#can aaron give him a chance please

[joejhang]

kevin day queen of exy BUT ALSO queen of fumbling bad bitches

[kisses4reid]

not our scene | ·˚ ༘ spencer reid ,, - part 1

summary - an undercover mission creates distance between you and spencer, but his hands on your waist closes it.

genre - fem!shyish!reader x spencer, forced proximity, fake relationship, awkward idiots, fluff

warnings - awkwardness, general cm violence and gore, spencer and reader are both awkwardly in love with each other and don’t know it yet, mentions of trafficking

w/c - 3.5k

a/n - was writing this in one part and realised i just couldn’t. *jennifer coolidge aoughhe* sorry that its a bit inconsistent with writing style, and its not my best. trying to get back into writing fics longer than 1k.

part two

A familiar scene, an unfamiliar circumstance. The breath mint you swirled around your mouth had now disintegrated in your surprised stillness, your boss Aaron Hotchner passed you a thick case file with an attentive glance. Spencer cleared his throat, “At parties?” 

“Yes,” your boss’ hard voice returned, “The girls are swapped at banquets and ballroom dances, disguised as simple partner swapping.” Aaron turned towards the large panel screen and motioned towards an ID photo of a balding man. “This is Quinn Webley, he controls all transactions and coordinates the parties and most importantly, security.” 

“That’s why Reid and Y/L/n will be undercover. No offence but you two aren’t very noticeable,” Rossi added onto Hotch’s explanation, earning a small snort from Morgan.

There was no doubt more reasons to be chosen than that. Morgan was too impulsive, Emily could get hot-headed, JJ wasn’t trained for it, and Rossi and Hotch simply had to make sure everything went well from the outside. You and Spencer were the best options for this type of case, not only because of your skill, because of the obvious chemistry that you and Spencer shared. “Now, you’re not to make contact with Webley, all you have to do is watch him and everyone else. Pay close attention to couples, older men in small groups, and to the dances that might take place.” Hotch was not giving you or Spencer a chance to object, or to deject the idea. This was set, no negotiation. Not that you would want to be replaced in this case, it was just the fact that you were: 1. A terrible dancer, and 2. Not the most extroverted person. You nodded along, opening the case to create a personal profile of the women who were trafficked, before the discussion had come to a close, and everyone left the room to start collecting their things. 

Spencer cleared his throat, bringing you out of your analysis to meet his warm eyes. Suddenly, the easy-going banter you and Spencer shared had evaporated, replaced by suffocating silence. He didn’t meet your gaze back, only muttering in the silence, “Can I assume you want me to take the lead on this one?” 

“Oh, yes please.” You smile smally, trying to melt the ice that had somehow solidified between you two. Spencer was awkward, introverted, preferred alone time, but you were shy, quiet, and verbally uncoordinated (and physically). 

He nodded and exited the room, sighing off nerves that had piled themselves onto his shoulders since finding out he’d have to go undercover with the one girl he didn’t want to ruin his relationship with. He didn’t think the case would ruin your friendship, but it could make it harder for him to keep it that way.

Spencer stood straight with Derek peering over his shoulder and into the mirror. Derek picked at some dust on Spencer’s suit jacket as the nervous boy attempted to loop his tie neatly. 

Derek chuckles under his breath and turns the boy by his shoulders to face him, lifting his strong hands to help Spencer with the dark crimson red tie. Spencer silently thanked him with a nod.

“What are you so nervous about, Spencer?” He asked, half joking half serious, “It’s just an undercover mission. You’ve done this plenty of times.” 

“Not like this,” Spencer quickly replied, “Not with…” Her. You. 

Derek opened his mouth slightly and nodded, finally understanding the true reason for Spencer’s bouncing leg and sweaty hands. 

“Don’t freak out too much okay? You need to act like you love her, which won’t be too hard- But you need to do it without looking like you’re afraid of her.” Derek finished tying Reid’s tie and patted him on the chest as a hype up, smiling at him brotherly like. He knew Spencer’s feelings for you, that he liked you. A lot. 

He didn’t know Spencer wouldn’t have to act like he loves you. Spencer bit the inside of his lip nervously and turned to the mirror again, taking his eyes over his slightly unfamiliar reflection. 

The suit is tailored perfectly to his body, making him look trim, lean, and tall. Derek handed him a black bottle of cologne and headed for the door, before a sudden question stopped him.

“Do you… do you think she’s too good for me?” Spencer looked at Derek with big eyes, blinking rapidly. The man stood in slight shock before laughing away the silence, shaking his head in disbelief. He knew Spencer wasn’t accusing him of anything, it was a genuine question. Spencer thought he was lesser, less than what you deserved - even if it was just for a night. 

“Pretty boy, I think she’s happier to be doing this than you know. I think she likes you- I know she likes you-“

“That doesn’t mean-“

“Uh uh uh. No. Trust me, Reid,” Derek opened the hotel door and gestured for Spencer to follow him, “If you don’t trust me, ask her yourself.”

The girls whistled loudly at you like a bunch of old men when you emerged from the bathroom. You spun on your heel (which was way too tall for your liking) to entertain the ladies, JJ clapping her hands together and Garcia smiling so hard you felt your own cheeks burn. 

“Why do fake couples always have to be straight, huh?” Emily joked, and you giggled back at her. You crossed your arms over your chest as you turned to face a standing mirror in the corner of the fancy hotel. 

Your body was wrapped in a silky red, floor length dress, with wide and long sleeves draping over your covered arms like a cloud surrounds a mountain. It cinched at your waist, and stopped at just the right length to expose your 4 inch, black heels. You couldn’t deny that you looked incredible, although your nerves were playing with your head. 

“You look stunning,” Garcia repeated what she said when she was doing your makeup - simple and accentuating - when she noticed your slight anxiety.

Dressing up like this and wearing makeup and styling hair? Not your thing. It’s not that you didn’t like it - you loved being girly. It was just your own insecurities and personal preferences that caused you to wear sweaters and sneakers (anything that wouldn’t bring attention to yourself). 

The girls knew this, and dressed you simply and modestly so as to not add to your nerves that an undercover mission usually invites, and you appreciated it greatly. Although the heels were really high.

You were especially nervous to present yourself like this in front of him.

That’s why you fiddled your hands together, why you looked yourself over in the mirror three times before leaving, why you let the girls completely take over your look. 

You walked out into the hallway, pushing some hair behind your shoulder and letting the other side drape, still getting used to walking in those heels, when you were met with more whistles and compliments. Aaron nodded at you, knowing how abrasive you were to the idea at first, and Rossi and Morgan both asked you to give them a spin - and you did. 

The encouragement lifted your spirits slightly, a smile exploding from your face as a soft blush covered it. This is probably the best you’ve looked in front of them. 

“Where’s her date?” JJ asked, she mentioned that Morgan had the job of matching Spencer’s tie but she didn’t trust him.

“Don’t worry, he’s got on the best dark red tie that we could find. He’s downstairs in the foyer.” 

You scrunched your eyebrows together before Hotch added, “You have to leave together just in case. Precautions, okay?” 

Spencer swapped the position of his hands at least five times in a minute, glancing at the elevator in the all too fancy hotel every time someone emerged from it. He adjusted his tie, and sniffed his wrists to make sure he smelt good for you. He always made sure of it, after you offhandedly mentioned to Emily how smells could either make or break your day. 

You had a lot in common with Spencer, other than the obvious career choice. You were both… weird. Talkative around each other, silent around others. Shy, but confident in your abilities. You both had your things - your’s is smell, his is germs.

And luckily, whenever you went to Spencer’s apartment to drop off or pick up a book, his place always smelt like cleaning products and cologne.

Though now, he smelt like cedar wood and smoke. You tapped him on the back, nerves rushing through you like a teenager on her first date. He jumps slightly, not hearing the last elevator ding in his own worries, and turns on his heels - nearly bumping into you. 

“Woah.” He let that simple word slip before he could even bite his tongue, and a red wash painted his cheeks and ears.

You looked stunning, and Spencer was simply awestruck. 

You pushed a straightened piece of hair behind your ears and smiled shyly down at your feet, not letting yourself look at him for too long in fear that you’d melt into a puddle. Spencer cleared his throat to contain himself, and held out his arm for you to thread your own through. 

“Are you okay? Your hands are shaking.” You ask timidly - very unlike how you normally were around him. You avoided taking his arm, scared he’d feel uncomfortable with the contact before he straightened his back and reluctantly pulled your elbow through his. 

“Just nervous, you look-“ He coughed, “Nice.” 

A smile slipped from you as you thanked him quietly, the two of you heading out the large foyer doors and towards a black limousine.

The ride was mostly silent other than the quiet music playing from the radio. And despite the large amount of room in the back, the two of you stayed conjoined at the hips. Maybe it’s the fact that you’re both nervous, maybe it’s the job.

Maybe it’s because you’re both going into a place you’d never purposefully enter. 

“You smell good.” You broke the silence, your knee tapping his. He brought his attention from the window to your face, now noticing the small amount of makeup that accentuated your already beautiful features.

“Thanks. You too.” 

Suddenly, Morgan’s playful voice cut through the weirdly comfortable silence, through to both of your earpieces. “Alright you two. Now, you both know you’ll have to be all lovey-dovey, no acting needed, but don’t over do it. We’re not trying to make contact with Webley, just to get close enough to watch him. If you lose sight of him, hit the dance floor, he and his wife enjoy moving around.” Spencer’s eyes don’t leave your face as you stare at the black floor in concentration. His hands start getting a bit sweaty and he has to clear his throat to coax himself into listening to Morgan. 

“And if he heads for the kitchen, let us know, we’ve got an officer that’s acting as a bodyguard at the back door that can tell us when he’s left.”

Spencer thanks him over the ear piece, holding down a small microphone under his cufflinks. Your hands fiddled with each other, threatening to chip off the nail polish Emily so carefully painted. Spencer felt his heart pump in his chest, but ignored it and took a small mint tin from the inside of his jacket, holding a small white pellet out to you. “Y/n,” he caught your attention and smiled at you sweetly, easing your nerves almost immediately. You took the mint from his palm, your fingertips tracing the lines on his palm softly before you popped it into your mouth. You didn’t have to ask how he knew you needed that, you had grown comfortable with knowing Spencer knew more about you than anyone else in the team. 

The venue was a mansion mixed with a theatre. There were expansive columns lining the outside, countless balconies looking out onto the cityscape, and gardens paired with ponds that were home to some unexpectedly calm swans. You and Spencer both stood there for a few seconds, taking in the architecture, as well as the amount of people entering and exiting the main doors. For a second, you felt giddy and childish. You weaved your arm under his and he let his other hand land over yours to squeeze it gently - he must feel just out of place but weirdly excited as you are. 

Don’t lose sight of the real priority here, Y/n. 

But it’s hard to do that when you’re entering the conjuring of your childhood dreams. 

When you start walking up the large stairs, your heels click and Spencer tightens his arm slightly, your stepping becoming a little uneven. These damn heels. 

“You okay?” He asked, one eyebrow raised slightly. His hair was combed back, his long locks more tamed than usual, but one curly strand just escaped and covered the left side of his forehead. It looked effortless, handsome.

“Um- Yeah, sorry. I’m not used to shoes like this.” You laughed like it's funny and Spencer continued to basically lift you up the stairs with no complaining.

When you stepped foot into the main foyer of the building, there were multiple chandeliers that swayed safely in the bustling movement of the quartz floor. There were multiple vases of red and white flowers, almost matching your dress, and multiple suited guards at every entrance and staircase. They smile at guests, and offer them menus and directions, and smartly conceal their weapons in case of intruders. Intruders being you and Spencer.

When Spencer leads you up to them, his hands finally still and confident, the guards smile at you both - offering you an extra look over that has Spencer angling himself to cover you. 

“Names?” One of them asked, pulling out a checklist from behind his back (you almost thought they were pulling out their small guns - you really were not confident in how to act… well… confident.) 

“Mr and Mrs Conner.” 

“First names?” 

First names? You weren’t given first names. Garcia had made sure that nobody else on the guestlist was by the last name of Conner. You could practically see the cogs churning in Spencer’s head - creativity wasn’t really his strong point. 

“Did you just ask for our first names?” You scoff, your voice becoming a bit whinier than usual, “You obviously live under a rock, there are no other Coopers.” 

The guard widened his eyes, scanning the list again and stuttering, “I’m sorry ma’am. You’re obviously- Have a good night.” The guard lifted an arm as an invitation inside, and you gave him a glare. Spencer smiled once you were both out of sight and squeezed your hand with his own. But there are no words, as you’re too taken aback by the sheer size and beauty of the room, if you could even call it that, to focus on the contact. Even larger chandeliers, expansive marble floors and painted ceilings with naked bodies. The warm lighting nearly convinced you that this was just some rich party that people get drunk at and talk about nonsense, but Hotch suddenly talking in your earpieces brought you out of the spell that the pure aesthetics had lured you with. “In the back left of the dance floor, you’ll see Webley dancing with his wife, talking to a pair of aristocrats. Try to get closer, don’t be obvious.”

You released a breath and Spencer adjusted his arms to intertwine his fingers with yours, causing you to meet his gaze in surprise. “We’re in love, remember?” His eyes creased with a smile, his thumb caressing the back of your hand in comforting patterns you couldn’t decipher. Oh, you couldn’t forget that. “Right,” you respond, straightening your back and walking with him towards the dance floor. 

His hands carefully rested on your waist, his fingers gripping slightly against the silky fabric of your dress. The contact made your skin burn, a permanent pink painting your cheeks and increasing whenever you made eye contact with the tall and undeniably good looking man you were dancing with. Spencer didn’t look anywhere other than you and the back left of the dance floor. You had almost grown bored of the nerves in your heart before you noticed something you didn’t see before. 

“Hey, your tie matches my dress.” You said softly, barely audible over the music that echoed around the hall. Spencer glanced down at his tie (thankfully still properly tied) and then at your dress. That was a mistake, because now his breathing is deeper and he can’t take his eyes off of you. 

Spencer nodded and sent you a small smile, “Morgan made sure of it.” 

“Didn’t that spoil it for you?” You asked, finally meeting his gaze. It looked deep, it looked… heavy. 

His swirling brown eyes shot electricity at you when he replied, “Why would it be spoiled?” 

You lowered your head away as you smiled sheepishly, “This is probably the nicest I’ve ever been in front of you. Probably wasn’t as special as I wanted it to be.” 

“You wanted it to be special?” You felt his fingers twitch on your waist as your own fingers twiddled with each other behind his neck. You lifted your face and found him clearing his throat, “I mean, it was still special. Although, I disagree with it being the nicest you’ve ever look.” 

You laughed, and it caused Spencer to crack a smile. 

“I show up to work bare-faced, in second-hand pants and sweaters two times my size. I feel like this is pretty good.” 

“You always look good.” 

You almost stopped your soft swaying with him in shock, and Spencer’s cheek reddened as if he was also shocked he said it. Spencer cleared his throat again, and bit the inside of his lip. 

The others couldn’t hear them right now. The music was soft, people chattered and to be honest, the whole mission had been erased from his mind. Spencer took a long, deep breath.

“I think you look beautiful right now, of course. But you’re still beautiful when you’re dressed like how you like to. I know what it feels like to not want to bring attention to yourself, and how sometimes your clothes can hide you. But…” Spencer stopped your movements with his hands lowering to your hips, he had been instinctively pulling you closer throughout the dance. “There’s nothing you could do, or wear, that could possibly take my attention off of you.” 

You felt your world stand still, although the blur of people didn’t seize, and fluttered your eyelashes at him unsure of how to respond. It was the most he’s spoken to you in one time - excluding random facts and the babbling you accept everyday.

“Spencer…” 

The tall man raised his hands to your waist again, the motion leaving waves of nerves to tumble over you, before he cleared his throat and started darting his eyes from yours to someone’s in the background. 

“Y/n. I think I saw Webley.” His grip only slightly tightened on your silk dress, his fingers curling slightly to move you across the dance floor slowly. You were definitely the more uncoordinated of you two. 

He moved skilfully across the dance floor, avoiding bodies and feet like it was rehearsed. 

“Not too close.” You muttered, Spencer’s attention flickering to you for only a second to nod in agreement. You need to watch him, not make contact with him. 

You grimace slightly, your ankle wobbling at an awkward angle for a second before you recover and-

“Are you sure you’re okay?” 

You meet his eyes again, his own already burning a hole through you and your heels. 

“I’m fine, again it’s just the heels.” 

“They seem to be causing you a lot of harm,” Spencer furrowed his eyebrows and cleared his throat. Maybe he can distract you. “Did you know that heeled shoes were originally designed for Medieval Soldiers? They were made to make rising horses easier, putting a heel in the stirrups instead of your armoured shoe. And in the 16th century they weren’t supposed to be… to be seen…” He rambled and stopped abruptly.

He didn’t stop because you told him to, or you looked annoyed, or you lost interest. He stopped because you looked… too good to say anything. It made him nervous like a school boy seeing his crush in her prom dress - although he never got to experience that. It felt pretty close.

You tilted your head, a piece of straightened, silky hair falling over your shoulder. Spencer gulped, and before he could stop himself, he lifted a hand and twirled the piece in his pointer finger. 

It was like an optical illusion, something you know can’t be real, but intrigued you anyways. That’s what you felt, because whatever was happening right now could not be real. 

Spencer Reid looked entranced, hypnotised without knowing. And you looked red. 

“Th-they weren’t supposed to be seen?” 

Spencer snapped out of his trance but didn’t continue, only pulling you forward by the waist and moving that strand behind your ear. Your heart pumped, your ears matching the colour of your dress. 

He didn’t try to kiss you, even if he wanted to so badly. Instead, he lowered his lips to the shell of your ear and whispered, “Let’s go. Webley opened the kitchen door.” 

And your heart dropped.

taglist (open!!) - @jeffswh0re @reap3erslov3 @candyd1es @0108s22m @aurorsworld @theoraekenslover @c-losur3 @littlelearningbrat @khxna

[luveline]

could you pleaseee do more hotch x bombshell reader

cw suggestive —you and Hotch have a shared secret you’re hiding from the rest of the team. fem, 1k

“He’s too old for you, you know.” 

You give Elle a charmed smile. “He is not.” 

“Is too.” 

“How old do you think I am, Greenaway?” you tease. “I know I look good for my age, but I’m fully developed. He is not too old for me.” 

“Who?” Spencer asks, placing down his dinner tray with a smile. 

“Gideon,” you say. “What do you think, babe, do I have a chance with our great leader?” 

“No,” Spencer says, giggling as he spears a dehydrated looking green bean with his fork. He’s getting good at recognising jokes for what they are. 

As the younger (but, despite Elle’s insistence, not young) crowd, you have complimentary avoiding of work to do, free with your employment. You spend your lunch hour trying to stretch it into two, driving Gideon insane, and prompting Hotch to come and find you. He hasn’t appeared yet, but when you check your watch you’ve got about ten minutes left until you need to get back. 

“The line was so long,” Spencer says. “They could reduce the foot traffic in here by half if they had two people working the register.” 

“Maybe if we had our own offices we could eat our lunch alone from a brown paper bag like everybody else does, and we wouldn’t need to line up,” Elle says wryly. 

“You don’t like lining up like middle schoolers?” you ask in feigned shock. 

“I don’t,” Spencer says earnestly. 

“She’s being sarcastic,” Elle says. “You couldn’t tell?” She looks over your shoulder suddenly, but there’s a velvet voice in your ear before you can turn around.

“Can I borrow you?” 

You smile because he can’t see it. “That depends, Agent Hotchner, will I get to finish my lunch?” 

You don’t have a tray in front of you. It clearly doesn’t matter to Hotch. “I’ll take care of it.” 

You’d let him drag you around by the collar, but that’s none of his business. You turn to meet his eyes over your shoulder, disappointed that he’s already a few steps back waiting for you to stand up. 

What Elle doesn’t get, what nobody seems to see but you, is that Hotch had no need to lean in and talk so close to your ear. He could have sent you an email, paged you, and he’s here in the cafeteria waiting for you to follow him out. 

You send both Elle and Spencer a suggestive look and climb off of the bench. Hotch senses when you’re near rather than looking, starting out of the cafeteria and down the hall to the elevator bank. He does a sharp turn you aren’t expecting to the photocopying rooms, where you refuse to go, lest you get killed by a falling stack of printer paper. One minute you’re walking together and the next he’s taken your hand and pulling you into an alcove, suddenly sliding his hand behind your back. 

“Aaron–”

He dips his face down and kisses you. It’s surprising and not, one slight nipping kiss before he looks you in the eyes. He’s asking if you’re alright to be kissed, and if it’s him, he can shove you up against a wall —you lift your head and he pulls you right back up to be kissed again. His hands slide over the tight fabric of your blazer and hold you chest to chest, his nose crushing yours, his lips unwavering. Pinpricks of heat ricochet from your mouth to your neck, a shudder he feels that has him laughing hot against your lips.

“That’s not very gentlemanly,” you say, weaving your fingers into the soft crop of hair behind his ears. 

“I’m sorry,” he says. He lifts his hand, cleaning the smudge of your lipstick with his pinky finger, before stroking your cheek with his knuckle.  “What sort of note was that, this afternoon? Why do you think that’s alright to leave at my desk?” 

“How’d you know it was me?” you ask, dropping your hands from his hair to poke at his waist. 

“I hoped it was you,” he admits. He looks like he might say something else, but he steals a rough kiss instead, and then another. 

“Okay,” you say, pleased to be kissed like this by him, “it was me. And you deserved it.” 

“Did I?” He takes your face into two hands. “Did I?” 

You stutter momentarily at his repeated question. “You– yeah, Hotchner, you did. It was supposed to be nice, like a promise.” 

“Are you promising?” he asks, giving your cheek a sweet, gentle stroke with his thumb. 

You kiss his nice jaw, ruffle the hair that curls over his forehead playfully, and laugh as he catches your hand. He doesn’t grab. Hotch isn’t ever aggressive with you (though he can get a little excited). 

“Decide what you want for dinner tonight, and we’ll go after work,” he says, returning your hand gently to your side. 

“Another kiss?” you ask. 

Hotch kisses you sweetly. “Come on, honey, lunch is over.” 

“Just one more?” you ask. 

He falls for it every time. You must harvest half a dozen extra kisses, incensed because it’s him, because nobody thought for a minute he’d bend to your whims. 

Hotch doesn’t bend. He just wants you like you want him. 

“One more,” he says as you pull away. “Just one.” 

It tickles your lips. You curl your arms behind his neck and try to make it one that’ll linger, your fingers scratching lightly at his scalp as he presses your back to the cold wall. You yelp a laugh and he covers your back with big hands, mumbling a sorry that gets completely lost. 

You don’t know how he’s going to explain this to Gideon. 

[hoe4hotchner]

I loved bakery owner reader x loyal customer hotch SO MUCH 😭😭😭

Can you please make one where the team finally meets her? Maybe on Penelope’s birthday since she is the most excited about the relationship 😅. Maybe he shows up at Dave’s house with reader by surprise

A sweet surprise, a warmer welcome | [A.H]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x bakery owner fem!reader | WC: 0.8k | CW: it's fluff so none

String lights hung in the backyard, casting a warm glow over the patio, and the smell of grilling steaks, vegetables, and whatever vegetarian dish Penelope had brought along filled the air. Music played softly in the background, and laughter mixed with the hum of conversation.

But despite the cheerful atmosphere, the team couldn’t help but wonder about one thing: Hotch.

Ever since Penelope had found the picture of him with you the team had been curious about the woman who had brought some light into their usually reserved boss’s life. Penelope, in particular, was buzzing with excitement, though she had promised to let Hotch decide when to introduce his partner to the team - and hold her horses on looking into your background.

"Do you think he's coming?" Penelope whispered to Emily as they watched Morgan tend to the grill. “I mean, I don't expect him to bring her, but it would be the best birthday surprise.”

Emily smiled, taking a sip of her wine. “Who knows? He’s full of surprises lately.”

Meanwhile, Hotch parked his car in Rossi’s driveway, your hand resting in his as he turned off the engine. You had been nervous about meeting his team - they sounded like a close-knit group, full of strong personalities - but Hotch had assured you they would welcome you with open arms. Still, the nervous energy in your stomach was undeniable.

“You ready?” Hotch asked, his voice calm and reassuring as he turned to you, giving your hand a gentle squeeze.

You took a breath and smiled softly. “As ready as I probably can be.”

Hotch chuckled. “Don’t worry, they’re excited to meet you, especially Penelope.”

You laughed at that. “Penelope, your tech guru who figured out we were dating just from a picture? That Penelope?” You tried to recall the information he had told you about each member of the team.

He smiled. “That’s the one. She’s been asking about you ever since.”

The thought of the team being so eager to meet you made you feel more at ease. With a final glance at each other, Hotch led you to the front door, the faint sound of laughter and music drifting from the backyard. As he opened the door, you could hear what you assumed was Penelope’s voice, based on the information Hotch had told you, and the reality of the moment settled in.

Before stepping outside, Hotch paused, turning to you with a soft smile. “I’m happy that you wanted to come.”

Your heart fluttered at the sincerity in his words. “Me too.”

Together, you walked into the backyard, hand in hand. The conversation started to quiet as people noticed you arriving. It was JJ who spotted you first, her eyes widening as she nudged Will. “Guys, look.”

All heads turned in your direction, and for a moment, the team was silent, taking in the sight of Hotch with his arm around you. Penelope, however, couldn’t hold back her excitement for long.

“Oh. My. Gosh!” she squealed, practically bouncing with joy. “You brought her!”

Hotch smiled at her enthusiasm. “Surprise.”

She rushed forward, arms open as she enveloped you in a warm hug before you even had a chance to introduce yourself. “It’s so nice to finally meet you! We’ve all been waiting for this day!”

You returned the hug, smiling. “It’s nice to meet you too, Penelope. I’ve heard so much about everyone.”

Penelope pulled back, beaming, and gestured to the rest of the team. “This is Emily, Derek, JJ, and of course, you already know Rossi.”

Rossi walked over with a grin, wiping his hands on a towel. “Welcome. Hotch hasn’t said much, but we’ve been looking forward to this.”

You chuckled. “I’m just glad to finally meet all of you.”

The rest of the team gathered around, offering greetings and introductions. Morgan shook your hand with a grin. “So you’re the one who’s been making our boss a little less strict lately. Nice to meet you.”

You blushed slightly. “I just make the coffee and bread, really. He did the rest himself.”

Hotch smiled softly. “You do a lot more than that.”

Emily leaned in toward Penelope with a teasing smile. “Okay, you were right. Best birthday surprise ever.”

Penelope practically glowed with happiness. “I knew it! Hotch, you’ve been holding out on us, but I forgive you because she’s perfect.”

You laughed along with the group, feeling the warmth and acceptance from each of them. Hotch stayed close by, his hand still gently holding yours. He seemed more at ease, surrounded by his friends and with you by his side.

Rossi raised his glass, signaling for everyone to do the same. “To Penelope’s and to meeting the woman who’s made Hotch happier than we’ve seen him in a long time.”

The group cheered, glasses clinking together in celebration. As the night went on, you found yourself fitting seamlessly into their dynamic, sharing stories and laughter. Hotch remained close, always attentive, and though it was Penelope’s special day, it was clear that you were the true surprise that made the evening unforgettable.

[carlsangel]

YOU’RE WHINING

carl grimes x reader

(carls whining gets irritating.)

tags: oral sex (m!receiving), needy carl :P

masterlist here!

Carl was never really one to pry for things. He really did love taking care of you whenever he had the chance, he enjoyed the traditional ways of handling your relationship. He would love to hold doors open for you, let you enter places first (unless dangerous), cooking for you, or even when it came to your intimate relationship.

Most of the time, he did what he could to pleasure you. Whatever position allowed you to feel best, he did it for you. He also made sure you finished first every time. Not to mention he loves going down on you, not just because it pleasured you but he just absolutely adores it. Anyway, the first time you’d done something for him, he realized how nice it was to be to one receiving the head.

You didn’t realize how needy he could get before then. That man is vocal. The first time he let you give him head was when you guys were insanely bored while no one was home.

It’s a good thing no one was home as he practically couldn’t keep his mouth shut.

Anyway since then he’s been begging for it again. Unfortunately there was never really a right time. You were always on runs and even then you were always having some sort of trouble whether it was walkers, issues with the car, even people. It all got worse when you were assigned on different jobs for a week. Aaron had found a new horse and you were put the task of breaking it. Meanwhile, Carl had perimeter watch.

After a long and frustrating day with the new horse, you pull her into a newly built stable to brush her down n such. Despite your struggles in breaking her, she was beautiful, you had to admit. You were just about done before you heard footsteps approaching, so you turn around to be greeted by the sight of Carl. He said he’d come meet you after his shift.

“Hey.” You smile and he almost swoons completely. He greets you back with a small hello and a kiss on the cheek before giving his attention to the horse in front of you. He stroked her for a moment before looking back at you, admiring how you looked. He wanted you to suck him off so bad, he was practically yearning for it. He felt this feeling in his throat, almost like a moan, but not. You look back over to him and look at him sort of oddly, wondering what the expression on his face was about.

“You okay?” You ask, sort of setting him off. Then he lets out a noise, one that sort of baffles you before he started rambling. “Please, I really need it can you-” His breath is heavy and he pulls his hat off to cover his crotch where you can assume there’s a tent in his jeans. Your eyes widen and you’re not quite sure how to respond. “Jesus, Carl you’re whining.” You state, completely taken aback by his demeanor.

“I know m’really sorry but I…I really need you to go down on me I’m begging here.” He takes a step closer to you and takes your hand in his, holding it real tight because he is, in fact, begging. “Just behind the stable, no one will see.” He pleads.

Well…how can you say no to that?

Soon after, you’re kneeling down in front of him in the grass between the large steel wall (of Alexandria) and the wood of the stables. He was right, no one would see you there but they could definitely hear you so you warn him. “You’re gonna need to be quiet.” You start to work on getting his belt off and he nods, his breath getting heavier the longer he sees you on your knees in front of him.

As you work on his belt, you decide to tease him a little because, why not? So you press kisses to his (very hard by the way) dick through his jeans, causing him to moan already. You haven’t even gotten to the real thing. “I told you baby you gotta be quiet.” You smile up at him and he looks down at you so frustrated. Frustrated because you’re teasing him and you know how long he’s been wanting this. Except, that only makes it hotter for him.

You finally get his belt unbuckled and you unbutton his jeans. You tug them down, along with his underwear, just to see how needy he really was. He was rock hard, he couldn’t help it with the way you looked when he walked into the stable, your hair a mess, tired eyes and sweaty. It got him really, really aroused. You take a hold of his length which draws a sharp hiss from his mouth.

Just looking up at him like the way you were prompted him to leak a little which you very clearly took notice considering you took that as a go ahead to take him in your mouth. “Oh god-” His arms were practically nailed to the wood behind him and you continued to take him, sliding his cock in and out of your mouth repeatedly, your saliva building up and following each movement of your mouth. Your other hand goes to the base of his cock and it sort of lingers there, your fingers gently massaging. It was taking everything in him to not rut his hips into your mouth.

“I can’t..” His hands now go to your hair where he gently tries to steady himself but he seriously can’t take it. The wet noises coming from your mouth as you still won’t stop. “Please baby I’m close.” He moans, prompting you to pull back a moment, pulling a whine from him as well. You still slowly twist your hand around his dick while you look up at him, admiring him and how gorgeous he looks. His bottom lip is red from biting it so hard trying to keep quiet, but his mouth is agape and he’s breathing so hard. Meanwhile his eyes are half lidded and he just looks so fucked out.

“Is this what you wanted?” You giggle and swirl your tongue around his tip, prodding your tongue into the slit of it. All the air leaves his body and eyes roll into the back of his head. He moans so fucking loud, your eyes widen at his volume. “If you don’t close your mouth I will stop.” You laugh and he nods, taking in a deep breath to get ready for you to start again.

“Good?” He looks down and nods yes. “Yeah, good.” So you start again, moving your hand with your mouth too, spreading the saliva down to cover him with it completely. You go back to bobbing your head at a steady pace, feeling his cock twitch in your mouth. Carl resorted to just letting out soft groans, quiet enough for just the two of you to hear.

Soon enough, he was close again and this time you wouldn’t stop. You’d move quicker, taking more and more of him into your throat while he pushed your hair back out of your face. “M’gonna cum please don’t stop-” He speaks breathlessly and you comply, not stopping until he grips the back of your head still against him while the warm liquid spills down your throat. Once every drop is out of him, he lets go of your head and you pull away, doing everything you can to make it look somewhat attractive. A string of saliva follows your mouth from his dick.

You wipe your mouth with your sleeve and he gets himself back situated in his jeans. All he wants to do at this point is love on you. You treated him so well. He pulls you into a hug, leaning back against the stable wall while he kisses you all over your face.

“That good?”

“No that was incredible.”

a/n: so let’s talk about this LMFAOOOO LISTEN!!! i got this request and started writing it right after T-T and then finished it an hour after it was requested. where did that motivation come from? no idea. but also this made me realize i have never posted a fic where the reader gives him a blow job so…that might be why?

anyway this was very impromptu, match ups done soon blah blah ghost in the woods blah blah

tag list: @zomb-1-egutzz @lunarnightt @ilikestrawberriesandwomen @hiro--aoki @h00d-tr4sh @callsignwidow

[mariasont]

Please, Don't Prove 'Em Right Pt 2 - A.H

a/n: im not quite sure how i feel about this i feel like im really bad with resolutions but practice makes perfect and you all really wanted a part two so here we are i hope you beautiful angels like it:)

also if you commented on the first part which can be found here, i put you on the taglist for this one!

masterlist

pairings: aaron hotcher x fem!reader

summary: is it possible to forgive the man who broke your heart the most?

warnings: angst, creepy man in a parking lot, hurt lots of hurt, idk man i still wouldn't be able to forgive him for this, CURB STOMP

wc: 1.6k

The sound of your stupid heels against the pavement only served to fuel your irritation. A rough patch of asphalt snagged the stem of the shoe, jolting your ankle sharply. With a hiss and a muttered curse, you bent down, yanking off the insufferable things, all the while attempting to block out the thought of the grime that was now undoubtedly coating your skin.

Your stupid dress now dragged against the ground, collecting dirt, and your stupid makeup, once perfect, was now smeared by the tracks of your tears.

"Hey there, pretty lady, why the long face on such a beautiful night?"

The voice came from a man who materialized as if from thin air, towering over you. His clothes were worn, his tie hanging crookedly, and a predatory grin fixed on his face.

You tried to sidestep, your mood souring further, but he mirrored your movements, blocking your path, his eyes examining you with an unsettling sense of familiarity.

"Come on, don't be like that. A girl like you shouldn't be all alone. Let me keep you company."

His words were like oil, slick and unwelcome, making your skin crawl. You clutched your heels tighter, completely prepared to use them as a weapon if necessary. "I'm fine, thanks."

But he wasn't taking the hint, stepping closer, his breath reeking of booze. "No need to be shy. I'll treat you right--,"

This was it. Instead of being known for winning a Pulitzer, you'd be known as the girl who got kidnapped in the parking lot after the ceremony. The cherry on top of the evening.

"I think you're misunderstanding the situation. She's not interested."

The man of the hour. You knight in a suit and fucking tie. The stranger's gaze shifted to him, and for a moment you saw the hesitation, the calculation of a prey assessing whether he can take on his predator. The man finally scoffed--a sound meant to be dismissive, but even he couldn't mask the defeat. With a sneer, he walked away.

You released a pent-up breath, one you hadn't realized you'd been holding.  Aaron turned to you. "Are you alright?"

"Am I alright? You know what fuck off, Aaron." Your words came out laced with a venom that shocked even you, their acrid taste lingering on your tongue. The tears you'd been staving off now flowed freely. You jabbed the certificate into his chest, the paper wrinkling under your fingers. "I won, by the way."

Your turned on your heel, not waiting to see his face. The concrete was frigid under your bare feet, but your pride swallowed any reaction.

"This isn't the place to be alone and without shoes." Aaron's voice followed you.

You came to an abrupt stop, anger bubbling through every surface of your body as you spun around to face him. "Neither is the Pulitzer ceremony where I'm supposed to have a supportive husband."

"I'm so sorry, honey. I got caught up with that case and there was—,"

"Aaron, stop," you cut him off, tears burning the corners of your eyes. "I can't hear more excuses because you know what? I give you excuses all the time, and you take advantage of it. You take advantage of me and the chances I give you. And you just... you just keep letting me down. All I wanted was for you to be here for this one thing. That's it. And you couldn't even do that."

"I messed up, I know," Aaron said, his usual eloquence failing him. "There's no case, no job, no damn good reason for me not to be there. I failed you, and it's not something I can just fix with an I'm sorry, but I am I'm so sorry."

The floodgates open, and you're sobbing. "I hate this. I hate that I want to forgive you. But I can't... I can't because I know you'll do this again. And every time, it chips away at me, at us, until there's nothing left."

"Oh, honey," Aaron says, reaching out, but you shrink away, the space between you filled with more than just air.

"P-Please, don't," you gasp, the tears relentless. "I can't... I just need some space. I'll get my things and stay with my sister, okay?"

You walk away, the knot in your throat growing tighter, the distance between you stretched out and you can feel his eyes on you. You slide into the driver's seat, starting the engine, and glancing in the rearview mirror. Aaron's figure lingers there. A wave of nausea hits you. Isn't it wicked when the very thing you love inflicts the greatest hurt?

The drive home was silent, the stereo left untouched. Your fingers clenched and unclenched around the steering wheel, your chest rising and falling with heavy breaths that you couldn't seem to control. The reflection of your tear-streaked face was lost in the blur of streetlights streaking past. Your mind replayed every missed anniversary, every birthday, every empty seat beside you. You were tired of being alone.

Before you knew it, you were sitting in front of your garage. Each movement was a chore--unbuckling the seatbelt, opening the car door, the garage door, and finally the front door.

You stop dead in your tracks, eyes roaming over the living room. Balloons lie strewn about the floor, streamers dangling from the mantel. Almost every surface glimmers with the soft glow from the intermittent flickering of battery-operated candles. Aaron had an insistence on fire safety, which always negated the use of actual candles.

Tears threatened to spill again as you closed the door behind you, your steps leading you down the hallway to the kitchen. A congratulations banner hung over the island, done in Aaron's chicken scratch handwriting but it made your heart give out all the same.

The scent of chrysanthemums, your favorites, wafts through the air before they come into view--large, splendid blooms of pink and yellow cradled in your largest vase. Your hands, trembling, ran over the accompanying card, fingers fumbling to unfold it.

For My Pulitzer Prize Winner,

I realize I'm writing this before the ceremony, maybe I'm jinxing it, but in my heart, I know you will win. I know this not just because of the undeniable quality of your work, but because of the sheer force of will and passion that drives you. You are the greatest thing in my life, and every day, you inspire me to be the best version of myself.

When we first met, you told me your favorite flowers were Chrysanthemums. I remember asking if it was because it was your birth flower, but you shook your head and told me about your favorite story instead. You told me about a book that showed the beauty and strength in being unique, and that sometimes, it takes a bit of time for the world to recognize the splendor of what's different.

This has been your journey—filled with moments of doubt, but ultimately, a triumph of self-belief and talent. You've blossomed in the most extraordinary ways, and tonight, the world sees what I've always seen.

Love, Aaron

Tears speckled the paper as you dabbed at them with your sleeve, trying to clear the blots. Your focus moved to the present, wrapped neatly and sitting beside the flowers. You tugged at the ribbons, unraveling the wrapper paper with deliberate gentleness.

A shaky giggle slips out as you draw out the book. Chrysanthemum by Kevin Henkes. But what really starts the tears isn't the book itself, not, it's the familiar loops and lines of your nine-year-old self's handwriting.

This is my favorite book because it's about being special. I am special too.

This was the copy you had as a little girl, the on you lost. How did he find it? Turning the page, another stifled sob breaks free. The margins are crowded with affectionate notes penned by your family, friends, colleagues, the BAU team, and Aaron.

Fuck.

The door creaked open and clicked shut, and in no time at all, he was standing behind you. He stopped, a few steps away, as if too scared to close the distance and scare you off.

"Did you do this?" Your voice was soft, book clutched to your chest.

The pause stretches on, his breath the only sign of life. "Yes."

You turn to him, searching his eyes. "Why?"

"Why?" Aaron repeats, as if it were a stupid question. "Because I love you."

He takes a cautious step forward, like he's all too aware you're getting that shaky feeling in your stomach that's telling you to run.

"I am so sorry. You have every right to be mad, to be upset with me, and I get it. But I love you, and I want to work on this. It's tearing me apart to see you like this."

"I'm scared, Aaron." You voice breaks. "Scared you're going to do this to me again."

He steps closer, close enough to share the same breath. "I'm scared too," he admits. "But I'm more scared of losing you. I'll prove it. Today and every day after."

The room is still, the only sound the ticking of the clock. You're standing at a crossroads, the kind you read in books and see in moves, the power to forgive or walk away. You watch him, the man who is the love of your life and also the bane of existence, and you see it in his eyes. Something you haven't seen in a long time—fear. Not the fear of consequence, but the fear of loss.

It's a humanly glimpse into the man you fell in love with, the man who you know is still there beneath his layers of work.

"I'll be waiting."

Maybe you could be considered stupid, naive, with no self-respect. Maybe one day you'll curse yourself for not walking away. But maybe, just maybe the man you love will make his way back to you and prove the rest wrong.

regular taglist: @hotchhner @khxna @readergf @sarcasm-and-stiles @edencherries @aurorsworld @princess76179 @malindacath @freyy253

comment taglist: @ill-be-okay-soon-enough @simpingformiddleagedmen @222hwilsss @michasia24 @vsplanet @himboelover @dangerousprincessharleyinhawaii @gibson-g1rl @gghostwriter @lilozg-123 @uranometrias @miley1442111 @welcometothemaraudersspam @ladycaramelswirl @callmekanytime @maxiismp @delusional-4-fake-people

[mohammadgaza]

"Please, Help Us Revive Hope"

Here lies my brother, his body broken and his spirit nearly extinguished after the war took everything from us. He dreamed of a simple future, a life filled with peace, but the war was too cruel to allow his dreams to survive. Today, he lies among machines and wires, silently fighting for survival. His heart still beats, but his body can no longer endure the pain. With each passing moment, hope fades bit by bit.

We, his family, are doing everything we can to keep him alive, but the cost of treatment exceeds our capacity. We need those who can stand by us, those who can give my brother a second chance at life, a chance to drink from the hope he’s been waiting for. Your donation, no matter how small, could be the difference between a new life for him or an end.

Help us bring my brother back to life and give him the smile that the war stole from him.

@ibtisams-blog @dlxxv-vetted-donations @heritageposts @baby-girl-aaron-dessner @sygold-blog @palistani123-blog @gazaboovintage @gazavetters @vetted-gaza-funds @nabulsi27 @malcriaada @appsa @palestinegenocide @palestinianliberator @palestina @northgazaupdates2 @sar-soor @imjustheretotrytohelp @90-ghost @queerstudiesnatural @tamamita @lamahourani7 @donationsblog

[redstarwriting]

his girl | ii. envy me

earth 42!miles morales x fem!reader | miles morales x fem!reader

word count: 2.1k

genre: angst to fluff

warnings: language, insults, spoilers, probably bad spanish, 42 Miles and reader get into a little spat, stubborn 42 Miles, violent 42 Miles, Miles and Miles almost fight twice

a/n: teehee and so it begins 🤭 didn’t expect this to turn into a whole series but i’m not mad. i hope y’all enjoy the storyline i thought up and please, by all means, give me your input! thank you all for the support 🖤 enjoy :)

previous chapter: i. his girl

now reading: ii. envy me

next chapter: iii. all the riches

───────────────────────────────

Miles, in fact, did not run. He was too taken aback to do anything, even though his body was screaming at him too. And he was too focused on your confused face. You looked exactly like his (Y/n), and it made his heart ache. And that is how other Miles was able to knock him out so fast. And why he just woke up in his Uncle Aaron’s apartment, chained to the punching bag, just like he did to Peter after first meeting him. He hears his uncle's music blaring from his record player. He looks in the direction it’s coming from. His eyes widen as he sees his Uncle Aaron. He’s alive. “Uncle Aaron?”

“Not your tío,” 42 Miles says, and Miles glares at him. “I’m just tryna go home, bro. Why are you doing this? What are you getting from this?”

“You said you’re from a different dimension?”

“Yeah. And?” Miles asks, narrowing his eyes at him. “Why are you here?”

“I told you I was sent here by mistake! I just wanna get back to my world, man. Dad’ll die,” he says, exasperated, and Miles stares at him with a blank expression. “Your dad alive?”

“Yeah, of course, he is,” Miles says, and 42 Miles frowns slightly. “Oh.”

Miles normally would be able to piece together what the disappointment in his voice would mean. But he's a little preoccupied with multiple other thoughts currently to necessarily care to psychoanalyze his own behaviors. He also doesn’t have the chance to see Aaron’s face drop and see the sadness in his eyes. Or the way you immediately look at your Miles to make sure the news didn’t break him. “But he’s gonna die if you keep me here,” Miles explains, and 42 Miles nods. “Yeah. Well, you ain’t leaving.”

“…Please. You have to let me go,” Miles pleads. But 42 Miles just stares at him, unmoved. “Why would I do that?” he asks, placing his gauntlet next to Miles’ head. Miles frowns, placing his finger on the piece of metal linking the chains together, ready to electrocute it and make his escape. The other him stares at him with an unreadable expression, seemingly no emotion behind his eyes, and just as it feels like shit is about to go down, he hears your voice ring out. “Miles. Just let him go.” Both your Miles and 1610 Miles turn their heads to you. It’s the first time 1610 Miles noticed you were in here. “(Y/n)? Bro, why are you letting her around your business?” Miles asks, and 42 Miles shoots a venomous look at him. “She insisted on coming. This is her first time around this shit,” Miles hisses at him. 1610 Miles can’t help but feel a tightening in his chest. He wants nothing more than for you from his world to be here with him. Not even in a romantic way, at least that’s what he’s trying to convince himself. He just misses you. He chased you away, and now he doesn’t even know if he’ll be able to fix it. His thoughts are interrupted when you clear your throat. Both of the boys look back in your direction. You’re on Aaron’s couch, staring at your Miles with such intensity it makes even 1610 Miles lock up. He can only imagine what it’s like being the one on the receiving end of that look. He sees other Miles’ eyes soften in his peripheral vision as he removes his fist from beside Miles’ head. “Mi amor…”

“No. Let him go, there’s no point in keeping him here,” you say, and 42 Miles frowns. “Not one to let people go, (Y/n). You know that.”

“I don’t give a fuck, Morales.”

“Damn, ma! Not even callin’ me Miles now?” Miles asks, an edge to his voice. You frown. “No. Not right now. Let him go, and we’ll see.”

“Why you want me to let him go? Got a crush on him or something?” Miles asks, and you raise your eyebrow. You glance at Miles, then back to your Miles. “Technically, yeah. I do. Unless you’d prefer I break up with both of you right now,” you say back, your voice just as cold as your boyfriend’s. “You tellin’ me you’d rather have this guy? Sayin’ this guy is like me? Estás de broma…” he mutters, and Miles looks between the two of you. “Not to piss you off more, but this guy is still technically you,” Miles says, and 42 Miles glares at him. “Cállate. No one was talking to you.”

“Man, why do you hate me so much?! I’m you!” Miles says, exasperated. He just doesn’t understand why this version of him is so hostile to him. They’re basically the same! Except Miles is a superhero and other Miles is a supervillain, but they still both have super in the title so how different can they really be? “Is this a call for help or–”

Miles gets cut off but 42 Miles punching the punching bag, right by Miles’ head. Enough force is exuded that the sand from the bag flies out, starting to pour down the side of it. His eyes widen, and you gasp. Even Aaron reacts a bit to it. But maybe it’s just because someone who looks exactly like his nephew is on the receiving end of it this time. This time. “Miles!” you yell, standing up. “What?!”

“What do you think you’re doing?!”

“What I gotta do! You don’t get it, (Y/n)! This is the job!” Miles yells, and you roll your eyes. “Oh, please, Miles. This is the job? He’s you! Wouldn’t you be trying to get home if you knew you could save your dad?!” you yell, and he glares at you. “(Y/n). Don’t.”

“You know you would be,” you walk over to him, placing your hands on his cheeks. He subconsciously relaxes, but only slightly. You sigh. “You don’t have to be such a hardass all the time, amor,” you mumble, and he shakes his head. “No comprendes, amor… I have to be this way. Or else— “

“Miles, he’s not a part of the cartel. He’s not gonna tell anyone here that you let him go… he’s not even from here. It’s okay for you to think with your heart instead of your head just this once,” you say, and he huffs. “Nah. I stopped thinkin’ with my heart a long time ago,” he says, and a hurt expression crosses your face. “Then what am I? A calculated move for you to use as an adavantage when you need it?” you ask, venom in your words. “No, (Y/n), don’t be estúpida. You’re mi vida, but him? How I know he ain’t just some experiment they made? To get to me?” Miles asks, looking at you with a skeptical look. You sigh. “Dude! I don’t even know what you’re talking about! I have spider powers, is that a thing anyone else here has?!”

“No.”

“Exactly! Why would whoever you’re talking about make a carbon copy of you with enhanced biology just to use me for this?!” Miles asks, and you shrug. “He’s got a point, Miles,” you say, and 42 Miles looks at you again. “Thank you, (Y/n),” 1610 Miles says, and 42 Miles rolls his eyes. “(Y/n) you have to understand that I can’t take no chances. You know that the cartel will go after—”

“I know. I know, Miles, but I really don’t think that—”

“You don’t know that (Y/n). You don’t know them like I do,” Miles says, and you sigh. “Miles. Mi amor. Mi vida. Mi sol, listen to me. If he wanted you dead, he would have done it by now,” you try to get through to him. He glances back at Miles, and Miles can literally see the distrust and paranoia in his expression.

He must have been through so much shit. This is a world with no Spider-Man after all. And all this mention of a cartel? No wonder Miles turned to the Prowler. It’s similar to Aaron in his world, he thinks. He thought that he had nowhere else to turn, so he turned to crime. But deep down, he can’t be that bad. Right…?

“Amor, I need to be cautious. I just have to ask him some questions before… letting him go,” he mumbles, glancing at Aaron. Aaron nods. 1610 Miles gets the feeling they’re not planning on letting him go. You must get that feeling too, because you shake your head, pulling your hands away from Miles’ face. “I can’t believe you right now,” you say, and he frowns. “(Y/n), please just try to understand—”

“No, Miles! I’m done trying to understand you when you never try to understand me!” you yell, and he clenches his jaw. “What do you mean by that, huh?” he asks, and you scoff. “I just. I need to leave. Before I do something I regret.”

“Like what, huh? Break up with me? Fight with me? Actually understand where I’m coming from for once?” Aaron cringes at that. You’re probably the most understanding person in his life other than him. That wasn’t the right choice of words. And you let him know it. “FOR ONCE?! Miles! Oh my god! Are you serious right now?! How many times have you tried to understand me?! I lost people too, you know! And I’m not out here—”

“Do you think I want to do this, (Y/n)?! Be fuckin’ for rea! I do this for you!” he yells back, and you shake your head, frustrated to the point of tears. “I never asked you to do this!”

“You didn’t need to because I love you enough to want to without you asking me to! You need it, Mamá needs it, everyone needs it, and I can provide it for all of you!” You angrily wipe a tear away, trying desperately to keep the rest of them contained. Miles softens. “Amor, no necesitas llorar—”

“Stop, Miles. Just… just stop. I need some air, don’t follow me,” you turn, hurrying to Aaron’s door. Miles steps forward to go after you, but Aaron puts a hand on his shoulder, shaking his head. “Nah, man. Give her some space. She’ll come around,” Aaron says, and Miles clenches his fists. As soon as he sees you slip out of the door, closing it behind you, he turns to Miles. “This is your fault,” he says, pointing at him. “Miles,” Aaron says, crossing his arms. While he is also weary of this new Miles, his Miles isn’t thinking rationally right now. Then again, he is only 15. That’s why Aaron is here, sometimes he needs some assistance. “Why you lookin’ at me like that?” Aaron asks the other Miles. Miles hadn’t even realized he’d been staring. He shakes his head. “Nothing… nothing. Just… good to see you. Haven’t in a while,” he mumbles, and Aaron raises his eyebrow. That could mean a few things. Best not to dwell on it, though. 

“Who are you, really?” 42 Miles asks, and 1610 Miles groans. “I’m you, dude! Why is that so hard to understand?! I’m not a part of a cartel or anything I just want to get home!” Miles is frustrated. Seeing the world they live in from Aaron’s window, he gets why Miles is so… paranoid. But honestly, how long can he keep this uncertainty up? “Explain how you got here. And don’t just say ‘by mistake,’ alright?” Miles says, showing the claws on his gauntlets. Miles rolls his eyes. “I’m Spider-Man, right? And there’s tons of different Spider-Mans… men? Not important, there’s other me’s! And Spider-Women, Spider-People in a bunch of different dimensions, one of them, Miguel, figured out how to travel dimensions and we all met each other… except I wasn’t supposed to meet them because the spider that made me Spider-Man actually came from this world so someone here was supposed to get bit and I wasn't supposed to exist like this, but—”

“Wait… you sayin’ my world ain’t supposed to be like this…?” Miles asks, and Miles nods. “Yes. The people at Alchemax on my world built a collider and had the spider come to my world and it got out and—”

“You’re the reason for this?” Miles looks at himself, who is not even angrier. “I… n-no, but yes, I—” Miles gets cut off by a gauntlet getting placed way too close to his head again. What he doesn’t know is 42 Miles just put together everything in his head. This Miles was Spider-Man. And his dad was still alive because of it. If that were the case for him, maybe his dad wouldn’t have died. Maybe he wouldn’t have been like this. 

He could have had everything that was taken from him. 

“That’s enough talking, cabrón,” he growls, ready to escalate things yet again. Miles gets ready to break out of his restraints again, and Aaron gets ready to help Miles out. Then, over the music, they hear a scream.

A scream that undoubtedly belongs to you.

───────────────────────────────

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[samandcolbyownme]

Summary: Reader goes on a run with a few of the others but they end up getting blindsided by another group, reader and Rosita take the most damage.

Warnings: strong language, twd apocalypse setting, not-so-secret feelings between reader and Daryl but nothing is official right away, mentions of alcohol, mentions of fighting, reader gets injured and needs stitches, reader giving and receiving punches, kicks, etc. mentions of blood, cuts, weapons such as knives and guns, heavy mentions of killing (FAKE OF COURSE!!), a kiss or two, maybe three if you’re lucky ;)

Word count: 5.8k

ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ᖭི༏ᖫྀ

“Y/n. You comin’ or what!?” Rosita yells over to you, “or are you too bus-“

“I’m comin’, alright!” You yell back, cutting her off, and all she does is smile.

You look away from the group, cheeks turning red as you look up at Daryl. His head tilts to the side as he looks at you confused, “What’s she mean by busy?”

You shake your head, “Nothing just.. girl talk.”

Daryl scoffs, shaking his head, “Good luck out there.”

“You sure you can’t come?” You bat your lashes, which definitely does something to him, but he just shakes his head, “Y’know I would if I could.”

He reaches up to pinch your chin between his fingers, “Be fuckin’ careful out there, a’right.”

You give him a smile, “I always try my best.”

He hums lowly as he watches you walk away, keeping his eye on you until you and the group were out of the gate.

If Daryl didn’t have a prior commitment to help Aaron with the one wall, he would definitely be going with you.

“Try and convince him to come along again?” Rosita asks as you walk with her. You roll your eyes, trying not to laugh, “Can you give me a break?”

Rosita is your best friend, has been since you saved her life. She had six walkers on her, you were moving by and decided to stop and help her and she instantly liked you, so away to hilltop you went.

One night later on, when you both were giggly off some liquor you found, you admitted to her that you had a thing for The Archer in your group - Daryl Dixon.

Which, you and him also did end up taking a liking to one another. It only took one look from each of you and that was enough to not keep each other off your minds.

“I think it’s really cute.” She glances over at you, “Seeing you guys in looove.”

“Please. He is not in looove.” You scoff, a laugh following right after, “Now you’re just being dramatic.”

“You guys talking about you and Daryl?” Michonne elbows you and you sigh, “Not you, too!” You groan, “Oh my god.”

“I think it’s cute, too. Never really seen Daryl look at someone the way he looks at you, and I’ve known him a while.” Michonne raises her brows and you just shake your head.

Someone even mentioning his name has your cheeks turning a rosy color.

“You know it’s true.” Rosita adds, “C’mon y/n. Just take a chance already.”

“I’ll think about it and get back to you.” You laugh, everything becoming serious when Rick holds his hand up, signaling to stop.

“Walkers?” Michonne asks, moving closer to Rick, and he nods, “About seven or eight? Some might be in the side tree line.” He looks back at the group, “I think we can take ’em.”

You nod, getting your knife gripped in your hand before you continue to walk down and take out the small group of the dead.

——

About an hour later, you come to the few houses at the end of the one road, “Wait.” You grab onto Rosita’s arm, “I don’t think we’re the only ones here.”

Rick snaps his head towards you, “What do you mean by that?”

“Something just fe-“

Bullets. Lots of them flying your group’s way.

“Get down!” Rick yells as you all duck behind old cars and trees. You get your gun ready, along with everyone else and aim, looking through the sight to see if you can see anything.

As soon as you see a body you fire, which leads everyone else into shooting blindly in the direction of where gunfire came from first.

“We move on three. You two go that way.” Rick points to you and Rosita and motions towards the houses, “You two go that way.” He motions for Carl and Michonne to go the opposite.

“I-“

“I don’t think you’ll be going anywhere.” A voice from behind and the sound of a shotgun loading makes you all whip around.

Six men coming to form an arch around her.

“Who are you?” Rosita asks and the woman with the gun laughs, “Hell, I should be asking you all the same. Damn. Thing.”

“Wait.” She squints her eyes at you and points, “You. I’ve seen you.. with that long haired, crossbow wielding, psycho.”

You clench your jaw, tilting your head slightly, “I’m sorry, what did you say?” The lady with the gun tilts her head, “I think you heard me. I don’t really like repeating myself.”

“What do you want?” Rick asks, ready to negotiate, “We didn’t come to cause any trouble we-“

“I don’t fucking care about your bullshit we need supplies sob story, although.” She purses her lips, eyes scanning over your backpacks and weapons, “It really doesn’t look like you have a sob story at all, so I’ll just go ahead and let these men pick you off one. By. O-“

“We will give you our guns and walk away.” You say with a shrug, “How about that?”

She hums, gun now pointed at your chest, “How about… no.. and instead, we bring you inside and try to find out a little bit about you mysterious, pathetic looking people.” She looks at all of you again, “And where you came from.”

“No. We’re not-“ Rosita is cut off by the woman pointing the gun at her, “Was I talking to you?”

“Well, you said, you mysterious people, so I’m guessing I was included in that, too?” Rosita fires, sarcasm on her words.

The lady just sighs, “You made it so easy to pick who the first one is going to be.”

She steps closer to Rosita and you all move a step closer, too, “I’m just sayin’, you mess with one of us. You mess with all of us.”

You stare at the woman, a cold stare, “Put the gun down, and we’ll fucking talk.”

“We can talk this out. If you just let us explain why we’re here.” Rick steps up and the gun is now on Rick before it’s lowered to the ground, “Who’s in charge here?”

You all motion to Rick and he nods. The lady raises a brow, smirking as her eyes fall onto you, “Really? Because it seems like she’s running the show.”

“Walk.” The woman points towards the one house, “Now. Before I change my mind about killing you where you stand.”

You all move in a line and her men take your stuff.

Guns, knives, backpacks. Everything.

You were racking your brain for a way to get out of this, just like the others were.

“I have to pee.” You blurt out, instantly going with it, “Can I use the bathroom, or a tree, or something?” You cross your leg over your other one to make it more believable.

The woman looks you up and down, rolling her eyes as she motions to you, “Take her around back. Bring her in when you’re done.”

The man grabs you by the arm and pulls you, “Wait, I-“

“I have to pee, too.” Rosita does exactly what you did and the woman looks between you and her and squints, “If this is some kind of a ruse to escape, I swear, I’ll keep the kid hostage until I find you again, and then.. I’ll make him watch you all die a slow and extremely painful death.”

“No.” Rick and Michonne says instantly, “You can trust them.” Michonne assures the woman, but she didn’t believe it.

“I don’t trust you.” She shakes her head, “Do what you want, but just know, I warned you.”

You try not to laugh at the stupid woman as you and Rosita are walked back to behind the one house, with only two guards.

You share one glance with her, and that’s all it took for her to be on the same page as you.

You both turn around to face the men, giving them both the stink eye as you squat down. You bring your thumbs up to connect them to your belt loops.

“Are you going to piss or wh-“

You and Rosita lunge forward, knocking them both back onto their backs by the knees with a grunt.

You’re in fight or flight mode, and you weren’t going anywhere, not without a major fight.

“Fuckin bitch, get-“ you stomp the heel of your boot on his wrist and he yells, letting go of his gun. You go to try and kick it away, but he manages to get you on the ground and his hands quickly moving to go around your throat.

You grab his wrists, trying to pry his hands away as painful whimpers and squeaks are forced out of you.

He brings one of his hands back, quickly delivering a punch to your cheek bone. You’re dazed instantly as the punch jarred everything in your skull.

He delivers another punch, this time harder, which busts your cheek open.

As your vision is turning darker by the second, you try your best to kick him anywhere you can connect at. A sudden wave of panic sets in as your vision is almost totally back now, causing you to fling your legs up, your ankles on the opposite sides of his head.

You straighten your legs out to tighten them, pushing his arms together as you bring your knees in. He starts to lean backwards, and it’s just enough for you to bring you foot back, kicking him directly in the face.

He falls backwards off of you, his hands instantly moving to feel the blood that’s gushing from his nose, or mouth, hard to tell.

You go straight for the knife, lunging over to grab it before whipping around to stab him.

His hand catches your wrist, pushing your arm away from him as you try your damdest to keep pushing down. You groan loudly, smashing your knee into his groin area, which gives you the opportunity to push down and plunge the knife, handle deep into his throat.

You look over at Rosita as quiet choking fills your ears. You’re still dazed, in pain and your breathing just as rapid as hers.

She stands up, and you notice she’s got a decent cut on her forehead, “You good?”

She looks back at you, eyes going wide, “Holy shit, y/n.” She rushes over to look at your cheek, “That looks.. bad.”

“M’fine. We don’t have time.”

You stand up, looking down at the corpse with the knife in its neck. You bend down, pulling it out with a squelching noise as it comes out.

As you both gather up the weapons and supplies as quickly as you can, you flick off the bodies lying on the ground and Rosita can’t help herself, “I see why Daryl likes you.”

“You’re still on that?” You ask quietly as you move with her to the back of the house, looking around to make sure no one is coming to investigate.

“Honey, I’ll be on that until you’re on him, okay.”

“Oh my god. Okay, I promise, I’ll make it clear to Daryl, but only if we get out of here with everyone alive.”

“I swear to god if-“

“On your knees! Now!” One of the two guards starting to run towards you yells, but it was only a split second later that you were being shot at, again.

You and Rosita book it around the building, stopping her once you see the woman come out of the house with another guard.

Rosita leans around, firing a shot right into the one guards head, but the other one is still back there somewhere.

You go to pull your gun up and you hear your name being yelled.

“Y/n!” She’s pulled back and slammed against the old garage door, falling to the ground with a groan. You turn your gun on the guy who threw her, “Step the fuck back or I wi-“

He smacks the gun up in the air, it fires one time before the man kicks you in the torso, causing you to fly back onto the concrete, “Fuck.”

The man kicks your gun before moving to stand over you and your hands desperately search for something sharp or hard enough to crack his skull open with as you kick to keep him back.

Rosita jumps on his back, yelling as she tries to choke him out.

You scramble to pick up a rock you felt, and as he flings Rosita off, he quickly bends down to try and grab the collar of your jacket, you quickly slam the rock into his temple.

He stumbles back, groaning, and you get up as quick as you can, moving to grab your gun as you glance back at the porch.

One of the guards from

You turn to warn her, but the man you hit with a rock runs at you, slamming you into the brick wall, back first, before he grips your shoulder and neck and delivers another hard slam.

He does it again, this time throwing you away from him you roll across the dirt a few times and groan, coughing from the dust that your body stirred up on impact.

. He steps back, looking towards Rosita who is now standing up, gun in her hand. The guards cant even say or do anything before Rosita shoots both of them, back to back, not even giving them time to think about what they even wanted to say.

Which meant there was only one guard.. and the main bitchshow left.

And speak of the devil, Rosita points the gun to the door as the woman walks out first, Michonne, Rick and Carl all follow, and they have the final guard on their tail.

The woman comes down the steps, walking over to you and Rosita. Her eyes move over to examine the dead bodies of her people.

“There’s more outback, probably making their way up here right now.” Rosita says as she walks up next to you.

“Should have just listened, you now.. because now, I’m going to fucking kill you two in front of everybody.” The woman raises her gun and you scoff, “Go fuck yourself.”

You step towards her, “We never wanted this.”

“That’s funny..bbecause once you’re on my land, this is usually the only way it ever ends up.” The woman looks around, “Looks like we got more than the two out back.”

Walkers push their way through the trees and brush, moaning and groaning as they move towards where the gunshots and yelling has been coming from for the last half an hour.

You swing quick, hitting the gun out of her hand which catches her off guard, “Rosita. Go. I got this.”

She nods and grabs her weapons, making her way up to where Michonne and Rick had just taken out the last guard.

The woman goes to hit you but you grab her arm, jamming your knee into her ribs as she groans, catching your leg and body slamming you onto the ground.

You cough as she stands up, placing her boot on your chest, pressing down as you’re now looking at the shotgun from the bottom of the barrel up.

“If you kill me, you’ll have people after you.” You lay there, looking up at her as you wait a few seconds for your chance to swipe her legs out from under her with yours.

She falls to the ground with a grunt, trying to quickly get to her feet but you tackle her to the ground, instantly starting to wail on her.

“More walkers!” Carl yells loudly and you wrap your hands around the woman’s throat, “Kinda busy here, kid.”

“You got this?” Michonne asks as she looks down at the woman turning purple in your grasp, and you nod.

As soon as Michonne walks away, the woman brings her knee up, hitting you right in the middle of the back.

You tense up, “Fucking bitch!”

She leans up, head butting you in the nose and you fall back, with a quick and blurry glance around, you see walkers, at least twenty or so making their way in from the field.

She moves her body onto yours, straddling your thighs as her knees pin your hands down before she delivered a hard punch to your face, “You really think you can kill me? I’ve been doing this for years.”

“I’m gonna.” You spit blood at her, clenching your jaw as her hands tightens around you neck, “Maybe if I get you out of the picture, I can have that rugged lookin’ archer all to myself.”

“S-say one more fucking thing about him.” Your voice is strained from her grip, “I swe-“ you squeak as she squeezes, lifting your head up off the ground.

She leans in, “I bet he would make me feel so-“

Now you were pissed.

Everything in you felt like it was on fire, “Fuck you.” You manage get out before getting one of your hands free.

You reach up and grab as much of her hair you could get. She groans through gritted teeth as you pull her down with a hard yank, her body lifting to free your other hand.

You immediately try and deliver a punch, but she beats you to it. She cracks you over the mouth, the force busting your lip open again your teeth, and you instantly taste blood, lots of blood.

You grab her by her shirt collar, heaving yourself forward as far as you could go before throwing yourself backwards.

You’re able to get your leg under her, which helped you throws her body over yours.

You quickly move, getting into a standing position, just like her. Your chest rising and falling quickly, face swollen and broken.

More walkers keep coming, but you weren’t leaving this bitch alive.

“Give it up already.” She pulls a knife from her side holder and spins it around over her finger before gripping it.

You keep your stare on her, ready for whatever was about to come.

“Y/n! duck!”

You duck, watching as the knife she threw, land perfectly in the bitches chest. Michonne helps you up before going to take care of the walkers that are a little too close for comfort.

The woman falls to her knees, gasping as she sluggishly brings her hands up to the object protruding out of her chest.

You walk up, putting a hand on her shoulder as you grip the knife with your other hand, “Who are you?”

She smiles up at you, “Oh honey. I’m am only the start of what’s about to come.” Without another second, you twist the knife, pushing it in more before you push it upward.

The woman gasp, groaning in pain as you twist it again, “Oh, and the crossbow wielding psycho, just happens to be the love of my life, and the people you pointed your guns at, are my family.”

“Family doesn’t mean shit.” The woman chokes on her blood, droplets splashing all over, “They just.. screw you over in the long run.”

“Not my family.” You stand up, getting ready to walk away when you fall, due to the slash to your thigh.

Your hand slaps over the open cut in your blood soaked jeans, crying out in pain, just hoping someone can stop bashing heads in enough to hear you.

You look over, quickly trying to push yourself over the broken concrete and stones to get closer to a knife that’s lying on the ground.

The woman moves over as fast as her knees could carry her, “It’s not over until one of us is dead.” She grabs your ankle, holding you from moving any closer.

As she moves up, she puts pressure on your wounded thigh with her knee, making you cry out in pain. You opened your eyes, watching as she brings the knife up,

It all happened so quick, right as her arms went up, you struck, gripping the the knife and plunging it into the side her skull, causing what little life she had left in her, to fully die out.

She falls over, revealing Michonne, who is looking at you, “I’d ask if you were alright, but..” she cringes in a joking manner as she moves down to hold pressure on your thigh. , “..you don’t look it.”

“What the fuck was that?” You ask, laying back on the ground, “I feel like none of that made sense.”

Rosita runs up, falling down as she digs through her bag for medical supplies, “Shit, all I have is gauze, and you need stitches, y/n.” She looks up at you, “Oh my god, your face.”

“Have you seen your face, yet?” You try to raise your brows but you just can’t, “You need em, too.”

Rosita nods, “I can feel that it’s bad.” She laughs slightly, “Alright, lift your leg so I can wrap it quick.” She sighs, “And then we can get the hell out of here..”

“You guys ok-“ Rick stops talking when he sees how beat up you and and Rosita actually are, “I’m so sorry.”

“Rick why are you apologizing?” Rosita asks as she glances up at him. You have your eyes screwed shut as you push through the stinging pain of Michonne holding pressure on your thigh.

“I brought us here I-“ Rick hakes his head and you look at Michonne, “Tell him it’s not his f-ah, fuck.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” Rosita says in a mumble.

You look back to Michonne, “Please tell your man that this isn’t his fault. We’ll be okay. We’re the one who live, right?”

Michonne nods, a smile spreading across her face as she looks at Rick and Carl, “We are the ones who live.”

——

About two hours later, you finally reached home.

Your adrenaline has been keeping you going. That was until you seen Daryl’s face fall and him running over to you the second your past the gate.

“What the hell happened?” He yells, looking over the beaten and exhausted group as he goes right to you, “Y/n, hey. Ya still with me.” He cups your cheeks, tilting your head up and holding you with one hand as he snaps with his other.

“We were attacked, they’re dead. But..” Rick shakes his head and Daryl looks down at you as he feels your head move.

You slowly look up at him, a slight smirk on your lips, “I kicked ass, Dixon.”

That’s all you get out before you fall into him again.

“Whoa, hey, alright, alright.” He catches you, holding you up as he turns Rosita’s face to him. He looks at Maggie, nodding towards Rosita, “Take her to get help. I’ve got y/n.”

Daryl picks you up bridal style, carrying you over to the medical trailer. He kicks the door and Dr. Carson opens it, immediately rushing Daryl to bring you in.

You come to again, looking around as you try to figure out where you are exactly.

“Has she fallen asleep or passed out at all?” Carson asks as he moves with Daryl to look at you.

“yeah, yeah, uh..” Daryl’s mind is a mess right now, “..few minutes after they got back, then she collapsed on me right before I brought’er over.”

He lays you down on the table and you groan in pain, “S’okay. We’re gonna get you better.”

“Try and keep her talking.” Carson turns his attention to you, “Y/n, hi, it’s Dr. Carson, do you want any pain medication?”

You shake your head, whimpering at the pain setting in more and more, “No. no.”

“We have plenty, y/n. I sug-“

You cut Carson off in a snappy tone, “I said no.”

“Alright.. Do you know what happened, y/n?” He asks as he shines a light into your eyes, “Can you see me?”

You nod, groaning as you close your eyes again. He moves to get an IV ready while you mumble memories about the day you’ve just encountered. You try to move your leg but you forgot about your injury first a second.

You groan, “The fucking bitch in the woods.”

Daryl and the doctor look at each other then back to you.

“Hey.” You can feel Daryl lean in, interlocking his fingers with yours. You give it a weak squeeze and slowly turn your head towards him, wincing in pain. He lays a hand on your head gently, “None uh that shit, don’t be forcing yourself to look at me.” He shakes his head, trying to blink away the gloss coating in his eyes.

“But.. I like looking at you.” You smile slightly and Daryl sniffles, giving you a slight laugh, “I know whatcha mean, darlin’.”

You raise your hand up slowly, laying it on his cheek, “If.. i-f it makes you feel any better, I ki-lled her because she s-aid shit, shit.”

Your body starts tensing as Carson wipes the excess blood from your thigh. You whimper, returning your attention back to Daryl, “About you.”

He scoff, shaking his head slightly, “Me?”

“Said.” You grit your teeth, squeezing Daryl’s hand and the table below you, “You were a long.. haired.. c-crossbow wielding psycho, but.. but that was before I-I pissed her off.. enough to say some.. more dumb shit.”

Your words are almost a mumble, but Daryl focuses enough on you to understand what you’re saying, “what else she say?”

You shake your head, “I’ll tell… you later.. Where’s Rosita?”

“She’s with Maggie and Enid.” Daryl assures you, “She’s fine. Jus’like you’re gonna be.” He brings your hand up slowly and gently presses his lips to your turning purple knuckles.

“Y’sure you don’t want any pain meds, y/n?” Daryl asks, his words full of concern. You nod slightly, “I’m sure.”

You squeeze Daryl’s hand tight and he lays his other one on top of your hand. You arch your back slightly, “Fuck, Carson that hurts.”

“I know, I know but I have to clean it out.” Carson answers as he continues to work on your thigh.

“Tell me more about what happened, hm.” Daryl reaches in ever so gently as he moves hair from your face without trying to touch any bruised and swollen skin, but you didn’t care what he did, “Y’think you can tell me how you kicked ass?”

“Mhm.” You close your eyes and reopen them slowly, “We.. went, to that apa-apartment complex and a-ah..” you wince, “..As we were deciding on where to go, they came up behind us, held us at gun point while she ran her mouth.”

“They, who?” Daryl asks, “What did they say, what did they want?”

You work through telling Daryl about when those people first arrived behind you and what all happened in the woods.

“She thought you were the leader’n not Rick?” He smooths his free hand over your hair, “You did kick ass, huh.”

You smile, letting out a sigh, “I wanted to e-end her the-” You wince at the sting from the second round of the antiseptic on your leg, “Second I s-saw her stupid smug looking face.”

You tense up, groaning lowly as tears form in your eyes, “Um, she.. she wanted to know why we, we were on her land? Took our weapons, back..packs..” you let out a long breathe, “Said she had other questions?”

You go into telling him about how you and Rosita got alone and what you were able to do to kill the first two guards and how dumb the woman was because she were to only send two.

“They didn’t ..do nothing, right?” Daryl asks, tensing up as he let’s out a huff, “I’ll fuckin’ kill ‘em all.”

“They’re both dead, Daryl.” You whimper out, taking a deep breath, “They’re all dead. Rosita and I took care of them.”

“Wait, hold on a minute. Y’both took out.. how many guards yourselves exactly?” Daryl asks and you fight back a laugh, knowing it’ll hurt, “Five. Rick and Michonne got the.. last guard.”

“Alright, y/n, I’m going to ask you one last time.” Carson looks at you and you turn your head slowly, “No.”

“Alright. Sutures are going to be going in soon, okay? I’m going to need you to try and sit as still as you possibly can, do you think you can do that?”

“Like I have a choice to go anywhere.” You mumble, “Sorry i-“

“Nah, stop that.” Daryl shakes his head, “You’re in pain, we get it.” Daryl glances up at you, squinting his eyes as he leans in to look at your neck.

He lets out a low growl, “If there’s more. M’gonna find them ‘em. They’re fucking dead.” Daryl’s leg was bouncing up and down.

“Stop, stop, Daryl. I’m fin-.” You dig your nails into his hand as your back arches with the first stitch going through your skin.

Your eyes start to close then reopen as you try to keep yourself awake and talking to Daryl, but you cannot form any words right now.

“Hey, hey.” Daryl tries to comfort you but he doesn’t really know how, “Stay right here, darlin’.” He lays his hand on your head leaning in towards you more, “Don’t y’even think about leavin’ me.”

“I’m not..” you whisper out, “Going anywhere.”

You clench your bruised jaw, keeping your lips shut tight whenyou feel Carson do another suture, “The l-eader..” you groan, taking a deep breath, “..said that-that this is just.. the beginning.. I don’t..”

Carson squeezes a little bit harder and you are forcing yourself not to kick him in the face, “Fuck I want to kill you now, too.”

He shrugs it off, knowing that it’s just the pain and anger talking. He just shakes his head as he keeps his eyes on his work.

Daryl lays his hand on the lesser bruised side of your face, “Y’don’t gotta keep talking, if ya don’t want to.” He presses a kiss to your forehead, “You’re doing so good, almost done, baby.”

You can’t lie, your heart absolutely fluttered out of your body with his words, “I-I got..” you squeeze your eyes shut as you feel the final two sutures go in, a sigh of relief falling from your lips when Carson steps back, “Thigh is done, now let me have a look at that cheek.”

You turn your head, following commands from Carson all while Daryl still holds your hands.

He hates that you’re going through this, he’s kicking his own ass over not just going with you like you asked.

He blames himself, and you knew that, too.

Two hours has gone by, Carson said you could sleep so that’s what you did.

You opened your eyes, looking around to see that you’re in an actual bedroom and not the medical trailer anymore.

You try to sit up, just as Daryl comes back into the room, “Thought you would have been out longer, m’sorry.”

“Don’t do that.” You say soft as you look up at him. He shrugs and shakes his head, “Do what?”

He’s avoiding eye contact with you, that’s how you know something’s up.

“Can you help me sit up?”

Daryl is right there, sliding a hand on your back as you hold onto his other one to sit up.

“Good?” He asks, “How’s your pain?”

“I’m not taking any meds.” You argue and Daryl chuckles slightly, “Why are you are so stubborn sometimes.”

“Says you.” You smile up at him, shaking your head, “I just… I didn’t want to be taking it away from someone who needed it more than me, I-“

“Y’needed it though, baby. Somethin’ could’a-“ He stops for a second, “why ya lookin’ at me like that?”

You shake your head, a small smile resting on your lips, “What meds did I get?”

He sighs, “Look, I had Carson give ya antibiotics, a’right, but thats it.”

You nod, “Thank you.”

He looks up at you confused, “Y’not mad at me?”

“Mad at you for, what? Caring about me?” You shake your head, “I don’t think I could ever be mad at anyone who tries anything they can to keep me in their life.”

Daryl looks up at you, nodding as his eyes scan over you purple and stitched up cheek and your voice is low, “Could’ve happened to anyone.”

“But It happened to you.” Daryl stands up, walking over to the window before you can grab his arm, “Daryl.”

He keeps looking out and you sigh, “Don’t make me get up.”

He turns slightly, sighing before making his way back over to you, because he knows you’d try, “Don’t y’even think ‘bout it.”

“Look at me then.” You reach out, moving your finger slightly. His hand immediately finds yours and you can hear him trying not to get upset.

You give his hand a squeeze, “Hey.”

He leans over, careful not to put pressure on your hurt thigh. His arms wrap around you, holding you as you close your eyes.

You hand moves up and down his back, squeezing him tighter when you feel his body jolt slightly with a sniffle, “Daryl.” Your voice is just enough for him to hear, “it’s not your fault.”

You feel him nod, but he still doesn’t let go, “jus’don’t wanna loose ya.” He mumbles into your neck, laying his hand on the back of your head, “I like ya, a lot actually.”

“I told Rosita the same thing about you.”

He lifts his head, leaning back as he wipes his cheeks on the back of his gloved hand, “Been goin’ on t’me bout you, too.”

“That’s no surprise.” You laugh slightly, closing your eyes at the pain, “I’m good.” You look at him, knowing that he hates seeing you in pain, “I promise I’ll ask for medicine if it gets worse.”

Daryl goes to say something, but you cut him off, “Just shut up and kiss me.”

He rubs his thumb over his fingers, giving you a slight shrug and nod, “If y’want that,”

You tilt your head, reaching your hand out to him, “I want you.”

He smirks, laughing slightly as he shakes his head, “You’re gonna be the death’a me.” He leans over, hand moving up to rest on your neck.

You lean in, closing the space between you as your hands move up to cup his cheeks.

“You know you called me baby a few times.”

Daryl laughs softly, “I know.”

There’s a soft knock on the door before it opens, “Y/n?”

Daryl leans in, pecking your lips a few times before he tilts his head to kiss your cheek, “M’gonna go talk to Rick, ya good?”

You nod, brushing your thumb over his cheek, “More than good.” You smile and he kisses you a few more times before he stands up.

Rosita is standing there, arms crossed as she watches Daryl with a smile, “See, what did I say?”

He just shakes his head, a small on his face as he looks up at her, “You doin’ a’right?”

She nods, “I’m good.” You watch as Rosita comes over to sit next to you on the bed, “We’re good. Now, go.” She laughs slightly as she waves her hand, “We have things to talk about.”

——

Let me know what you think! I truly love each and every one of you. Thank you so much for reading! 🖤

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

[xan-izme]

Dubble Life (ACTSV x Reader x Batfam) 3

A/n: I forgot to mention that the universe reader is in is earth-42. So, the Prowler is Miles, but he switches with Aaron here and there. and reader has the same last name as Miles.

Part 2, Part 4

Summary: Life with the Waynes so far was pretty good. Damian is still being a brat, so reader decides to be a good big sister. Someone from the past shows their face. In the need of readers help, for Spider-woman.

"I win!" Tim couldn't help but smirk in triumph. You stare at the 'Game over' on your screen. "Nah, nah. You gotta be cheating! Bro what is this!" This was the third time you have lost street fight with Tim.

"You two are acting like children." Damian spoke, watching two play video games for almost 2 hours. You rolled your eyes and gave Damian a look. "Cuz we are. You're like what, 9?" Tim chuckled as he packed his things.

"I am 12!" Damian argued. "Boy, like that makes any difference." Damian began to argue with you, you just stared down at him an announced you were getting a drink from the kitchen. You poured yourself a drink. Suddenly, your Spidey senses were warning you. You quickly turn around, just to see Damian. You scoffed.

It was funny how your Spidey senses always acted up when it came to Damian. You wondered if he wanted to hurt you so you couldn't take the Wayne throne. You turned back and continued to take a gulp from your cup. you paused for a moment before glancing to Damian you was eating a snack that Alfred made.

You thought that maybe the reason that you two haven't fully gotten along was due to both of you not even trying. So why not be the bigger person and try to be nice.

You slide yourself to the table Damian was at and set yourself in front of him. The boy frowns as he sees the smirk you had.

"What do you want, you bug."

You couldn't help but chuckle at that. If only he really knew.

"Look, demon. I think we haven't really gotten the chance to bond as siblings." You leaned in with a smile. Damian looked at you with distaste. "Did father put you up to this? What are you planning Davies?"

"No, I ain't planning nothing. What's wrong with wanning to hang out with you?" You arched your brow and leaned back into your chair. Damian sighed "I don't have time for you. I have work to do. So, if you'll excuse me." Damian stood from his chair and walked away.

"Alright, if you change your mind my door is open!" Literally, you leave your door open sometimes. You just forget to close it. A habit to try and get rid of.

After a few days. Damian did come to your room.

"Oh, look who's here. Is there something my little demon needs? hugs, kisses? whatever sisterly love can provide?" You smirked as you watched him give you a look of disgust.

"I don't want your useless affection. Father wants us to go with him to a meeting. Please wear something that doesn't look like a Hippe made it." With that, Damian walked out. He paused and took a glance of a picture you had hung on the wall; it was of a woman. Your mother no doubt.

You sighed and got yourself ready. Wondering why the hell Bruce wanted you to come along.

"Hey Alfred. Do you know why Bruce needs me at the meeting today?" you asked. Alfred handed you a drink you requested for

"It is a meeting at the Wayne enterprise. You will mistily be there to observe the working environment and understand what the Wayne family is about." Alfred escorted you down and helped you fix your dress up, so it was perfect.

Bruce couldn't help but smile as he watched you come down those stairs in one of the dresses Dick picked for you.

Once you reached the bottom, Bruce took your hand into his "You look beautiful."

Your smiled. Your smile faltered.

Remembering the time, your mother had a date with some man you didn't approve of.

It was cold out. Your mother was going to be with a man named Jim Bolton. You were happy she was happy. But you didn't trust this Jim guy. You asked, practically begged your uncle Jeff to do a background run on the man.

Jim was married at the age of 22, awfully young. He got divorced and has two daughters 3-4 years younger than you. he also had 3 DUI's. Your mother has told you he doesn't drink anymore. But you still didn't like him.

You watched your mother walk down the stairs, with a red dress on, her hair fixed up. Shinny jewels on. She looked amazing. You already saw her as a goddess, this just added onto the beauty you already saw in her. You couldn't help but look at her fondly.

"Okay, remember to lock all the doors. Your uncle Aarons going to be here in an hour to watch you and- . . . what?" Your mother noticed that small smile on your face. You were being silent. Just staring at her.

You chuckled and held her hands to yours "Nothing. . . you just look beautiful."

You missed her. You've been trying to not think too much of her. Not think of the time you two spent. Not think of her hugs. Her smile, her voice.

You have night terrors of what happened that day. At times you stay awake, too scared to close your eyes. Afraid to see every wrong thing you've done as a daughter. You make it worse for yourself by calling her number, only to hear no answer.

The Wayne building was big. Many people in uniforms rushing too somewhere. Rushing to get work done, rushing to get home.

You walked beside Damian. He has been quite this whole time. You wonder what was making your dear little weirdo so silent.

You sat in one meeting with Bruce and Damian. It was rather boring. But you did think Bruce was cool with the way he took over. Bruce had two other meetings that suddenly came up. He was going to take the two of you downtown to look around, get something to eat. Go to the movies even.

"It's alright. Me and De- Damian can go and hang around with Alfred. Can get a little Sibling bonding out of it." You held yourself back from calling the boy, demon. Almost let it slip for a second there.

Bruce liked the sound of that. When he agreed, you gave him a hug and a kiss on the cheek. Bruce isn't the best with affection, but you have been doing these little gestures, hugging, the kisses on the cheek. You would even do the occasional 'I love you's Bruce is starting to think that you might just be getting closer to him. So, he buys you more things.

Sometimes you decline so he just gives you money.

Damian rolled his eyes as you dragged him to the car. Alfred Started the car and you two were now going to be closer than ever. Well, you hope.

"So, little brother, you have anyone that has cached your interest?"

Damian frowns "That is none of your business."

"I see, you must really her then. Or him, I don't discriminate on who you love." You felt a smirk creep up when you catch a glimpse of the look on the young boy's face. It just felt so fun toying with him like this.

"I don't have time for something like dating. Stop talking, you're giving me a migraine." Damian did visibly look tired of you, which made it even more enjoyable for you.

The first few weeks that you came to the manor. This boy has been activating the need for violence. You can't just cuss him out and flip him off like you did with Miguel.

You can tell Damian ain't stupid. He's sharp and very aware of his surroundings. One slip up and your done for. So, you decide to do what you did best.

Be annoying.

Damian ignores you more when you act like that. On top of that, you loved the reactions you got out of him.

You and Damian went to a music shop where they had those old timey records that you liked.

"Why do you need these things. You know you can listen to music like this on your phone, right?" Damian watched as you picked up a record and held it like it was precious. The most fragile thing in the world.

". . .The neighborhood I used to live in. Was loud. I could hear screaming, gun shots. And other things I wasn't supposed to hear." You gently put the record down and continued to walk down the aisle. Damian and Alfred followed behind.

"One night, there was a gang fight right outside. I got so scared. I ran into her room crying. She played a song. . ." You found a song you haven't seen in a while and grabbed it.

"She held me. . . and said, 'son solo sondios, mi amor.' and told me to listen to the music. Let that be the only thing you hear." You let yourself laugh, remembering at how much you cried.

"So, that's what I do. Instead of listening to sounds that give me fear. I listen to these."

Damian watched you happily go through the records.

Damian scoffed to himself. It was the first time he saw a real smile from you. Of course, you smile a lot. But everything was fake. You were putting on a facade. He didn't like fake people.

Lying all the time. People who lie, can't be trusted. And you lie a lot. he knows. You just haven't been caught yet.

But that, what you just did. You were actually being real. You don't seem too bad. For a bug.

"What's this?" Damian spoke up when he picked up a record that had big words on it with a blue background.

"Oh, Boney M. I love these guys." You know Uncle Aaron had full blown collocations of the band.

You looked down to see the look of confusion on Damians face. "Oh, my Go- Come on man. You really don't know these guys?"

"No, should I? . . . My mother wasn't like yours." Damian mumbled. He sets down the record. You stared at him, then glanced to Alfred. You don't know much about Damian's mother. Just that she left him with Bruce.

Due to the boy's uptight attitude, you assume his mother was strict. And based on Alfreds expression, she probably wasn't the best.

You put your hand on his shoulder. "Let's go watch a movie. Yeah?"

The movie was a comedy, it was funny to you. Even more funny that Damian couldn't understand the jokes in the movie. Just watching you laugh so much just because he wasn't understanding the jokes, Damian couldn't help but laugh himself.

"I liked the ending." Damian spoke as you two exited out the theater. "What? for real? . . . why? The ending was kind of butt." You say, Wanting to know why Damian actually liked the ending.

"Well, the main character, Lisa. She found out she was being played by that Moses guy. Even if he caught feelings for her at one point, he didn't have those feelings when he went with that dare. When he kissed her at the prom as some stupid form of an apology, she just slapped him. She knew her worth."

You just stared in utter disbelief. You couldn't help but giggle, then burst out laughing.

"What? Why are you always laughing!'' Damian was scolding you as you continued to laugh and try to explain why you were laughing.

Suddenly you felt your Spidey senses go crazy. Thats when an explosion was heard.

"Oh shi-"

people started running in panic. "It's joker. . ." You heard Damian mumble. You quickly grab Damians hand and try to get to the car where Alfred was parked. Damian let you drag him. So many people were crowding up in a panic.

Damian looked up at you, then to the multiple explosions Joker was dropping. Hearing his damn laugh echo. He was putting his Job as Robin first. And let your hand go. You felt him let go. You quickly turn around. Panic sets in you. You called out his name as you tried to shove people away so you could get through.

"DAMIAN!" You tried to help a few people who got hurt by the falling rubble around them. But all you could think of was Damian. You kept calling the boy's phone. But it would go straight to voicemail. You cussed multiple times.

You went back into the theaters, calling out for Damian, asking anyone if they had seen a little boy come back in.

You didn't know he had left to fulfill his role as Robin.

You were currently in an alleyway. Trying to get to Damian on the phone, no answer. You try to contact Bruce, you lost service. You got frustrated and decided to just run around like an idiot to try and look for the boy.

But you accidentally ran into someone and knock them down.

"Oh no. I'm so sorry Ma'am. Are you alright?" You were quick to help the girl up.

"Thanks. . . you look good, Y/n."

You paused. Who was this? how did she know your name. Your look of confusion started to fade as you recognized the voice. You began to step back.

The girl fully showed her face. Starring you right in the eyes.

"Gwen?"

--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--

tag list: @lockofspades @redsakura101 @ruby-izo

[hotchfiles]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ❝ [CHOICELESS HOPE] ❞ — six. picket fence dream.

pairing: aaron hotchner x bau!reader. summary: the moment leading up to the kiss, the drumroll, is as good as the kiss itself. it's certainly more innocent. it's completely harmless. content warnings: canon divergent. emotional cheating (not on reader). angst. right person wrong time. it's confession time. no use of y/n. word count: 2k+ a/n: you might hate or love me let's see which is it

      Rossi doesn’t usually come to his apartment, especially with no warning on a Sunday, especially at 7AM, so when Hotch sees his less than pleased expression through the peep hole he knows it’s bad.

      “A crying drunk mumbling fucking mess. Porca miseria!” Dave wastes no time, the words finally free after hours of keeping them in.

      “Good morning to you too, Dave.”

      “Don’t. You know what you did.” Yes, Hotch knew. But he definitely didn’t expect this as the consequence. Still, he couldn’t even feign ignorance.

      “So, you took her ho—” Rossi’s eyes are piercing enough to interrupt him and force an exhale. “Thanks.”

      He is truly grateful, he is not usually one to act out like a child, much less one to leave people he cares about behind like that. You brought up his best and his worst. Much of his strength and thinking power went towards controlling himself. The rest got messy.

      “What are you going to do?”

      “Well, I’ll apologize tomo—”

      “Aaron!”

      “I don’t know. I just don’t. And Beth will be over with coffee in a bit.”

      Aaron watches his much too annoyed closest friend pour himself a sip of scotch, drinking it all in a mouthful.

      “You are throwing away a second chance people don’t normally get. Do you even know why?”

      Of course he knows why. There are many many whys.

      Jack needed the stability only someone out of this godforsaken job could give, and he adored Beth.

      Haley wasn’t an agent and he lost her, being with you was accepting the fact you could leave with him for a case and simply not come back. Essentially getting his son, his baby boy, a step mom that could be taken from him the same way as his mother.

      Beth gave Jack a bigger chance of not losing again.

      It gave him a bigger chance to rebuild his picket fence dream home.

      It was logical. It was the right choice.

      The feeling in the pit of his stomach and the bitter taste on his tongue shows disagreement with that every time he ponders though. And it’s hard to make the right choice when his body and soul begs him not to.

      Before he can even muster enough will power to argument his way out, Dave comes at him with more questions to shake his belief system to the core. “Is this about Haley? About Jack? Or are you really just incapable of letting yourself be happy?”

      Ouch.

      Rossi doesn’t pull any punches, Aaron knows that, it’s why they get along well, no sugarcoating. Doesn’t make it less annoying to deal with it so early in the morning. Especially after the hell night he had trying to sleep and being plagued by thoughts and worries of you.

      “If anything was to happen it would’ve happened before I met Beth.”

      “How could it when you are both idiots?” Aaron simply sighs, not having a good enough rebuttal to that.

      It was a true, he was an idiot, he could’ve gone after you when he got divorced, or after his grief got less painful. But back then he was angry, feeling abandoned by you when he would’ve never done the same to you.

      He begged you to not forget him, to call him. He waited, he called. It was all fruitless as you made your decision to take him out of your life already.

      Now it all seemed too complicated and to act on those feelings would complicate it even more.

      Aaron is saved by the bell, if anyone could consider hearing the knock on his door he knew to be Beth’s, one of the reasons of his internal conflict, being saved.

      At least Rossi leaves him alone for the time being, excusing himself as soon as the brunette enters the apartment with a quick peck to Aaron’s lips. Surely enough, Hotch has to tell her later that morning that no, Dave has nothing against her, he was just moody from being awake too early.

      Luckily most of the day is spent around Jack and what the wanted to do, making it more about spending time with his boy than a date, so he doesn’t have to focus too hard on being a good partner and on not thinking about you. But it’s all he thinks about when Beth leaves at night and he realizes morning come he will have to see you.

      Your eyes don’t meet his for even one second as Garcia presents the case and he knows it then how truly he fucked up. You aren’t angry. You look tired, not your face, not your eye bags. In fact you look as beautiful and put together as you always do, but in the glimpses he catches of your eyes as you talk to someone else, he sees it. And it breaks his heart. You are exhausted, not because of the job.

      Because of him. And the worst thing is, he can’t even leave you alone, being the Unit Chief meant having to talk to his team, it meant to lead. He sighs to himself as everybody gets out of the briefing room and he wants to brush his fingers against yours lightly like old times and make you smile, but most of all Aaron just wants to tell you how sorry he is that this is happening again.

      He can’t do that, knowing right now it would only make things worse, so he just gets up from his chair, grabs his go-bag from his office and follows the motion until everyone is in the jet. There he does his best to suppress what is going on his mind to focus on the case.

      Galena is a beautiful small town, quite romantic even, too bad it is now suffering with the abduction of two children, the case and the BAU disturbing its peace.

      And that disturbance goes well into the night, when no one is able to work anymore and Hotch has to call it a day, figuring out on the spot that Garcia had to book them in pairs, his key card the same number as yours.

      Hotch can imagine Garcia had someone influence her on the chosen pairs, Rossi was practically glowing with childish glee as everyone got their cards.

      Both you and him are too prideful and professional to make a scene asking to switch with someone. You were stuck with him until the case is resolved.

      The two single beds as you enter the room are a relief, but the distance between them aren’t nearly enough in comparison to how faraway from him you wished to be.

      “Just like the old days, huh?” He’s the first to speak, trying to break the tension as he spread the files of the case on the only desk available.

      “Don’t do that,” you reply quickly, your tone as tired as your eyes have been since the first time he saw you today.

      You drop your bag on the floor close to your bed, the loud noise startles Aaron, but you don’t care, body aching and ready for rest.

      “That what?”

      “Talking. Don’t talk to me,” you clarify. Another loud noise, your body dropping on the bed without ceremony. Eyes closed and focused on pretending he wasn’t there.

      He stays quiet for awhile and you think he might respect your request, so you relax in the clean sheets welcoming the slumber.

      Unfortunately for the two of you, now you are annoyed. So annoyed his shuffling around papers make your skin crawl.

      Just like the old days.

      The complete audacity to begin with that as if he didn’t abandon you drunk just two days before.

      You sigh deeply, putting a pillow over your face to try and muffle his annoying overwhelming presence.

      It doesn’t work.

      “God, please, breathe louder, I don’t think Japan has heard you yet,” you shoot at him, immediately sitting up and catching him working the case files.

      “You want me to stop breathing too, is that it?” He doesn’t look up from the papers, annoyed at the childish antics you’re pulling, which irritates you even more.

      “If you could be so kind to, yes!” Your voice is pure sarcasm and venom, reminding him of just how stubborn and strong-willed you can be.

      Just as he stops his writing, pen left to the desk, you get up in a hurry, attempting to go to the bathroom and ready to slam the door behind you. Hotch is quicker, getting up from his chair and grabbing your wrist to stop you from avoiding him even more.

      It doesn’t hurt. His grip is gentle and you know you can easily get away from it. But you don’t.

      “Hey, I’m sorry.” You nod at his apology, but he knows that won’t be all, so Aaron lets your wrist slip from his fingers and waits for the arguing he’s been avoiding to start.

      One beat.

      Two.

      Three beats pass before your mouth moves in sync with your drowning mind, “what exactly are you sorry about?”

      Right to the jugular from the start. He obviously instantly thinks of the easy answer: Everything. But that’s not the answer you’re looking for. Beyond that, he knows it would be unfair for both of you to gloss over the situation once again.

      You know Aaron isn’t stalling but actually thinking by the way his index and thumb rub together, his lips tightly pursued. Your stomach feels like it’s twirling, nervousness making an appearance now that this was about to happen. The talk. The admissions.

      Both of you are aware now shouldn’t be the time to talk it all over, there is a case to work, a hard day to rest from, but this is 10 years in the making. The flight response was already drained, only fight left.

      “I’m sorry for overstepping and turning our friendship into something confusing and uncomfortable,” he says slowly but firmly, but even so Aaron regrets his choice of words, more regret when he catches you rolling your eyes.

      “Confusing and uncomfortable, sure,” you reply with the same sarcasm you displayed earlier, your arms now crossed defensively over your chest, “I hope that’s not the best you’ve got.”

      “I’m trying here and I would appreciate a little less sarcasm.” His eyes are as piercing as his tone, you scoff at the manifestation of frustration, as if he had grounds for that right now.

      Your feet have a mind of their own and you start pacing around the room, “Hotchner, I changed my whole life around ten years ago for the sake of your comfort.” That wasn’t untrue, although it had a lot to do with your comfort as well, but he needed to be reminded of your sacrifices. “And the first opportunity you had to be a dick to me you not only took it but doubled down on it!”

      Hotch knows you are speaking about the gala and before he can control his tongue like he would in a time like this, " I got jealous! It took over me.”

      It’s good that he doesn’t expect that to stop you or take your breath away because if anything, you’re angrier now.

      “You have a girlfriend! You have no right to be jealous of me! You were married, Hotch! And I never did something like that to you.”

      “You left! I love you and you left,” he notices his mistake and quickly tries to recover, “I loved you. You’re back and I don’t know what’s the right thing to do.”

      He sits at the edge of his chosen bed, elbows to his knees, hands to his face and you finally stop on your heels, not knowing how to react to the confession you both have been denying yourselves from speaking out loud.

      You swallow dry, sitting on the edge of your bed, right in front of him.

      “I loveーI loved you too.” Your hands find home on his knees and his drop to hold them.

      “l don’t know what to do. I want to do the right thing.” He sounds pained and you have to fight that desperate lover girl in your mind begging you to tell him to choose you.

      “I can’t help you with that,” it’s what you actually end up saying, “I’m sorry.”

      “I’m sorry too.”

[igotanidea]

(Heart)warming : Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader

Summary/request: cockwarming with Hotch(ner)

Warnings: well, the summary says it all, nothing explicit but still MDNI

***

„Aaron?”  her voice sounded so quiet and small in the empty, darkened room, lighted only by pinspot on his desk.

“Go back to bed” he mumbled, not looking up from the pile of files towering before him.

“You know I can’t sleep without you.” she whispered, taking one step closer. “Please Aaron.”

“Y/N…..” he sighed deeply and his calm, piercing eyes landed on her figure, immediately turning soft an loving. Y/N. His love. The one that was there for him despite everything, supporting, upholding, comforting after hard cases.  Enduring all those lonely hours and nights without him, being left hanging whenever he was out, working with the team. And now, she was standing in front of him, wearing only an oversized T-shirt, her legs bare, eyes wide open despite the late hour, soft hair surrounding her pretty, but worried face like a halo. It was almost impossible to tell her no. But he had work  “I have to finish this.” he hissed, eyes landing back on the documents.

“Aaron, baby.” She moved towards him even more. “You’ve been working too hard lately.”

“Comes with the specific of the job.”

“I know, baby.” She cooed, cupping his cheek and forcing him to look at her “I’m not making you choose, you know that.”

“But?”

“How do you know there’s a but? she smiled lightly, caressing his skin, making him close his eyes in a pure bliss and lean into her touch

“I’m a …..”

“shhhh” she silenced him “you promised not to profile me. Ever.”

“sorry. Force of habits.” Hotch smirked and that face expression added to his boyish charm. The charm he fell for.

“but….” she trailed “there is a but coming.” Her shoulders dropped slightly “I miss you, babe.” She leaned forward slightly, brushing her soft lips over his and he did not stop her. “I barely see you, lately. And when I do you’re always worried or stressed or holding back your emotions. It’s bad for you.”

‘Y/N…..” he gasped as her mouth brushed over his jaw, the intimacy and care conveyed by those gentle touch like nothing he experienced for a while now. Long while.

“I know you can’t talk about the specifics of your work….” Her hand tangled in his hair, scratching at his nape “but I can’t stand you being so tense…. Not with me, Aaron.” She was getting bolder with every second he was not pushing her away. If anything, the way he was reacting to her touches and caresses only made her want more as without any hesitation she sat on his lap, capturing his lips in hers once more, both arms locking behind his neck, luring him in. Smiling happily as his hands circled over her waist, pulling her closer to him, moving up and down her sides and reciprocating with the passion she missed for the last weeks.  “Aaron….” She let out a quiet moan feeling his excitement brush against her core.

“I love you.” he muttered against her jaw, one hand sneaking under her shirt, feeling her soft, smooth skin. The sensation incomparable with anything else. “I’m sorry,, sweetheart.”

“Don’t be….” She whispered, putting a finger on his lips, effectively silencing him “I knew what I was getting myself into when I met you. Just…..”

“What?” he asked, running the other hand through her soft hair, playing with the top button of the shirt, wanting nothing more than to get rid of that piece of clothing and spend the night with her. Loving her. Worshipping her. But as much as they both craved one another, they also knew he couldn’t  do that. Not until the case was closed.

“Let me help you.” she gasped “Let me help you relax.”

“Baby….”

“You can still work on that.” Her hands travelled from his arms, down his chest, to his abs and found his belt, painfully slowly unfastening it, hole after hole, giving him a chance to stop her, to withdraw. He did not, absolutely hypnotized by everything she was doing “I don’t think this can distract you , can it, agent?” she raised an eyebrow, being done with the belt, slowly unzipping his pants. Hotch was definitely not going to say that out loud, but she was as hot and seductive as never before. And he wanted her. Strict, demanding and cold SSA Aaron Hotcher was gone, absolutely lost in the love she was giving him. Turning needy just for her.

“You are being awfully distracting now.” he pointed out, still not losing his cool outside.

“Do you want me to stop?” she pouted, her eyes landing on him, withdrawing her touch.

“I think we both started some business we need to finish, Y/N” he responded, pecking her lips and she got the hint immediately freeing his hard-on, already ready for her “can you behave?”

“Will you punish me if I don’t?” she breathed against his cheek. “Tell me what exactly will you do to me.”

“Y/N…..” he warned, tightening the grip on her.

“All right, all right. I get it. No teasing.” She let out a single laugh, the music to his ears and wriggled on his lap, squirming to get rid of her underwear.

“No teasing, huh?” Hotch raised an eyebrow at her behavior, his breath becoming a bit heavier.

“What? You said it, I got business to take care of. And that requires some additional working” she moved once more making him groan in need, smiled and raised her hand in which she was holding her panties “Ups!” she dropped them onto the floor “I think I lost something….”

“I am a patient man.”

“Really? So you want me to do all the work by myself?”

“Come here.” He ordered grabbing her hips, guiding her towards his cock. Only the tip dived in between her folds, but the sensation made them both moan in unison.

“Aaron…..”

“I missed you too, baby.” His eyes focused on her face, twisting in more pleasure the lower she was sinking. “You ready?”

“Yes… please….”

Giving all the control into his hands she let him enter and stretch her fully. It felt so good feeling him like this. So full. So complete with his love surrounding her like a warm blanket.

“I love you, Y/N….”

“I …. I love you too, my agent. Does this make you feel better?” she asked, so willing to help him, to ease all his pain.

“The best. Thank you love.” He kissed her again. And again. And again. Only with chaste pecks, worried than anything else may lead to some real action between them. And he really had to finish this job. And once again she got the hint.   

“No, thank you.” Y/N shook her head. “I needed this too. Now, keep working baby. I got you. You got me.” She pulled herself closer to his chest, hugging him tightly, her head resting on his shoulder, feeling safe and loved while being so close to him. This was far better than any intercourse they could have. It was emotional, heartwarming and fulfilling. But she could not help planting a little, playful kiss on his cheek.

“Behave yourself…” he chucked and she nuzzled his neck with her nose.

“Sorry, can’t help it.” her deep breaths were calming him down a bit. Just because she was with him.

“I love you, Y/N.”

“Love you more, Hotch.”

@somest1

[luveline]

hey! sorry if you’ve done this already, please ignore. pls could i request hotch with reader who’s recovering from a (major) surgery? thank you 🫶

“Is it hideous?” 

“Yes,” Hotch says, though he doesn’t look at the bandage nor the wound. “You’ll be marred forever, likely.” His hand cups your cheek, and his thumb draws teeny lines across the apple of it. “Unsightly.” 

You laugh into yourself and let your eyes close under the pleasure of his small touch. The hospital room is quiet, private even, though that’s soon to change. You’ve been informed of another visitor who will need to share your room in an hour. Visiting hours will be over shortly afterwards. 

“Are they sure I can’t come home?” you ask. 

“They need to do so much,” he says unhappily. 

“I don’t want to be alone when it gets worse again.” 

Hotch speaks softly. “It might not get worse again. But if the pain is too much, I’ll stay. They won’t be able to force me out.” 

“You’ll abuse your power.”

“Only for you,” he says sincerely. His kiss says as much, so gentle and slow to your chapped lips. It’s as chaste as they come but you’d needed it. Your shoulders relax as he sits up again. “I know you feel off kilter, you’re going to, because this isn’t a small thing to recover from, but I’m not going anywhere you can’t reach me if you need me.” He tucks your blanket back over your chest, but he’s sitting on it, and it doesn’t have much give. “Will this be enough? I’ll bring the nurses a fleece tonight after I’ve gone to give to you. This isn’t going to be warm enough.” 

“I feel too hot.” 

He feels along your forehead softly. “You feel perfectly normal. Don’t worry.” 

Your chance of infection is high. Surgical infection especially. You won’t know you’re sick until your vitals tank, and then it gets dangerous. 

Hotch frowns at you. He, as always, how tiresome, looks handsome. His hair has grown unkempt to his standards but perfect to yours, dark strands falling down over his forehead. His eyes are darker, shadowed by the lack of light, shades down and the privacy curtain still drawn. You can’t tell his pupil from the iris, not where his gaze is pointed. 

“Don’t forget,” he says. “Drinks in the drawer so you can reach them. Your chapstick is in with your glasses. There are face wipes if you start to feel the need for them–”

“I won’t forget.”

His hand smooths down to your neck. “The chocolate is in the top drawer too.” His fingertips draw lazy circles into your neck, brushing against the rumpled neck of your pyjama top with every revolution. “Your phone is charged, and there’s a charging bank–”

“In the top drawer,” you finish for him. “Thank you, Aaron, I promise I know.” 

He folds when you call him by his first name. His frown falls away, his eyes softer and lighter as he lifts his head to the frail shaft of light coming in through the curtain. He’d take your breath away if you weren’t feeling as shockingly frail as you are. 

“You’re doing so well.” He clasps your shoulder. “A few more days and you’ll be home. We’ll both be feeling better, and Jack will fall to pieces in sympathy and keep you company in bed all day.” 

“What about you?” 

“Me too, obviously,” he says quietly. “Move over, honey. I’ll start now.” 

You shuffle over one centimetre at a time and he doesn’t rush you. Eventually, there’s room for the two of you to squeeze in shoulder to shoulder, where he takes your arm into a careful hold and hugs it to his chest, his lips to your cheek. 

“You okay?” he asks. “Out of ten.” 

“Five. And a half.” He kisses your eyebrow. “Seven,” you correct. 

He kisses you again, but you’re feeling shitty from the surgery and seven is as high as you can go.

[hoe4hotchner]

Heyy! I had this idea with hotch

Imagine he’s dating a doctor but he hasn’t told anyone but Dave yet. And remember the fisher king episode when Spencer jumps from that bomb? So during a case hotch jumps from a bomb (he’s fine but he goes to the hospital anyway to check if everything is okay) and while he and the team is waiting on the doctor to check his wounds, guess who shows up? His furious girlfriend ready to freak out about her boyfriend dangerous work. And hotch just stays quiet and listens to her/them (you choose) and the team is just there watching their grumpy scary boss being scolded like a little kid.

Idk why but I loved the idea of the scary grumpy unit chief hotch being so whipped for his partner that he doesn’t even argue when she’s/they're mad at him :)

I love this idea!!! I had to stop myself I could've made it into a whole thing hehehe.

A/N: I swear to god me and a few CM writers had this discussion years ago and I don't remember what the conclusion of Hotch's middle name ended up being. If anyone remembers please remind me ;)

Link to my requests

The team sat in the exam room, all tense after the recent case. Hotch seated on the bed in the middle, waiting to be discharged. Except for a few burn wounds on his right arm, he was otherwise fine.

“You know, Hotch, you could’ve just asked for a day off. Jumping on a bomb seems a bit extreme,” Morgan chuckled, breaking the silence while trying to lighten the mood.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Hotch replied, his voice stoic as usual.

Suddenly, a door at the end of the hall burst open, and a voice echoed through the corridor. “AARON JAMES HOTCHNER!” You stormed into his room, eyes blazing with fury. “What on earth were you thinking?”

Before Hotch had the chance to respond, you continued, “Jumping on a bomb? Do you have any idea how reckless that was? You could’ve been killed!”

“Did she just call him Aaron?” Emily whispered to JJ.

“I think she did,” JJ murmured back, both of them wide-eyed.

Rossi tried to stifle a grin, while the rest of the team watched in shock, realizing for the first time that Hotch was dating a doctor.

“And don’t you dare tell me it was part of the job! Your job is to stay alive so you can come home in one piece, not to play hero with your life!” You sighed, your anger giving way to worry. “Aaron, please… I can’t keep doing this if you’re going to keep risking your life like this. I need you to be careful.”

Hotch finally spoke, his voice low and sincere. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I’ll be more careful, I promise.” You hugged him, relieved that he was okay.

The team exchanged glances, a mixture of surprise and amusement on their faces. This was a side of Aaron Hotchner they’ve never seen before.

“You better be,” you said firmly. “And next time, you call me as soon as you’re in the hospital. I don’t want to hear about it from someone else.”

You give him a pointed look before exiting the room, leaving the team in stunned silence.

After a moment, Morgan was the first to break the quiet. “Hotch, you didn’t tell us you were dating a doctor,” he said with a grin on his lips.

“I didn’t think it was relevant.”

“Not relevant?” Emily chimed in, in disbelief. “Hotch, they just chewed you out in front of the whole team. I think it’s pretty relevant.”

Hotch just shrugs, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

If you like my work please consider liking and reblogging.

[nathanbatemanfucker]

The Brink

summary: you and aaron try for a baby.

pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

contents: NSFW/18+/MINORS DNI, pwp, unprotected sex, breeding kink if you squint

wc: 1.2k

gif credit: @hotch-girl

an: first proper hotch fic ive written since sept of last year. hotch girls make some noise, it’s been a long time cominnnnn’! this isn’t beta’d so if there’s typos blame grammarly 🤪

cm masterlist | requests closed

“Oh god, Aaron, please,” You whine softly into the sheets, attempting to rock back against him.

“You’re alright, I’ve got you,” He shushes you gently, pulling back just a bit before easing back inside of you and staying still.

He’s driving you insane in the best way and all you can do is take what he’s giving you.

You’re so warm. The warmest you’ve ever been in your life, surrounded by heat, and while you generally prefer to bundle up in the cold there is no other place you’d rather be right now. There’s sweat pooling in the dip of your back, coating every inch of your skin that is practically suffused to Aaron’s. He’s draped his entire body over yours, his hips moving forward in a slow grind that presses the tip of his cock at the spot deepest inside of you.

You’re unsure of how much time has passed, but what you are sure of is that there was at least a bit of dusk peeking through the blinds when he’d first carried you to bed. You feel as though he’s consumed you— his hands, his mouth, they’ve been everywhere and you haven’t had a single complaint.

You’d told him that evening that you were ready to have a child with him in the most nonchalant way. As always you were perched in his lap, grinding down against him until he’d gone mad and needed you as much as you needed him. And when he had reached for protection like he always does, you grabbed his hand and fixed him with a look that made him feel like you wanted to swallow him whole.

Don’t. I want to try, Aaron. I want you to fill me up, you’d said.

His head had tilted, eyes scanning your face as he assessed you for what felt like an eternity before quietly asking you if you were sure. And when you nodded, opening your mouth to speak, he hadn’t even given you the chance because he lunged forward, pressing his lips to yours in a frantic, hungry kiss. You’d been frozen, succumbing to his mouth before your brain recalibrated, able to match his fervor.

It took no time at all for him to get you both naked, to have you cumming on his fingers and tongue. Aaron’s always giving in bed, but it is his way of taking. Your pleasure and his pleasure are almost one and the same, two veins that feed into each other.

“I love you,” He murmurs against the skin of your neck before pressing a series of kisses to the column of your throat, trailing them over the slope of your shoulder.

You shiver against his mouth, reaching back with a hand to bury it into his messy, slick hair, “I love you, too.”

“Are you ready for me to put a baby in you, sweetheart?”

This time your shiver is more of a shudder. You support your head in the cup of your palm, turning to glance over your shoulder at him as you nod frantically. “Please. Please.”

“One more time, sweet girl, ask me one more time. The way you beg…” He breathes, the sound hitching in his chest.

You notice that his eyes are cloudy, with love and lust, as he stares at you. Your mouth pulls up in a lazy, satisfied smile. Yes, you’re always happy to submit to Aaron, to have him scramble your brain until your only words are his name and some sort of pleading for more. But sometimes —unknowingly— Aaron submits to you too. Your every ask is met with yes no matter how long it’s been, how tired he is— in and out of the bedroom.

“Please, Aaron.”

“I’m right here. Right here, it’s alright, sweetheart. I’ll give you what you want,” He reassures you softly.

Despite that reassurance, he doesn’t quicken his pace or increase the force of his hips. He continues to grind into you, wanting to stay as close to you as humanly possible. To cum as deeply inside of you as possible, hellbent on it to take. And while you’re confused, this much different than how he usually works you both to climax, you trust him with everything.

“Look at me,” He breathes into your ear, and you do, your eyes meeting his once more.

There’s a desperation in his eyes, a wildness you’ve never seen before and you know that he’s just on the brink. His hips move sloppily against yours though there’s still no change in his methods. He feels like he’s acting on instinct, like some need in his body has taken over and he can hardly think about anything but you. The way you smell, the way you feel around him— tight and wet— the way you’re looking back at him with this pleading expression on your face.

The sight of him like this is what sends you over the edge, and you cum with a whine, somehow squeezing him tighter than you had before. He follows you, burying his face in the smooth skin of your back as he fills you with warmth. The groan he lets out is deep and filthy, his breath tickling you and making you squirm. It sends him deeper, and his hips buck forward, keeping every single drop of him inside of you.

If this doesn’t take, he doesn’t know what will.

He avoids putting all of his weight on you by turning you both on your sides, hooking a leg through yours, and wrapping his arms around you so there’s nowhere for you to go— not that you’re in any rush to move. Not that you could with how exhausted you are from being tangled in bed with him for so long.

“Incredible stamina,” You tease as you try to recenter your breaths.

“We’re never doing that again,” He huffs, pressing a kiss to your temple.

You laugh softly, leaning into his touch, “What time is it?”

He glances behind him to the clock on his bedside table, and you feel rather than see his grimace. “Eight,” He says reluctantly, knowing what’s about to happen.

You glare over your shoulder at him, “Aaron, I missed my show.”

“Maybe next time, you should tell me you want to have a baby on a day you have nothing to watch,” He says matter-of-factly, mouth twitching as he tries not to laugh.

“I always have something to watch.”

“I’d deem it a worthy sacrifice.”

His words make you smile, heart going gooey. Any grumpiness about your show fades as you nod softly in agreement, “Yeah, me too.”

“And sweetheart?”

“Hmm?” You hum as you lay back against him again, eyes slipping shut.

His lips are at your ear, his voice just a whisper, “I recorded your show. All of them, they always record.”

The smile on your face widens, making your cheeks ache, “You’re a perfect man.”

“I try,” He quips.

The two of you lay there for a while until he convinces you to clean up and order food. And as you sit with your feet in his lap, tuned into your show, Aaron glances over at you, his heart full. He hopes that this little slice of life you have together with get brighter with your growing family.

cm taglist: @ssahotchsbitch , @ssamorganhotchner, @kuolonsyoja, @heliotropehotch, @averyhotchner, @zetasaturno99, @art-and-thoughts, @ssa-montgomery, @thinking-bucky, @ashhotchner, @moonshine-evelyn, @emlynblack , @sunshinemunchkin, @angelfxllcm, @wheelsupmarvel, @jaspxr, @gspenc, @sadgirlml, @hotchs-bitch , @crowfootwrites, @wilbur-rabbit, @hotched, @greg-montgomery, @reidselle, @fightingdragonswithwho, @honeybrowne, @rousethemouse, @eternal-silvertongued-prince, @mayasreadingnook, @lesbianhotch

[midiosaamor]

First big fight with Aaron Warner? With hurt/comfort/angst??👀

AHHHHHH okay so i havent wrote angst yet but HERE IT GOES!!

❪ ★ ❫ 𝐇𝐔𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆.

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: aaron warner x fem!reader.

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: you thought that the two of you could fix it together. turns out it was when he missed your birthday was when it all fell down.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: angst, crying, use of Y/N, fem!reader, kissing, arguing, breaking up, angst with fluff at the end, aaron warner crying, stress, missing special days.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒: 1530

𝐀/𝐍: redid this too. i feel like i made this too dramatic though😭😭 idk. BUT I LOVR MY MAN HAHGGHDHGAGEGR🫶🫶 also this was my first angst work so DONT GET MAD AT ME FOR THIS BEING TRADHY OKAY

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓. 𝐀𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐍 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐑.

𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐃: ✗

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: nahh

it’s been too much. at first, it was just going to bed late, but he still slept with you. then it was not seeing you for a while. then he missed your birthday. your birthday.

you understand that aaron has a lot on his hands, he needs to do his work. but lately, he hasn’t been spending time with you. at all.

yes, juliette and the others are a great company. but it’s nothing compared to the company you have with your boyfriend. or, at least, you used to have. now, you two are in your bedroom. arguing.

you two have never argued, it was mostly just small disagreements that you two immediately fixed. but this—this was a real argument.

“i just—i just feel like you haven’t been spending time with me. like you put your work above me,” you argue, looking at the blond man in front of you. he looks at you with a mix of hurt and frustration.

“love, you have to understand that i have work to do—” he begins, but you cut him off. “and i know that! but you missed my birthday, aaron. my birthday,” you cry, your eyes getting blurry with tears.

aaron sighs and runs a hand down his face. “i know, and that was a mistake. and i’m sorry, angel, but i have to do my work. i have to take care of the reestablishment or it will all come down.”

You blink at him in surprise, before chuckling softly. “right, so, what I’m hearing is: I do love you but my work is more important than you because the reestablishment is more important than my girlfriend?” you ask, looking at him in disbelief.

he looks at you with his eyebrows scrunched up, looking at you with the same expression you have. “no—what—i’m just saying that i have to do my work—wait—no, that’s not what i’m—”

“aaron. if you don’t love me anymore, just say it. don’t slowly push yourself away from me, because that’s much worse than just doing it straight up.”

you’re lying. it’ll hurt either way. this hurts. the argument; aaron not paying attention to you anymore; him missing your birthday. he looks at you with wide eyes.

“what—no, that’s not what i’m saying. i—i have my work to do and—”

“—and i understand that. you have to take care of the reestablishment while i have to take care of north america. it’s just—i tried to make time for you, aaron. i tried to let juliette and nazeera help me with my work so i can spend time with you—but you just want to take care of the reestablishment.”

he gapes at you, looking for words. “what are you saying, love?” you bite your trembling lip. “don’t call me love. let’s—let’s take a break, aaron,” you whisper.

he freezes before words come out of his mouth frantically. “no, no, no, no—wait, love. we can work this out—i’ll make time for you, just—”

you take a deep breath, putting your head down. this is for the best. “you tried doing that, and you just ended up hurting me,” you whisper, looking up at him.

your heart breaks at the sight, but you keep standing. his eyes are filled with tears but none fall, the opposite of you. tears from your eyes fall from your eyes, landing on your cheek.

“love, please. I know you don’t want to do this—I feel it. please, just give me a chance.”

before you could give in, you took a step back and put your head down. “i’m sorry, aaron.” You don’t know why you’re saying sorry. “love, please,” he whispers, looking at you desperately.

you keep your head down as you turn on your heel and walk out of the room.

it’s been a week. a week of you and Aaron not even talking to each other. the only time you look at each other is when he has to pass you the work he did. but you feel him glancing at you, watching from afar.

you moved out of the room you two were sharing and moved in with juliette. she listened to your vent and tears, comforting you when it became too much.

but you’ve changed ever since the two of you—or more like you—broke up. you’ve begun to smile less. you’re starting to have eye bags underneath your eyes and you don’t feel good nowadays.

“Y/N,” juliette says, bringing you out of your daze. “hm?” you hum as you turn to the brunette girl, looking at you with worry. “are you okay?”

you blink at her, looking at you with an expression you know all too well. “yeah, i’m okay. why do you ask?”

“you look terrible,” nazeera butts in. juliette turns to her and frowns but she doesn’t disagree. you sigh and look back down at your papers. “i’m fine, just out of it,” you mutter.

you look at the two girls and smile at them, but that doesn’t clear their worry. instead, that makes them worry more. “alright,” juliette mumbles.

the door knocks and the person behind it waits a moment before opening it the door. In front of it, is a familiar blond. “warner,” juliette says, looking between you and him.

you resist the urge to stare and look down at your papers, going back to work. “i just wanted to hand you some papers,” he says, taking a few steps into the room.

that’s always been him. he doesn’t fully step into the room until you’ve said he could, unless on bad days when he just needs you.

you grit your teeth and scold yourself for thinking like that again.

papers settle down on your desk and you realize that nazeera and juliette left, leaving you alone with aaron.

you make a mental note to yell at them later.

aaron stands there on the side of your desk, not talking or doing anything. “yes?” you ask, looking up at him. not to look into his green eyes. no. of course not.

he stares at you, not blinking. until he finally says, “you have eye bags.” you blink up at him before putting your head down, a blush of embarrassment flooding your cheeks.

“yeah, i know.”

“and your hair looks unbrushed.”

“yeah, i know.”

“and you’re sad.”

you don’t answer. “love,” aaron whispers, making your stomach flutter. you don’t do anything. “love, please, at least answer me.”

you blink and look up at him again. you realize how messed up he is, too. his hair is unruly and his tie is unloosed; his suit looks like it was messily put on.

“yes?”

he slowly sits down, as if warning you what he’s doing. you look at him curiously but then look back down to your papers.

“please, look at me,” he asks. you don’t look at him and instead start to write something down on your paper. “love,” he tries again. you don’t look at him.

his hands find your chin and he turns your face to look at him, his jaw clenched. “you can yell at me, scream at me, punch me, slap me—revolt me, but do not; ignore me.”

your eyes widen in surprise and soon the two of you are staring at each other. “my love, i know you’re hurting,” he finally whispers.

“i’m not,” you finally answer. he closes his eyes before opening back up, looking at you. “yes, you are. i feel it. you’re tired and hurting.”

damn his powers of sensing emotions.

“please, let me take care of you. i promise i won’t hurt you again, i swear,” he begins, “i just want to take care of you like we used to. hug you like we used to—kiss you like we used to. it’s only been a week but, god, it has felt like a century. i’d rather die than live like this, without you; please.”

your breath catches in your throat as he looks at you with watery green eyes, his thumb caressing your cheek. “please, i promise, i won’t break your heart again. i’ll spend time with you, i’ll make time for you, i swear,” he goes on, holding your face with his two hands.

“aaron—” you start, but he interrupts. “please, don’t say no to me. i feel like i’m dying, darling. like this world means nothing to me without you—”

“aaron,” you interrupt. he looks at you desperately, visibly wishing you’ll say yes. you decide to break your rule. i mean, how can you say no when he’s saying something like this?

you nod at him, making his breathing stop. “yes,” you assure. “i’ll—i’ll give you another chance,” you whisper. he freezes; before bringing you into a tight embrace.

“oh, god, love. i promise i won’t lose you again. i won’t hurt you. neger again,” he whispers, kissing your head frantically. tears start to swell up in your eyes as his kisses travel down to your lips, kissing you.

you wrap your arms around his neck and return the kiss, kissing him with an urgency you didn’t know you had in you.

“i love you,” he says in between kisses.

“i love you too,” you respond.