Ultimately, I don't think I was wrong for talking about my issues in fandom, and I don't think anything I've said has warranted this kind of harassment. I don’t know the who’s or why’s behind of this, but I've come to terms with the fact that I'll never really know. Truthfully, I'm not sure it even matters at this point. In the end, I think moving on from this blog entirely would be the best thing for me right now.

But, man, does it fucking suck.

This was the blog where I felt comfortable enough to start writing again, to start posting my fics. It's the blog where I met so many friends, got the courage to join new communities, found new hobbies, new music, new things to enjoy in life. It feels silly to say about a blog, but this was a place where I felt like I was able to carve out a space for myself. I put so much work into making it my own, and now the only thing I feel about it is anxious.

Hate messages and threats and racism have always been a part of fandom, and the internet as a whole. I’ve known since I started participating in fandom spaces that it was going to and continue to happen. I've known that I had to have a tough skin, especially if I ever spoke up about problems I faced because no one was going to have my back if I didn't have my own. I thought I had learned how to deal with it, and how to make a safe space for myself. But this goes beyond that. I did not deserve this. No one deserves this.

In some ways, it feels like admitting defeat, like I'm weak or hypocritical for not being as strong as I pretended I was and leaving. In other ways, it feels freeing to start over, and I'm choosing to view look at this optimistically even if it bittersweet. I don't want to let this scare me away from writing or from speaking about things that are important to me. All I can do now is say I'm so incredibly sorry to those I've hurt by stepping away or keeping this secret, and make sure I'm able to at least leave this blog on as happy a note as I can have.

[trensu]

do you think you'll put "Stasis in darkness" on AO3 eventually?

see, when the idea first came to me, I hadn't really planned on doing anything with it because I wasn't sure if I could make it work. there's a level of gravitas in the relationship between a god and their devoted servant that I didn't think would translate well to steddie because, let's be real, those boys are goofy dorks. but the idea wouldn't leave me alone so I typed up the original post in an attempt to work it out of my system and move on.

(the post kind of blew up, which I was not expecting at all!! like, not even a little bit! i post all sorts of rough little ideas for my own amusement and I've been able to do that without drawing much attention until that point.)

Anyway, I wouldn't have done much with it but @acowardinmordor left some comments/tags/what have you that helped me nail down the setting in my head which really opened the door for me to explore how the story could progress. (apologies, strife, I'm not sure I ever properly thanked you for that burst of inspiration, so please accept this shoutout as an expression of gratitude). And the amazing @ent-is-indecisive allowed me to rant about it which really helped flesh out the story. Seriously, there are elements and lore coming up that would not have existed if it weren't for ent. (and thank you once again ent for the ABSOLUTELY WONDERFUL fanart you made for the reveal scene, I'm still overcome with joy whenever I think about it!).

Once it got to that point, I knew I wanted it to be a self-contained story and I was afraid that if I did a multi-chapter fic I'd lose the thread and never make it to the ending I want the fic to have. (no, the end scene hasn't been written yet but I KNOW what it's going to be and I hope everyone will love it as much as i do). So I promised myself that I was not going to post it on ao3 until the whole thing was written out completely.

However, I occasionally need a confidence/motivation boost so I've been posting consecutive parts of the rough draft here. you have no idea how much the people who reblogged with tags or left comments have helped me fight off the discouragement my brain likes to bog me down with; off the top of my head, @godsweakestboy , @redfreckledwolf, @fuctacles , @spectrum-spectre , and @lawrencebshoggoth have given me lovely, enthusiastic words of encouragement. and they're only the ones I can think of at this moment. there's so many other people who've done this, so if you've ever left me nice tags or comments, please know that I've read every single one of them repeatedly whenever I need to get over a slump. I'm so grateful for all of you!

Anyway, all this is to say yes! It is going to be posted as a oneshot on ao3 once I've finished writing it. <3

[farfromstrange]

Lizzi’s Valentine’s Special & Follower Celebration

Dear Everyone,

Valentine’s Day is just around the corner, and I thought, since this silly little blog hit over 1.1k followers yesterday, I want to give you something special.

First of all, though, I want to thank you. I’ve been on here since (and I checked with the archive) July 19, 2022. I can't believe that it has been almost two years. I started watching Daredevil after watching Spider-Man: No Way Home in December of 2021 and hearing Matt Murdock say, "I'm a really good lawyer," after catching a brick. So, I started watching the show, and that was during a time I was really miserable. Mentally and physically, I wasn't in a good place, but after watching Daredevil for the first time and falling in love with Charlie Cox as a genuine person and an actor, it felt like I found a reason to keep going.

I started writing fanfiction again, which I kind of neglected because I felt like this hobby of mine wasn't going anywhere. I wasn't inspired at all until I watched the show. If I hadn't, I probably would not have gotten back into writing and using it as an outlet for my feelings, and I probably wouldn't be where I am today. Thanks to Charlie's portrayal of Matt Murdock, and watching his interviews, I felt like I could do the things that I love again and follow my dreams. He's the reason I chose to major in English. And while I owe him that much, I owe you guys here on Tumblr and AO3 even more.

When I first posted here, I didn't think people would even be interested in what I had to say and write. But then more and more people started visiting my profile, you guys started following me, and it kept me motivated to keep writing, even when I'm miserable, and I sometimes only post once every blue moon.

I feel so honored that you guys chose to follow a silly little blog run by a silly little 20-something-year-old whose first language isn't even English (but made it her entire personality), and who chose to write about traumatized dark-haired characters portrayed by Charlie Cox. I'm overwhelmed by the love you continue to show me, and every time one of you chooses to reblog or comment on one of my works, saying that it resonated with you, I feel like I'm doing something right. I'm sharing my ideas, my own experiences, my wishes, and even my deepest, darkest dreams through my writing like it's a fucking diary, and you eat it up every single time.

I'm just so glad that this community exists, as chaotic as it sometimes is, and that you chose to stick around, even when I suck at keeping promises sometimes. You keep teaching me new things about who I am, my writing, and how important it is to put myself first. I don't know if you've heard it lately, but you guys are incredible and I appreciate the hell out of every single one of you.

Thanks to Tumblr, I made lifelong friends (especially looking at you, @blackshadowswriter) and found like-minded people that made me feel less alone. That alone was worth making this account and continuing to post on here.

You may think that I'm being dramatic, but for someone who has never really experienced the kind of validation this community gives me, I want to celebrate this milestone. It means more to me than I can even put into words. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart. I love you all so much! Please, don't ever forget how amazing you are.

That being said, I've got some exciting things planned.

The other day, I found a folder in my Docs titled "the vault". I completely forgot about it because I usually keep my WIPs in a different folder. As it turns out, I made that folder for fics that I originally never planned to post, or ones that I'd finished but wasn't happy with. It’s many, but it’s a few. Some are deeper than others. I also jotted down rough ideas and outlines last year that I stuffed in there, some of which I've actually shared with you but never started working on. Until now. And the contents of that vault are what I want to give to you now.

INTRODUCING: The Vault

6 stories from the vault. 1 bonus fic. 7 days.

I went through a myriad of emotions while I wrote these. For some, I actually bled my soul onto paper. For others, it was merely a brain fart that led to their existence. They're sad, horny, and at times angry, but some of those were originally written for me, and only me. Those that weren't started as a few sentences in a folder before I forgot they existed. Either way, I don't want them to catch dust. And I wouldn't want to share them with anyone else.

Starting February 14th, I will be posting one fic every day until February 20th. My “The Vault” works are Matt Murdock x Reader works, but I've made an exception for the bonus fic. I won't tell you what they are about, but I will give you a list of installments and what kind of fic they are so you know what to be excited about (and maybe which ones are not your cup of tea).

-> The number at the end tells you the date I will be posting it on, but I put it in chronological order as well.

INSTALLMENTS:

1. If You Need To Be Mean (angst, hurt/comfort) 14.

2. Mismatched Bridesmaid (fluff, smut) 15.

3. Weed Cookies (humor, fluff, cw: accidental drug use) 16.

4. the grudge (songfic, angst, hurt/comfort, cw: death of a parent) 17.

5. Halloween (Smut) 18.

6. I Want To Fuck A Priest (Smut, cw: priest!Matt) 19.

BONUS:

7. Now That We Don’t Talk (Part 2 of Is It Over Now?) -> Frank Castle x Reader (smut, angst) 20.

A few more words: You are free to send me an ask if you want to know more, but be prepared that I won't be answering in much detail. I don't want to spoil the fun. I would, however, not mind talking about them as vaguely as possible (if you’re interested).

Thank you all. For everything. And I hope you stick around to read these little gems.

With love from yours truly,

Lizzi <3

[daredvssy]

Stress

I thought I wasn't going to be able to finish this tonight, but by some unknown power, I managed to complete it. I hope you all enjoy this silly little bit of smut I wrote instead of travelling to campus today!

If you prefer to read on AO3, you can do so here! :)

Ship: Papa Emeritus IV x Reader

Rating: 18+!!!!!! No minors PLEASE!

Wordcount: 2050

Warnings: smut, male receiving oral sex, face-fucking, praise, thigh riding. Idk what to tell you it's all incredibly self-indulgent.

You found Copia in his office, sitting at his desk with his head in his hands. You gently rapped on the doorframe to alert him to your presence. The soft noise drew his attention, and he sat up promptly in an attempt to regain the dignified demeanor he felt he should possess as Papa.

When he realized you had been the source of the knocking, he relaxed somewhat, a soft, weary smile gracing his features.

"Hello mi amore," he greeted you. "Please, come in." You made your way over to his desk, quietly closing the door to his office behind you. He leaned back in his plush office chair and opened his arms to you, a wordless invitation to sit in his lap that you accepted immediately. His arms enveloped you in a warm embrace, holding you in your place on his lap. You placed a quick kiss on his jaw. This earned another smile from Copia, although it was not enough to disguise his complete and utter exhaustion.

"Is everything alright?" you asked him, concerned. "You seem very tired."

He sighed deeply, his brow creasing as he gave up trying to conceal what was already so obvious to you: he was worn out.

"I am tired," he agreed. "My work seems to be neverending recently. My predecessors never made it seem like being Papa was so much work!"

"Maybe it wasn't," you mused aloud, reflecting on the habits of the first three Papa's. "They all put in the necessary work as Papa, and I know they were certainly all known to spend a lot of time partying, but the band has never been so popular as it is now. The Ghost Project has never been more successful than it is under you my love, it's only natural that the workload would increase."

He nodded in consideration; you raised a point that was pretty difficult to ignore.

"I suppose this is true," he agreed, "And I am very grateful. But it is getting to the point where I can hardly manage it on my own. Nearly all of my waking hours are consumed by my work. I haven't even been able to eat with you once this week! Cara mia I feel as though I have hardly seen you at all!" He complained, practically pouting.

You leaned up to place a gentle kiss to his lips, smiling softly.

"While admittedly, I miss you too, I fully understand. You worked so hard to become Papa, I know how important it is to you," you said.

“Cuore mia you are important to me too,” he argued. “My work is not more important to me than you are.”

“I know, Copia,” you acknowledged, gently stroking his cheek with your thumb. “But I don’t resent that you’re busy. I know that people are depending on you."

“I still wish I could spend more time with you,” he grumbled.

“I know. But we’re spending time together now, right?” you reasoned. “And if you'd like, I can bring dinner here tonight, and eat with you while you work?"

Your offer drew another smile out of Copia, slightly bigger this time.

"I'd like that very much, amore," he said. "But still, I wish I could give you my full attention, like you deserve. I regret that you will have to settle for sharing my attention with my work."

"I'm sorry that you're so tired and stressed, Copia. I wish there was something I could do to help," you lamented, nodding pensively.

"Just you being here helps more than you know," he told you earnestly, his mismatched eyes meeting your own. "It's nice to be able to feel you like this. I feel like it has been so long since I've been able to touch you."

His voice betrayed a thinly veiled longing, a hunger even. Truthfully, it had been some time since the last time the two of you had been together in any way that could be considered sexual or intimate. He often spent his whole day working, with you only seeing him briefly each night as he returned to his quarters, crawling into bed beside you and passing out quickly. It was unusual for the two of you, to say the least. This planted the beginnings of an idea in your head. You may not be able to lighten his workload, but maybe there was something you could do to make him feel a little bit better, for now.

"You know… I have an idea that I think might just make you feel a little bit better, Papa," you told him. There was a playfulness to your tone, that when combined with the use of his title made him raise his eyebrows at you suspiciously.

"Oh yeah? And what's this idea?" he wondered, narrowing his eyes slightly. You could tell he had already an idea of the direction your thoughts were heading. Instead of answering him verbally, you decided to spring into action.

You quickly repositioned yourself in his lap, twisting in his loose hold until you were straddling him. Before he had the chance to even attempt to say anything, you captured his lips in a kiss, threading your fingers through his hair.

While your previous kiss had been soft and chaste, this one was nothing of the sort. This was a kiss full of heat, designed to stoke the fire that was always burning, just beneath the surface with him. Always quick to succumb to his own carnal desires, Copia melted into the kiss, a moan catching in the back of his throat as he accepted the desire you breathed into him where your mouths met.

When you eventually pulled away for some air, his chest was heaving, and his mismatched eyes bored into your own. The black paint on his lips had begun to smudge around the edges, only adding to his now disheveled appearance.

"Will you let me help you relax? Just for a little bit?" You asked him, sucking a mark onto his neck as you awaited his answer.

"I don't have much time," he began, and then interrupted himself with a moan as you laved your tongue over the mark you had just made, his hips bucking up into you. "But I suppose…” He trailed off. “I suppose I can make a little time for this. Yes," he decided.

A lascivious grin spread across your face.

"Good," you cooed, pressing a palm to his chest, wordlessly urging him to relax back into his seat. "You always work so hard, you're so good at what you do. You deserve to relax Papa, let me take care of you."

He watched you through heavily lidded eyes as you slid off his lap and onto the floor, gently urging his legs apart. His breath started to come in shallow puffs as you dragged your palm over his hardening bulge, pulling apart the laces of his pants with a practiced ease. You made to remove his pants, and he raised his hips a little to help you ease them down his hips enough to free his cock from its tight confinement. It was fully erect at this point, the tip a rosy shade of pink and beginning to leak a bit of precum.

You looked him directly in the eye as your tongue darted out quickly to lap it up. He let out a strangled noise at that, his gloved hand coming down to gently rest on the back of your head, gently threading his fingers through your hair.

You kissed and sucked a wet trail down his length, all the way to the base and then back up again, enjoying the needy little noises the action coaxed out of him. Then, after checking to make sure that his eyes were still on you, you slowly took him into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the tip.

“Cazzo,” he gasped, taking in a shuddering breath. “Always so good to me,” he moaned as you took him even deeper into your mouth, moaning around him at the praise. You gradually worked your way up and down his cock, taking in more and more of his considerable length with each bob of your head.

You brought one hand up to gently caress his balls, and he bucked his hips up involuntarily at the extra stimulation. The shock of the motion gagged you a little, and he tried to pull you off of him, instantly apologetic.

Instead of letting him, you relaxed your throat and swallowed him down in his entirety. A high, desperate whine escaped him. You clenched your thighs together in an attempt to alleviate some of the ache that was steadily growing between them.

You pulled off of him for a brief moment to take a deep breath. You spoke, your voice sounding ragged, desperate even.

“Use me, Papa,” you pleaded with him. Copia required no further invitation than this. With a deep groan, his grip on your hair tightened, and he began to thrust up into your mouth at a desperate pace. You moaned around him, letting him use you to chase the pleasure he so deserved.

As he continued to thrust into you, a litany of curses and praises flowed out of him.

“Such a good fucking girl, letting your Papa use you like this, so fucking perfect for me,” he moaned. You could tell Copia was getting close when the rhythm of his thrusts into your mouth started to become erratic. You hollowed your cheeks around him as he fucked your mouth, humming a little around his length. The vibrations from this alone were enough to throw him over the edge.

As the first spurt of his cum hit the back of your throat, he practically yelped. Resuming control of the situation, you took him in as deep as you could, moaning and swallowing around him as he rode out his very intense orgasm.

When he finally came down from his high, you pulled off of his length gingerly, bringing up a hand to wipe at your mouth. Your breath was coming in heavy pants as you stared up at him. His gloved hand came down to cup your jaw, and you leaned into the touch automatically.

"Come here, bella," he said, patting his thigh in invitation with his free hand. You didn't wait to be told twice, climbing back up into his lap as he guided you so you were straddling one of his thighs.

He captured your lips in a heated kiss, his hands coming down to your hips, sliding up under your skirt and encouraging you to grind down onto his thigh.

He broke the kiss, leaning back just enough to look at you. He continued to guide your hips in a steady rhythm, the worn fabric of his pants catching on your clit just right, sending lightning shocks of pleasure through your entire body. As worked up as you already were, it didn’t take much time at all before you could feel tension ramping up in your core. You buried your face in his neck, a high, pathetic noise escaping you as your legs began to shake.

"That's it, amore," he encouraged. "Cum for your Papa, just like that.” You were powerless to disobey his command. Your release washed over you like a tidal wave, leaving you gasping and crying out as you twitched in his lap, your vision going blank with the intense pleasure. Copia held you through it, whispering praise into your ear as you came down from it, catching your breath.

When you met his eyes again, a warm and goofy smile was plastered on his face. He gazed back at you fondly.

“Thank you, cara mia. I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” he said softly, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“Of course you deserve me, Copia. I love you,” you stated plainly. “Anyways,” you asked, unable to help returning his smile. “Did it work? Are you feeling any better?”

“Oh, yes amore. I feel infinitely better than I did before,” he replied.

“Good,” you said, your smile growing even wider. “Now give me a minute to recover and I will go see about getting us that food. I don’t think my legs will work properly just yet.”

[perfectlysanexd]

So, what have I been up to...? Since I was in Tumblr's spam-bot prison for more than 5 months, I thought I would create a little ICYMI post. (That's "In-Case-You-Missed-It" for the old folks like myself that have to look up all these new acronyms.) Basically, I'm gonna highlight/link to some of the posts I made this year, and you can check them out if you like. :) I didn't want to necessarily do a bunch of reblogs of my own content and clog up the system or something...

I finished posting up my 100's of edited screenshots from Advent Children Complete! You can view the archive of 53 different posts, separated by character, here. It also includes a fun side post about the Mysterious Case of Sephiroth's Missing Straps. :3

I confess, I haven't made too many wallpapers this year. But it's September now, and I have a thought rolling around in my head. We'll see. The archive of wallpapers is here.

Speaking of, so many cool wallpapers came out for Ever Crisis, and I've posted them all! Find them here, at the bottom of this archive post. I swear I'll eventually beat TFS season 1, but...they sure made it difficult for people who don't purchase their packs.

Did you know that Tumblr is feeding your posts(including reblogs) to theird party AI? Well, they are, and you can set it to be prevented in your settings. I talked about it here.

Rebirth coming out was the biggest thing this year, and I made my first manipulation for it back in March! You can see the post here, as well as a simple tutorial for it using GIMP(GNU Image Manipulation Program, free at gimp.org) here.

I also made a second manipulation for Rebirth! If you want to see the additional dialogue that goes with it, that's here.

When I played the demo for Rebirth, I noticed that they had changed Sephiroth's eyes, and it reminded me of something...

Did you know that in Advent Children, Sephiroth's gloves are not as tight as in Remake and you can see his wrists? 😏Check it out! What? Of course this is important!

I took a look at Sephiroth and all his forms over the years. Then I did the same for Cloud.

My AO3 sefikura work In Death was finished on April 26th, and came with a special manipulation. That was also the first story where I was accused of writing non-con, when it obviously wasn't, so that was fun. If you need to hydrate, you can go drink that tea in the comments of, I think, chapter 16 and after. Several people have asked about a sequel, and I do have eventual plans. Hang in there.

I made my first(of many) Rebirth memes, which also came with a blank template.

A peek under Sephiroth's jacket, courtesy of Rebirth. 😏Yes, this is important, obviously.

Another Rebirth meme, featuring Sephiroth being badass.

I put my design for Lucrecia's locket onto my edited EC Sephiroth artwork! This one actually got a lot of notes thanks to reblogging. 💕I also put the locket on Sephiroth's EC in-game model.

I wrote a long one-shot as a thank you for 400+ followers! It's based on my most popular sefikura manipulation of all time—a very indulgent work, and my first time writing for Rebirth. Thanks, guys!

Another meme, haha...oops, and another one. Damn, another one? AND a Sephiroth/Cloud arms-crossed companion meme set?

I did another Rebirth manipulation, this time of the famous sefikura hug scene. I added a second part to it here. AND a third part to it here! This set has quickly become one of my favorites. I also gave it some Japanese dialogue+translation here.

I did a little PSA because I've seen a lot of awfully suspicious digital paintings lately...

I made an account on Twitter/X, just in case they never fixed my blog, so if you're over there, follow me @ perfectlysane77 and say hi. :)

The FF7 crew have super hearing, confirmed??

Do you play Ever Crisis and want to join a sefikura guild? Check here. All skill levels are welcome, and you don't have to talk to anyone if you don't want to.

My first ever edited Rebirth video: "Fill your hollow heart...with me-ow."

And now I've been released from Tumblr spam-bot prison, so I'm sure you've seen even more silly memes from me. So what now? I hope to release the rewrite of Stranger Inside very soon, maybe by the end of the month if possible? The sequel will follow, for real this time. At that point, we'll be back to voting, so you guys will be able to choose what comes after that. I'm really focused on writing now, which is probably why I'm mostly making memes and silly things. Still, if it makes you laugh, I'm happy. 🥰

If you read this to the end, you're amazing.💕

[stabbyfoxandrew]

just any aftg fics you’ve enjoyed in the last month or so!!! im not picky, they can be whatever ship whatever au or content :) curious and in the mood to read something new……

okay! :D gonna go grab some stuff from my ao3 history. cut because it got long

kandreil:

game changer by peaceoutofthepieces

andreil come to visit kevin in his new apartment and he feels weird about it. but then...

Scrambled by klovnen

kevin gets a concussion!! so sad so good. his bfs take care of him. <3

it's worth a little blood to get your arms free by wyverning

kevin and neil start fucking around but they both really want andrew! (i haven't finished this one yet because it wasn't done when i read it but it is not and i'm hyped to see what happens)

If We Gotta Go (Gotta Go Tonight) by queer_lovebot

andreil teach kevin how to drive and it's so sweet TWT <333

stuck between your teeth like cotton candy by memeyoozi (vernonsgf)

this one is (for now) a two part series!!!! it's pre-kandreil iirc and the second part is MORE of kevin going insane because he's in love with andreil? i need to reread this one. but this writer is amazin

kevjean:

teenage dream by kevjean

kevin comes to california for a visit and he's packing! jean sucks the strap (it's pink/ i'm glad you're not colorblind) it's amazing i have a bouquet of flowers for ao3 user kevjean!!!

andreil:

Caretaking 101: When to Surrender a Sweatshirt by williams_strawberries

mein gott... i've been thinking about this fic for months. andrew thinks neil's about to run away but he's actually built himself a nest for his heat in the tower's basement. it's soooo TwT you'll see what i mean go read it. (no actual smut, just has the abo elements!)

i only need the working of my hands by allyasavedtheday

AMNESIA ANDREW!!! the man who remembers everything forgets what's most important. and has to re-learn who neil is. showstopping... amazing increbdile <- so good my stupid ass forgot how to spell!

keremy:

once in a lifetime by kevjean

jeremy is a popstar and kevin is his biggest fan! they fuck backstage and it's glorious!!! GLORIOUS!!! ao3 user kevjean... i love you<333

kevseth:

Baby Pink by noNic02

ok. this one... made me insane(r). it's not for everyone for sure... but kevin and seth are secretly fucking and kevin wears allison's clothes (kevin is having a lot of gender thoughts in here too... an egg...)

misc:

a detachment and a passive disinterest by memeyoozi (vernonsgf)

not sure where to put this one... kevin is in heat and needs dicked down. nicky volunteers! hooray! but also kevin wants andreil so bad he's insane! (they're all insane your honor) but it's so good? ty sister dayurno for showing me this...

sorry for the terrible formatting i've never really done this before? (i don't think anyhow?) anyway! go read all these okay! ❤️