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ktownshizzle · 27 days ago

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Love & Lullabies | Part 4

✎ ˎˊ˗ Pairing: Min Yoongi x female Reader

✎ ˎˊ˗ Summary: What begins as a simple favor for your best friend Namjoon soon pulls you into the rhythms of Yoongi’s life—afternoons spent caring for his son, late nights filled with candid conversations, and a connection neither of you thought you needed. You’re just fresh out of a long-term relationship with an ex who didn’t want a family with you, so did you really just stumble into a life you’ve always dreamed of? (Thank god Namjoon isn’t the only one who’s clumsy.)

✎ ˎˊ˗ Alternatively: It’s 2025 and BTS is prepping for their comeback. All members seem to have gained muscle weight from their time at camp. But Min Yoongi has gained a different kind of weight—an 8-pound baby and a fuck-load of responsibility. (Thank god you’re there to help him.)

✎ ˎˊ˗ Genre: Fluff, Angst, Smut, idol!au, Acquaintances to Lovers, Reader is Namjoon’s bestie

✎ ˎˊ˗ Warnings: Yoongi is a DILF (!!!) That’s it.

✎ ˎˊ˗ Chapter warnings: slow ass burn because the series will be extended indefinitelyyyy yall wanted this 😅, so much kissing, sexting, star wars reference, THIS YOONGI, cliffhanger hehe

✎ ˎˊ˗ Word count: 6.7k

✎ ˎˊ˗ Posting date: December 14, 2024

✎ ˎˊ˗ A/N: This is inspired by an ask/prompt sent by @yoongznme. Enjoy, my lovelies~ 💕

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Masterlist

You glance at the clock again and chew your bottom lip, heart ricocheting against your ribcage. When you sent Yoongi the text, you knew it was overdue. You were finally in a good place—and he was part of what was good.

You’ve known Yoongi for years, but it’s only in the past few months that you’ve really gotten to know him. At this point, you’ve spent hours with him in every context imaginable, from tantruming Haneul to Miss Rachel dance sessions, from boring afternoons to big milestones. But this feels… different.

He’s coming to your place. You haven’t seen him in weeks, not since you kissed in the rain, and he showed up in the hallway, not since everything fell apart and started to piece itself back together again.

You’d started in your pajamas—just a soft cotton set with peaches on them—but after one glance in the mirror, you decided against it. Too casual. Now you’re in a cream-colored cardigan with a camisole underneath and matching joggers. You dabbed on a little lip tint, brushed out your hair, spritzed on a tiny bit of perfume. Now, you honestly look like you tried and while you don’t want to be too obvious, you remember he has been the one trying for months. It wouldn’t hurt if you showed him a little effort. And at least now you know you look cute.

The doorbell startles you, and you jolt forward causing a dull pain in your neck, which has been bothering you for days. You roll your shoulders back, in hopes to shake some of the tension away. You wipe your palms on your joggers and rush to the door, catching a quick glance at your reflection in the hallway mirror. You look… fine. You hope.

When you pull the door open, there he is.

Yoongi.

Yoongi stands in your doorway, wearing a gray hoodie, jeans that sit just right on his hips, and New Balance slides—slides—despite the winter chill. His hair, slightly longer now, still looks as soft as when you ran your fingers throu—

“Hey,” he says, stalling your thoughts. His dark eyes meet yours, something in his expression making you a bit self-conscious. But boy did you miss him.

“Hi,” you manage, your voice smaller than you intended. You clear your throat and gesture at his feet. “Slides? In this weather?”

Yoongi glances down, his lips curving into a faint smirk. “I was in a rush.”

“Come in,” you say, motioning for him to enter. “When I texted you, I didn’t say it had to be tonight.”

“It had to be,” he says quietly. “For me.”

Your cheeks flush, and you quickly change the subject. “Do you want something to drink? Water? Tea? Iced americano?”

He smiles, seemingly glad that you recall his favorite. “Iced americano sounds good,” he says, settling onto the couch.

You head to the kitchen, grabbing a glass and filling it with ice and coffee. When you return, you hand it to him, watching as he fumbles with the straw a bit. You forgot just how cute he is.

You sip your drink, glancing at him over the rim before deciding to fill the quiet. “So… first day at the daycare,” you start casually. “It went well.”

Yoongi leans back, his shoulders loosening just a little. “Yeah? Tell me about it.”

“It was… honestly, it was so great,” you say, the words tumbling out as you set your drink on the table. “The kids are adorable, and the space is beautiful. Everything’s so well set up.” You pause, the memory of the morning making your chest feel warm. “I forgot how much I missed doing that, you know? Like, preparing activities, seeing their little faces light up when they learn something new… it just—it feels good.”

Yoongi’s lips tug into the faintest smile, his gaze steady on you. “You look happy talking about it.”

You nod, almost to yourself. “I am. I feel… lucky, I guess. That I get to do this again.”

His eyes soften in that way that makes your stomach flutter. “I’m proud of you,” he says simply, his tone steady and sincere.

The words catch you off guard, and for a moment, all you can do is blink at him. “Really?”

“Of course,” he says simply, leaning back against the couch. “It’s not easy starting over. But you did it.”

“Thanks, Yoongi. I really appreciate that.” You pause, then add, “I’m proud of me too.”

He smiles at that, the kind that’s so subtle you’d miss it if you weren’t looking.

You grin back, the memory of the morning still fresh. “Well, we also had a capybara mascot.”

Yoongi coughs. “Oh? A mascot? That’s… interesting.”

“Yeah,” you nod, narrowing your eyes at him. “It seemed really into me. Kept shaking its ass in front of the kids, though, which… you know, questionable.”

“Shaking its ass?” Yoongi repeats, lips twitching.

“Weird, right?” you protest, though you can’t help but grin. “The thing was strangely enthusiastic.”

Yoongi shrugs, taking another sip of his drink. “Sounds like a fun mascot.”

But then, he’s not done, like he’s empathizing with the man in the suit. “And of course he would be enthusiastic, it’s your opening day. I mean they probably briefed him to be supportive of you and whatnot. And to be that energetic despite the tormenting heat of that costume, he’s seriously doing the lord’s work…”

Huh.

You blink at him, before you decide to test the theory out.

“Haneul kept calling it Appa,” you say with a straight face. “I told him there’s no way his appa is in a capybara suit.”

Yoongi chokes on his drink, coughing again.

“Are you okay?” you ask, patting his back.

“Fine,” he croaks, his voice raspier than usual. “Just… went down wrong.”

You eye him suspiciously but let it slide, suppressing a smile that’s threatening to slant your lips.

He’s definitely the man in the suit. You’ll get him to admit it one day.

But for now, you brace yourself for the talk you wanted to have.

You set your phone down carefully, the action feeling weighted, like it’s tethered to the words you’re about to say. Your fingers twist nervously in the hem of your cardigan, and you glance at Yoongi, hesitating for a moment before speaking. “Yoongi… umm, I wanted to say I’m sorry.”

He looks up at you sharply, his brows furrowed in confusion. “For what?”

“For shutting you out,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. You swallow hard, the vulnerability in your chest blooming uncomfortably. “I was in such a bad place mentally. I hated myself, I was dealing with so much unresolved shit that I hadn’t even begun to work through.”

Yoongi doesn’t respond right away. Quiet eyes, just watching you, letting you process your emotions. So you continue.

“Just as you depended on me to care for Han, I started depending on you too. I wasn’t happy with my life, but when I was in your place, I felt detached from my misery. Felt wanted and needed which made me feel good. But then… when Sung Kyung showed up, it was like everything I was already struggling with just got amplified. I thought I was protecting myself, but instead, I just… pushed you away.”

He leans forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees, and the way he looks at you—tender and unguarded—makes your heart ache. His eyes are dark and steady, the kind that seem to see straight through you, but not in a way that feels invasive or harsh.

“I felt very insecure and abandoned from so many things in my past. I have been working on it though, and I feel like I’m in a better place now.”

The faintest trace of a smile ghosts across his lips as he finally speaks. “I get it,” he says, his voice low and steady. “I’m glad you’re better. I’ve been there too. Feeling like you have to be strong for others when inside you’re struggling.” He gnaws at his lip. “If I’m gonna be real, I thought you pushed me away because you wanted out. Honestly, if I were you, I’d dip too.”

“Oh Yoongi…” you start, but he shakes his head, so you let him carry on.

“It’s okay, I know my life is… complicated. Everything that happened in the last two months, hell, in the last year, threw me off, too. Like I just lost control of my life. Shit kept piling on and I didn’t know how to deal. But at the end of the day, all I wanted was to do right by Haneul, to make sure he was loved and safe. That was my focus.”

“You’re an amazing dad,” you say with sincerity. “And you’ve been an amazing friend to me, too. Even when I didn’t deserve it. You didn’t give up on me.”

His eyes soften further, and he shakes his head, brushing your gratitude away like it’s unnecessary. “You don’t have to thank me for that,” he says, his voice almost gentle.

“At first, I didn’t think you’d want to talk to me,” you admit quietly, glancing down at your hands. “I thought maybe you moved on. Or… that you’d rather I wasn’t in your life anymore.”

Yoongi leans back slightly, his posture relaxing as he tilts his head to study you. “Peep the countless messages on Kakao that’s left hanging…”

“I know, and I’m sorry for that. I read every single one. And there were many times that I thought about replying, but I needed to sort myself out. I’m a mess and I didn’t want to drag you down, or add into whatever’s on your plate. You did say your life is complicated.”

“Yeah, but I was just worried about you, because…” his eyes drop to his drink, pauses, then he shakes his head with a chuckle. His gaze meets yours again, his expression firm. “Just promise me something.”

You blink, your hands stilling in your lap. “What?”

“Promise me you won’t do that again,” he says, his voice carrying just the faintest edge of vulnerability. “Don’t shut me out, no matter what’s going on.”

You nod before you can even think. “I promise.”

His lips curve into a faint smile, and the sight of it tugs at something deep inside you. It’s such a small thing—a slight upturn of his mouth, the crinkle at the corners of his eyes—but it feels monumental. Like the bridge you’ve both been too scared to cross is finally, tentatively, being rebuilt.

For a moment, neither of you moves. You think about the way his eyes soften when he looks at you, the way his voice wraps around your name like it’s something precious. And so you think, maybe, just maybe, this could still be something.

Yoongi’s voice cuts through your thoughts. “Hey–what happened to your shoulder?” he asks suddenly, breaking the moment.

You blink, caught off guard by the shift. “What?”

“Your shoulder,” he repeats, nodding toward it. “You’ve been rolling it a little since I got here. Is it bothering you?”

“Oh, I didn’t realize,” you say, feeling a little self-conscious. “It’s nothing, really. Just a strain from running, I think. I’ve been pushing myself a bit harder lately, trying to, you know, get my life together and shit.”

Yoongi frowns, his brows knitting together. “Running’s good, but you can’t overdo it. A shoulder strain’s no joke. If you don’t take care of it, it’ll just get worse.”

You smile faintly, appreciating the concern in his voice. “Okay, Dr. Min,” you tease lightly. “Any recommendations?”

He huffs a quiet laugh but doesn’t let it go. “I mean it. You have to be careful. My shoulder was busted for years, you know. I have a few tricks,” He pauses, glancing at your cardigan. “Can I…? I can take a look if you want. Only if you’re okay with it.”

You gulp. Loud. The neighbors probably heard it. And for a moment, all you can do is stare at him. His expression is earnest, his hand already halfway lifted in a gesture of permission.

“Uh, sure,” you say, your voice quieter than intended. “That’d be… yeah, okay.” You shift in your seat, angling your shoulder for better access.

He waits for your nod before gently tugging at the edge of your cardigan. “May I?”

Your pulse quickens as you shrug it off your shoulder, leaving the strap of your camisole exposed. The cool air brushes your skin, a stark contrast to the warmth of Yoongi’s hands as they settle lightly on your shoulder.

His fingers press gently at first, testing the tension in your muscles before applying more pressure. You inhale sharply as he works through a particularly tight knot, your body instinctively leaning into his touch.

“Here,” he murmurs, his tone soft but focused. “This is where it’s worst, right?”

You nod, unable to form coherent words as his hands move with ease, kneading the aches away. Each press of his fingers sends a mixture of relief and something else coursing through you, straight down towards your core.

“You’re really… good at this,” you manage to say, your voice a little breathless. Brain starting to turn into mush.

He chuckles lightly, the sound vibrating against your back. “Years of experience. Needed surgery to get my shoulder sorted out. That’s why I’m serious about this stuff. You need to be careful with it.”

His words linger in the air, and you find yourself focusing not just on the pleasure of his touch but on the deep timbre of his voice, and the way he’s always looking out for you even in the smallest ways.

“Thank you,” you whisper, glancing over your shoulder to meet his gaze. His hands still for a moment.

“Of course,” he says softly, licking his lips as you find his eyes going to yours.

Oh my god. You want to kiss him. Shit, you really do. You wonder if you should turn fully to face him.

But then his hands slip away, leaving your skin feeling colder.

You adjust your cardigan, clearing your throat as you sit back, your mind spinning. The intimacy of the moment—of his hands on you, the quiet concern in his voice—has left your heart like it’s going into cardiac arrest. If he fancies himself as Dr. Min he better fix this.

“Okay?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you say, smiling faintly. “Better. Thanks, Yoongi.”

“Anytime,” he replies, with a small, almost shy smile.

He leans forward slightly, eyes searching yours, and you find yourself doing the same, your heart pounding in your chest.

For a second, you think he might kiss you—or maybe you’re the one who wants to close the distance.

But then he stands.

“It’s pretty late, I should go,” he says softly, though his voice carries a hint of reluctance.

“Yeah,” you say, standing with him. Your legs feel unsteady as you walk him to the door.

As he steps out, you hesitate for a moment. “Thanks for coming over, at short notice.”

“Nah, I wanted to,” he says, pink dusting his cheeks before he admits. “Is it weird if I say I’ve been waiting for it?”

Before you chicken out, you lean up and press a soft kiss to his cheek. “Thank you for waiting, Yoongi.”

He blinks, startled, then he’s rubbing his wrinkled nose with his index finger. “Goodnight.”

“Drive safe…”

You close the door and lean your back against it, pressing your hands to your cheeks as if that’ll somehow contain the giddy energy bubbling up inside you. It’s stupid, really, how much a simple night with Yoongi—his laugh, his voice, that damn massage—has you grinning like an idiot.

But you can’t help it.

For the first time in a long time, you feel like your heart is beating again, a rhythm that feels almost foreign after the weeks of emptiness you’d carried around.

So, it’s been a week since Yoongi came over.

Each morning at the daycare, Haneul’s nanny walks through the door with her usual warm smile, holding Haneul’s tiny hand as he toddles in. It’s what you’ve grown used to, so you’re not expecting anything different. But sometimes, when the door swings open, you hope that maybe this time, it’ll be Yoongi instead.

It never is.

You shake off the feeling quickly each time. He’s busy, of course. He has his music, his idol schedules. It makes sense that he’d leave the daycare routine to someone else.

But still.

The thought lingers, one you don’t want to examine too closely. Instead, you focus on the small joys: Haneul’s excited “Sarang!” when he sees you, his delighted giggles during circle time, the way he clutches Bora 2.0 during nap time.

And at night, when you’re settling into bed, your phone buzzes. That’s when Yoongi comes to you—not in person, but through his name on your screen.

Yoongi: How’s your shoulder? Dr. Min is still monitoring your progress. You: Much better, thanks. Might even survive the crossfit sesh Joon’s dragging me into. Yoongi: I just texted Namjoon. You’re off the hook. You: What? Yoongi: Can’t do crossfit with a bad shoulder. Doctor’s orders. You: Fine You: You know you’re not a real doctor right? Yoongi: 😑

Then another night:

Yoongi: Haneul wouldn’t stop saying sarang this, sarang that today. Like a little broken record. You: 🥺 My heart can’t handle this. Yoongi: I know.

And then the casual starts to shift:

Yoongi: Did I tell you Haneul fell asleep on my lap during my zoom meeting today? I couldnt move for like an hour and my arm died. You: No, but that sounds adorable. He probably misses u. Yoongi: Yeah. Shld probably cherish this while he’s still not embarrassed by me You: Definitely cherish but why would he be embarrassed by you? You’re such a good dad. Yoongi: I’m trying. But honestly? Sometimes it’s hard. I think about how much I’m giving him and I wonder if it’s enough

You pause at that text, staring at the screen for a long time.

Yoongi doesn’t open up often. When he does, it feels like he’s peeling back a layer, letting you see something raw, something vulnerable.

You: I think every parent feels like that sometimes. But from what I see, Han is such a happy kid. You’re raising him well and he’s so lucky to have you. Yoongi: I needed that. Thank you.

And then, late one night, the tone shifts entirely.

Yoongi: What are you doing right now? You: Bed. About to sleep. U? Yoongi: Same. Thinking about that night. You: Which night? Yoongi: When I came over. And you almost kissed me. 🙂

Oh, shit. Is he drunk?! You sit up, your heart suddenly pounding in your chest. Mind thinking nonsense, like if this is about to be a booty call, what panties are you changing into?

You: 💀Be for real. You were definitely leaning in more. Yoongi: Maybe. Yoongi: Would it have been so bad tho?

Your cheeks burn as you stare at the screen, unsure if your heart is racing because of his words or because of the way they make you feel. You start laughing in disbelief, and soon you're screaming into your pillow. What the hell?!

When you finally compose yourself, you decide you want to ask him if he’s being serious. But before you can even start to type, another message comes through.

Yoongi: Stop overthinking it, beautiful. Good night. 😉

It’s late afternoon, and the daycare is winding down. Kids are being picked up by the HYBE employee parents or the designated guardians. There’s only one kid left, and he just happens to be your favorite.

“Sarang!” Haneul’s little voice calls, his gummy smile wide as he wraps his tiny arms around your legs.

“Hi, baby!” you say warmly, scooping him up into your arms. His chubby cheeks press against yours as he nuzzles into your neck, and your heart melts a little. “Wonder where Nanny Mel is…”

Before you can fully bask in the moment, you hear another familiar voice.

“Ready to go, Haneul?”

Yoongi steps into the daycare, looking effortlessly casual (and annoyingly sexy) in his usual hoodie and slides. His hair is swept back today, and you have to mentally shake yourself out of staring, not just of how he looked, but because this is the first time he has ever picked up Haneul from your daycare.

The tiny tot, however, has other plans.

“No!” he says firmly, clutching onto you tighter.

Yoongi arches a brow, amused. “No? It’s time to go home, buddy.”

Haneul shakes his head, burying his face in your shoulder. “Play more!”

You stifle a laugh, patting Haneul’s back gently. “He’s been having a good day,” you explain, trying to ignore the flutter in your chest at Yoongi’s soft expression as he watches the two of you.

“Well, I can see that,” Yoongi says, his lips twitching in a small smile. He steps closer, holding out his hands. “Come on, Han. Let’s not bother Teacher Y/N anymore, okay?”

But Haneul just whines and clings to you like a little koala, refusing to budge.

Yoongi sighs, running a hand through his soft hair. And you would probably have swooned if you didn’t have other pressing matters. “Aish, this kid…” Yoongi sighs.

You shift Haneul in your arms, trying to coax him down. “Sarang, your appa’s here to take you home. You’ll see me tomorrow, okay?”

But Haneul just shakes his head again, this time tightening his little fists around your sweater. “Noooo!”

Yoongi crosses his arms. “You know, I thought I’d gained a bit more brownie points in the past months, but clearly, you’re still his favorite person.”

“Aw, don’t say that,” you tease, bouncing Haneul gently in your arms. “He loves you.”

“Yeah, but he adores you,” Yoongi counters, his eyes crinkling in a soft smile that makes your heart do a little somersault.

Finally, after a few more minutes of coaxing and promises that you’ll play together tomorrow, Haneul reluctantly lets go, sliding into Yoongi’s waiting arms.

As Yoongi adjusts Haneul on his hip, he glances at you, his expression softer than usual. “Thanks for putting up with him.”

“It’s not putting up with him,” you reply easily, ruffling Haneul’s hair. “He’s a sweetheart. You’re doing a good job, Yoongi.”

Yoongi pauses, his eyes meeting yours for a long moment. “Thanks,” he says quietly, his voice tinged with something you can’t quite place. “That… means a lot.”

Before you can respond, Haneul suddenly tugs on Yoongi’s hoodie, his little face scrunching up as he says in broken, hopeful words, “Sarang… come… home?”

Your breath catches in your throat, and your heart feels like it might burst.

Yoongi blinks at his son, his expression softening, before a mischievous glint sparks in his eyes. He looks up at you, lips curling into that smirk. “I know, buddy. I’d take her home too if I could.”

Stfu?

The comment leaves you completely shook. Is he joking? Is he serious?

As you try to process his words, Yoongi just winks at you, adjusting Haneul on his hip as he heads out the door.

You’re left standing there, stunned, as he calls back over his shoulder, voice smooth like butter, “See you tomorrow, sarang.” And with a bite of his lip, he’s gone. Taking the rest of your sanity with him.

The lights are dimmed, the daycare is quiet, and the faint smell of crayons and hand sanitizer lingers in the air as you finish locking up for the night. It’s been a long day, but instead of feeling tired, you’re restless. Yoongi’s words plague your mind. From the time he brought up the almost kiss over Kakao and that quip he dropped when he picked up Han the other day.

Now you’re sitting in a bus stop near HYBE, gripping your phone tightly, staring at Namjoon’s contact. You’ve already typed and deleted three texts. Why is this so hard? Finally, you force yourself to type something and hit send before you can overthink it again.

You: Are you with Yoongi right now?

A reply pings back almost immediately.

Namjoon: Nope, but why? 👀

You groan. Of course, Namjoon would latch onto that. You can practically hear his teasing tone in your head.

Before you can second-guess yourself again, you press the call button. He picks up after two rings, and before he can get a word in, you rush to say, “Don’t. Just—don’t say anything stupid, Joon.”

“Yo?? Me? Stupid? Never,” Namjoon says, his voice dripping with mock innocence. “But fine, what’s up?”

You hesitate, fiddling with the strap of your bag. “I need your help.”

There’s a beat of silence before Namjoon responds, his voice laced with amusement. “Okay, what kind?”

“Not the kind where you get to tease me endlessly,” you say, narrowing your eyes even though he can’t see you. “Just… can you get me to Yoongi’s studio?”

Namjoon is silent for a moment, and you almost think the call has dropped, but then he laughs. Hard. The kind of laugh that makes you want to hang up and never speak to him again.

“Joon!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” he wheezes, barely catching his breath. “My baby's all grown up. I’m so proud of you.”

“Stoppp,” you mutter, your face heating up. “I just… there's something I need to say to him.”

“Uh-huh,” he drawls, clearly unconvinced. “And this ‘something’ couldn’t wait until, I don’t know, Monday?”

“Namjoon!”

“Alright, alright,” he says, the teasing note in his voice softening. “I’ll text you the access code to his floor. Yoongi’s probably in there working himself into the ground anyway. He’ll be happy to see you.”

You breathe a sigh of relief. “Okay…Thanks..”

“Use protection,” he says, his grin practically audible. “His kid’s still a baby.”

“GOODBYE, Joon.” You hang up to the sound of his laughter. Such an ass.

Fifteen minutes later, you’re standing in front of Genius Lab, Yoongi’s private sanctuary. The dimly lit hallway is eerily quiet, the only sound coming from the hum of a vending machine down the hall. Your eyes fall on the cat flipping you off on the doormat, bold letters reading: GO AWAY.

Yeah, okay. Maybe you should.

So you stand there, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. What are you doing? What’s the plan here?

You didn’t think this through. Not really. It feels reckless—like the day you went to his apartment and found Sung Kyung there with Haneul. You swallow hard, trying to push the memory away. You can’t think about that now.

Taking a deep breath, you raise your hand and knock. Once. Twice.

Nothing.

You start to think maybe you should leave. Maybe this was a shitty idea. Maybe you should turn around and—

The door swings open.

Yoongi stands there, his expression caught somewhere between surprised and exhausted. His hair is slightly mussed, probably from running his hands through it, and he’s wearing a black hoodie with the sleeves of one arm pushed up to his elbows. His eyes widen when he sees you.

“Teacher Sarang,” he says slowly, like he can’t quite believe you’re standing in front of him.

“Hi,” you manage, gnawing on your bottom lip.

For a moment, neither of you moves.

Yoongi glances past you, his brows furrowing slightly. “What are you doing here? It’s late.”

“I know,” you say quickly, gripping the strap of your bag tighter. “I– I just… I wanted to talk. If you’re not busy.”

He blinks, his eyes scanning your face like he’s searching for something. Then he steps aside, holding the door open wider. “No, yeah, come in.”

You take a tentative step inside, the familiar scent of coffee and faint traces of cologne washing over you. The studio is dimly lit, the soft glow of monitors reflecting off sleek black walls. It’s minimalist but warm, the kind of space you’d expect from someone like him. There’s a quiet energy to it, one that feels a little intimidating.

Yoongi closes the door behind you, leaning against it. “So,” he says, his tone careful but not unkind. “What’s on your mind?”

“Honestly,” you take a deep breath, staring at your socks before you lift your eyes to meet his gaze. “You.”

“Oh…” His brows shoot up in surprise, but the smirk that tugs at his lips betrays him. He straightens, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Oh?” you parrot as realization dawns on you. The look on his face? Like he has planned this all along. Like all the things he’s been saying and doing is part of an elaborate Jedi mind trick he played on you. And now you’re here—right where he wants you.

A quiet laugh escapes his lips as he lets you stew in your own nerves. He doesn’t move—just stands there, waiting, like he knows exactly what you’ll do next.

You take a step forward, then another, closing the distance until you’re toe-to-toe with him. The smirk growing on his face is both sexy and infuriating as shit. But okay, you remind yourself, he’s been the one waiting on you, chasing you… It’s time to put your big girl pants on.

“I wasn’t planning this,” you admit, letting your bag drop to the floor. “Your doormat’s rude by the way. But… Been thinking about what you texted. If it would have been so bad… if we…”

“You’ve been thinking about that?” He tilts his head to the side like he’s trying to follow your train of thought. He licks his lips, maybe subconsciously, but your eyes are drawn to it like a magnet.

“Not just that. Don’t act all innocent. You’ve been planting all these little seeds in my head lowkey for weeks, Min Yoongi.”

His gummy grin widens. “No idea what you’re talking about.”

“Suspicious as fuck…” You huff, your fingers reaching for the drawstrings of his hoodie. You tug on them playfully, your gaze flicking up to meet his. “And saying that shit in front of your own kid?”

“Damn,” He full-on chuckles, shoulders bobbing as he looks up to avoid your accusatory gaze.

After a while, he looks down. “And you came all the way here just to call me out?” He challenges, voice dropping dangerously lower. “Or are you finally gonna do something about it?”

Your pulse quickens as the distance between you shrinks, his presence so close it feels like it’s wrapping around you. You swallow hard. The thread holding your resolve together snaps.

And then it happens.

You close the space between you, your lips meeting his in a kiss that’s every bit as desperate as you’ve imagined it would be. There’s no hesitation with him, like he knows you are going to pounce and he is ready to be devoured. This mf–

Your hands tangle in his hair, pulling him closer as his arms wrap around your waist, steadying you against him. The way your lips move is fierce, breathless, like neither of you has the patience to take it slow. His tongue swipes against yours, curling in just the perfect way to turn your legs into jelly. Then, his grip tightens to spin you around and–shit–your back hits the door.

Hot and heavy, he breathes your name against the crook of your neck sending electric currents down to your fingertips. You’re easily coming undone with every graze of his soft lips, his wet tongue as it licks a stripe of skin from your neck towards the shell of your ear and the haze of lust is pulling you under slowly but surely.

But you’re not content to stay there. You push him forward, your lips locked again with his as you guide him toward the couch.

He follows easily. When the back of his knees hit the couch, he sits heavily, pulling you down with him so you’re straddling his lap.

You open your eyes and you find him locked on you, dark and all-consuming. But then something else catches your eye from your periphery, like there’s another pair of orbs vying for your attention.

“GAHH! The fuck is that?!” you push yourself to a standing position, pointing towards…

The head of the capybara mascot.

Yoongi immediately turns crimson, his ears burning as he runs a hand through his hair.

“Knew it,” you say, staring at him in amusement.

“Fuck.” He groans, slumping back against the couch as he covers his face with his hands. “This is literally the worst way you could have found out.”

“Why the hell didn’t you just tell me?!”

“Because I didn’t know if you wanted me there,” he mutters, peeking at you through his fingers. “I just… I wanted to support you. And obviously I wanted to see Han off on his first day so the costume was—” He pauses, clearly regretting his life choices. “Seemed like a good idea.”

Then it hits you—the exaggerated enthusiasm, the ass-shaking, the way Haneul kept calling the mascot Appa. You burst out laughing, unable to hold it in.

Yoongi groans again. “This is so embarrassing.”

You climb onto his lap, straddling him without thinking, and gently cup his puffy cheeks between your palms. “No, no, it’s cute.”

“You’re never going to let this shit go, are you?”

“Not a chance.”

The laughter fizzles out, replaced by a quieter kind of warmth as you shift closer. His fingers tighten slightly on your hips, grounding you in a way that feels steady and sure.

“I wanted to be there for you,” he says softly, his voice low and sincere. “I didn’t know how to do it without… pushing too much.”

Your heart swells at his words, and you turn to face him, your gaze meeting his. “You didn’t have to do all that, Yoongi,” you say, your voice just as soft. “But it means a lot that you did.”

His lips quirk into a small, almost shy smile.

“Thank you,” you whisper, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his cheek. When he lets out a quiet sigh, you get bolder, letting your lips trail down to the corner of his jaw and then just barely grazing his neck.

Yoongi’s breath hitches, hands twitching slightly where they rest on your back. “Y/N…”

You pull back just enough to meet his eyes, a mischievous grin spreading across your face. “I like this look on you,” you tease, your thumb brushing over the faint pink blooming on his cheeks. “My shy little baby boy…”

He narrows his eyes on you, hands settling more firmly on your waist. “Don’t push it,” he warns, but there’s no heat to his words, only fondness.

Suddenly, a knock sounds on his door.

“Yoongi-hyung…” the voice calls out. “You still alive in there?”

“Fuck off, Hobi. I’m busy.”

“There’s an extra pair of shoes out here. And I thiiiink I’ve seen it at the daycare.”

You meet Yoongi’s eyes and he’s barely suppressing a grin. He shrugs, as if to say, it’s up to you if you wanna soft launch this thing.

Eh, why not?

“Hello, Jeonghyeon’s appa,” you call out, confirming his suspicion.

You hear giggles and then a rap on the door. “Wow y’all really not gonna let me in, huh?”

“GOODBYE Hobi.” You and Yoongi say in unison, and then you burst out laughing.

“Bye, lovebirds.”

“Did he need you for anything?”

“Yeah, actually,” Yoongi sighs, scratching the back of his neck. “Been working on a track that’s due tonight. Actually it’s been due and this is my last extension.”

“Oh,” you pout.

“Don’t pout, pretty girl.”

“I guess you’re gonna have to kick me out now.”

“Not because I want to. You're welcome to stay, but you might have better things to do.”

“S fine. I’ll go…” you stand up, planning to collect your bag where you dropped it when Yoongi pulls you back down by your belt loops, your full weight settling on him. He doesn’t seem to mind as he cages your body against his strong arms, leaning you both back so his chin can rest on your shoulder, the one without the strain.

“I am so happy you came,” he mumbles against the fabric of your top.

“I haven’t. But you better make me. Soon.”

His chest shakes against your back, “You’re horrible.”

You stay wrapped in his arms for a while, neither of you saying much, the silence warm and comfortable. But eventually, the moment comes when you know it’s time to leave. With a reluctant sigh, you sling your bag over your shoulder and turn to go—only to find Yoongi already on you, his lips capturing yours once more.

“Yoongi—mmmph…” you giggle, pushing him away lightly. “You're never gonna get work done.”

“Let me take you to dinner tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

He catches your wrist, pulling you back for one last kiss—this one softer, slower—before pushing the door open for you.

“Text me when you get home,” he says and you nod.

You leave the studio with your heart in overdrive, the ghost of his touch still lingering on your skin. By the time you’re in the elevator, you’re grinning like crazy, excitement bubbling in your chest.

Saturday can’t come fast enough.

That night—

You: Are u still in the studio? Yoongi: Yeah :( You: Good luck with your track. I’m going to bed. Gnyt. Yoongi: But i miss you.……….. You: lol You: What do you want? Yoongi: What can you offer? 😇

You sit up on your bed, pulse kicking up again, the way it usually does when Yoongi is involved. Is he really asking for…?

Fuck okay you’ll bite.

You let the strap of your thin cami fall on your shoulders, angle your phone camera so it’s aimed at your cleavage.

You compose the money shot: one hand softly grasps one of your breasts making it almost spill out of your top. Your other nipple, taut and perky, its outline faintly visible against the fabric. Just the perfect visual to tease and still leave a bit of mystery.

You get a few shots and send what you think is the best one.

You: [image attached] Yoongi: fuck Yoongi: baby you’re so sexy You: I’m baby now? What happened to Teacher Sarang Yoongi: idk she definitely not the one sending nudes You: stfu Yoongi: Go away im busy now You: GOODBYE yoongi Yoongi: pick you up at 7? You: If you make it worth my while Yoongi: [image attached]

Oh you’re dead. It’s a shot of his very pink knuckles, his very veiny hands grasping his very hard cock against his dark grey sweats.

You: shit You: yes you may pick me up at 7

Your head is spinning when you cozy up under your blanket and bury your head in your pillows.

Not knowing that come morning your head will be spinning for an entirely different reason.

Dispatch Breaking News: SUGA of BTS and Actress Lee Sung Kyung In A Relationship Congratulations to the couple.

Part 4.5 >

A/N: Ahhhhhhh 🥲 I was initially gonna end it in the part where Yoongi opens the door to his studio and you say Hi.

But decided last minute to throw y’all a bone(r) and extend the scene a bit, in the spirit of Christmas. But that also meant getting to that awful last bit… another dun dun dun

Hope you all liked it still! See you at the comments. As per usual, tell me what you liked, hated, etc etc. Shout at me or whatever!

I always appreciate your feedback. And if you are able to, reblogs are also amazing. :)

Thanks for reading you lovely, beautiful human xo

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javierpena-inatacvest · 2 months ago

Text

Chapter 21- Paradise

Summary: Now that you and Javi are married, it's time for you to enjoy two weeks of nothing but your three favorite "S's"- Sun, sand, and sex. Lots of Sex.

Word Count: 13.9K

Warnings: SMUT (18+) unprotected p in v sex, oral (f and m receiving) vaginal fingering, praise kink, marriage kink, big, fat, nasty, unspeakable breeding kink (WHOOPS), stopping birth control/starting a family, kind of semi-public sex (sex on the beach hehe), alcohol/drinking (y'all are getting wasted at the pool), I'm convinced these two can't have sex without getting caught (sorry, Chucho), Javi in a bathing suit, these two are so stupidly in love

A/N: ..... Hey.... Y'all remember when I actually wrote for this story.... 😭 I'm genuinely SO sorry that this chapter took me literal months to finish, but she is finally here!!! Thank you so much for all of your patience and the love you've shown these two even in this story's absence 🥺 I hope you enjoy these two horndogs on their honeymoon!!!

Series Masterlist Next Chapter Previous Chapter

“We have all of our bags?”

“Yup.”

“Passports?”

“Mhmmmm.”

“Plane tickets?”

“Yes.”

“We’re positive that we have-”

“Baby, I promise, I triple checked everything this morning, it’s all waiting by the front door, all we have to do now is just wait for my dad to pick us up and take us to the airport, and all my wife needs to do is take a deep breath and relax.”

My wife.

Even though you had been married for less than 24 hours, you knew the sentiment of finally getting to be Javi’s wife wasn’t wearing off on you any time soon.

Javi smiled, playfully crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow at you as you ran through your honeymoon inventory again, knowing damn well you looked like a fool in your frantic pre-traveling state. You more than trusted that Javi had everything the two of you needed before you left for the airport, but you just couldn’t shake the fact that you felt like you were forgetting something, despite all your checks and re-checks.

“Well, your wife will be much more relaxed once we land after being trapped in a flying tin can and have two feet on the ground again.” You sighed, trying not to let your fear of flying override your excitement to finally arrive in the Bahamas later that day. “God, I feel like I forgot to pack something important but I can’t figure out what.”

As you stared in frustration at your pile of suitcases, you could feel Javi sneaking behind you, flushing his chest to your back as his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to him as he rested his chin on your shoulder, planting a soft kiss on your temple.

“I think I know what it is.” Javi smirked, his kisses traveling down your jaw as he nipped at your ear, making you turn your head back toward him in confusion.

“Oh, so now you’re a husband and a mind reader. That honestly will come in very handy.” You teased, giggling while you shifted around to face him, draping his arms around his neck as his hands traveled down your waist, reaching down to grab a handful of your ass. “Jesus Javi, what in the world am I forgetting, because you seem pretty darn happy I can’t remember it.”

“You really don’t know?” Javi asked, almost mockingly, tightening his grip around your hips, peppering kisses along your jaw and neck, the hot words of his breath dancing across your skin.

“No, Mr. Mind Reader, I don’t, and you’re making it very hard to concentrate and figure out what it is.”

You were trying your best to genuinely let your brain run out its train of thought, but as Javi’s kisses across your collarbone became wetter and sloppier, trying to form any sort of coherent idea was practically impossible.

Javi paused for a moment, reaching both hands up to cusp your face, his broad hands cradling your jaw as his thumbs swiped across your cheeks, looking up at him to see the boyish grin spread from cheek to cheek.

“You’re forgetting something because you’re forgetting to bring it on purpose. Something we threw away this morning, remember?”

Oh shit.

You were forgetting something. Only, now that you finally remembered what it was, you couldn’t be happier that you had forgotten it.

Your birth control.

As Javi watched your face quickly fade from confusion to delight, your grin was just about as wide as his, biting down on your lip to try and contain your excitement while your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest.

The two of you could actually start trying for a baby.

“You remember now?” Javi teased, laughing to himself at how wide your eyes had gone, practically beaming from the inside out at your husband, feeling butterflies swirl in your stomach and heat building in your core.

Leaning up, your mouth met Javi’s in a sloppy dance of tongues and teeth, lips crashing together in electric excitement, grabbing a fistfull of the fitted green t-shirt covering his chest and tugging him closer towards you.

“How much longer until your dad is supposed to be here?” You rasped, already breathing heavily from your frantic kisses and anticipation.

Quickly, Javi looked down at his watch wrapped around his wrist, the gears turn in his brain, calculating if the two of you had enough time to do what he knew you were proposing.

“Fuck- Like, 40 minutes?”

Without saying a word, both of you agreed in silent, rushed nods that 40 minutes was enough time to give yourself enough of a buffer, and the risk definitely didn’t outweigh the reward, knowing there was no way in hell that you could wait an entire plane ride and arriving at your hotel room to fuck.

In an instant, your mouths were crashing together again, Javi grabbing the underside of your thighs to hoist you up, wrapping your legs around his waist as he carried you back towards the couch in the living room, the back of his knees hitting the sofa as he collapsed into his seat, you still straddling his lap without ever parting your lips.

Javi’s hands crept below the hem of your shirt, shuffling it over your head and tossing it on the floor before shuffling your shorts and underwear off to join your top in a crumpled pile on the floor. Your hands worked rapidly at the waistband of Javi’s shorts, lifting up off his lap to push them down his thighs, revealing the hard and weeping mess his cock had already become since carrying you over to the couch, your cunt aching at the sight of his length and how desperately you wanted to be filled by it.

“God, I wanna fuck you so bad.” You whimpered between your wet kisses, shifting yourself closer to hover over his dick, so turned on that you were convinced that your arousal was already dripping down your thighs at an embarrassing rate.

“Baby, you have no fucking idea.” Javi groaned, dragging his fingers through your folds, your body jolting at the sensation at the pads of his fingers rubbing over your clit, throbbing and aching under his touch. “Jesus Christ, you’re so fucking wet.”

Reaching down to wrap your hand around the base of his cock, stroking it a few times, you slowly lowered yourself down onto his tip, knowing that with your limited time and how turned on you were, you didn’t want to feel anything besides the sweet sting of Javi’s stretch filling you to the brim.

The two of you moaned in unison as you sank down on his length, bottoming out until you had taken every inch of him, taking a second to adjust to his size before rolling your hips over his lap in figure eights.

“F-fuck, you feel so good, Javi.” You whined, circling your bottom half faster, the friction of the hairs at the base of Javi’s cock rubbing deliciously against your clit combined with Javi groping at your breasts, sucking at one of your pebbled nipples while he rolled the other between his fingers, making your breath hitch in the back of your throat.

Javi began to let his hips rut up into yours, thrusting his length deeper into your cunt as you rode him, his hands sliding down the sides of your body and wrapping around your ass, massaging the plump flesh between his fingers while his lips crashed into yours again, catching each other’s muffled moans.

“F-fuck…” Javi whined, tightening his grip to try and maintain his composure as his thoughts began to flow straight from his brain through his mouth. “I’m gonna fuck you so full of me, Osita. Fuck a baby into you, get you pregnant, watch you grow our our kid and give us our perfect family.”

“Oh my god- fuck- yes. Please, Javi. Fuck, I want you to knock me up. I wanna- fuck- I wanna make you a daddy.” You moaned, running your hands through the dark curls of Javi’s hair as he began to pound into you even harder, his fingertips gripping your hips with bruising intensity as he guided you up and down his cock, the two of you both so lost in your own pleasure that you hadn’t heard a faintly familiar voice echoing from the front door.

“Javi, Mija, I know I’m a little early but I figured you’d rather get to the airport earlier than later!”

Little did poor Chucho know that today was one of the few times in his life that he would regret showing up anywhere earlier than expected.

Surprised by the lack of response, despite the packed and stacked bags waiting by the front door, an unsuspecting Chucho kicked off his boots and began meandering down the entryway towards your living room, where and even more unsuspecting you and Javi were half dressed and sprawled across your couch trying to make a baby.

“Javier? Mija? Are you two ready to leave soon? I was hoping that- Oh Dios Mio!”

“AHHHHHHH!”

With Javi’s back to his dad as you sat in his lap, you were the first to lock eyes with your now father-in-law, your jaw practically falling to the floor as you let out a panicked shriek, causing Javi to whip his own head around, terror running through his veins as he frantically threw you off his lap and tried to cover the both of you with the nearest blanket he could find.

“Jesus Christ, Pops!” Javi shouted, hands covering his face that had turned bright red in quite possibly the world's worst kind of embarrassment. “Why are you here so early?! Please just, I- I don’t know, for Christ’s sake, please go wait outside!” He sighed, pointing towards the front door where Chucho had just regrettably entered from.

“How was I supposed to know!? I figured I would be safe! Say no more, I will just go wait on the front porch. Aye, aye, aye…” Chucho replied, quickly scampering away towards the door, eyes peeled to the ground and arms up in self-defense, waiting until you heard the soft slam and clicking lock behind him before peering out from underneath your blanket shield.

“Jesus fucking Christ…” Javi groaned, hands still covering his face as you looked up at him, cheeks glowing beet red in embarrassment.

“Please don’t tell me your dad just walked in on us having sex…” You winced, absolutely knowing the answer to your question, but still somehow praying that maybe, just maybe, you were imaging things.

“... My dad definitely just walked in on us having sex.” Javi sighed, his face as almost as red as yours, scrambling to find your clothes scattered between the cushions, tossing them over to you, frantically trying to cover yourself up to save any ounce of dignity you had left.

“Well, looks like I am going to start walking to the airport because I don’t think I can ever make eye contact with your dad again…” You muttered, making you and Javi laugh just enough to try and ease the uncomfortable tension, wondering how in the world you were supposed to spend an entire ride to the airport with Chucho without wanting to crawl out of your skin. “I thought you said he was supposed to get here later!”

“Well that’s what I thought too, but apparently not!” Javi grumbled, shuffling his shirt over his head, combing his hand through his hair to try and fix the mess you had made raking your fingers through it.

“Guess we won’t have any worries about getting to the airport on time…”

“Guess you’re right about that. Fuck me…”

“Sure you don’t wanna start walking?”

While Chucho, you and Javi had seemingly made a silent pact to not say a peep to each other the entire car ride for the duration of your drive, every passing second seemed more awkward and uncomfortable than the last, truly regretting your decision to not grab your bags and walk along the highway to try and catch your flight.

It wasn’t until Chucho began pulling up to drop the two of you off that he decided it was time to break your truce, his eyes meeting yours in the rear view mirror as the two of you sat awkwardly in the backseat, bracing yourself the moment you could feel his mouth begin to open.

“You know, the night of our wedding, Lucia and I just couldn’t keep our hands off each other either, it was so-”

“Dad!” Javi interjected, his face physically scrunching in pain at the thought of how his father planned to complete the rest of that thought, trying to cut him off before he could get any further.

“Lo siento (Sorry)! God forbid I try to do something to ease the tension!” Chucho chuckled, throwing his hands up in defense at his statement.

“I don’t think where you were headed was the way to do that, Pops.” Javi muttered, letting out another deep sigh of embarrassment.

“Well lucky for you, it looks like we’re here.” Chucho smiled, pulling into one of the parking spots outside of your gate and turning off the ignition. “Here, let me help you with the bags in the trunk and-”

“Nope, already got it, Pops, please do not get out of the car.” Javi begged, practically sprinting out of the backseat to the trunk, you quickly following behind him, beginning to sheepishly unload your luggage from the car.

Of course, Chucho being Chucho was not about to take no for an answer, slowly fumbling his way out of the car to greet the two of you at the trunk with a mischievous grin stretched ear to ear.

“Pops, please, I told you I’ve got it, I-”

“Oh hush, Javier, I am just coming out to say goodbye, yo promento (I promise).” Chucho laughed, grabbing Javi by the shoulder, giving him a little shake.

“Bye Chucho.” You grimaced, leaning in reluctantly for a hug. “Thanks for dropping us off. S-sorry about earlier.” You couldn’t help but wince again, eyes darting to the ground at your last sentence.

“Oh mija, don’t apologize. Could be worse.”

“I’m not really sure how it could be…” You whispered under your breath, just loud enough for Javi to hear, making him hold back a snort.

“Besides, I think this bodes well for my bet I have placed.” Chucho smirked, crossing his arms over his chest as the two of you looked at him in confusion,

“Your bet?” Javi asked, raising an eyebrow at his dad.

“Mhmmm. The bet between me, your family, Mija, and the Murphy’s.”

“As much as I love a vague and cryptic guessing game, any chance you’re gonna tell us what that bet is?” You laughed uncomfortably, looking back between Javi and Chucho.

“Oh, don’t you worry, Mija. I think the two of you will know soon enough. Okay, enough of that! I will let the two of you go. Have a safe flight and a wonderful trip. I couldn’t be happier for the two of you. Enjoy your first of your many amazing adventures as a married couple.”

While you couldn’t deny you still weren’t far off from wanting to find the nearest hole and disappear in, you couldn’t help but feel your cheeks warm at the sentiment of Chucho’s well-wishes, placing your hand in Javi’s and squeezing it tight, beaming up at your husband with love and excitement.

“Thanks, Pops.”

“Claro (of course). Alright, mijos, adios. Have fun. But not too much fun, if you know what I-”

“Yup, we know exactly what you mean, bye, Dad!” Javi grunted, gently turning his father around and pushing him back towards the car making him laugh, giving the both of you one last wave goodbye before disappearing down the road.

“Jesus Christ, I’m glad that’s over…” Javi sighed, wrapping his arm around your waist, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“You can say that again. What bet do you think he was talking about?”

“Honestly, no fucking clue. And truth be told, right now, I couldn’t care less. Because right now,” He paused, leaning down to hold your cheek in his palm, forcing your gaze up at him, “all I care about,” he paused once again, planting a playful kiss on your lips, “is getting my beautiful wife onto this plane so we can start our honeymoon.”

“Say it again.” You smiled, pressing up on your tiptoes to kiss him back.

“My wife. My beautiful, amazing, drop dead gorgeous wife, who has single-handedly made me the luckiest man in the entire world.” Javi smirked, biting down on his lip as his grip tightened around you, making you giggle.

“Easy there, Romeo, we still have a whole flight to get through, ya know.”

Fortunately, your flight and arrival to the Bahamas was much less eventful than anything that had happened this morning, the embarrassment of your father-in-law’s unfortunate timing quickly fading away as you strolled up to the front desk to check into your room for the next ten days of nothing but what you had deemed your three favorite “S’s”-

Sun, sand, and sex.

Lots of sex.

“Hi there! Welcome! My name is Cassandra, how can I help the two of you today?” A woman smiled politely from behind the check-in desk, quickly clacking away at her keyboard.

“Hi. We’re checking in for Peña.” Javi beamed, grabbing your hand in his, gently rubbing his thumb over both sets of rings wrapped around your finger, knowing there wasn’t a chance in hell he’d ever get used to the fact he was lucky enough to get to call you his wife for the rest of his life.

“Perfect! Let me get right on that.” She nodded, fingers tapping across the keys as she looked up your information. “Any special reason for your stay here?”

“Honeymoon.” The two of you answered in sync, laughing to yourselves at your well timed response.

“Well why didn’t you say that to begin with?! Let me see if I have anything I can upgrade you to for your stay!” Cassandra scoffed, almost comedically offended that your opening line hadn’t been “It’s our honeymoon, upgrade our room please!”

“Oh, you don’t have to-”

“Oh, honey, please. This is my favorite part of my job. Absolutely the least I can do for the two of you. Congratulations. Just give me one second here and…. Ah! Yes! I thought this one was available. Let’s upgrade you to the Ocean View King Suite. This one is one of my favorite rooms. You get the most beautiful view of the sunrise right from your balcony!”

You and Javi looked at each other beaming, grins plastered across your faces in surprise. “Thank you so much, this is so nice of you to do for us.” You smiled.

“Of course. Least that I can do. Like I said, it’s one of the highlights of doing this job. Alright, well, here are your room keys!” Cassandra grinned, passing the key cards and room information over the concierge desk and handing them to you and Javi. “If you head over to your right, there’s a bay of elevators that will take you to your room. I hope that you two have a wonderful stay, and enjoy your honeymoon!”

“Thank you again, we really appreciate it.” Javi nodded, stuffing things into his pocket before leaning down to give you a kiss and reaching back to grab his suitcase and your hand in his.

As Javi turned, leading the two of you towards the elevator, you couldn’t help but laugh at Cassandra’s face, her eyebrow playfully raised and head nodding in approval, pointing at Javi and giving you a thumbs up, as if you needed more confirmation that you had made a top-tier choice on the man you were going to spend the rest of your life with.

“What’s so funny?” Javi smirked, tilting his head in confusion at your giggles as the two of you stepped into the elevator with the small crowd of people on their way back to their hotel rooms.

“Nothing. Just some reassurance that I cleaned up pretty damn well in the husband department, which I can’t say I disagree with.” You snickered, reaching up to wrap your hand around his jaw, squeezing his cheeks in your grasp.

“You’re such a dork, you know that?”

“A dork who is now your wife, thank you very much.” You sassed, crossing your arms over your chest, making the two of you laugh quietly to yourselves until the ding of the elevator caught your attention. “Oh! I think this is us!” Quickly scrambling to grab your suitcase, you dashed out of the elevator as the doors parted, followed by Javi, trying to keep up with your excited pace.

“Alright, Mrs. Dork, we’re room 2331.” Javi grinned, pulling the information from the front desk out of his pocket, scanning the hallway for rooms approaching your number, watching you search in front of him with detective-like accuracy.

“Okay, let’s see, 2329… 2330… Here! Here it is! 2331!” You beamed, showing off the number of your room Vanna White style to Javi as he began to slip the room key into the card reader, pausing for a moment to stare at you with his sweet brown eyes in the midst of your goofiness. “What’s that look for?” You teased, smiling back at him.

“Just reminding myself of how lucky I am. I love you, Mrs. Peña.”

Mrs. Peña.

You couldn’t help but let your heart skip a beat at the sound of him saying it, still not quite sure that the incredible reality of your new last name had completely sunk in with you yet.

“I love you too, Mr. Peña. Now, you gonna open this door so we can put this room to use or what?” You smirked, raising your eyebrow at him playfully, gesturing towards your hotel room door.

With a quick swipe of your room key the two of you unlocked your door to get a first glimpse of your hotel room. At first, the both of you were convinced you must have been in the wrong place, because this was the most beautiful, luxurious hotel room that you had ever laid eyes on. Complete with a giant king bed covered in fresh white sheets, free standing tub, huge couch and living room area, newly renovated, and most impressively, a huge set of sliding glass doors that lead to your balcony overlooking a breath-taking view of the beach and ocean below you.

Mental note to self- you owed Cassandra at the big desk the biggest thank you ever.

“Holy shit, Javi. This is gorgeous.” You muttered to yourself, dropping your bags off at one of the closets at the front of the room as you began to wander and explore, gently poking and prodding around as if you were a tourist in a museum, rather than a hotel guest in your own room.

“It’s got no lack of options, that’s for sure.” Javi laughed quietly to himself, following behind you as he set down his own bags before doing an investigation of his own, the majority of which was spent watching you excitedly explore the in’s and outs of your new home for the next 10 days.

“No lack of options?” You asked, tilting your head in confusion, as you turned towards Javi, hands resting on his hips with a smug grin spread from ear to ear.

“Mmmhmmm.” He replied, making his way towards you until his hands were wrapped around your waist, pulling you against his chest to force your gaze up at his brown eyes, pooling with an equal combination of excitement and mischief. “No lack of options in this room for places I get to fuck my beautiful wife.”

“You’re so bad!” You teased, giving him a little slap to his chest as the two of you laughed, knowing that you had the exact same thought, he was just the first to say it.

“Oh c’mon, like you didn’t think the same thing.”

“Okay listen… you’re not wrong. I would be a liar if I didn’t walk in here and think about how many different furniture choices we could fuck on before we had to leave.” You sighed in a playful defeat, your breaths slowly transforming to light and giggly to low and needy as Javi slid his hands resting on your hips down to your ass, palming it in his grasp.

Craning his head down to rest in the crook of your neck, you couldn’t help but moan as he sucked at your pulse point, wet kisses consuming your neck and jawline as a damp patch began to pool in your underwear, falling apart under Javi’s touch.

“Well if that’s the case, what should we break in first, Osita? What does mi esposa (my wife) want? ” Javi hummed, slipping his hands under the waistband of your shorts and underwear, pushing them over your hips and down your legs until they pooled around your ankles, leaving your bottom half bare.

Snaking his hand between your bodies, you whimpered as his fingers ghosted over your core, grazing over your clit with just enough pressure to make you shutter in anticipation, feeling the slick of your arousal beginning to coat your thighs with want and need.

“F-fuck-” You stammered, trying to string together anything that resembled a coherent thought, “The b-bed. Fuck me on the bed, baby, please.”

Without another word, Javi had scooped you up under your thighs, forcing your legs to lock around his waist as he carried you toward the bed, mouths crashing together in a hungry mess of tongues and teeth.

Javi set you down, gently laying your back on the bed just enough to let your lower half hang off the edge so he could make a home between your legs, draping each one over his shoulders and pushing them open further to reveal the wet, puffy mess in between your thighs.

You should have been embarrassed with how worked up you already were from a few kisses and some ass grabbing, but with how excited you were to be here with your husband, without a worry in the world besides how many times you could disrespect your hotel room before you had to leave, you had no shame in how you were already dripping with anticipation as Javi’s eyes locked on your core.

“Fuck, she’s so pretty.” Javi cooed, admiring the glistening sheen of your slick covering your folds, planting gentle kisses along the soft skin of your thighs, creeping closer and closer to your center. You sat up on your elbows to watch as Javi’s fingers lazily traced your cunt, collecting your arousal, rubbing with just enough pressure to make your clit throb even harder than it already had been. “Always so wet for me, Hermosa. My perfect wife. Fuck, I still can’t believe you’re all mine forever.”

“Forever.” You whimpered, breath hitching in the back of your throat as Javi’s tongue dragged across your core with a broad, flat stroke, looking up at you with those devastatingly sweet, chocolate brown eyes, pulling off you with the look you knew all too well meant you were absolutely a goner.

“Tastes so fucking sweet, baby.” Javi hummed, carefully bringing two fingers to your core, sinking them inside your weeping hole to prod steadily against your g-spot

“Oh my god, fuck-” You whimpered, Javi working at a painstakingly slow pace that still had you writhing under his touch, his mouth and fingers moving in the perfect combination of pressure to already have a tingle beginning to build at the base of your spine despite the fact he had just started eating you out.

Your jaw went slack as his digits prodded faster, his tongue swirling and flicking against your sensitive bundle of nerves, ragged moans and whimpers escaping from your lips, growing louder and more wonton by the second.

“That’s my girl.” Javi cooed, pulling off you just enough to catch your attention, his fingers never faltering in pace, “Fuck, I could listen to you like this all day, Osita. All the pretty noises my wife makes just for me. C’mon, baby. You want everyone here to know who makes you feel this good, huh? Tell them, sweet girl, who makes you feel this good?”

“Y-you, Javi, fuck- You do, baby.” You moaned, feeling your pussy begin to flutter around Javi’s fingers as his smug smirk pressed back against your cunt, now sucking at your clit with a ferocious switch intensity he knew would send you over the edge in an instant.

Squeezing Javi’s head between your thighs, you cried out louder, chanting his name like a prayer with each second you grew closer and closer to your end, feeling arousal creeping through your body at a rapid rate.

“Javi, Javi, fuck- Oh, baby, Javi, I’m gonna- gonnaahhhhhhh-”

In an instant, your orgasm crashed through you, filling you with all consuming pleasure that had you seeing stars, sobbing out as your cunt clamped down around Javi’s fingers that were pulsing inside you through your high.

At this point, you were probably close to suffocating your poor husband, but it was his own damn fault for knowing how to make you cum so hard, your soul just about left your body.

Finally regaining enough inhibition, you let your legs fall open, freeing Javi from the thigh prison he had trapped himself in, still smirking with delight despite his red face and shortness of breath.

“Jesus Christ, Osita.” He laughed, standing up as he began to shed his clothes, tossing his shirt and shorts in a crumpled pile on the floor, followed by his already tented and stained boxers, revealing his painfully hard cock, slapping against his stomach and bobbing between his legs as it was freed. “You tryin’ to kill me, baby?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” You huffed, chest still rising and falling with heavy breaths as you came down from your high. “Sorry, not my fault you make me cum so hard I put you in a headlock between my legs.”

You and Javi both couldn’t help but laugh as he helped you slide further up the bed, crawling over you and caging you under his broad body, peppering every inch of your body with kisses and intentionally tickling you with his mustache in all the places he knew made you giggle the most.

“If I die between my wife’s thighs buried face deep in her pussy, I’d die a happy man.”

“Well I have no plans on intentionally murdering you on this trip, so count yourself safe this time, Peña.”

“Baby, I’m convinced you’re just trying to kill me slowly this entire trip, considering you have nothing packed in your suitcase besides bikinis and sundresses.” Javi sighed, arms planted around your head as he laid overtop of you, kissing up your collarbone and neck, all the way up your jawline.

“Javier Peña, we are literally on a tropical vacation to the Bahamas. Would you have liked me to pack, a parka and snow pants?” You teased, breath hitching in the back of your throat between giggles, trying to maintain your composure between the wet, hot kisses, Javi was planting across your skin.

“No,” He grumbled, “You’re the hottest woman I’ve ever fucking met, baby, you don’t think people aren’t staring at you everywhere you go? I can’t fucking blame ‘em, but they better notice that ring on your finger and know you’re off limits.”

Heat crept through your cheeks, butterflies swirling in your stomach from what he had said, picking up on the notion behind his thoughts. Javi wasn’t a jealous man, but fuck, was he a protective one, and God help any man who tried to knowingly make a move on you while he was around.

He wanted everyone to know you were his, and you just as badly wanted everyone to know he was yours.

“Maybe just the ring isn’t enough, baby.” He smirked, nipping and tugging at your skin with his teeth as he snaked his hand between your bodies to stroke himself and line his cock up with your entrance. “‘Cause you know what else isn’t in your suitcase?”

Your birth control.

You didn’t have to say a word to know exactly what Javi meant, your face swelling with a mixture of excitement and want.

“Javi, oh fuck-” You moaned, cut off by the sweet sting of Javi pushing into you, filling you up with every inch of himself until he had bottomed out, stalling for a moment to let you adjust to his fullness before slowly dragging his cock in and out of your cunt.

“Maybe,” he groaned, biting down on his lip at just how good you felt around him, warmth and wetness coating his length with each stroke, “Maybe that ring on your finger isn’t enough, Ostia. Maybe once they see you pregnant with our baby growing inside you, they’ll know you’re mine.”

It never failed to amaze you just how Javi knew how to make you short circuit with words alone, hoping the entire resort didn’t hear the absolutely pathetic whimper you let out at the idea of finally carrying his baby, showing off your family to the world, and the man who had given it to you.

“Fuck, knock me up Javi. Wanna- wanna make you a daddy.” You whined, wrapping your arm up around his neck, running your fingers through his dark and sweaty curls, tugging him closer to you until your mouths were molded in a messy clash of tongues and teeth.

“Christ- Yeah, baby girl? Fuck, I’ll give you whatever you want. I’ll fuck myself so deep inside you, it’s got no choice but to fuckin’ take. Keep you stuffed with my cum every day until it sticks.” Javi groaned, gritting his teeth as he grabbed the backs of your thighs, pushing them to your chest and pulling you closer to him so your back began to arch, giving himself the perfect angle to split you open and keep every last drop inside of you.

You could feel every inch of Javi filling you, perfectly punching against that soft, spongy spot inside your cunt with each thrust, keeping your thighs still pressed against your chest as the lower half of your legs wrapped around the small of Javi’s back, ankles locking together to keep him as close and deep inside you as you could.

“Dámelo, papi.” You cooed, wicked smile stretched from ear to ear watching Javi physically having to stop himself to let out a strangled groan, clenching his jaw and scrunching his face to keep from busting right then and there.

“Jesus, fuck-” Javi grunted, finally gaining enough composure to open his eyes and look back down at you beneath him, smugly smirking, “That’s how this is gonna go, huh?"

The chocolate brown of Javi’s eyes began to darken with lust, dragging his cock out and ramming into you so deeply, a pathetic whimper fell from your lips, nearly knocking the wind out of your chest feeling him practically in your stomach. Your whimpers quickly turned to sobs as he did it again, slowly dragging his length out of your wet, warm walls before pounding back in to you with a blinding intensity.

Leaning down, Javi grabbed your arms, pushing them outstretched above your head until your wrists were crossed over each other and Javi had them both in his firm grasp, pinning you to the bed with the weight of his body and grip. It was like something feral had ignited inside him, brow furrowed and teeth gritted with a laser focus, snapping his hips to thrust himself deeper and harder, melting you to a helpless puddle beneath him, your cries of pleasure and desperation only egging him on more.

“You want me to fill you up, baby? Then you’re gonna be a good girl and take every last fucking drop. Every. Last. One.” He huffed, syncing his words to each thrust, keeping a bruising grip over your wrists with one hand, and digging his fingertips into the meat of your hips with his other. “Tell me what you’re gonna do for me, baby girl. Tell me whose pussy this is.”

“It’s yours, Javi. Fuck, fuck, fuck- it’s yours, baby! I- oh shit- I promise I’ll be a good girl and take it all. Want you to fill me up, Papi.” You sobbed, arousal seeping through your veins as Javi’s cock punched against your g-spot over and over, each stroke faster and more intense, blinding your body with pleasure.

Your hotel room was drenched in the borderline pornographic sounds of skin slapping against skin, wet squelching of your pussy squeezing Javi’s cock tighter and tighter as you could feel the coil beginning to tighten in your stomach, crying out without any inhibition for your volume, Javi grunting and panting with equal intensity.

“That’s my girl. You gonna let everyone hear who this pussy belongs to? Let everyone know that I’m gonna fill you up and get you pregnant?” Javi mewled, watching the way your eyes were nearly rolling in the back of your head, snaking his hand gripping your hip down between your bodies to rub firm and frantic circles around your clit to help push you over the edge knowing how close you were.

As soon as the calloused pads of Javi’s fingers were pressed against your sensitive nub, you were seconds away from the brink of collapse, cunt clamping tighter and tighter around Javi’s cock, choking it with your velvety walls.

“Yes, yes, yes, fuck, fuck, I’m so close baby. Don’t stop, don’t stop, please, fuckfuckfuckfuck!”

Instantly, your orgasm crashed through your body, blinding white heat flooding your vision, pleasure shooting through every inch of you to the point you felt like you had left your own body. You could feel your body going limp beneath Javi, knowing he wasn’t far behind you given all his tell tale signs as you soaked his length with your arousal.

Javi’s thrusts had forgone any type of rhythm, now sloppy and erratic, his balls tightening and tensing in his stomach, babbling and moaning in your ear, whispering sweet nothings before he found himself in the same state of you.

“That’s it, hermosa. Cum all over my cock. Cum all over me before I fill up this tight little pussy so full it’s got no choice but to take. Oh fuck- Fuck, can’t wait to get you pregnant. See you carrying our baby. Gonna make you the prettiest fucking Momma-ahhhhhhh, fuck!”

With one final stutter of his hips, Javi was painting the inside of your cunt with thick, warm ropes of his spend, keeping himself flushed as tight as he could to your pelvis, making sure a single drop didn’t escape as he plugged you with his cock, cumming so hard he couldn’t help but whimper. The weight of his body slumped on top of you, syncing your heavy breaths, the sticky and sweaty sheen of your chests pressed together as Javi planted a slow and sensual kiss on your lips, swallowing your moans in his mouth.

“Holy fuck.” You half whispered to yourself, letting out a bliss-filled giggle.

“Jesus Fucking Christ.” Javi panted, quietly laughing along with you, gently brushing the damp and wild strands of your hair out of your face, “Fuck- You gotta be careful with that “Papi” shit, Osita.”

“Oh yeah? And why would that be?” You teased, smirking as you raised an eyebrow at him and bit down on your lip, knowing damn well why.

“Because if you keep that up, I don’t think we’re ever leaving this room.”

After dinner and giving a few more pieces of furniture in your hotel room a good test run, the two of you had happily called it a night on day one of your honeymoon, eager to explore the rest of the resort as the two of you rose with the golden rays of the sun beaming over the horizon of your ocean view window, flooding your room with warm and welcoming sunlight.

As much as the both of you were convinced you could have easily spent the next 10 days without leaving your hotel room, you made a pact that you would spend some time going to explore the rest of the resort after spending some much deserved post-wedding de-stressing in the sun by the pool, drinking as many mojitos and frozen daiquiris as you could stomach.

And as amazing as non-stop sex with Javi would have been, soaking up in the sun poolside with a drink on one side of you and a shirtless husband on the other, you’d say that this was a pretty close second.

“Another one?” Javi smirked, eyebrows raised at you as his brown eyes peeked over the edge of his aviators, gesturing at your nearly empty glass.

“I mean… if you’re offering.” You giggled, tipsy after a few drinks and hours baking in the sun, happily holding out the remainder of your mojito for Javi to exchange for a new one.

“I think the bartender and I are about to be on a first name basis pretty soon.” Javi laughed, shuffling out of his beach chair, grabbing his empty cup along with yours to bring back with him to the poolside bar that had been visited a questionable amount of times by the two of you since you had gotten to the pool this morning.

“Yeah? Are you gonna tell the bartender the frozen strawberry margaritas you’ve been getting from him all day are for you and not for your wife?” You teased, pulling your sunglasses down to look at Javi, playfully rolling his eyes back at you.

“Shut up. They’re fucking addicting. You had one, can you blame me?”

“I’m just giving you a hard time, Mr. I Won’t Drink Anything But Beer and Whiskey. Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me. Although, I’m sure Steve would get a kick out of knowing you’ve downed like, 7 of these since we’ve gotten here.”

Setting down both of the drinks, you found yourself in a fit of squeals and giggles as Javi reached down to scoop you up out of your chair, carrying you bridal style to the edge of the pool before jumping in with the both of you, the refreshing cool of the pool water crashing over you as your bodies bobbed under the surface.

“Pendejo!” You laughed, splashing Javi as your heads peered above the edge of the water, Javi shaking his hair, damp and clinging to his forehead from your added assault, grabbing you by the waist before you could go any further, shifting you to wrap your legs around him as he held you, childishly swaying you through the water.

“Te amo, esposa.” (I love you, wife) Javi teased in a mocking tone, responding to your name calling.

“Joke’s on you, because I wanted to get into the pool anyways. You’re lucky you’re handsome. Mojito me, Peña.” You splashed again, rolling your eyes at his over exaggerated kiss before he swam away, shooting you a wink while he waded his way to the poolside bar.

It wasn’t long before Javi was making his way back, a drink in each hand, happily handing you your mojito as he got to the edge of the pool where you were sitting, lifting himself up to sit beside you and take a swig of his margarita.

“Miss me?” He smirked, raising his eyebrows at you.

“Terribly. Most agonizing 6 minutes of my entire life.” You teased, playing into the dramatics as Javi picked up your left hand, admiring the diamond ring and wedding band adorned on your finger before gently kissing it.

“Sorry to keep my wife waiting. I hope that you’ll accept this mojito as a token of my apology.”

“I think that’s a fair enough compromise.”

After a few more hours and several drinks later, it was safe to say that you and Javi had definitely both been in better states than you currently were, too far gone to care about the potential consequences of tomorrow’s hangover to stop yourselves.

“What time do you think it is?” You asked, sunkissed body sprawled out across the pool chair.

“Wife O’Clock.” Javi answered, snickering to himself at his answer.

“Javier Peña, that’s not a real time, you dork.”

“Half past mojito. A quarter ‘til my next margarita.”

“Jesus Christ….” You paused, one of the life guards crossing behind you catching your attention, “Hey, excuse me! Do you know what time it is?”

“Uhhhhh, looks like it’s almost 6!” The lifeguard replied, looking down at his watch before continuing on his path.

“6?! Oh shit!” You gasped, sitting up straight in your chair.

“What? What’s happening at 6?!” Javi inquired, seemingly less concerned with whatever was supposed to be happening then that had you so riled up.

“Javi, we're supposed to be at dinner right now! We made reservations at that italian place, remember?!” You grimaced, frantically starting to grab the towels and clothes you had scattered around the pool deck.

“Oh fuck! Shit, uh- okay, here, lemme help you!” Javi joined in on the gathering of any item that belonged to you that he could find, tossing it into the bag you had brought down with you, hoping that you didn’t forget anything that had come with you to the pool.

While the haphazard gathering of items was a good enough sign to any onlooker that you and Javi were more than likely intoxicated, the both of you didn’t realized just how drunk you were until you both tried to stand up out of your beach chairs, grabbing on to each other in a wobbly dance of giggles.

“Woah, I think I drank a little lotta margaritas.” Javi stammered, laughing to himself.

“Fuck, I did too. Jesus, how many do you think we had?” You giggled, face scrunching in anticipation of the number that was definitely going to be higher than you had intended when you came to the pool this morning.

You could see Javi trying to drunkenly calculate his trips to the pool bar in his head, counting across his fingers in a serious concentration, tongue sticking out of his mouth, as if it was going to help him focus better.

“Let’s see, I think after adding them all up… We drank a lot.”

“If we can’t even come up with a number, that’s not good. Fuck, I didn’t even bring real clothes! Our room is so far from the restaurant, there’s no way we’re even gonna be close to making it!” You pouted, shrugging your shoulders in defeat.

“Just put on the cute little dressy thingy over your bathing suit. Or just go in your bikini. You’re so hot they have to let you in.” Javi smirked, biting down on his lip as he looked you up and down, giving you his best drunken attempt at his bedroom eyes.

“Unfortunately for you, I don’t think the other patrons of this resort want to watch me eat pasta half naked, ya sicko.” You teased, giving him a nudge to his stomach a little harder than you had intended. “Okay, cover up will have to do, I guess. Do you have your shirt?”

“You don’t wanna watch me eat pasta half naked?”

“As much as I’d love to, maybe another time, weirdo. Okay, we have to go! Or else we’re not getting any pasta, naked or not! Focus, Peña, focus!” You commanded in your best pretend stern voice, grabbing the rest of your things in your hands while Javi stood there, admiring you like the drunken, lovesick fool he was.

“You’re so fucking sexy when you’re bossy.” Javi smirked, raising his eyebrows at you, “Okay, fine, fine fine, let’s go. Lead the way, Mrs. Peña.”

If you didn’t feel drunk enough after simply trying just to stand up out of your pool chairs and collect all your belongings within a 5 foot radius of you, you sure as hell did trying to drunkenly navigate the resort to find the restaurant you were looking for. After asking several employees, you somehow managed to stumble your way through the hotel to find your intended location, “Ciao!” , one of the higher-end dining experiences the two of you had planned for your vacation.

“Hi. We are married, and we are here to eat pasta.” Javi proclaimed to the hostess at the front of the restaurant, who was looking back and forth between you and Javi, riddled with confusion not only by Javi’s opening statement, but from the fact the two of you were nearly out of breath from running around every inch of the resort, clearly drunk, and still dressed in your swimsuits.

“Ummmm, okay? What’s the name on the reservation?” The hostess asked hesitantly, flipping through the pages of names and times written down for seating tonight.

“Peña. We were supposed to be here at 6 but we had a lil too much fun at the pool, but not enough fun that we completely forgot about dinner! We’re really sorry!” You explained, trying your best to keep your composure, biting your tongue to subdue your drunken giggles.

“Yeah, like, so sorry. I had a lot of margaritas today.” Javi added, turning his head to let out a little burp at the end of his sentence.

“I don’t see any Peña’s on the reservation for tonight….” The hostess sighed, flipping back and forth between today’s pages, clearly not amused by either of your antics.

“Oh no… Does that mean we’re not getting pasta? Shit.” Javi pouted, crossing his arms over his chest like a little boy.

“Oh wait, are- are you sure it was a reservation for today? I see Peña on here at 6 for tomorrow?”

“Oh shit…” You and Javi replied, nearly in sync, visibly grimacing at the fact that you had spent the past 45 minutes in an alcohol induced frenzy, running through the resort to find a restaurant you weren’t even supposed to eat at until tomorrow.

Whoops.

“My bad….” You shrugged, sheepishly frowning as you looked back and forth between the hostess and Javi, “Okay, well, um, we’re gonna- We’re gonna go then.” You winced, grabbing Javi by the hand to slowly drag him away from the restaurant, hoping that the physical distance would somehow spare you the embarrassment you had just subjected yourself to.

“You’re fine, just- We do ask that our guests wear more, um- appropriate attire when they come to dine with us.” The hostess scoffed, huffing at you and Javi, looking you up and down with your beach bound outfits and hands full of pool accessories as you continued to back away.

“She doesn’t wanna see us eat pasta in our bathing suits?” Javi whispered in your ear, making you snort so loud it almost hurt your chest, trying to keep from bursting into full blown laughter before making it out of eye and earshot of the hostess, jabbing him in the stomach with your elbow, only spurring him on further, “She doesn’t know how sexy you’d look shoving a fist full of garlic bread down your throat with nothing on but a bikini? Her loss.”

Now out of sight of the restaurant, you and Javi exploded into an obnoxious fit of drunken giggles, feeling completely idiotic for wasting nearly the last hour of your night in a whirlwind journey to nowhere.

“Well, looks like no pasta for dinner tonight.” You sighed, playfully throwing up your hands in defeat. “I am starting to get really hungry though… Like too hungry to go back up to the room and change and then come back down and wait at a restaurant for more food.”

“Yeah, shit, I’m really hungry too… Wait!” Javi paused, his face lighting up with excitement.

“What, Jav?”

“Didn’t we pass a pizza place on the way up to the room when we first got here?

The grin on your face was now equally as wide, almost certain that you and Javi were having the same drunk recollection.

“I knew there was a good reason I married you.”

Somehow or another, you had not only managed to find your way to “Papa’s Pizzeria”, you had managed to successfully order an extra large pizza for the two of you to split, and make it back to the room without any pizza casualties on the way.

Even a drunken you couldn’t help but realize how lucky she was to have married a man like Javi, and not just because of his excellent memory for pizza restaurants- What you had been through in the past hour and a half could have easily sent any other couple into an ugly spiral of arguments and blame they’d cast upon each other for “ruining” the rest of their night.

You’d been witness to so many relationships and marriages where couples barely managed to genuinely enjoy each other’s company, let alone have fun together. Cohabitation drenched in resentment and unhappiness towards each other, forced proximity the only thing keeping them together.

You were positive that there would never be enough “thank you’s” that you could send out into the universe for letting you marry your best friend.

Because what would have been a soiled evening for so many others, was quickly turning out to be a better night than you could have ever imagined, plans tossed out the window to sit cross legged in your king sized bed together, bodies draped in fluffy hotel robes as you mowed down on slices of pepperoni pizza, giggling over shared, drunken secrets with your favorite person in the world.

“Okay, your turn now.” You snickered, shoving another bite of lukewarm pizza into your mouth, giving Javi a playful shove into the sea of pillows at the head of your bed.

“I just went!” He protested, trying to talk through the mess of cheese, sauce and crust he was still chewing.

“Nuh uh! I just did, remember? We got off topic because we started talking about the Farrah Fawsect poster you had in your room that your mom made you take down, but you were the one who asked me about who my first celebrity crush was, remember?” You insisted, pointing your half bitten piece of pizza at him, forcing him to hold up his hands in defeat.

“Okay, okay! Can’t blame me for forgetting after thinking about that poster, though.” Javi shrugged, smirking at the thought of his 12 year old self gawking at the beautiful blonde actress hanging above his bed, “Shit…. Gimmie a second, let me think.”

“I’ve given you plenty of seconds, goofball! Like all the seconds I spared you thinking about Farrah.”

“Shut up. Okay,” he paused, taking another bite of pizza, “who was your first kiss?”

“Really? Why, you gonna go hunt him down?” You snorted, feeling like you were gossiping with your teenage best friend at a sleepover rather than with your husband, Javi laughing along with you as he shook his head, “It was Jack Mullins in the 7th grade.”

“Okay, and?” Javi prodded, smirking as he interrogated you for more information.

“It was at a Halloween Party my friend Sarah had at her house. I’m pretty sure we were playing truth or dare, and all my friends knew I had a massive crush on him because he was the cutest boy in the 7th grade. So they dared me to kiss him and I did it. It was so awkward, and I had no idea what I was doing. Pretty sure we kissed while the “The Monster Mash” was playing, too. I was so embarrassed after that I cried in the bathroom and then walked home and didn’t even say goodbye to anyone. Didn’t ever think I’d speak to him again and he ended up being my date to prom.”

“Wow. That was a way better story than I was expecting to get. “The Monster Mash”? Truth or Dare?” Javi chuckled as your cheeks turned red, watching your eyes at his enjoyment of your story.

“Okay, I was 12 Javi, some of us were weird, awkward teenagers. I’m sure that you were very easily the Jack Mullins of your middle school and had girls at the door lining up to kiss you.” You rebutted, having seen plenty of pictures of teenage Javi, thanks to Chucho, knowing whatever awkward phase he went through was only a fraction of your pre-teen pain.

“No, I wasn’t. I was a pretty shy kid. All my friends had their first kiss way before I did.” Javi shrugged, now sounding slightly more embarrassed.

“Okay, so what? They were 12 and you were 13? I don’t believe it. I would have had the biggest crush on you in middle school.”

“I’m being serious!”

C’mon, Javi, if I’m telling you about my Monster Mash kiss, I get to hear about yours!” You insisted, giving him the biggest fake pout that you could muster until he gave in.

“I- I was 16 when I had my first kiss.”

“You’re joking.”

“Why would I joke about that?”

“16?!”

“Osita, you’re making it sound like I was 72 when I had my first kiss, not 16.”

“Considering how cute you were, yeah, I am! Okay, spill! Now I need to know!”

“I’m telling you, I was a shy kid. Didn’t really come out of my shell until 10th grade when I started doing swimming. There was a girl on the team I always thought was really cute, but I was too chicken shit to do anything about it. All my friends had girlfriends and dates to go to homecoming with, and I didn’t have anyone, so they forced me to ask her. She turned me down, told me she already had a date. I was devastated. Went to a party with the team after, got drunk for the first time because I was so upset, and ended up kissing my friend’s older sister, Katie. Made out in the laundry room in the basement for the rest of the night. My friend found us after he realized we both had gone missing and ended up punching me in the face and almost breaking my nose.”

“Holy shit. That’s a way better story than mine.” You gawked, eyes going wide at the turn Javi’s story had taken.

“I wouldn’t say way better, just stupid.” Javi huffed, “You do dumb things when you’re young.”

“Well, you must have been a pretty good kisser even back then if she made out with you for an hour. Honestly, would have been dumb if she didn’t make out with you, in my humble opinion.” You giggled, scooting closer to Javi as you snuggled into his lap, resting your head on his outstretched thigh and letting out a big yawn. Resting his hand on your back, Javi pulled you closer, running his fingers through the sun kissed ends of your messy hair, smiling at all the tell tale signs sleep was beginning to creep through your body and the way you snuggled up next to him.

“Okay, one last question because all these mojitos are catching up to me and I’m getting sleepy.” You mumbled, feeling your eyelids begin to droop as you curled up in the warmth of his body, comfort flooding over you from Javi’s presence.

“Okay, hermosa. Your turn.” Javi cooed, his voice softening to match your sleepy tone, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head.

“If you could change anything about your life, anything you want, what would it be?”

Javi paused for a moment, his fingers still daintily stroking across your hair and back as he thought. Truthfully, there were plenty of things he wished he could change about his past. It would take him less than a minute to come up with a list longer than most people could muster in a lifetime. He had wasted so many years of his life, bitter and remorseful about the things he had done, condemning himself to suffer the consequences of his actions. And yet, somehow, despite all of the things he could have said, out of all the painful things he wished he could go back in time to change, there was one answer that prevailed above all the rest, an answer that couldn’t have been easier to choose.

“I wish there was a world where I would have met you sooner. That I would have gotten to love you just a little longer.”

He waited for your response, settling into the silence until it was broken by one of your soft snores humming against his thigh, signaling to him you were sound asleep in his lap, not having heard a word you said. He laughed softly to himself, remembering the first night he had stayed at your apartment, and how it had ended just like this, conversation flowing until the early hours of the morning until you couldn’t fight sleep any longer, eyelids shutting as you fell asleep in his arms. How he watched you gently drift to dreaming, wondering if he was, too. That somehow, some way, the world had managed to bring the two of you together. And even if he wished he would have gotten more time to love you before you’d met, Javi knew that he’d be forever grateful for every minute he had left with you.

Despite the raging hangover the two of you had the next morning after you woke up from your alcohol and pizza induced coma, the rest of your honeymoon had been some of the most fun that the two of you had had in years. You’d spent multiple days at the pool, soaking up sun on the beach and swimming in the ocean, eaten so much delicious food you were convinced you were going to combust, drank more mojitos than you’d like to admit, and had even gone snorkeling on a tour through some of the islands outside your resort.

You also had been having so much sex, you were starting to feel bad for the rooms on either side of you.

Everything about your honeymoon had been everything you’d ever hoped for and more, but with only one full day left of your vacation, you couldn’t help but feel a little sad that your perfect trip to tropical paradise was coming to a close.

“What’s that look for, porbrecita?” Javi laughed, sneaking up behind you on the edge of the balcony, watching you watch the sunrise with your cheeks propped up in your palms, pouting at the way bright pinks and oranges were greeting the sky. Standing behind you, he snaked his arms around your front so he could bring your back to his chest, kissing the top of your head while his arms settled around your middle.

“I don’t want our honeymoon to end.” You sighed, craning your neck just enough to look at Javi over your shoulder, “I’m sad it’s gonna be over.”

“I know, mi amor, me too.” He softly chuckled, planting a long kiss on your cheek, the whiskers of his mustache making you giggle, “But what if I told you I have one more surprise for us before we go home tomorrow?”

This made you swing all the way around, now chest to chest with Javi as you looked up at him in confusion, “What? I thought we were spending our last day on the beach just hanging out?”

“Well we are, but what if I told you I rented one of those fancy cabanas at the end of the beach for us to use to celebrate our last day here?” Javi smirked, watching your face light up at his proposition.

“Wait, actually?”

“Yes, actually.”

“But aren’t they like, super expensive to rent for the day?”

“I mean… they’re not that expensive.”

“Okay, the pause tells me that you spent way more money than you needed to on this, Jav.”

“And what if it was? I’m not allowed to wanna spoil my wife on our honeymoon?” Javi grinned, gently cupping your face and playfully shaking it, making you laugh again.

“Your wife doesn’t need to be spoiled, just getting to be here with you is more than enough.” You paused, giving Javi a little nudge as he dramatically rolled his eyes at you, chuckling to himself, “What, you goof?”

“I hope you know that because you’re my wife, I’m planning on spending the rest of my life spoiling you, whether you like it or not. I’d give you the fucking moon if I could, Osita.”

“Well lucky for you, a day at a beach cabana will do just fine.”

While you never would have asked Javi to purposely spend extra money on things you really didn’t need to make your trip any more special than it already was, you couldn’t deny that spending the day in your own private cove of the beach in a luxurious cabana with food and drinks being served to you at your request wasn’t a bad way to spend the last day of your honeymoon.

The daybeds in the cabana had made a perfect place for a shady, mid day nap for the both of you, lazily waking up from the soft kiss Javi had planted on your shoulder, exposed from your bikini top, freckled and sunkissed from days in the tropics.

“I’m gonna go for a swim, Hermosa. Be back in a sec.” Javi cooed, gently stirring you from your catnap.

“Mmmmmmkay.” You smiled, flipping over for another kiss on the lips before Javi slipped out from the flaps of your tent, softly blowing in the breeze. You sat up on your lounger, the sight of Javi in nothing but his bathing suit waking you from your brief sleep in a matter of moments.

Even though you had seen Javi in nothing but bathing suits for the past 9 days, you were convinced it was a sight you’d never find yourself getting over. There was no doubt that you had always found him incredibly attractive, but something about this trip had skyrocketed him to another level of sexy you didn’t even know was attainable. You weren’t sure if it was the unbuttoned floral shirts, excessive time spent shirtless, his messy and wet beach hair, or just the fact that now you got to call him your husband- truthfully, it was most likely a combination of all of the above.

You perked up, pulling back the fabric door of the cabana enough to watch Javi’s arms stroke through the ocean, popping his head above water with a brief shake before he was shallow enough to touch the sandy bottom again. As he sauntered in from the ocean, you couldn’t help but admire the width of his shoulders and chest, glistening from the sun and salty water. You let your gaze travel down to his swim trunks, feeling your mouth water at the way they hugged his waist and crept up his thick thighs. With each step closer to shore, you couldn’t stop staring at the way his trunks were clinging to his lower half, perfectly outlining his generous length.

Javi must have noticed the way you were staring at him by the subtle smirk that had broken out across his face as he approached the cabana, eyeing you up and down right back.

“You have a good swim?” You asked, feeling your stomach swirl as you took in every inch of him, glowing in the sunlight.

“Mhmm. Did you have fun watching me swim?” He teased, tongue tracing over his teeth while he raised his eyebrows, knowing damn well the effect he was having on you.

“Maybe. What, I’m not allowed to enjoy the view? Not my fault my husband is so handsome.” Your smirk was almost as wide as his, biting down on your bottom lip as Javi entered the cabana, letting the flap to the entrance close behind him before caging your body under his on the lounge chair, trailing hot, wet, kisses across your chest and stomach.

“Say it again.” He mewled, looking up at you with his big, brown eyes as his kisses trailed lower and lower, watching as he began to settle himself at the edge of the chair between your thighs.

“My husband is so handsome. You’re so handsome, Javi.” You sighed, feeling the damp patch in your swimsuit bottoms growing, soaking the fabric with your slick and arousal.

“You’re so fucking good to me. Fuck, I’m so lucky.” He groaned, slinging your thighs over his shoulders, eyes still locked on you while he began to tug at the strings of your bikini, leaving your bottom half bare.

There was a part of you that knew you should be worried about someone catching the two of you, barely concealed by the flimsy confines of your cabana, but the part of you staring at your husband between your legs about to eat you out seemed a lot more convinced that this was the best idea Javi had all day.

“You’re so fucking perfect. Everything about you. I’m the goddamn luckiest man alive, you know that baby?”

Your response to his question was nothing but a ragged moan, feeling him draping his arm over your hips to hold you in place as he slid two fingers into your heat. He curled his hand to reach the spot inside you he knew made you crumble before diving back in between your legs, beginning to lick you up like a man starved.

His tongue swirled against your clit, the firmness of each stroke and the deep press of his fingers making you writhe under his touch, shooting your hand down to grab fistfulls of his damp, curly locks to brace yourself as he ate you out relentlessly.

“Oh my god, fuck, Javi. Fuck, you feel so good. Fuck-”

You could feel him switching tactics, latching his lips around your sensitive nub, rapidly sucking at the throbbing bundle of nerves, working his fingers deeper in your cunt as he felt you begin to clench around him.

“Fuck Javi, fuck, right there baby- fuck, I’m close.” Your fingers were buried so deep in his curls, tugging just enough to pull his face closer to you as you could feel your orgasm building at the base of your spine, desperate for him to give you your sweet release.

His thick fingers bumped along your g-spot, curving them ever so slightly in the way he had memorized like the back of his hand to make you come undone. The tingle along your spine quickly spread down your legs, pleasure building rapidly throughout your body as you felt yourself on the edge of release. Lifting his arm off your waist, he reached up to grab your hand laying out on the lounge chair, engulfing it in his grasp as he intertwined his fingers with yours.

“Dameló, (give it to me) sweet girl. Let go, baby, I’ve got you.”

You could feel the pressure inside you snap, the tingling in your veins quickly transforming into full blown pleasure as your orgasm swept through you. You gushed around his hand, cunt clenching down on his fingers as you came, losing all sense of inhibitions as you cried out with a volume much louder than intended.

But with Javi’s fingers still curled, prodding against your g-spot, you had a feeling those cries weren’t coming to a halt any time soon. It was only moments after your orgasm had finished he was already on a mission to give you another, tongue lapping up every ounce of your slick as it pressed against your clit.

“Javi, holy shit, baby, oh fuck.” You whined, bucking your hips towards his face and arching your back as he circled around your bundle of nerves, your moans and whimpers only egging him on more.

Even after all this time, there was a part of you that still couldn’t believe how fast Javi could make you cum. He had memorized every twitch, every tug of his hair, every breathy whisper to know what made you fall apart under his touch, loving every second of watching you come undone for him.

You could already feel the tingling of your next orgasm beginning to creep up your legs and into your stomach as Javi sucked at your clit, greedy for him to help you hit your second high.

“Please don’t stop, Javi. Fuck baby, fuck, fuck, I- ahhhhhhhhh.” That was all it took before you could feel the waves of pleasure rushing through your body again, your pussy throbbing as your orgasm flooded over you.

Your legs were all but jello at this point, trembling around Javi’s head, still buried between them. Your last two orgasms had been so intense, you weren’t sure you could take a third, but with the way Javi knew your body, you also were convinced it would barely take anything for you to cum again.

“J-Javi- fuck, baby, fuck I can’t-”

“Gimme one more, Osita. C’mon, sweet girl. Wanna make my wife cum one more time.” You nodded, looking down at the shine of your arousal covering his smirk, knowing that at this point, you were so worked up and overstimulated that just the fingers already inside of you really were all you needed to give him your last orgasm.

Javi’s fingers had already sunk so deep into your cunt, already so overly sensitive to every push and pull of his hand, that the grip you had on his hand had become so tight, you could feel your knuckles turning white. You cried out his name as it fell from your lips, babbling incoherently as the third rush of pleasure crashed over you, gushing onto Javi’s fingers.

“That’s my good girl. My perfect fucking wife. I love you so much.” Javi carefully pulsed his fingers a few more times as he felt you clench around him, making you hiss as he withdrew his hand now soaked in your slick, bringing the digits to his fingers to suck them clean with a satisfied smirk.

It was only moments before his sly grin had quickly shifted to full blown panic, you, still too blissed out to wonder why he was scrambling to throw a towel over your bottom half and one to hide the erection under his as he sat himself in the chair next to you. Thank god Javi still at least had an ounce of inhibition left to see the footsteps of the server who had been periodically checking in on you strolling their way through the sand under the edge of the cabana, saving you both from what could have been an incredible amount of embarrassment.

“Hi, how are you two doing? Anything else I can get for you right now?” Your server asked, peeking his head in through the flaps to see you and Javi trying your best to act as natural as possible.

“N-no, I’m good. You good, honey? Need anything?” Javi asked, looking over at you as his hand ran over the back of his neck, trying his best not to grimace at the awkward tension stewing between him, you and your poor, unsuspecting server.

“You know what, I think I’m gonna have another drink.”

“Alright! Another mojito for you, ma’am?” Your server asked, whipping out his pad of paper to note down your order.

“No, can you make this next one a Sex on the Beach? That sounds really good.”

It truly took everything in Javi not to burst out laughing, choking on his own spit at your perfectly timed order, shaking his head at you in a humorous disbelief.

“Perfect, well I’ll be right back with your drink!”

“Thank you so much!”

Once your server had disappeared, you and Javi erupted in hyena like laughter, the combination of your joke and almost fatal timing throwing the two of you into a fit of giggles.

“You’re fucking ridiculous, you know that?” Javi chuckled, looking over at you as he shook his head.

“What? It’s our last day, figured we might as well have a little sex on the beach. The drink sounds like it’ll be good, too.”

Your mid-afternoon flight had made for an easy morning to pack up and soak in the last little bit of your honeymoon. It had given you just enough time to enjoy your favorite breakfast place, and have one more of the best blueberry waffles you’d ever tasted before your last shower (and shower sex) to get ready for your departure home.

While you were sad your vacation had come to an end, there was no denying that every last bit of your trip was absolutely perfect, and even more so that you got to spend it with the most perfect person you could think of. You were convinced you could have gone anywhere in the world for your honeymoon and you would have felt the same- in the end, it wasn’t the destination that mattered, it was the fact you got to spend it with your husband.

The fact that you got to spend every vacation together for the rest of your lives only made it that much sweeter.

While flying would never be enjoyable, you were thankful your trip home was fairly painless, granting Javi’s hand some grace, considering you didn’t feel the need to keep it in an iron grip for the two hours it took you to arrive back home.

You were also thankful that it was Steve and Connie who had offered to pick you up from the airport instead of Chucho, sparing you and Javi the same sort of awkward embarrassment you had endured on the ride to start off your honeymoon.

Well, it may not been the same kind of embarrassment that you had experienced with Javi’s dad, but it was foolish of you to think that Steve was letting you get away scott free.

At least he had managed to get creative with it, making a greeting poster with “Welcome home, lovebirds!” on it to help you find him and Connie in the airport crowd, making Javi let out a sigh loud enough that Steve probably could have heard it from the tarmac.

“Hey! There they are! Welcome home, Mr. and Mrs. Peña!” Steve grinned, pulling you and Javi in for a hug as you found him, Connie following suit with a much less dramatic greeting for the both of you afterwards.

“How was the honeymoon? Did you guys have a great time?” Connie asked, offering to take one of your suitcases, nudging Steve to do the same. “

“It was really nice. It was everything we could have hoped for. The resort was beautiful, the food was great, and the weather was fantastic. It really was perfect.” You smiled, looking up at Javi, nodding in agreement, reaching out to wrap his arm over your shoulder.

“Thanks again for picking us up.” Javi chimed in, the two of you now following along behind your friends as they began leading you through the airport towards their car.

“Don’t mention it, Jav. Least we could do.” Steve replied, reaching out to give Javi a little punch to the arm.

“We’re super excited to hear all about your trip!” Connie added, looking back at you and Javi with a genuine grin.

“Excited to hear if I’m gonna make good on my bet…” Steve muttered, laughing under his breath.

“Steve! Seriously? You promised in the car you weren’t gonna bring this up!” Connie huffed, giving her husband a slap to the chest, and a grimace that clearly was the silent way to ask “Will you please shut up?”

“What?! I put good money on it, I’m confident!”

“Wait, is this the same bet that Javi’s dad was talking about on the way here?” You asked, looking back and forth between Javi, Steve and Connie in confusion, perplexed as to what you and Javi had to do with whatever bet he and the Murphy’s were in on.

“Go ahead, Steve! Why don’t you explain?” Connie scolded, hands on her hips as she stared down her husband in all his big mouthed glory.

“You bet on it, too!” Steve retorted, holding his hands up in defense, pointing at Connie to claim her as part of the guilty party to whatever was going on.

“What the fuck are you guys talking about?” Javi asked, trying to cut to the chase of whatever cryptic game they were playing.

“After y’all left on your wedding night, we- shit, this does sound kinda bad when you say it to their face, huh?” Steve paused, letting out a huff as he turned back to Connie, grimacing in agreement, “Us and your family and your dad made a bet.”

“A bet on…” You led, waiting for your answer.

Steve sighed again, hands on his hips as he stared at the ground before looking back up at you and Javi, “A bet on how quick it would take after the wedding until the two of you announced you were pregnant.”

You didn’t even want to know how red your face was turning, but judging by the sudden pink flush of Javi’s cheeks, you had no doubt you looked exactly the same, if not worse.

“To be fair, your dad was the one who started it!” Steve exclaimed, pointing at Javi to let him know he wasn’t to blame for his friend’s embarrassment before shifting his finger to point at you, “And your brothers were the one who said we should make it a bet! I just wanted in on it!”

“Jesus fucking christ.” Javi sighed, face in his palm as he rubbed his temples with the pads of his fingers.

“I hope now you know we’re not gonna have kids just to spite all of you.” You teased, crossing your arms over your chest as you tilted your head at Steve. It was enough to catch Javi’s attention, eyes going wide that there was even a shred of you being serious, laughing to yourself as you watched the relief flush over him when you shook your head at your own joke.

“Yeah, okay, whatever you say.” Steve chuckled, his voice oozing with sarcasm, simply shrugging before turning back around to continue your journey to the parking garage.

Javi took his free hand, intertwining it with yours and giving it a gentle squeeze as the two of you trailed behind the Murphy’s soft smile on his face that despite his friends and families bet revolved around your sex life, there was a very real possibility that sooner rather than later, someone was bound to make their fifty bucks.

“What’d you bet?” Javi asked, feeling entitled to know how Steve had gambled after he’d spilled the beans on his little wager.

“Well, let’s see, y’all got married at the end of July, so July to August, August to September,” Steve paused, doing the quick math on his fingers as he calculated his answer, “9 months from now would be April, so I’ll be damned if you’re not tellin’ us your havin’ a baby by the fall and it’s here by the spring. And I know for a fact neither of y’all would be mad about that one bit.”

And as much as you both hated to admit it, it was one of the few things in life that Steve Murphy was very, very right about.

@chaotic-iguana @rhoorl @whyjuliaaa @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem

@angelofsmalldeath-codeine @pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae

@kittenlittle24 @3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85

@partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo

@endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @messinadresa @milly-louise @jay-zzle

@the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled @pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper

@nastiasnow @vee-bees-blog @hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk

@msmorningstaarr @amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler

@burningnerdchild @copperhalfcent @theoraekenslover @bloodyinspirationaldemon @vee-bees-blog

@samgirl4life @pigeonmama @pedr0swh0r3 @survivingandenduring

@javierpena-inatacvestnotifs

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azzifuddslover · 15 days ago

Text

UNRAVEL — chapter one

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

trope: best friends to lovers

tw: light swearing, think that’s all

themes: fluff

word count: 4.1k

a/n: my second series YAY! i absolutely adore reading best friends to lovers, it’s honestly my favorite trope, so i figured i’d make one of my own. i love this so far lowkey, they’re my literal babies 😭 also merry christmas to those who celebrate! please lemme know how u like it, and if i should continue. enjoy my pookies 𝜗𝜚

the gym echoes with the sound of squeaky sneakers and the rhythmic bounce of basketballs. it was the first day of USA basketball tryouts, and azzi felt a rush of excitement and anxiety as she stands silently in the corner, watching other girls around her age begin to fill in the open room. some began to practice shooting to pass time. at 14, she was nervous yet determined to make the team.

once all the young girls make their way into the gym, azzi scans the room, curious to know if she recognizes anyone. when she comes up with no familiar faces, she begins fiddling with her own fingers, her nerves becoming more evident. she absolutely hates doing new things alone, especially something as scary as this.

“let’s go ladies! time to get warmed up!” the coach announces his presence, a clipboard in his hands.

azzi, along with the other girls, form a line, starting to stretch out their limbs. her eyes dance over her future teammates, but when she makes swift eye contact a tall blonde unintentionally, she tears her eyes away, focusing on the ground instead.

warm ups quickly end; the girls break into teams of five, bustling with energy. azzi stands a little off to the side, watching everyone find their friends and form tight-knit circles. she shifts her weight from one foot to the other, feeling the familiar pang of anxiety in her stomach. she feels out of place, unsure if she really belongs here.

just as she contemplates stepping away, she notices the blonde she made eye contact with earlier lingering nearby, alone, like herself. the blue eyed blonde takes a steady, deep breath before wryly approaching the curly headed brunette.

her expression is friendly but obviously hesitant, maybe slightly shy as well. “hey, um.. do you have a group?”

azzi’s heart races in her chest, heat covering her cheeks as embarrassment sets in. “no, not yet. do you?”

the blonde’s face lights up just a tad, although her nerves are still apparent. “not yet. i was wondering if.. you wanna be in mine? not that i have one, but we can find one together..?”

azzi feels a rush of relief as any lingering nerves in her stomach instantly settle. “i’d love that.”

“great! i’m paige, by the way,” the blonde, paige, says, a wide smile appearing on her face.

“azzi,” the brunette replies, matching paige’s grin with one of her own.

as they walk together, navigating their way through the crowd of girls, paige steals glances at azzi’s frame, a mix admiration and awe in her eyes. she’s possibly one of the most beautiful girls she’s ever laid eyes on.

“i’m so nervous,” azzi whispers, a soft, stressed smile tugging at her lips.

paige chuckles lightly, “same here. it’s hard not to feel a bit overwhelmed with all of these girls who seem to know each other already.”

“right?” azzi replies, her gaze drifting to the formed teams, “i just wanna make a good impression.”

paige turns to azzi, “you totally will!” she reassures her, nudging her gently. “you just gotta remember we’re all trying to figure this out together. everyone’s nervous,” she wears a soft grin. “i’m sure you’ll be just fine— i saw your warm ups, you got some serious skills.”

a noticeable blush covers azzi’s cheeks at paige’s kind words. “thank you, that means a lot.”

paige’s lips tug into a wider smirk at azzi’s red face. shortly after, the pair finds a spot in a group with only three players, finally forming a group of five. the other girls greet paige and azzi warmly.

“alright, let’s get this started!” the head coach shouts, shutting down any side conversations the players were having. “we’ll start we 5v5s, then finish with a scrimmage.”

as each player in their small team break into their desired positions, paige throws yet another quick glance at the brunette she’s quickly growing fond of. she already feels a connection between them— like they’re meant to be friends.

only a couple minutes into the 5v5, azzi becomes highly aware of the kind of player paige is. a selfless passer, always willing to give up the ball to an open teammate in the corner, now including herself. but it’s not just her passing that sticks out to azzi— no, it’s the effortless shots she doesn’t hesitate to take that almost always goes in. it doesn’t matter where she’s positioned— whether it be the 3 point line, midrange, or a simple layup, it always swishes through the net.

as azzi digests paige’s skill set, paige takes in the curly headed brunette’s at the same time, in a similar state of awe. her 3 point shooting ability was undeniably impressive; she swears she never seems to miss. everytime she’d pass the ball to an open azzi in the corner, she had full confidence it’d go in, she didn’t even bother to look. she was that good.

the short 5v5 match comes to a close, leaving azzi feeling more herself, more comfortable and confident in her abilities. paige feels good about her performance, too, but more so in azzi’s.

“holy shit, you were so good out there!” paige exclaims once they’re allowed a short break for water.

azzi lets out an airy laugh, clearly out of breath from the previous 5v5. “thank you, so were you.”

paige shakes her head, her eyes sparkling with admiration. “i mean it, i’ve never seen anyone hit so many threes in a row. what was it, like six?”

azzi feels a sudden rush of pride at paige’s words. “more like five, but i get what you’re saying. thanks again.” azzi takes a swig from her water bottle, “it really helps when i have someone like you passing me the ball.”

the corners of paige’s lips quirk up as an unrecognizable feeling travels throughout her chest. “i guess we make a pretty good team.”

azzi tries to hide her smile, but ultimately fails. “i guess so.”

paige glances at the ground, fidgeting with the water bottle in her hands. “i was so nervous to come here, genuinely. i try to appear as confident as possible, but on the inside i’m an anxious wreck.”

azzi smiles in a reassuring manner as she suddenly reaches out, gently patting paige’s arm to somewhat comfort the girl in front of her. “i understand. i was nervous too, until you talked to me, that is.”

paige beams at azzi’s comment. “really?” when the brunette nods, she continues, “i’m glad i approached you then. it’s nice to know i’m not the only one feeling this way.”

azzi feels the connection between the two of them deepen as they share a vulnerable moment. “i think we all put on a brave, tough act, but it’s always nice to find someone who gets it.”

“exactly!” paige says, her excitement bubbling over. “i’m so glad we’re on the same team. you’ve made this whole experience way more enjoyable.”

azzi’s cheeks grow warm at the sincerity of the blonde’s choice of words. “me too. i don’t think i could’ve done this without you.”

now it was paige’s turn to blush— way more pigmented than azzi’s, that is. paige turns her gaze away from the curly brunette’s, desperately trying to hide her inflamed cheeks.

the two girls continue to chat, discussing their high school teams and other random interests outside of basketball. paige already knows, with time, azzi has the potential to become the best friend she’s never had.

paige and azzi’s conversation quickly fades away once the head coach orders them to break into two large groups, in preparation for the scrimmage. paige doesn’t hesitate to stay rooted besides azzi, keeping their distance close to indicate they’re on a team together.

the players surrounding them occasionally brush into the pair, separating them more and more. it isn’t until azzi rushes over to the older girl, gently gripping her forearm, mere inches away from her hand, that they get placed into a team together. paige feels instant sparks scramble within her chest at azzi’s touch— she’s brave enough to move her hand, grabbing azzi’s hand with her own, yet not interlacing their fingers— just letting her know she’s here.

the coach blows the whistle, signaling for everyone to get settled. as the two teams are finalized, paige and azzi find themselves on the same side, as expected but still, relief washing over the two girls.

the coach picks a starting five from the opposing team first, choosing the obvious top players with the highest skill sets out of everyone there. the coach then makes his way to paige and azzi’s team, scanning the girls one by one.

“aliyah, cameron, azzi, paige, caitlin,” he voices before turning around, casually walking to the side.

paige turns her head to look at azzi, who seems equally as shocked, but pleased with his picks. anxiety floods the brunette’s features— out of everyone on the team, he chooses her? she couldn’t believe it.

“we got this,” paige nods at azzi, reassuring the younger girl, “you got this.”

azzi hesitates, but shares the nod, trying to mask her nervousness with a quiet pride expression.

once the scrimmage starts up, the atmosphere shifts. the gym fills with the sound of sneakers squeaking on the hardwood floor, and the shouts of encouragement from teammates. paige feels a rush of adrenaline, her confidence bolstered by azzi’s presence.

throughout the game, they fall into a rhythm, passing the basketball back and forth with ease. azzi’s sharp shooting is as impressive as ever, landing each 3 pointer with precision, while paige’s passes are spot on, giving azzi the chance to shine. they communicate seamlessly, each play reflecting their undeniable chemistry.

as the scrimmage progresses, the score tightens, and both of the two teams push harder. paige spots azzi’s competitive spirit ignite, only fueling her own drive. with every successful shot and assist, they exchange swift glances filled with passion and excitement.

eventually, the whistle blows, indicating the end of the scrimmage. both teams gather for a quick huddle, breathing heavily but exhilarated.

“nice work everyone!” the head coach praises, “you all showed fantastic teamwork out there.”

paige turns her body to azzi, her heart racing, not just from the game, but also from the connection they’ve built in such a short period of time. “damn, we really do work good together.”

“i know, right?” azzi smiles, exposing her dimples on each one of her cheeks.

the girls begin packing up their bags, stuffing their now empty water bottles in the pockets. paige’s gaze shifts to the brunette’s, then back at her bag, then once again, back to azzi.

azzi quickly notices paige’s wandering eyes, “everything okay?”

paige’s eyes widen, embarrassed of her previous actions. “yeah, sorry. i was wondering if i could get your number, though? just so we can keep in touch throughout the tryouts, y’know.”

azzi swears her heart skips a beat at the request, a gentle smile spreading across her face. “is this your way of asking me out on a date?”

paige is taken aback at azzi’s comment, her cheeks becoming noticeably red. “what— no, that’s not—“

azzi nudges her shoulder, letting out a laugh at her reaction. “i’m only kidding, paige. of course i’ll give it to you. i’d love that.”

paige shuts her eyes, embarrassment still lingering, yet she pulls out her phone. azzi masks the older girl’s movement, taking her own phone out as well.

azzi hands paige her phone, to which she punches in the brunette’s number, labeling her in her personal contact list. as she hands the phone back, their fingers brush, the moment growing electric.

the two throw their own bags over their shoulders, barely making any movements to leave quite yet. azzi feels a ding come from her phone— it’s a text message from her mother, katie, letting her know they might be a couple minutes late to pick her up.

azzi lets out a groan, loud enough for the blonde beside her to hear. paige glances at azzi, curious as to what’s got her frustrated.

“what? everything good?” paige asks.

azzi meets her gaze, “my parents are gonna be late. i have nothing to do besides sit here for like, 20 minutes.”

paige scrunches her eyebrows, feeling slightly bad for the brunette. an idea forms in paige’s head, not bothering to think about her own mother waiting outside to pick her up.

paige suddenly reaches for azzi’s hand, interlocking their fingers and tugging her towards the gym door.

“um, where are you taking me?”

a grin tugs at paige’s lips, excitement glistening in her bright blue eyes. “just trust me, will you?”

“not like i just met you,” azzi mutters, although its laced with sarcasm. surprisedly, azzi’s trust for paige grows every minute she’s with her.

walking out the door, into the chilly weather with a slight breeze, paige’s grip on azzi’s hand remains tight and secure. she spots her mother’s car, noticing a confused expression on her face— she holds up her finger, telling her one minute, although she has no intentions of leaving azzi alone until her parents arrive.

she leads the younger girl into a nearby smoothie shop, dropping into an open table, hinting for azzi to take the spot in front of her.

as the two girls settle in their chairs, directly facing each other, the hum of the smoothie shop surrounds them, blending with the chatter of other customers. azzi glances around, intrigued at the colorful menu board. “okay, i’m curious. why’d you take me here?”

paige leans back, eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. “i just discovered this place the other day, their smoothies are so good. and plus i figured i’d wait with you until your parents get here.”

a faint blush covers the brunette’s cheeks, which she quickly hides with her hands. “thanks, that’s really sweet of you.”

“anytime,” paige beams. “do you want anything? i know i do.”

“oh, i don’t have any money with me,” azzi shrugs.

paige’s lips form a line, “no worries, it’s on me. now, what do you want?”

azzi’s face breaks out into a huge grin, exposing her dimples once again. the blonde masks her expression, wearing a grin of her own at the sight of azzi’s cute dimples. as she scans the menu, paige takes the time to really look at azzi. god, she’s unreal. her soft, brown curls pulled into a bun, brown, wandering eyes paired with long lashes, deep dimples paige already adores. her heart races at her beauty.

“i’ll take the pineapple one,” azzi announces, “thank you, paige. really,” she adds, gratefully.

paige simply nods, then walks up to the counter to order their smoothies. only a minute later, she brings them back to the table, setting azzi’s pineapple one in front of her.

azzi takes a long sip, followed by another when she realizes she really enjoys the taste. paige does the same with her own strawberry banana, downing half the drink.

“you’re right, they are really good,” azzi agrees as she shallows.

“told you so,” paige says, taking another fast swig.

the girls silently sit there, making no effort to converse. “so, do you think you’ll make the team?” azzi questions the older girl, eventually breaking the comfort silence.

paige shrugs, “i mean, i think i have a good chance. you’ll definitely make it, though.”

azzi’s heart quickens in her chest, beating at an erratic pace. “you’ll make it. do you have any idea how good you are?”

paige bites back a grin, avoiding eye contact with the younger girl. “stop gettin’ soft on me.”

azzi rolls her eyes at the blondes comment, “i mean it, though. i’ve never seen anyone with the ability to pass as perfect as you.”

pink floods paige’s cheeks, warmth spreading throughout her body. “look in the mirror, azzi. your form is literally textbook perfect.”

azzi chuckles, a mix of embarrassment and pride flooding her. “thanks. that means a lot coming from you.”

paige nods before taking another sip of her fruity smoothie. “so, what do you do outside of basketball?”

the two girls fall into a flowing conversation, discussing anything but basketball— getting to know each other better. they share laughs and wide grins as the conversation develops.

paige feels weird— she cannot understand how quickly azzi and her have bonded over such a short period of time. she feels like she’s known her forever.

azzi’s phone vibrates mid laugh; it’s a text from her mom, saying she’s here.

“my moms here,” azzi says, gaze lingering on paige’s figure. a wave of sadness floods her features— she’s sort of wishing she could stay here longer, with paige.

“oh, alright,” paige nods, sharing a similar disappointment. she stands with azzi, pulls on her backpack, and moves for the door.

the wind has pickin’ up, causing goosebumps to form on both young girls arms.

“see you tomorrow?”

“duh,” azzi replies, an effortless smirk appearing on her face. she waves paige goodbye, before heading around the corner to where her mom is parked, waiting for her.

paige watches azzi leave, the lingering flash of sadness noticeable on her face. she begins walking over to her mom, her steps slow but steady.

she greets her mother with a quick smile, setting down her backpack.

“who was that?” her mom questions, her tone light.

“a girl i met at tryouts,” she doesn’t bother to hide her beam, “she’s so cool, i swear. she’s so good at basketball, too. i’ve never seen anyone hit so many threes.”

paige rants on and on about azzi, talking about her impressive basketball skills and about how they clicked so instantly.

paige eyes her mom’s knowing smile, to which she scrunches her eyebrows down. “what?”

“you really like her, don’t you?”

paige’s eyes widen at the comment, “i mean, yeah, she’s my friend. but if you mean like that, then no.”

paige’s mother, amy, pulls her lips into a line, clearly not believing her daughter, although she doesn’t push.

the entire car ride home, paige has yet to stop thinking about azzi. her excitement about seeing her tomorrow basically buzzes off her, it’s that strong. she contemplates texting the brunette, but shuts that thought down immediately, considering it’s only been ten minutes.

back at paige’s house, in her room, she lays silently on her comfortable bed, scrolling mindlessly on her phone. azzi continues to linger within her mind— she eventually decides to text her, in hopes to settle the obsessive thoughts.

hey azzi, she types and sends quickly, without the chance to overthink her words.

a minute passes with no response— paige bites at her nails, an anxious habit of hers. her phone buzzes with a text message from, of course, azzi.

hi paige!! azzi’s text reads. paige’s lips tug into a small smile.

what are u up to?

only seconds later, azzi responds. not much, u?

same. wanna ft? paige works up the courage to ask, looking away from her phone out of fear.

three minutes pass with no answer from the brunette. just as thoughts like what if i did something wrong develop in paige’s mind, an incoming facetime call from azzi covers her screen.

the first thing paige sees is azzi, messy curls framing her face, laying in bed, looking directly into the camera.

“hey,” azzi smiles into her phone at the blonde.

“hi,” paige answers, mimicking her expression.

the two girls settle into a steady conversation, each smiling shyly at one another throughout. paige can’t help but admire azzi’s nature beauty, the way her curls fall effortlessly around her face.

“it’s so weird, i feel like i’ve known you forever,” paige announces in the middle of a collective laugh.

azzi falls silence, but her grin stays put on her face. “me too— i’ve never met anyone like you.”

heat, yet again, covers paige’s face, her heart speeding up at azzi’s soft words. “really? i feel the same way.”

azzi’s eyes sparkle with warmth. “yes, really. i mean it, too. you’re just so… genuine. i love that about you.”

paige bites her lip, both flattered and a little shy. “thanks, azzi. i appreciate that.”

they exchange more laughter, sharing stories and favorite moments about the tryouts. as the conversation flows, paige feels a growing sense of comfort, like she can be completely, undeniably herself around azzi. she hasn’t felt that way in a long time— if ever.

paige and azzi’s facetime lasts for hours on end, filled with continuous chuckles and getting to know one another. katie, azzi’s mom, eventually barges into her dark room, suggesting she heads off to bed, considering another day of tryouts is approaching.

“talk to you tomorrow,” azzi says to paige through her phone.

“talk tomorrow!” paige squeals, her excitement for the next day peaking through. she shuts off her phone after ending the facetime, her room fills with darkness and complete silent at azzi’s absence.

she lets out a quiet sigh, already missing talking with azzi, although it was only moments prior. she cannot help but feel an extreme pull towards the curly brunette— like they’re meant to meet, meant to be best friends.

throughout the night, into the next morning, paige desperately tries to ignore the warm feelings that bubble up just thinking about azzi. she distracts herself with homework, scrolling on her phone, yet nothing seems to quiet said feelings.

as the sun rises, filling her room with soft light, paige can’t shake the thought swirling in her mind. do i have a crush on azzi? she remembers back to azzi’s dimply smile, the way her laughter lit up her phone screen, how easy it is to talk to her.

before she spends another minute questioning her feelings, she forces them out of her mind, trying to focus her attention on the next day of tryouts instead.

the day both paige and azzi dreaded was finally here. the championship— the game the USA basketball team worked so desperately hard to reach. regardless of their excitement to win, the two girls couldn’t fathom leaving one another for god knows how long.

paige and azzi, over the last couple of months, have grown inseparable. the pair would spend every minute their downtime together, barely leaving one another’s side. they share laughter and secrets, bonding over late night talks and all throughout practice. the chemistry between the girls was undeniable, yet neither of them had the courage to question if it was purely friendship, or something more.

as the game approaches, paige feels a swirl of anticipation and anxiety. the team has trained so hard for this moment, yet all she could think about was what it would mean to leave azzi. after the game ends, they would be separated by hundreds of miles— azzi being in virginia and paige living in minnesota.

in the locker room before the championship game, the atmosphere buzzes with enthusiasm and energy. azzi sits down next to paige, a smile plastered on her face. for a moment, the world already them seems to fade.

“you ready for this, p?” azzi asks, her voice steady but with an underlying hint of nerves.

paige takes a deep breath, glancing at the younger girl. “ready as i’ll ever be.�� she tries her best at a smile, although her sadness is evident to azzi.

azzi scrunches her eyebrows in concern for paige, “everything okay?”

“yeah, i’m good. i’m just kinda sad to leave you, y’know?”

azzi meets her gaze, her expression softening. “don’t think about that right now. let’s focus on the game first, then deal with that later, okay?”

paige bites her lips, her nerves still swirling in her stomach. she tries her best to ignore those thoughts and nods in agreement.

as soon as the championship game starts, the crowd roars, both girls feeling the weight of their training and dedication bearing down on them. every little play is a testament of their hard work, and as the minutes tick by, they find themselves in sync, communicating effortlessly on the court.

throughout the game, azzi continues to drain threes, one after another, as paige racks up assists unlike anyone else on their team.

with just seconds left on the clock, paige and azzi exchange a quick, soft glance filled with determination but also a hint of admiration for the other. the USA team is up by 30, so paige, as the point guard, dribbles the ball with no effort to move, running the clock. the buzzer goes off as the crowd erupts into cheers.

players belonging to the team rush each other, pulling one another into quick hugs, filled with laughter and pride. as azzi pats the back of aliyah, one of their teammates, in a gentle hug, she catches her favorite blonde’s eye, knowing exactly where she’s headed off to next.

the two girls approach each other, a look of longing flooding their eyes with small smirks planted on their lips. to close their distance, paige reaches out, pulling azzi by her jersey into a fierce hug that encapsulates everything they’ve shared over the past few months. azzi chuckles softly, her arms wrapping tightly around the older girl’s frame as paige nuzzles her face into azzi’s neck, breathing in her scent.

against azzi’s exposed neck, paige murmurs, “you did so well, az.”

azzi doesn’t dare to hide her growing smile, gripping paige’s shirt to keep her close. “thanks, but you were the one who really made it happen,” the brunette replies, her voice warm. “you were amazing out there.”

paige pulls back just enough to meet azzi’s line of sight, her heart swelling with pride at her meaningful compliment. “we really do make a great team.”

“couldn’t of asked for a better teammate,” azzi agrees, her genuine grin brightening even more.

as the celebration around them continues, the reality of their impending separation begins to fully sink in. their teammates cheer and take photos, while dread lingers in the two young girls stomachs for what’s to come.

azzi hasn’t left paige’s side since the championship game ended, practically binded hip to hip. she didn’t want to miss any singular moment with her best friend before they would soon separate.

the two girls were eventually forced to pack their bags, ready to head off to the airport to catch different planes. a mix of sadness and disappointment clouds their minds, not wanting to leave one another. they’ve grow so unexplainably close throughout this entire experience, that the thought of separating was heart-wrenching.

arriving at the airport, paige’s brain is still buzzing with dread at the thought of leaving her best friend behind. as she approaches azzi, her expression in a similar state, she tries her best to keep her tears at bay.

“this feels surreal,” azzi breaks the silence suffocating them, “i don’t wanna leave you.”

paige carefully sits her bag down, rushing over to the brunette she’s grown very fond of. the affectionate, touchy person she is, paige wraps her arms tightly around azzi, holding her close. “i don’t want to leave you, either.”

azzi doesn’t hesitate to hug the older girl back, her attention never wavering from paige. she feels her eyes begin to water, so she drops her head, resting it on paige’s shoulder.

paige’s heart speeds at azzi’s doing, making her want to keep the young girl close forever. eventually, however, their tight embrace comes to an end, yet azzi’s hand lingers on paige’s arm.

“please promise me we’ll stay in touch. preferably, like, everyday,” paige whispers, only loud enough for azzi to hear.

“i wouldn’t have it any other way.”

a slow smile creeps onto paige’s face, yet her melancholy is still apparent. “you’re my best friend, az.”

a lone tear spills out of the corner of azzi’s eye at paige’s words. “and you’re mine,” she tugs the blonde back in for a second hug, already missing her comforting warmth.

with azzi being so close, everything around paige seems to fade away— and before she has time to consider whether this is a good idea, she presses her lips just under azzi’s ear, a soft, fleeting gesture that conveys all the unspoken words spiraling between the two.

azzi’s breath hitches in her throat, although her expression remains light, a mix of surprise and understanding. they stand there, in the airport, for a heartbeat, the weight of their connection hanging in the air. but then the airport intercom crackles to life, calling for the minnesota flight boarding, pulling them back into reality.

“guess i should get going,” paige says, her voice breathless.

azzi nods, “please take care of yourself, paige.”

the older blonde gives azzi’s hand one last squeeze, before letting go, leaving azzi behind.

as they walk towards their respective gates, each step feels heavy with the knowledge that they won’t be seeing each other everyday now. they don’t even know the next time they’ll get a change to hangout. yet, both girls know their bond is strong enough to withstand the distance between them.

#azzi fudd #paige bueckers #pazzi #uconn wbb #paige x azzi #basketball #wnba basketball #usa basketball #fan fiction #best friends #lovers #young love #fanfic

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comicaurora · 8 months ago

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hi red!! i'm doing an analysis of sun wukong's (and journey to the west in general's) impact on modern culture for my world mythology final, and for some reason i'm having a hard time finding sources. is there anything you can recommend?

The fact that Journey to the West has contributed an enormous number of tropes to modern media is very clear when the media in question is examined, but I don't know of a specific secondary source that's already done that analysis for you. However, this IS a very good excuse for you to plow through a metric buttload of shonen manga, since the lineage is basically Sun Wukong -> Son Goku -> like a solid third of all shonen action heroes written in the last forty years.

Dragon Ball kicks things off:

Started in 1984 and almost unquestionably the most influential manga ever made. Its first arc features the weird super-strong monkey-kid Son Goku - which is just the japanese pronunciation of the characters of Sun Wukong's name - meeting up with a wacky crew of thinly-veiled expys of the Journey to the West crew, with teen inventor Bulma filling the role of Tripitaka, Oolong the pig-man filling Zhu Bajie's role and Yamcha the desert-based bandit as Sha Wujing.

Hijinks ensue, and while the story drifts pretty far from Journey to the West's original plot, it actually stays pretty solidly referential in weirdly unexpected ways. Several the villains of the week are JttW references, and even the later appearance of three more Saiyans lines up with the surprise reveal of three more Wukong-like mystical apes in the original story.

The connection between Dragon Ball and JttW is very unsubtle and a frequent reference in the chapter covers and supplemental art.

Not every subsequent JttW reference is the result of Dragon Ball popularizing it or anything, since it was already enormously popular, but I think it's pretty hard to extricate Dragon Ball's influence on anime and manga from the original influence of Journey to the West itself.

One way that a distinction can be drawn is in the differences in characterization between Goku and Sun Wukong himself. A lot of the next generation of shonen protagonists were kind of Goku-alikes - pure-hearted dumbasses who only care for the three Fs: Food, Fighting and Friendship.

But the original characterization of Sun Wukong is not really all that similar. He's a trickster, sure, but he's far from a young, friendship-motivated goober. He's profoundly intelligent, pretty much the most well-educated entity on the planet, and routinely brings up that he's centuries older than most of his peers. The Goku-alikes from the later decades of shonen anime are tellingly far-removed from that original characterization. So you get characters based on Goku's cheerful idiocy, but it's just a small subset of the broader influence of Journey to the West on the space of literature.

In general, Journey to the West frequently shows up in very small, bite-sized tropes in other stories. It's less "this is wholly based on Journey to the West" and more "oh, I know where they maybe got this idea/aesthetic/power/weapon/villain of the week from." There are way too many to list, but some of the ones that tend to jump out at me are-

Sneaky characters with monkey motifs:

Tricksy, highly mobile characters who fight with a staff:

Characters afflicted with a magical restraint artifact that allows a much weaker character to stop them from misbehaving:

Specific esoteric weapons, eg. magical fans, rakes, gourds, namedropping The Sword of Seven Stars, etc.

Villains with prominent ox or pig design motifs:

Characters whose primary combat strat is just making Shitloads Of Disposable Copies Of Themselves:

Honestly it just keeps going like this. It's kinda everywhere. Finding the JttW in things is my favorite conspiracy theory rabbit hole because it's 100% harmless and more often than not completely correct.

#asks #not aurora #media recs

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fairyysoup · 3 months ago

Text

the devil i know

chapter one: god you've got the blackest eyes

(repost)

fic tag | fic playlist | fic masterlist

pairing(s): crossroads demon!eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: To summon a demon at a crossroads, simply cast a circle, make an offering, and recite an incantation. What happens from that point on is subject to your desire… and the demon’s.

cw: explicit, smut, dubcon elements, making a deal with a demon, inspired by american and european folklore, sacrilegious themes, horror, witch!reader, reader is 21+ in modern day, eddie is immortal, coercion (a bit), sex pact, marking, possessive behavior, animal death, trauma, reader is ostracized by her very religious hometown, dark comedy, tfw your accidental boyfriend is a demon who is obsessed with you bc he doesn’t know how to be normal about anything ever, dead dove: do not eat

please check masterlist and individual parts for content warnings before reading. this fic contains dark themes. your media consumption is your own responsibility.

a/n: Hi folks, for the month of October this year I'm going to be reuploading all the chapters of this fic onto tumblr, this time hopefully for good. I apologize for the time that it's been taken down. Genuinely, this fic has garnered so much kindness and support and I think of it as one of my biggest accomplishments. I hope you all enjoy it just as much the second time around as the first.

ALL OF MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI

Through me you pass into the city of woe, Through me you pass into eternal pain, Through me you pass among forsaken people. Justice moved my exalted creator; I was wrought by divine power, Supreme wisdom, and primal love. Before me all things created were eternal, And eternal I endure. Abandon all hope, ye who enter here. -Dante Alighieri, The Inferno, Canto III

The book you’ve used for ages now, since late in your junior year of high school, has only one page in it that you haven’t utilized. You don’t know how much faith to put in it– you’re a little short on faith, these days– but, the spellbook lays it out simply, so you follow its directions to the letter.

To summon a demon at a crossroads, go to a place where two paths meet on the dark moon. You find peace and quiet in the woods, deep where you know no one walks at night but two paths cross in a small clearing banked with trees. It’s your favorite place to go when you want to do a spell– ritual– and you don’t want to be bothered. The whole thing can’t be more than twenty feet across. Above the overhang of trees, there’s no moon in the sky, only stars.

Cast a circle of protection. That took more research than just the book in your hands, but years of collecting information have given you learned knowledge– there are a million ways to cast a circle, and different circles for different purposes. You do your best to create one for protection. You draw a literal circle in the dirt with a stick, fill it with salt, and walk around the circle three times clockwise to cast it. You light candles to give yourself some light, and to free up your hands of the flashlight you carried to see your way through the woods.

Make an offering of copper. Your hand pauses on the copper dog tag in your hand. You’d thought of just offering a penny, but you remembered reading somewhere that pennies barely contain copper anymore, and you didn’t have anything else that was entirely made of the one metal.

You run your finger over the embossed name on it. Lacey. Your pet’s old collar feels heavy in your hand as you remove the tag from the leather strap and bury it in the earth, you guess, to reach the… Underworld? Hell? You can’t honestly say, considering the text you’re referencing only calls it the Otherworld.

It’s a big sacrifice. It’s personal. But, you guess, that gives it more meaning. Making a deal is personal business, and you have your reasons.

Recite the summoning incantation. A stanza of words you don’t understand. You don’t think it’s in Latin, but you try your best, all the same. You read them from the book before you, and feel your blood rushing in your veins as you do.

State your desire out loud in a clear voice. Well, that’s a little more difficult. What is it that you want?

You take a breath, go to speak, and then stop. You don’t know how to start. You don’t know exactly how to describe your pain. You don’t know how to voice your anger well enough, you just know you need to… you need to get it out, somehow. This is a very crucial step in the ritual, you have to do it.

“I came here to make a deal,” you speak frankly, clearly. “I’m prepared to do anything. I’ve run out of options. I’ve been hurt too many times, by too many people who didn’t care what they did to me. I’ve lost everything I genuinely loved. I’m… I’m angry, and desperate, and I’m frightened. And I feel so alone. It’s eating me alive, and I just… I just want the ability to make things go my way, for once.” Good enough, you hope.

Wait for an answer.

You do. You listen intently, to the song of the leaves in the trees rustling in the slight breeze, to the crickets chirping in the grass. You wait long enough that you start to rethink your approach.

It could be that things will turn around if you just wait another month, or another month after that. Maybe you’ll get the car back. Maybe you’ll get the promotion that was given to the newbie that you trained. Maybe your ex will stop coming around your work to intimidate you. Maybe you’ll get a new dog to take the place of the one that he killed. Maybe the evangelical town you live in will stop shunning you and calling you a witch, like something out of the middle ages.

Unlikely, that last one.

Just when you swear it’s a failure, that you should just pack up and leave, that’s when a strong gust of wind rips through the clearing out of nowhere. The candles blow out– and then, oddly enough, relight themselves. There’s a slight scent of smoke on the breeze, and you look around to make sure none of the candles fell over in the wind.

They’re all perfectly fine. There’s nothing amiss, it seems, until you hear a cough and movement across the clearing. You look forward, and see a pair of black combat boots in the stream of light from your flashlight. You follow the boots up to a pair of legs, clad in dark jeans, and then further up, to a torso, and a head, and a pair of sparkling eyes.

“Hi.”

You stare at him, probably looking like a fish out of water with the way your mouth opens and closes. You’d fully expected the traditional scary depiction of a demon– maybe horns, goat hooves, et cetera. But the man that answered your call is… just a man. A pretty one. He has long, curly hair, which falls over his broad shoulders and stirs in the wind. His plush lips curve up in a relaxed, cocky smile, as he takes in the sight of you in return.

He quirks an eyebrow at you. “Are you just gonna stare at me all night?”

“Sorry, hi. Hello.” You shake your head. “Can you believe I honestly thought I’ve been doing it wrong this whole time?”

“I can believe a lot of things. You know, there’s a reason why the demon summoning ritual is first in that book.” His voice is soft and resonant. You get a mental image of heat waves radiating from tar-black and glowing magma, rolling slowly over lava beds. The image disappears just as soon as it flashes into your mind.

“Well, to be completely honest, I wasn’t sure how I felt about making a deal with a demon first thing,” you explain, looking away shyly. “But I’ve tried all the spells in this book and not a single one of them worked. Just seems like everything is getting worse all the time.”

He doesn’t look away– rather, he keeps staring at you, unblinkingly. Like you’re the most fascinating creature he’s ever seen. He leans up against the tree that he appeared beside, his leather jacket falling open to reveal a shirt with a demon’s head on it. Fitting. He takes a pack of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket.

“So, now you wanna make a deal with little ol’ me, huh?” He grins, a gorgeous smile that flashes bright, sharp teeth at you. He lifts a cigarette to his mouth and bites it gently between his teeth. He doesn’t pull out a lighter. Instead, you watch him light up with a small flame that erupts from the tip of his thumb.

“Depends on who you are,” you retort, eyes following the movement of his hands. They’re weighed down by large, silver rings that reflect the light of the flame before it snuffs out. “What’s your name?”

He makes a short noise in his throat, shaking his head abruptly. He doesn’t look nearly as intimidating as you feel he should– more like he’s trying to warn you against something you don’t want. He peers at you from beneath his wavy bangs as he pulls the cigarette from his mouth and uses it to point at you. “Names are really powerful things where I come from, babydoll. Best not to bite off more than you can chew yet. Once we cut a deal– that’s when you get my name.”

You make a face as you mull that over. “So what do I call you, in the meantime? Demon daddy?”

“You could,” he chuckles. The demon rocks to the side, crossing his legs at the ankles. “If you really wanted to. I wouldn’t mind, it’s flattering.”

You grunt. “I think I’ll pass on that, actually.” He tilts his head with a sicker, watching you with an amused smile while you shift in place. “So, do I– I mean, you need to know what I want, right? Is that how this starts?”

“No, I know what you want.” He exhales a stream of smoke from his nostrils. “You want power. To get a fair shake, find your place, change your life. Defend yourself against the assholes making that life, well. A living hell.” As he spits out the words, his voice rings sharp through the trees, like the strike of a hammer on glowing metal, shooting sparks off into the air.

“I want to take all this pain and just… return to sender. Give it back to them, y’know? I never wanted any of it,” you justify. Your voice is too small in comparison with his. “Maybe then I’ll be able to fucking breathe.”

For how little space you allow yourself to take up, he seems to consume the rest of it. He nods slowly. “That’s a fair request, sweetheart.”

“It’s selfish, I know.”

“Making a deal for power is inherently a selfish thing,” he shrugs. “Own it. I’m certainly not judging.”

You let out a shaky breath. You’re still so nervous, being so near him– ten feet away and growing closer every second, it seems, even though neither of you have moved. You feel like, no matter how far you pull back, the flow of fiery lava he seems to embody will keep creeping towards you until you’re burned alive.

His dark eyes glow like coals in the night as he looks you up and down, and then he quickly pushes himself away from the tree. You startle at the abrupt movement, and watch as he swings around it like Gene Kelly on a lamp post.

When he rounds the tree, he uses the momentum to throw himself toward your circle. You flinch, and he frowns, but continues moving toward you at a slower pace, holding his hands out innocently. “Wanna know a secret? About how all this,” he twirls a finger in the air, indicating the ritual you’re in the middle of, “works?”

You nod, gazing up at him shyly. If you felt at all powerful while casting the circle and starting the ritual, he’s managed to take the wind out of your sails. You can feel the power radiating off of him in waves.

He smirks at you. “You make your petition– when you say the words in that little book,” he points at the volume at your feet, “and that petition is answered by whichever demon caters most to that desire.” He points at himself emphatically, his eyebrows raised. “Me? Infernal majesty of freaks and misfits. I’m your demon daddy.”

You finally giggle, and it makes him smile fondly, like that’s what he’d been gunning for all along. He backs up a step and puffs his cigarette.

“I’m here to help you, sweetheart.” He regards you for a second, like he’s thinking things over. “That is, as long as you agree to my terms.”

“Terms?” You echo, but you were sort of expecting that. Nothing for nothing, right? “What are the terms?”

“Ah, they’re simple. Very traditional,” he waves his hand like it’s frivolous. He holds his hand out in midair, and just like how he’d conjured the flames, he produces a weathered book. It looks like a composition book that has scribbles and doodles all over the front of it– the same demon head that adorns his shirt. “You sign your name with your blood in my little black book, you hop on one foot with your hand on your head and pledge your undying fealty to the dark lord Kthulu, and then you meet me on the sabbath to kill a child and make them into soup.”

He smiles, fluttering his eyelashes at you innocently.

“Are you fucking serious?” You blurt.

“Of course I’m not fucking serious– what is this, the dark ages?” He snorts as he lowers the composition book. “Nah, we don’t do human sacrifice on the sabbath anymore, it was getting too difficult to evade the witch hunters.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” He flashes you a disarming grin. You can feel yourself halfway smirking as well, incredulous but somehow enjoying his humor. Then he shakes his head and says, seriously, “No, you do have to sign my book, though. And then meet me back here on the full moon to fuck.”

You blink at him, reeling from the whiplash of that. “You… I’m sorry?”

“I find it best not to sugarcoat it, y’know.” He shrugs, “Think of this as a marriage, of sorts. I give you the power to smite thine enemies, live deliciously, blah blah blah, and then you meet me at the crossroads every full moon to be my whore and we fuck like bunnies all night. Simple as that.”

“That’s far from simple.”

“It doesn’t have to be monogamous, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he continues frankly, “except on the full moon. I won’t compromise about that– you’ll be all mine, and I’m all yours. No takesies backsies.”

“No– that’s not–” You exhale, holding your hands over your eyes. “I’m just… not promiscuous like that…”

“Sweetheart.” He waits until you’ve lowered your hands to look at him, and he hums, with a saccharine smile that reminds you of the power you’d felt sweep through the clearing when he arrived. “You won’t be the first good girl I’ve broken, and you won’t be the last. If you’re worried about promiscuity, well… I answered your petition. I know what goes on in that pretty head, and it barely scratches the surface of what I’ve seen and done.”

The toe of his boot barely nudges the edge of your circle, and a spark crackles in the dark from the impact. The light dances in his eyes longer than it remains in the air, like they caught the spark and ignited.

“Trust me,” he says, drawing you in with the low register of his voice. “I can give you more than power. I can give you protection. I can give you real happiness. Karma’s a fucking bitch, so I can be, too. This is just such a little thing in return. And who knows… you may even like it.”

You shiver at that, even though his presence feels hot, like his stream of lava is surrounding you, crowding you in, boiling you where you stand. He’s right– you absolutely might like it.

Because there’s just something magnetic between you, isn’t there? You can sense it, more than any heat and any sort of primal fear you might have instinctively at his presence. There’s a certain pull you feel toward him, emanating even through the salt barrier on the ground.

You want to wrap yourself in him. Boil you alive, burn you to a crisp, destroy you– you don’t care.

“Or… is it that you don’t like this body?” He wonders aloud, striding backward two steps. He turns, his hand lifting his seemingly ever-burning cigarette to his lips. “Figures– y’know, I can be anything you want me to be, babydoll.”

Confused, you watch as he transforms in front of you. In the length of two steps while he paces across the clearing, his face and body stretches and contorts, until you’re not staring at the same visage anymore. He stops, and he turns to you with his palms up, like he’s waiting for your approval.

You’re looking at Tom fucking Cruise.

“Oh, no, absolutely not,” you shake your head vehemently, scowling. You wave your hands demandingly, “Put it back. You were so hot before– please, please go back to the way you were.”

The demon grins and turns his head, throwing the cigarette away. His hair grows back to its previous length, his face morphing as if made of clay until you meet the same pretty smile you’ve come to enjoy looking at.

He chuckles, grabbing a lock of his hair and drawing it across his lips. “You think I’m hot?”

“Of course,” you murmur, but you know beyond a shadow of a doubt that he can hear it. His eyes are embers, blazing at you from beneath his bangs. “Is that what you normally look like? Is that your true form?”

He makes an iffy sound. “It’s what I looked like when I was human. My true form has more horns and unhinged jaws and claws and all that. You wouldn’t like it.”

“I thought you said you could read my mind. Do you know how much monster porn I’ve consumed? That’s hot as shit to me,” you argue, and he snaps his head towards you in surprise. You point at yourself. “Freak and misfit.”

He laughs, and it sounds like the roaring of an out of control fire, burning up everything in its path. He kicks his heel on the ground and steps up to your circle again. “I like you, baby. I really do. What do you say?”

“How do I know that I can trust you?” you ask, an annoying lump forming in your throat with the question. You’ve been burned before by people far less powerful than this demon, yet who still hold so much power over you. However much they have.

“You can’t,” he answers, more honestly than most would. He tilts his head with a crooked smile. “Not to get all preachy on you, but even if I wasn’t a demon… trust is built, not a given. ‘The devil you know,’ right? Better than the one that you don’t.”

“Yeah,” you agree, your voice coming out breathy and winded the longer you gaze up into his eyes.

“Trust me to be… intense, I guess,” he shrugs. “And probably impulsive. But I’ll always deliver on our deal. Be my witch, my wife, my whore– whatever you want to call it, but be mine. I think we’ll have so much fun together.”

“Yeah, I think– I think I will.” You’re nodding, and his smile grows with yours. “I want to.”

“Let me in, sweetheart.”

Your toe scuffs the boundary on the ground, breaking the circle. Immediately, your senses are assaulted by smoke, not just the tobacco he’s been smoking but the scent of a wildfire, of cities burned to ashes, of desolation and destruction and pyroclastic flow and roaring, exploding volcanoes.

Your demon crosses the line you’d drawn on the ground with ease, producing the worn composition book in his hand again. The cover reads Hellfire Club in chicken scratch handwriting.

“Are there others?” You ask, prompted by the word Club on the front as he flips open the book to a middle page. An agreement is already written out in red ink. “Do you have more than one, um…”

“Consort?” He whispers in your ear. Goosebumps rise on your skin, and your stomach flutters. “Not for a long time. I’m very picky about my partners. They have to be just as much of a freak as I am.”

Your heart thumps loudly in your chest, although the admission makes you feel… better, in a way. You squint in the dark, but with the exception of the candles around your circle, there’s nothing to allow you to properly read what’s written on the page.

He sighs, shifting on his feet beside you. “Are you one of those people who’ll read the whole contract?”

“Absolutely I am,” you hum. The book feels heavier in your hands than it should. “Can you give me a light?”

“Jesus Christ.” He produces a flame from his forefinger just as you turn to give him a confused look.

“Shouldn’t you, like… evaporate after saying that?”

In the yellow glow of the flame, he just blinks at you, looking amused. “Things aren’t as black and white as you think they are, believe me.”

You snatch his wrist and yank his arm closer to the page. His body collides with yours, and he grunts in your ear as he wraps his other arm around you, embracing you from behind. You’re engulfed in the scent of smoke and the heat of his flames, impossibly hot and comforting all the same.

His hair brushes your shoulder as you read his contract. It’s just a few lines, but the weight they hold will seal your fate.

The agreement made this night of the dark moon shall henceforth be enacted from the signing of this document, that hereby renders the human party’s soul bound to the infernal party. Witness that the first party must appear before the second party each full moon to lay in matrimonial fashion, and that in return the first party shall be protected and given the powers of the second from here until the human’s mortal passing.

“Aww, that’s sweet,” you coo, tracing the red ink with your fingers.

The demon over your shoulder rolls his eyes. “It’s a fucking pre-nup.”

“Doesn’t seem like a fair trade, though, does it?” You murmur. “I mean, I get the power to change my circumstances and you get– what– sex once a month?”

His hand tightens on your waist, and you pause. You turn your head to look at him, and his eyes flicker dangerously, so close to yours. They aren’t just glowing coals- this close, you can see the small details. You can see the swirling, the churning of lava within them.

“It’s not just sex, is it?”

“What do you think making a deal with a demon entails, sweetheart? Read the fine print.”

You look back at the page. There are no other words on it, save for the ones you’ve already read. “I don’t…?”

“It’s your soul, honey,” he mutters, pointing at the word. His mouth is muffled against your shoulder as he peers over it. “I won’t ask anything of you other than the sex, as long as you live. But right now, you’re offering up your soul. And once your life is up, you get to be just like me. Understand?”

“I… yeah. I understand.” You let go of his wrist, but pause over the pages of the book. “I don’t have anything to sign with.”

Wordlessly, the demon takes your hand. You let him caress your wrist, feeling your pulse with his thumb. Then, before you realize what’s happening, a sharp sting makes you yelp as he cuts your skin with his pointed thumbnail.

He shushes you, letting the blood well up on your skin. “I did say you needed to sign with blood.”

Your voice shakes when you hold your dripping wrist over the page. “I thought you said you were joking.”

“Not about the book. Rules of the trade, I can’t change it.” Your blood splatters the notebook, dripping into the crease of the page. Once he’s satisfied, he lifts your wrist to his mouth and closes his lips around the small wound. It heals in a heartbeat.

“Is that it, then?” You ask, mesmerized by the sight and feeling of his mouth on your skin. “Don’t you have to sign?”

Your demon kisses your wrist gently, his lips soft, inviting. “This is going to hurt,” he warns, and you nod. The heat of his breath makes your skin tingle, all your nerves on high alert.

But then that tingling turns into a burn, that turns into a searing pain. You feel like your skin is on fire, an invisible hot brand held against your wrist. You cry out as he holds you close, letting you bury your face into his neck, holding you up as your knees threaten to buckle.

“Such a good girl,” he murmurs to you as you whimper. He holds your arm as the pain fades into a throbbing ache, cradles your hand against his cheek as he coos into your hair. “You’re so strong. Not many people can handle my mark, you know. Fate works in funny ways.”

Your demon holds you until you can stand on your own, until your breathing evens out and you can compose yourself. He shushes you quietly, rocking you from side-to-side with a soothing hand stroking your head. Then he holds your face, and kisses your tear stained cheeks. The touch of his lips stokes at flames beneath your skin.

“I’ll look forward to our time together, little witch,” he whispers. And with a quick, chaste kiss to your lips, he disappears entirely.

You stay in the circle for a while, clutching your throbbing wrist and crying frustrated tears. You wonder if you made the right decision, and yet, you don’t understand why you just want him to come back. You miss the comfort of his presence, even if you don’t know enough about him to justify it. All he did was hurt your arm and take your blood and kiss away your tears and make you a witch.

It’s too late to go back on your decision now. There’s an all-encompassing fire you can feel burning in your veins, emitting from the pulsating wound on your wrist. His power. His fire.

You pull your hand away from your wrist to finally inspect the mark that he branded you with, declaring you his in the same chicken scratch that had been on the cover of his book. It’s small enough that a well placed bracelet would cover it, but you don’t know that you’ll want to.

Eddie.

Your demon’s name is Eddie.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #tdik!fic #stranger things #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #demon!eddie #demon!eddie munson #stranger things fanfic #roses*

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ot8xbangchansgirlsblog · 4 months ago

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ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕡𝕒𝕔𝕜🧸

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ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕤𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕟: Sleeping beauty

Word count: 4094

Summary: In this chapter, Y/N wakes up after three and a half days of sleep, prompting concern from the pack, especially Chan and Changbin's mom. While the boys handle rehearsals, she cares for Y/N, ensuring she feels safe and nourished. When Chan decides to stay with Y/N, they discover her scent has returned, signaling her recovery. Y/N feels guilty about her omega duties, but the boys reassure her that her well-being comes first, leaving her eager to connect with her new family.

Y/N slept for an impressive three and a half days, a fact that didn't surprise anyone, especially Chan. Omegas usually 'hybernate' whenever they did something that tired their bodies. It was normal for them to go to sleep for days.

Day One:

On the first morning of her extended nap, the boys rose early at 6 AM, gathering their things for rehearsals. Before they left, they waited and made sure Changbin's mom had arrived safely before they could leave for work.

"Hey, Ma!" Changbin greeted his mother with a respectful bow before pulling her into a warm embrace.

"Hello, baby! How are you? How are the boys?" she asked, her eyes sparkling with excitement as she stepped into the house.

"We're all doing well, thanks to you for helping us out," Changbin replied, planting a gentle kiss on her cheek as he led her into the living room where the rest of the boys were lounging.

"You don't have to thank me, dear. I'm just so excited to meet her!" she exclaimed, her enthusiasm filling the room.

"Mama Bin!" Lee Know jumped up from the couch, his smile brightening at the sight of her. "Thank you so much for doing this!"

"Oh, Lee Know! You all really don't have to thank me!" She beamed, wrapping him in a quick hug. She went around the room greeting each member that was present before she realised one was missing, "How have you all been? Where's Chan?"

Just then, Chan emerged from upstairs, his hair tousled and a sleep-deprived smile on his face.

"Did you give her her medicine?" I.N asked, noticing Chan's entrance with a raised brow.

"Yes, my love—oh! Hey, Mama Bin!" Chan replied, visibly relaxing as he spotted her.

"Christopher!" she exclaimed, her voice bubbling with joy.

"How's my favorite son-in-law doing?" she teased, causing the rest of the pack to shout a collective "Hey!" in playful protest.

Chan laughed, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "Just trying to survive, honestly," he admitted, and they all chuckled.

"How are you? Did you get here safely?" Chan asked, grabbing his jacket off the couch.

"Yes, I did, love! Where's the new addition to the pack? Let me see her," Changbin's mom said, placing her bag on the counter and looking around expectantly.

"She's asleep right now. She might be out for the next couple of days, so she won't be any trouble, honestly," Changbin explained, while Han set out breakfast for her on the table.

"Thank you, my dear," she said, her attention briefly shifting to Han before returning to Changbin. "Why is she going to be asleep for so long?" A frown crossed her face as she picked up a mug.

"She was a ring omega," Changbin admitted, a nervous chuckle escaping him.

"Oh dear!" she gasped, placing the mug down with concern. "Is she okay? Is she in a subdrop? Oh, the poor little thing!" Her frown deepened, making Chan feel more confident about leaving Y/N with Changbin's mom, given how delicate and caring she already was.

"She's not fully in a subdrop; she's just really quiet and doesn't have a scent at the moment. She's also quite small for her size," Changbin huffed, glancing around for support from the group.

"Yeah, but the point is," Lee Know interjected, "we need you to just watch her and feed her lunch and dinner if we're not home early today. She might be fussy at first, but she's a really good girl. She'll listen to you."

"I already told her you're coming, and I gave her her medicine. She took her pills, but for lunch, just give her her pills again, and I'll apply her cream at night. She doesn't really like people touching her," Chan added, looking serious.

"Alright, alright. I've got this! You guys don't worry about me. I've been a mom for years; I can handle this without a hitch. Just get to work before you're late!" Changbin's mom said, playfully shooing them off.

"Please call us if she needs any of us," Felix said softly, guilt weighing heavily on him. He wanted so badly to crawl into bed with Y/N and nestle beside her, but he knew they couldn't do that.

"Don't worry, Felix, I will. I promise," she assured him, her heart warmed by his concern as the boys headed out.

Once they left, she decided to check on Y/N, wanting to make sure she was doing alright. Climbing the stairs, she moved quietly, the soft carpet muffling her footsteps. As she approached Felix's room, she hesitated for a moment, her heart fluttering with excitement and maternal instinct. Gently pushing the door open, she peered inside.

There, in the center of Felix's cozy nest, Y/N lay peacefully asleep, her hair splayed like a halo around her. She was completely enveloped in the soft blankets, looking utterly serene. The sight made Changbin's mom smile. "You are so gorgeous," she whispered, admiration lacing her voice.

Stepping closer, she adjusted the pillow beneath Y/N's head, ensuring it was positioned perfectly so that she wouldn't wake up with a stiff neck. Then, she dimmed the lights, casting a warm, inviting glow that enveloped the room. It was a small gesture, but she hoped it would make Y/N's rest even more comfortable.

Satisfied, she quietly closed the door and made her way downstairs, her mind already shifting to the next task at hand: cooking. As an alpha, she had always been more comfortable with physical tasks than culinary ones, often struggling in the kitchen compared to the innate skills many omegas possessed. Nevertheless, she approached the kitchen with determination.

Gathering ingredients, she decided to make a comforting pasta dish, knowing it would be filling and warm. As she chopped vegetables and stirred the sauce, the familiar rhythm of cooking began to calm her. The rich aroma of garlic and herbs filled the air, creating an inviting atmosphere.

As the pasta boiled, she took a moment to pause, leaning against the counter. A sense of nostalgia washed over her as she remembered times when she had cooked for Changbin and his lovers, their laughter echoing around the house. She chuckled softly, recalling a particularly chaotic dinner where Felix had accidentally spilled sauce all over himself, earning him playful teasing from the others.

With the pasta nearly ready, she turned her attention to the big-screen TV in the living room. Flipping through channels, she settled on a light-hearted cooking show, letting it play in the background. The host's cheerful banter and culinary tips provided a soothing soundtrack as she worked, and she found herself laughing at their antics. It reminded her of the joy of cooking—not just the food, but the memories made around the table.

Once the meal was ready, she plated the pasta, garnishing it with fresh basil and a sprinkle of parmesan. The vibrant colors and inviting scents brought a smile to her face. Just as she was finishing up, she heard a soft sound from upstairs—Y/N stirring in her sleep.

"Maybe I should prepare something for her too," she thought. After a moment's hesitation, she decided to whip up a small serving of pasta for Y/N, wanting to ensure she felt cared for and welcomed.

With Y/N's plate set aside, she finally allowed herself to sit down at the table, enjoying the warm food and the satisfaction of having created something special. As she ate, her thoughts drifted to Y/N—wondering about her past and what brought her to Felix and their pack. She hoped Y/N would feel safe and loved here, just as Changbin had always made her feel.

After finishing her meal, she decided to tidy up the kitchen. As she washed the dishes, she caught sight of the clock and realized time was slipping away. "I should check on Y/N again," she said to herself, drying her hands and moving back upstairs.

Entering Felix's room once more, she found Y/N had shifted, her face now slightly illuminated by the soft light. She looked so peaceful, and a wave of affection washed over Changbin's mom. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she took a moment to simply watch her, feeling the warmth of her new role in this little family.

She leaned down to brush a stray hair from Y/N's forehead, feeling a protective instinct swell within her. "You're part of our family now."

With a final glance, she quietly left the room, closing the door gently behind her.

When 3:00 PM arrived, Changbin's mom made her way upstairs, her heart full of care for the young omega resting She gently opened the door and approached the bed, where Y/N lay completely passed out, her chest rising and falling in a slow, peaceful rhythm.

"Y/N?" she called softly, shaking her gently but carefully, aware of the girl's sensitivity to touch. "Y/N, you have to wake up so you can eat a bit and take your pills." She kept her tone soothing, not wanting to startle her.

After a moment of silence, she called out again, a little louder this time. "Y/N?" This time, the sound stirred Y/N from her deep slumber, a soft groan escaping her lips.

"Hmm?" Y/N mumbled, her eyes fluttering open. Panic flickered across her face when she saw a stranger hovering nearby. Still heavy with sleep, she didn't have the energy to react.

"Hey, I'm Changbin's mom," she said with a warm smile, hoping to put Y/N at ease. "You need to eat something before you can go back to sleep."

"I don't wanna; I wanna sleep," Y/N groaned, her frustration evident as she rubbed her eyes. Her body ached, and her eyelids felt like lead weights, the side effects of both the medication and her omega powers beginning to settle in.

"I know you don't want to, pup, but you need food. Otherwise, your body won't function properly," Changbin's mom explained gently, trying to convey the importance of nourishment.

"Where's Channie?" Y/N asked, her irritation bubbling under the surface, desperate to return to her dreams.

"They all went to work, but they'll be back soon. Here, eat this for now." With that, she offered Y/N a small bowl of pasta, watching closely as Y/N hesitantly took a bite. She could tell the girl was hungry, despite her complaints. Y/N occasionally drifted off mid-bite, only to wake up moments later, groggy yet determined to finish.

"You must be so exhausted, pup," she cooed, her heart swelling with affection as Y/N swallowed her pills and leaned back against the pillows, a soft hum escaping her lips.

"I'll be back around dinner, okay?" Changbin's mom said, watching as Y/N's eyes fluttered shut once more, the exhaustion pulling her under like a gentle tide. Satisfied that she had taken care of her, Changbin's mom quietly closed the door behind her and made her way downstairs.

In the kitchen, she set about washing the dishes, the rhythmic sound of water splashing against porcelain a calming backdrop. After finishing, she settled down in the living room, turning on the TV to a light-hearted show. The laughter and chatter from the screen filled the space, as she waited for dinner time.

As the hours passed, she found herself occasionally glancing upstairs, wondering how Y/N was doing. The young omega was a delicate flower, and Changbin's mom felt a protective urge swell within her. She wanted to make sure Y/N felt safe and loved.

When dinner time rolled around, she prepared a warm, hearty meal, her thoughts focused on Y/N's needs. After everything was set, she returned to the room, softly knocking before entering. Y/N stirred, her eyes slowly opening as if awakening from a long dream.

"Hey there, sleepyhead. It's time for dinner," Changbin's mom said gently, placing the food on the bedside table.

Y/N groaned softly, but the enticing aroma of the meal seemed to pull her from her drowsiness. "Do I have to?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Yes, you do, Just a little more, and then you can sleep again," Changbin's mom encouraged, knowing how important it was for Y/N to stay nourished.

As Y/N sat up slowly, she took a few bites, the food seemingly recharging her. Each spoonful was met with a small smile from Changbin's mom, who felt a sense of joy at seeing Y/N eat.

After finishing her meal and taking her evening pills, Y/N leaned back against the pillows, looking more comfortable yet still weary. "Are the boys coming?" she said softly, her eyes pleading.

"Of course. They'll be back soon, and they'll be so happy to see you," Changbin's mom promised, tucking the blankets around Y/N snugly. With a final reassuring smile, she left the room, closing the door gently.

As she returned to her own evening watching TV in the leaving room and slowly drifting off to sleep.

🌱🍄🌻🥞

"We're home!" a cheerful voice rang out from the front door, breaking the quiet of the early morning. Changbin's mom groaned as she woke, glancing at the clock that read 3:45 AM.

"Ugh, why do you guys always come home so late?" she muttered to herself, stretching her limbs before sitting up on the couch.

"Mum? Where are you?" Changbin called, his voice echoing through the house as he removed his shoes. The other boys followed suit, dropping their bags on counters and hooks, their energy unmistakably low.

"In here!" she called back, still shaking off the remnants of sleep as she tried to gather her thoughts.

"Hey, how was practice, you guys?" she asked, her voice warm and welcoming as they started to separate. Some headed for the fridge to grab leftover pasta, while others flopped onto the couch or hung up their coats, each greeting her with affectionate hugs.

"It was so tiring, like usual, but we managed to get everything done," Hyunjin groaned, yawning widely. "I'll see you in a few hours, Mama Bin." He kissed her forehead and made his way up the stairs, clearly ready to collapse into bed.

"Can I sleep with you tonight, Jinnie?" Felix called from the kitchen, his voice laced with a hint of exhaustion.

"Yeah, babygirl, just come in whenever you're ready," Hyunjin replied, quickly disappearing down the hallway.

"How was it? Did she behave?" Chan asked, settling onto the couch and taking a long sip from a water bottle.

"She was good. She slept most of the time but only woke up to eat," Changbin's mom explained. "She kept asking for you all. I made her the pasta like the meal plan said. I hope it's good."

"This is some good-ass pasta!" Seungmin exclaimed, his cheeks smeared with sauce as he devoured a bowl. "I'm not complaining!"

"I'm glad you like it. You lot should head to bed; I'm going to crash too," she said, grabbing a cozy blanket from the couch. With a warm wave, she made her way to the guest room.

"I'll go check on Y/N. I'll sleep with her tonight," Chan announced after a moment of contemplation, almost considering the couch due to how tired he was.

"Hyung, no!" Seungmin growled, his irritation flaring up. "You always sleep with me!" He pouted, his frustration evident as he wiped sauce from his face.

"Yeah, babe, but you can sleep with Changbin or Lee Know tonight. I don't want to leave her alone," Chan replied, trying to keep his tone calm despite the rising tension.

Seungmin's growl deepened, and Chan winced as he felt the hot wave of anger radiating from him through their bond. "Stop being petty," he hissed, fatigue creeping into his voice. "It's just one night."

Chan was honestly running on autopilot, exhaustion weighing heavily on him. "It's 3 AM; I'm going to bed," he grumbled, frustration bubbling to the surface. With that, he stormed off, leaving the remaining boys in the living room, still debating their own plans for the night.

As Chan climbed the stairs, he couldn't shake the lingering annoyance in the air. He understood Seungmin's feelings but also felt a protective urge toward Y/N that he couldn't ignore. Pushing the door open to Felix's room, he peeked inside to find Y/N peacefully sleeping in her nest.

She looked serene, and for a moment, all his frustrations melted away. "Just one night," he whispered to himself, closing the door softly as he slipped under the covers beside her, ready to ensure she felt safe and cared for.

🌱🍄🌻🥞

Day two:

It wasn't just one night. Chan had ended up crashing with Y/N on the second day of her sleeping coma, and of course, Seungmin wasn't happy about it again. But honestly, Chan was tired of his drama.

The day had already been stressful; they were running on just about three hours of sleep, and on top of that, they had twelve grueling hours of dance practice ahead. Every muscle in Chan's body ached, and his head was pounding like a drum. Seungmin had been giving him the cold shoulder all day, still sulking over the previous night's events. Chan was just done with the nonsense.

As he walked down the hallway toward Felix's room, he could feel the weight of Seungmin's frustration hanging in the air like a thick fog. "What's his problem?" Chan muttered under his breath, shaking his head in annoyance.

When he pushed open the door, the sight of Y/N sound asleep in her nest brought a wave of calm over him. She looked so peaceful, her soft breaths matching the gentle rise and fall of the blankets. Chan's heart swelled, reminding him of why he had wanted to sleep beside her in the first place. Here, everything felt right. The stress of the day began to dissolve as he wrapped his arms around her, drawing her closer.

"Just a little longer," he whispered, resting his head against hers. The warmth of her body soothed his frayed nerves, making the chaos of practice and the tension with Seungmin feel like distant memories.

But then, a knock on the door broke his moment of peace. Seungmin entered, his expression a mix of anger and hurt. "What are you doing, Chan?" he snapped, arms crossed tightly over his chest. "This again?"

Chan sighed, frustration creeping back in. "I’m just keeping her company, Seungmin. She needs it."

"You always say that! It’s like you don’t care how it makes me feel!" Seungmin shot back, his voice rising. "I’m starting to think you only want to sleep next to her to rub it in my face."

"That’s not true! I care about her just as much as i care for you!" Chan countered, the exhaustion in his voice palpable. "You need to stop being so dramatic about this."

Seungmin's expression darkened. "Dramatic? You think I’m being dramatic? Maybe you just don’t want to admit that you’re being selfish."

Chan clenched his jaw, feeling the heat of the argument rise. "Selfish? Really? I’m trying to be there for someone who’s hurting, and you’re making it all about you!"

"Maybe you should think about how I feel for once!" Seungmin shot back, frustration etched on his face. "I’m tired of feeling like I’m competing for your attention."

With that, Chan turned away, running a hand through his hair. "It’s not a competition, Seungmin. You can sleep with someone else tonight. I’m not leaving her alone."

Seungmin scoffed, his arms dropping to his sides in defeat. "Fine. Do what you want. Just don’t expect me to be okay with it."

With that, Seungmin stormed out, leaving Chan feeling drained. He couldn’t shake the lingering annoyance in the air. He understood Seungmin's feelings but felt a protective urge toward Y/N that he couldn’t ignore.

"Just one night," he whispered to himself, closing the door softly as he settled under the covers beside her.

He couldn’t help but hope she would wake up by morning, that they could share the moment of relief together. In this space, wrapped in her presence, Chan felt grounded and sane, as if all his worries could fade away, even if just for a few hours.

🌱🍄🌻🥞

Day three:

Chan jolted awake to the sound of his alpha howling in distress, his heart racing. "What the heck?" he murmured, groaning as he rubbed his eyes and held his head in his hands.

The voice echoed in his mind, Omega! Sweet omega. Please...

With a sigh, Chan looked over at Y/N, who was peacefully asleep beside him. "What time is it?" he huffed, reaching for his phone. That's when he caught a whiff of something heavenly—her scent. His breath hitched, and he couldn't help but smile. What the heck?

Curious, he leaned a little closer, inhaling deeply and enjoying the comforting aroma. "Her scent is back?" he wondered aloud, furrowing his brows. He quickly texted Minho and Changbin, asking them to come to the room.

Just as he was savoring the moment, Changbin burst through the door, followed closely by Leeknow, who bumped into him.

"Dude! Ow!" Leeknow groaned, rubbing his nose. But as soon as he caught a whiff of Y/N's scent, he froze. "Oh..."

Changbin's eyes widened. "Her scent is back?"

"Yeah! I woke up because my alpha was going wild, and then I realized it was her!" Chan grinned, feeling a mix of excitement and disbelief.

"Jesus, she smells amazing! I might just melt!" Changbin exclaimed, earning a hearty laugh from Chan.

"No way she smells that good!" Leeknow said, inching closer to the bed, a playful grin on his face.

Just then, Y/N stirred, blinking awake to see Leeknow leaning in with wide eyes. "What the...?" she groaned, and before he could react, he stumbled back, almost falling off the bed.

“Oh no, Y/N! I’m so sorry! I promise I’m not being weird!” Leeknow exclaimed, his cheeks flushing a bright pink as he regained his balance, wide eyes darting to Chan and then back to her.

Y/N couldn’t help but giggle at his flustered state. “You’re adorable, you know that?” she teased, stretching her arms overhead and letting out a loud yawn that echoed in the cozy room.

“Welcome back,” Chan said playfully, pulling her body close to his, the warmth of his presence wrapping around her like a soft blanket.

“Hey, Channie,” she mumbled, burying her face in his neck, inhaling his comforting scent. “How long was I out for?” She felt a mix of curiosity and embarrassment.

“About three days,” he replied softly, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead, his touch igniting a spark of affection.

“Three days?” she gasped, her eyes widening in disbelief. “Oh no! I’m so behind on my omega duties, aren’t I?” Her brow furrowed, anxiety creeping in despite the relief that coursed through her. She felt great—no aches, no exhaustion—but guilt nagged at her.

“Cupcake?” Changbin’s voice chimed in as he climbed onto the bed, leaning in to give her a quick kiss on the cheek. “You don’t have any ‘duties’. Plus, you don’t need to apologize. You look more healthier. You smell so sweet, happy and relaxed”

“i smell so...Sweet?” She furrowed her brows, searching her body before gasping. “My scent is back?” Excitement bubbled up within her as she sat up, touching her glands and releasing a wave of pheromones that filled the room with a delicate, inviting fragrance.

“Okay, okay! I know you’re excited, babe, but don’t choke us with it!” Leeknow coughed dramatically, waving a hand in front of his face as if to fan away the air.

Y/N giggled, lightly tapping his back. “I’m sorry! I just haven’t smelled like me in ages!”

“And you smell absolutely amazing,” Chan added, fingers playing gently with her hair, his touch soothing her frayed nerves.

“Thank you, Oppa,” she smiled, her heart swelling with warmth. Her gaze drifted around the room, taking in the piles of bags and clothes. “What have you guys been up to?”

“Practicing and practicing and practicing,” Changbin growled, rubbing his shoulder with a playful wince. “You know, the usual.”

“It’s been so boring without you,” Leeknow chimed in, crossing his arms dramatically. “At least we don’t have to go in until 3 PM today.” He laid back down on the bed and started to type on his phone before Chan started to speak.

“Speaking of which, Y/N,” Chan said softly, a hint of authority in his tone, “I need you to start unpacking your room and all these bags. This mess is driving me crazy.”

“Okay oppa, Can you show me where my room is?” she asked, her voice brightening. “And do we have anything planned for the day?” She felt Chan begin to massage her shoulders, easing the last remnants of tension.

“Yeah, I’ll let Felix and Han help you out. And you’re coming with us to the studio later; Mama Bin is leaving today,” he replied, a soft smile on his lips.

Y/N’s eyes sparkled with excitement as she turned to Changbin. “I need to meet her and thank her for taking care of me. She was so nice.”

“She’s downstairs, cupcake. Go ahead whenever you’re ready,” Changbin encouraged, his grin infectious.

“Okay, I will,” she said, already feeling the anticipation bubbling within her as she hopped off the bed, eager to start her day.

🌱🍄🌻🥞

Dont forget to reblog and follow! <3

Taglist: @ihrtlix@bowsnbang@katsukis1wife@thegingerthatwaited@thicccurls @xxeiraxx @paleangelsweets @klaydohart @eastleighsblog @ivrespace @galaxy4489 @purplepursepaint @catlove83 @sillystormsstuff @iwuberic @cocofia143 @royal-shinigami @virluna148 @galaxycatdrawz @memersanonymous @skz-stay13 @seungminsbest @hogwartslife64 @sinfulfic @hyunnesblog @maisyyyyyy @cluelessred3 @leezanetheofficial @cocofia143 @lemonn015 @kkamismom12 @mei0packet @igetcarriedawaywithyou @hyuneyeon (open: i believe i've added everyone but if you don't see your @ please comment down below)

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sonofcelluloid · 12 days ago

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Sonofcelluloid’s Top 30(ish) Favorite Devil’s Minion Fics:

In no particular order, this list only includes finished works that are relatively canon compliant (I’ll be making separate lists for AUs and fics in progress.) Anything in italics is a direct quote from the fic or its description. Please remember to check tags and ratings before reading.

You’ll Always Be My Favorite Ghost by lestatslestits: Tales of Armand’s turbo autism as Daniel gets to know and love him. This one is so sweet and had me laughing my ass off.

outcast of all this night by gaypiratedivorce: Modern Devil’s Minion fic of all time. Rewired my brain. "I mean, I don't know how you guys did it in Renaissance Italy, but most people this century get to at least second base before wearing each other's blood around our necks." There’s a part 2: my aid against the boredom of the eternal where they finally hook up. And honestly every fic from this author is a banger.

I’d Break the Back of Love for You by kurow: 70s Armandaniel. A rescue and a sick fic wrapped in one, and I’m a sucker for both.

Like That by GrayGiantess: Fluffy 70s Armandaniel. A tooth achingly sweet first kiss fic, featuring Twinkie’s. Again, every fic from this author is a banger.

The Beginning is the End is the Beginning by trinityofone: Daniel sees a wild vision during his turning. “I deserve this,” Armand said. His hold on Daniel’s throat was almost a caress. “After what I’ve been through, I deserve something of my own, don’t I?”

make a home from a rented house by sleepdeprivedsurgeon: Daniel realizes Armand has never really had a room of his own before. Armand slowly builds his own safe place. Super fluffy autistic Armand stuff. Domestic vampire polycule bonus.

the spiral is unspooling by reedroad: Armand helps Daniel recover their Devil’s Minion years via old video tapes they filmed of their meetings. Absolutely heart wrenching and wonderful and charming and had some of the most jaw dropping plot twists I’ve ever experienced in a DM fic. The last chapter absolutely floored me and rewired my brain forever. May be my #1 fav.

forever’s gonna start tonight by trinityofone: Hate fucking with a happy ending:) Sort of a soulmate fic as well. “I fucking hate you. And you hate me. So something is making us do this.” “I don’t hate you,” Armand pants. “You mean nothing to me. Don't stop.”

care and keeping by katplanet: A surprisingly tender guide for how to step on your boyfriend. Bonus Danlou. Smutty and fluffy and freakayyy. GREAT dialogue. Very funny as well.

hell is: by cannibalenthusiast: Another turning fic. Post Dubai blowout, Armand and Daniel bond over martinis, breakups, and a Survivor marathon. They bang about it. Great ending.

5 Times Daniel Molloy Imagined Killing Marius de Romanus (+1 Time He Actually Did It) by platoapproved: This one is genuinely a masterpiece. Probably my #2 fav. Lots of protective Daniel, some really cool and original vampire-lore stuff, Louis and Lestat being beautifully supportive along with other new side characters. Armand finally gets to process his abuse among allies. A really touching Lestat subplot as well. HEAVY trigger warnings for all Marius related assaults, but obviously we get to watch him die horribly to make up for it:) Absolute banger of an ending, totally sticks the landing.

lesson three: parasitic infections by kanxie: 70s Armandaniel. Armand picks out Alice as a third and does NOT like the way the night progresses. What unfolds is some of the CRAZIEST psychosexual (emphasis on psycho) gremlin Armand shit I’ve ever seen in a fic. So perfectly Armand. Short and sweet, sad ending.

open up your skull, i’ll be there by Anonymous: First time fic. Armand dipped after Daniel’s turning and when he shows up again Daniel ain’t letting him leave. “Your blood is my blood,” Daniel says, and Armand does not flinch. “It’s your blood getting me hard. Your blood that’s pumping through me.” Armand licks his lips, and still doesn’t move. “Please. Armand, Armand, please.” “Beg for it.” “I am begging for it, this is what begging looks like —”

Disintegration by lilacaisle: Daniel goes crazy when Armand locks him in the apartment and tries to burn himself with a cigarette so it will feel like being bitten🙈 Armand does BDSM about it. This one’s actually book Armandaniel but I didn’t notice it until like the third read because it fits show Armandaniel so perfectly.

baby, cry baby by Babeblox: Daniel seeks out Lestat for an interview after Louis’ attack, but he’s being haunted by someone else. Canon divergence. This one legit made me cry. Dark but very sweet. Wild ending.

get in my mind (do you see my heart?) by Marenke: 70s Armandaniel, Armand character study. Armand is pretty sure he and Daniel have never had a problem a little brainwashing couldn’t fix. SICK AND TWISTEDDDDD (affectionate).

The Importance of Being Armand by Siria: Daniel and Armand talk about the power of naming. "If you can imagine a different set of possibilities for me as a vampire, ever think of what you could come up with for yourself, if you put your mind to it?"

Bumpin' That (Bumpin' That Bumpin' That Bumpin' That) by TheAngelsAreWatching: Daniel and Lestat are fuck buddies. They are on a tour bus a la Word Tour. They do coke. They try to bang. And then Armand stops time and walks in. Armandaniel fuck crazy style. Pure filth (affectionate).

Run, Arun! by TheNightColors: Autistic Armand, character study. Daniel learns it was considered a “crime” to turn Armand due to his “mental retardation”. Armand explains what it was like to be an autistic child in the sixteenth century, and an autistic adult for 500 years after. Heavy stuff. Trigger warning for all things relating to Amadeo’s past and for the internalized ableism instilled in Armand by his upbringing.

a haunting just for company by valkyrisms: Post Dubai blowout but pre Daniel’s turning, Armand crashes on Daniel’s couch. A modern Devil’s Minion fic for the ages. These weirdos love each other so bad. Some really memorable tender scenes. This one’s a fan favorite. “You’re fond of me.” “You’re a nuisance.”

The Company of Monsters by ruiqi: A full deconstruction of Marius’ abuse from Armand’s pov as he struggles to keep old patterns from repeating with Daniel. Overall I think this is the most realistic depiction of what it would be like for Armand to come to terms with his abuse in the modern day, especially regarding Daniel’s involvement. He’s totally out of his depth but wants so badly to help. This one made me SOB. It’s honestly a really tough read, but beautifully done. “You said, last night, that he wanted an angel,” says Daniel, “but no one's an angel, Armand. That wasn't fair to you. Besides, who would want an angel when they could have you?” “No,” Armand says. “No, you can’t say that.” “You can’t fucking stop me,” says Daniel. And it isn’t tagged, but this one is incredible autistic Armand representation. Probably my #3 fav.

Smart Boy by heliza24: Just a really good 70s Devil’s Minion era explanation of the events leading up to Armand’s decision to take Daniel’s memories away. Quite a bit of infidelity stuff in this one. Also delves a lot into Daniel’s family history, and an emotional affair is established between them long before they actually hook up. Very emotional. Heartbreaking last chapter.

We Dared Eternity and Won by faerywhimsy: A 70s Devil’s Minion era telling of the four good years they had before everything imploded. Louis has somewhat of a distant obsession with Daniel in this and so is very involved in Armand’s decisions regarding him. Favorite scene is when Armand saves Daniel from a hotel fire and the near loss devastates him because it makes him realize he’s in love with Daniel.

reprise. by SheOfBadIdeas: In Dubai, Daniel demands Armand show him the memories he stole. Armand relays the tale of their romance, but Daniel is begrudged to give Armand the satisfaction of giving in to it. That doesn’t last long;)

Waiting by bandedbulbussnarfblat: 70s fic. Daniel is living with Alice and hasn’t seen Armand in two months. He gets a call from Armand, who just got a proposal from Marius asking him to be his companion again. “I told him I couldn't go back. That I was waiting for you.” Daniel sucks in a sharp breath. Fuck. Armand's voice sounds almost wet, strained and raspy. He finally sounds as vulnerable as Daniel always wanted to see him be. “Should I keep waiting for you, Daniel?” (It’s just banger after banger with this author too.)

The Monster of my Memories by GrayGiantess: In Dubai, Daniel has just remembered his relationship with Armand and he’s PISSED. Armand gladly reminds him he’s waited 40 years for Daniel, he doesn’t mind waiting a little while more, and he’s not so sure Daniel has the same conviction🙈 Phenomenal subby old man Daniel material.

Delicate Machinery by Lilac Tinsel: An in depth look at the 70s love affair that neither man ever saw coming, in all its complicated glory. Really dives into the psychological consequences of Armand’s constant rejections. Amazing take on what the actual memory alteration would look like. The part that broke me: “I’m sorry for– for all of it. I didn’t realize how much I took. I just… wanted to stop thinking for a moment.” Armand blinks slowly and his eyebrows knit together. His voice is small but steady. “Did you take the drugs so you wouldn’t feel me anymore?”

You Taste Like Suburbia by CannibalGender: This is the only unfinished work I’m putting on this list because it’s so fucking good as is and gave me chills when I read it. It’s the 80s, Armand, famously normal about his partners' families, haunts the Molloys. I absolutely love Alice in this. Paints such an intriguing picture of what these years might have looked like from an “outside” pov.

Two parter I’ll chew you up and I’ll spit you out and Oh dear diary, I met a boy by weathermood: Loumandaniel in Dubai, set just after the season 1 finale. Asks, what if Daniel doesn’t want to remember? An exploration of identity while Louis and Armand try to persuade Daniel to allow his memories of their past relationship to be restored. Explores dreams and memories beautifully and with delightful humor. Classic unhinged Armand.

138 lbs, for the metrically challenged by hummingbeeoOo: Fluffy and funny. After Daniel’s turning and subsequent hunting down of his maker, they’re shacked up and happier than ever, but a little something from the interview has kept nagging at Daniel. Or: there is exactly zero way a beanpole like Armand weighed a measly 62.5 kilograms a day in his adult life. The end of this fic had me kicking my feet and giggling. This whole series is great tbh.

This list is my pride and joy. Thank you to the anon who asked for recs<3 Feel free to share your own favorites in the reblogs:)

#devil’s minion #armandaniel #armand x daniel #interview with the vampire #iwtv #fic #fanfic #fic rec #ao3 #archive of our own #words

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brenwritesss · 4 months ago

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Talent part 3

Paige Bueckers x reader

Summary: You continue texting Paige after she sends you flowers.

a/n: we are getting to them meeting, slowly but surely. Short chapter but I promise part 4 will be longer. Trust.

The flowers were sitting on your coffee table in front of your couch and every time you looked at them, your heart beat sped up and your face grew hot. It took you weeks of constant begging just to get your ex-girlfriend to give you a simple, small bouquet of tulips. Yet here you were, staring at your favorite flowers looking beautiful on your coffee table, given to you by someone you had just met a few hours ago. But there was a part of you that knew not to fall too deep too fast. Because this was exactly how it happened last time, and you didn’t know if you could recover from getting hurt by another girl again.

The smart thing to do would just be to give Paige a simple ‘thanks’. However, what you wanted to do was buy a plane ticket and pounce on her the second you see her. You chose the smart option. You pull your phone off your charger, finding Paige’s instagram account and sending her a quick message, “thanks for the flowers.”

About twenty minutes later, you heard a notification ping off your phone and you knew exactly who it was which caused the butterflies in your stomach to multiply instantly.

“You like them?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

Okay, so this is the part where you play smart and leave her on read. We’re leaving Paige on read. You place your phone on the coffee table by the flowers. And even though you knew that you shouldn’t continue the conversation, everything in you itched with hope that she would text you again.

And your prayers were answered.

“You can’t leave me on read after I just bought you flowers.”

You were fucked. Absolutely fucked.

“You’re right.”

“There we go, that's a start.”

“You can’t just get me flowers after only talking for a few hours.”

“Why?”

“How’d you get my address?” This question hadn’t popped into your brain until you realized that you had indeed just met her on a livestream not even twenty four hours ago.

“I got a confession to make.”

“Oh god what.” Was this gonna be the part where she confesses to secretly stalking you for years? You honestly didn’t know.

“Your best friend, Madison, we close.” Your jaw dropped a little. Madison, your best friend who you had met at an award show years ago, had never mentioned being close with a girl who was exactly your type. What a friend.

“You know Madison?”

“Yeah we met at some event a while back and I texted her asking for your address and she gave it to me.”

Very interesting.

“You were that committed? To sending me flowers?”

“Damn fucking right.”

This is so fucking dangerous. Y/n, you know better. What the hell are you doing? Put the damn phone down and go shower, eat, watch a movie. Or go back to sleep. But she’s so damn cute. And sweet. And flirty, And…no don’t even go there.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

You saw those three little dots appear and then disappear. Finally, they reappeared a few seconds later. “I told you I’d show you how beautiful you are and I’ll send you flowers everyday to prove it.”

“Please don’t do that.”

“Did I make you uncomfortable? I really hope I didn’t.”

“No, it doesn't make me uncomfortable at all. I just don’t understand why you’re so dedicated when we just met.”

“Honestly? I’m trying to figure it out bc it’s not a fucking secret that you’re my celebrity crush and I fucking like you.”

“Definitely not a secret.”

“And I can tell you’re like trying to push me away.”

“You make it really hard to do that.”

“Don’t push me away. You’re like the first girl I’ve been this invested in this quickly.”

Your body practically shuddered at her words and those familiar feelings of butterflies began to stir deep within you. Everything about Paige seemed to be too perfect, as if something was gonna go wrong or she was gonna say something wrong. Before you had the chance to respond, Paige texts you again.

“I wanna see you, princess.”

“See me?”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Of course you were nervous about meeting her in person. Who wouldn’t be?

Paige’s text came back within two seconds. “Scared you’re gonna like me?”

“Never said that.”

“I’ll see you in Hartford, princess.”

#paige bueckers #uconn #uconn wbb #paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers x oc #uconn huskies #wcbb

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fanfictionismyaddiction · 6 days ago

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Threes a Formula

Word count: 2.9k

Summary: During a high-energy race weekend, Y/n, beloved in the paddock for her behind-the-scenes content and a lively interviews, captures the attention of both fans and the Wolff family as Mercedes clinches a 1-2 finish; celebrations unfold and emotions run high.

Pairing: Toto Wolff x Susie Wolff x Nanny!reader

Masterlist

Warnings: fluff in the beginning. Later; 18+, cursing, age gap relationship, smut, Daddy kink, Mommy kink.

Ch.1 Ch.2 Ch.3 Ch.5

_________________________________________________

Chapter 4: A Place to Belong

The hum of engines filled the air as the pre-race buzz intensified on the grid. Y/n, dressed in a chic Mercedes jacket paired with white sneakers, was soaking in the atmosphere, her smile as radiant as the morning sun. She had been a regular face in the paddock for over a year now, capturing behind-the-scenes moments and supporting the Wolff family with her charm and warmth.

On her hip sat little Jack Wolff, his miniature Mercedes cap slightly askew as he clutched his favorite toy race car. He was taking it all in with wide, curious eyes, his other arm wrapped securely around Y/n’s neck.

As Y/n paused to take a quick picture for her social media, she heard a familiar voice behind her.

“Ah, there they are—Y/n L/n and the youngest Wolff himself!”

Turning around, Y/n found herself face-to-face with Martin Brundle, his microphone at the ready and a cheeky grin on his face. Susie, just a few steps behind, waved warmly, clearly heading their way.

“Oh, no,” Y/n laughed, holding up her free hand in mock protest while steadying Jack with the other. “You’ve caught me off guard, Martin!”

“Caught off guard? Never! You look ready for the spotlight,” Martin quipped. “Mind if I steal a moment of your time for a quick chat?”

Y/n hesitated, glancing at Susie, who gave her an encouraging nod before stepping up beside her.

“Why not?” Y/n said finally, adjusting Jack’s cap with a soft smile. “I suppose it’s my turn now.”

Martin’s grin widened. “Perfect! Now, Y/n, you’ve been a bit of a sensation since you joined the Wolff family. Tell me, how did you end up in this whirlwind world of F1?”

Y/n chuckled. “It’s been quite the journey, honestly. I applied for a nanny position, thinking I’d just help out with Jack, and somehow I ended up here—traveling to races, meeting incredible people, and being thrown into the deep end of motorsport. I didn’t expect it, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

“And you’ve become a fan favorite, might I add,” Martin continued. “Your behind-the-scenes content has given fans a unique perspective on the Wolffs and life in the paddock. What’s been your favorite moment so far?”

She paused, bouncing Jack slightly as he started fiddling with her jacket zipper. “That’s a tough one. I think it’s the little things, honestly. Watching Jack light up when Lewis or George takes a moment to say hello, or seeing Toto and Susie celebrate a win together—it reminds me that this sport is about people, not just cars and races.”

“Well said,” Martin replied, clearly impressed. “And speaking of inspiring moments, Susie, I can’t let you slip away without a word about F1 Academy. You’ve been championing it passionately—how’s the journey going?”

Susie stepped closer, her confidence radiating. “It’s been incredible, Martin. F1 Academy is about opening doors for young female drivers and showing the world their talent and determination. Today, we’re focusing on visibility—getting people talking, watching, and supporting these amazing athletes. It’s more than a race; it’s a movement, and I’m so proud to be part of it.”

Martin nodded approvingly. “A fantastic initiative. And Y/n, I hear you’ve been doing your part to keep the Wolff household well-fed. Is there a secret to winning over a team principal?”

Y/n laughed, her cheeks flushing as Jack giggled on her hip. “If there is, I haven’t figured it out yet! But I will say, Toto does have a sweet tooth, so I might have bribed him with a few batches of cookies here and there.”

“I think you’ve just revealed Toto’s weakness to the world,” Martin teased, making the crowd around them chuckle.

“Oops,” Y/n joked, pretending to zip her lips.

As the interview wrapped up, Martin leaned in conspiratorially. “Last question—if you had to pick a driver to support on race day, who would it be?”

Y/n smiled slyly. “Now, Martin, you’re not getting me into trouble with that one. I support the team, always.”

“Well dodged,” he said, shaking his head with a laugh. “Y/n L/n and Susie Wolff, everyone—a dynamic duo and paddock favorites. And, of course, let’s not forget Jack!”

Jack grinned and waved his toy car at the camera, earning a round of “aww”s from those nearby.

As Martin moved on to his next target, Y/n exhaled in relief, a playful grin still on her face. From the garage, Toto caught her eye, giving her a small thumbs-up, and Susie leaned in with a wink.

“Not bad for your first grid interview,” Susie whispered.

“Not bad at all,” Y/n murmured, bouncing Jack on her hip.

As Y/n and Susie strolled further down the grid, the energy around them buzzed with excitement. Team members and drivers mingled, cameras flashed, and engines roared to life in the background. Jack wiggled on Y/n’s hip, pointing toward one of the Mercedes cars parked in its slot.

“Look, Y/n! Uncle Lewis’s car!” he exclaimed, his voice full of awe.

Y/n smiled at Jack's enthusiasm. “You have a good eye, buddy. Should we go say hi if he’s around?”

Susie chuckled. “I’m sure Lewis won’t mind his biggest fan dropping by for a visit.”

As they approached the garage, Lewis appeared, stepping out from a conversation with his engineers. Dressed in his race suit and sporting his signature sunglasses, he spotted Jack immediately. A broad smile spread across his face as he walked over.

“Jack! My man!” Lewis crouched down to Jack’s level, ruffling his hair gently. “Ready to watch me race today?”

Jack nodded excitedly, holding up his toy car. “I’m gonna race, too, one day! Like you!”

“I believe it,” Lewis replied warmly, giving him a fist bump. He glanced up at Y/n. “And Y/n, you’re holding down the fort, as always.”

“Trying my best,” she teased. “Though this one keeps me on my toes.”

“Sounds familiar,” Toto’s voice interjected, drawing their attention. He approached with his usual commanding presence, though his expression softened as he looked at Y/n and Jack. “Am I interrupting?” he asked, his tone teasing.

“Not at all,” Lewis replied, standing. “But I think Jack’s stealing all the attention on the grid today. Watch out, Toto—he might be gunning for my job next.”

Toto laughed, reaching over to straighten Jack’s cap. “If he wants it, he’ll have to fight you for it. How’s my little troublemaker doing?”

“Good!” Jack said, wriggling to be held by his father. Toto took him with ease, holding him close. Jack leaned into Toto’s shoulder, clearly comfortable.

Y/n stepped back slightly, brushing her hands together as she smiled at the scene. She caught Lewis’s eye, and he gave her a knowing look.

“Cute family moment,” he said under his breath, just loud enough for her to hear.

Y/n’s cheeks flushed, but she quickly brushed it off. “It’s a team effort,” she replied, her voice light.

Before Lewis could respond, George Russell approached, his helmet in hand. “Are we having a family reunion over here?” he joked, nodding at the group.

“Just making sure Jack doesn’t upstage us all,” Y/n quipped, earning a laugh from George.

The conversation continued for a few minutes, with Y/n seamlessly navigating the playful banter between Lewis, George, and Toto. Susie, standing nearby, watched with an amused smile, clearly enjoying the dynamic.

As the drivers were called away for final preparations, Toto turned to Y/n, his expression softening. “Thanks for keeping him entertained. It’s not easy being on the grid with so much going on.”

Y/n shrugged, her smile warm. “He’s a natural. Besides, it’s all part of the job, right? Besides I had practiced by now. i know how this goes.” She smiles over to him.

Toto hesitated for a moment, his gaze lingering on her. “You do far more than just the job, Y/n. Susie and I both see that.”

Susie stepped up, nodding in agreement. “He’s right. We couldn’t ask for anyone better to be part of this crazy life with us.”

The sincerity in their words caught Y/n off guard, and for a moment, she didn’t know how to respond. “Thank you,” she said softly, her voice almost lost amidst the roar of the engines.

Toto gave her a small, reassuring smile. “Now, let’s find your spot to watch the race. Jack needs to cheer extra loud today.”

As the group made their way to the Mercedes hospitality suite, Y/n couldn’t shake the warmth spreading through her chest.

______________________________________________________________

The hospitality suite buzzed with energy as Y/n, Susie, and Jack settled in to watch the race. Y/n had her phone out, snapping candid shots of Jack playing with his toy car and the gorgeous view of the circuit below. She posted a photo of Jack pointing to the track with the caption: Our little race strategist in the making.

“Alright, Jack,” Y/n said with a grin. “How about we do one of those TikTok trends while we wait for the lights out?”

Jack’s face lit up, and Susie laughed. “You and your trends, Y/n. What’s on the menu this time?”

“I’m thinking something fun and easy. Maybe the ‘This or That’ filter?” Y/n said, already pulling up the app. She positioned Jack in front of her phone’s camera while Susie leaned in, both of them laughing as Jack tried to mimic the moves Y/n showed him.

“Okay, ready? Smile for the start!” Y/n instructed as the filter began, asking questions like ‘Hot weather or cold weather?’ and ‘Speed or strategy?’. Jack’s exaggerated expressions and Susie’s playful answers made the video a hit even before she posted it.

After recording, Y/n edited a short clip for Instagram, captioning it: Race day fun with the Wolff crew—Jack’s taking his job as chief strategist very seriously!

As the race began, Toto was entirely in his zone. His eyes were glued to the screens, his headset on, giving rapid-fire instructions to the team. The tension in the room rose with every lap, but Y/n, Susie, and Jack stayed relaxed, cheering for Lewis and George as they climbed through the field.

Y/n found herself snapping more photos for her Story: Jack eating a snack while watching the race, Susie’s proud smile as Mercedes pulled ahead, and a shot of the circuit glowing under the bright afternoon sun. The final caption read: Electric vibes today! Let’s go, Mercedes!

The race reached its thrilling conclusion with a spectacular 1-2 finish for Mercedes, Lewis taking the win and George securing second. The room erupted into cheers, and Jack jumped up and down with excitement, his tiny hands clapping wildly.

“Papa’s team did it!” Jack exclaimed, his eyes sparkling as he hugged Y/n.

“They sure did, buddy!” Y/n said, scooping him up as Susie joined in the celebration.

Moments later, Toto stormed into the suite, his usual composed demeanor replaced by pure, unfiltered joy. His grin was wide, his eyes shining as he made a beeline for his family. He embraced Susie tightly before turning to Jack and lifting him high into the air.

“You saw that, didn’t you, my boy?” Toto said, his voice thick with pride. Jack giggled and nodded enthusiastically.

Then Toto’s attention shifted to Y/n. Without hesitation, he pulled her into the hug, wrapping one arm securely around her shoulders. Y/n froze for a second, caught off guard by the closeness. But the warmth and energy of the moment swept her up, and she relaxed, smiling as Toto held all of them together.

When the crowd’s focus shifted elsewhere—toward Lewis and George celebrating on the podium—Toto’s hand lingered on Y/n’s back, sliding slightly lower than appropriate. She stiffened, her heart skipping a beat, unsure if it was accidental or intentional.

It took her a moment to process what was happening. When Toto’s grip tightened slightly, his fingers resting just on the curve of her waist, a wave of heat rushed through her. She glanced up, meeting his gaze. His expression remained calm, though there was an unmistakable flicker of something in his eyes—something Y/n wasn’t sure how to interpret.

Despite the shock, she didn’t pull away. Instead, she let herself lean into his embrace, her thoughts racing. The contact felt…nice, comforting even. It wasn’t until Susie called out to Toto, teasing him about hogging the family moment, that he finally released her, his hand returning to a more appropriate position.

As the podium celebration began and champagne sprayed across the stage, Y/n couldn’t help but steal a glance at Toto. He was back to his composed self, congratulating the team with his usual poise. But the lingering touch stayed with her, and she found herself wondering what it meant.

______________________________________________________________

As the celebrations continued into the evening, the Mercedes hospitality area transformed into a hub of elation. Y/n captured the essence of the moment through her phone, snapping candid photos and videos for her Instagram.

One post featured George and Lewis spraying champagne at each other in the garage, the caption reading: This team knows how to win in style. Another showed Jack sitting proudly on Toto’s shoulders, holding a miniature trophy replica while Y/n wrote: Our little champ stole the spotlight!

By the time the post-race buzz began to fade, Susie approached Y/n with a soft smile. “You’ve been amazing today, Y/n. Thank you for keeping Jack entertained—and us, honestly,” she said with a laugh. “Toto and I are heading out with the team to celebrate. Do you mind staying back with Jack?”

“Of course not,” Y/n replied, adjusting Jack’s hat as he clutched her hand. “We’ll have our own little party, won’t we, Jack?”

“Yeah! Pizza and cartoons!” Jack said excitedly, making Y/n laugh.

“Perfect plan,” she agreed. Susie gave her a grateful nod before leaving to join Toto, who was already rounding up the team for drinks.

Back at the suite, Y/n and Jack settled into a cozy routine. After ordering room service, they shared a small pizza, Jack delighting in picking off all the olives while Y/n laughed at his antics. She recorded a short video of him spinning in circles, his arms stretched out as he pretended to be a race car. The caption read: Driver of the day: Jack Wolff!

Once dinner was over, Y/n got Jack into his pajamas, reading him a bedtime story about a brave little boy who dreamed of becoming a race car driver. His eyelids grew heavier with each word, and soon he was fast asleep, snuggled against his favorite stuffed animal.

Y/n quietly tidied up and sat on the balcony for a moment, letting the cool night air wash over her. The city lights sparkled in the distance, and the faint sounds of laughter from the team’s celebration reached her ears. ______________________________________________________________

It was past midnight when the door to the suite opened, and Susie and Toto stumbled in, laughter spilling out into the quiet space. Y/n looked up from the kitchen counter, surprised to see the usually composed duo completely drunk and far more relaxed than she had ever seen them.

“Toto, shh!” Susie whispered—though it was anything but quiet—pressing a finger to his lips while she tried to stifle her giggles. “Jack’s asleep!”

Toto’s grin widened as he stumbled slightly, catching himself against the doorframe. “Right. Quiet. Like ninjas,” he said in a mock-serious tone, which only made Susie laugh harder.

Y/n couldn’t help but chuckle. “Looks like you two had a fun night.”

“It was amazing!” Susie declared, her cheeks flushed as she sauntered over to Y/n, draping an arm around her shoulders with far less reserve than usual. “Everyone’s on top of the world. Y/n, you should’ve been there. We missed you.”

“You’re too kind,” Y/n replied softly, steadying Susie as she leaned into her. “I had my own party here with Jack—pizza, cartoons, and a bedtime story.”

“And you made it all look effortless,” Susie said, her voice dropping into something more intimate, her gaze lingering on Y/n’s face. “You’re incredible. We don’t deserve you.”

“Speak for yourself,” Toto added, his deep voice drawing Y/n’s attention. He stood just behind Susie, his tall frame leaning against the counter, watching her with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine. “I knew from the moment we hired you that you were special.”

Y/n’s cheeks burned under the weight of his stare, but before she could respond, Susie turned her fully toward her, both hands gripping Y/n’s arms gently. “We love you, you know that, right?” Susie’s words were slightly slurred, but her sincerity shone through.

Y/n smiled, though her heart pounded in her chest. “I love you guys too.”

Susie’s smile deepened as she stepped closer, her hands sliding down Y/n’s arms. “No, I mean, we really love you,” she murmured, her tone low, her eyes flickering between Y/n’s lips and her own hand, now brushing Y/n’s waist.

Y/n barely had time to process Susie’s words before Toto closed the distance, his towering presence engulfing the space. “She’s not just amazing,” Toto said, his voice lower now, almost a growl. He reached out, his hand brushing the side of Y/n’s neck. “She’s… everything.”

Y/n’s breath hitched as Toto’s thumb lingered against her skin. Susie stepped in closer, her fingers lightly tracing Y/n’s waist, her expression soft yet filled with desire. The air between them was thick, charged with an electricity Y/n had never felt before.

Susie leaned in first, her lips grazing Y/n’s cheek before moving lower toward the corner of her mouth. “You’ve been so good to us,” she whispered. “We want to be good to you too.”

Toto’s hand slid to the small of Y/n’s back, pulling her closer to him. His lips were near her ear as he murmured, “Tell us if this is too much, Y/n. We’ll stop.” ______________________________________________________________ @pand-de-pandora-blog @wonderwolffs @laura-naruto-fan1998 @strangegirl974 @totothewolff @xoscar03 @noooway555 @myescapefromthislife @omgsuperstarg @laur2608 @bisexual-babygirl-mj @cherry-piee @jkdaddy01

#fanfiction #reader insert #fanfic #f1 fanfic #f1 #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #fluff #toto wolff #toto wolff x reader #susie x toto x reader #susie wolff x reader #susie wolff #totowolff #f1 x female reader #f1 x y/n #mercedes amg f1

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ssa-dado · 2 months ago

Text

19 - Push & Pull

Aaron Hotchner x bau!fem!reader Genre: slow burn, whump, fluff Summary: Everything that happens in 3x2 - the good, the bad, the ugly, what you see and especially what you don't see. Warnings: themes of suicide, non-consensual sexual encounters, infidelity, alcohol, physical violence that feels like the filthiest smut, CM case details, P***r gets mentioned Word Count: 21k - you can start feisting now Dado's Corner: Despite the fact that a good third of this chapter was fever-fueled - yes, I'm still a helpless victorian child rotting in bed - this has to be my favorite in the series. The complexity, the blend of themes, the highs and lows… It was an emotional rollercoaster to write. Please tell me I didn't waste your time and show me some love because I'm never writing such a long chapter like this ever again. Honestly, it was challenging on every level, but I could say, I'm satisfied about how it turned out.

masterlist

Gideon, your mentor, was unraveling.

His office had turned into a reflection of his mind: cluttered, chaotic, littered with unfinished reports, half-eaten meals, and newspapers strewn like remnants of thoughts he couldn’t quite piece together. The deep shadows beneath his eyes grew darker with each sunrise, his sharp instincts dulled by an overwhelming sense of doubt that he wore like a second skin.

It was Reid, in his quiet, persistent way, who seemed to keep Gideon tethered to the here and now. Every night, after the bullpen had emptied and the hum of activity quieted, Reid would slip into Gideon’s office with his well-worn chessboard.

No words were needed between them - Reid would simply set up the pieces, and they’d play, the clink of pawns and knights the only sound breaking the stillness.

Sometimes, Reid would ramble on about obscure facts, statistics, or philosophical musings - trying, in his own way, to coax Gideon out of the fog.

And sometimes, it even worked.

Gideon would nod, listening, though his eyes were always distant, like his mind was trapped in some other place, some other time.

You noticed it all.

You saw the way Gideon was slipping further into himself, withdrawing into a shell built from old scars and fresh wounds, and despite your own burdens - the ceaseless grind of paperwork, the weight of decision-making - you couldn’t help but stay.

Late into the night, you’d linger in his office, your own files spread out on the corner of his desk as they played chess in the background.

It wasn’t planned.

No one spoke of it.

But the three of you were drawn together by the silence, by the shared weariness that seemed to fill the room. There was a strange, unspoken bond forged in those long hours, a quiet understanding that didn’t need words.

One particularly late night, you noticed Gideon had barely touched his dinner.

A dry sandwich sat untouched on his desk, the wrapper barely peeled back. His gaze was fixed on the chessboard, but you could tell he wasn’t really seeing it.

Across from him, Reid spoke softly but quickly, his usual stream of physics trivia flowing in a rapid, soothing rhythm. As much as you wanted to follow along, the complexity of it eluded you, your focus drifting instead to Gideon.

He wasn’t listening to Reid either.

Not really.

His gaze flickered toward the younger profiler as if searching for something in him - a reflection, a glimpse of the man he used to be. It was as if Gideon believed that, if he looked long enough, he might find in Reid the younger version of himself - the idealist who still found meaning in the smallest details, who once believed in the unshakable rightness of the work.

That’s when you decided it was time to lighten the mood, if only a little.

Without a word, you began rummaging through your bag, searching for the small box you always carried for nights like these.

It wasn’t much, but it was something.

Finally, your fingers closed around it - a box of espresso-filled chocolate truffles.

You pulled it out and placed it on the table between them, the soft rustle of the box breaking the silence. Both Gideon and Reid looked up from the chessboard, their attention caught by the unexpected offering.

“Thought we could use a pick-me-up,” you said, giving them a small smile. "Chocolate, sugar, caffeine, all the essentials.”

Reid’s eyes lit up immediately, his love for sweets rivaling his encyclopedic knowledge. Without hesitation, he reached for one, already unwrapping it before you even finished speaking.

“Just be careful,” you cautioned, watching him with amusement. “Make sure to eat it all in one bite, the center is-”

Too late.

Reid bit into the truffle with enthusiasm, only for a stream of espresso to spill out, running down his chin and splattering onto his shirt. His eyes went wide with surprise, his fingers frozen mid-bite as the liquid dripped onto him.

You stifled a laugh, raising an eyebrow as you glanced over at Gideon, who had paused, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “-liquid,” you finished, a little too late, but the playful tone wasn’t lost on either of them.

Reid blinked down at the mess, flustered. “I… should’ve listened,” he muttered, grabbing a napkin as you chuckled softly.

For the first time in days, Gideon let out a genuine laugh—the sound warm and rich, cutting through the tension that had gripped the office for weeks.

It was contagious, and soon you found yourself laughing too, shaking your head at Reid, who was frantically dabbing at his shirt with a napkin. “Well,” you teased, trying to suppress your grin, “at least now you get a second truffle, Reid.”

Reid shot you an exasperated look but reached for another anyway, this time more cautiously. He ate it in one swift motion, nodding with appreciation at the taste.

As the laughter faded, Gideon leaned back in his chair, still smiling softly. “I have to say, it’s nice being included in you and Hotch’s little long-lived tradition,” he remarked, his tone light but carrying an edge of nostalgia.

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. “It’s not a tradition, Gideon. Just an act of kindness.”

His smile grew, though weariness hung at the edges. “Sure, but you and Hotch have always had your... gestures. I’ve seen it over the years.”

Feigning offense, you shot him a playful glare. “Are you accusing me of being too nice?”

Gideon chuckled, shaking his head. “Not at all. But there’s always been something different between you two. Even in the quiet moments, you’ve had each other’s backs in ways that most people couldn’t even see. It’s unusual, how quickly he let his guard down with you.”

You deflected with a smirk. “Well, I was the only one slipping him chocolate across the desk. If you or Rossi had tried, maybe you’d have broken through that wall too.”

He didn’t laugh this time, his voice lowering slightly. “It’s not just about the chocolate...”

You knew exactly what Gideon meant, the weight of his words hanging in the air between you, but thankfully, before you could respond, Reid - oblivious to the underlying tension - cut through the moment. “Gideon, your move,” he said, eyes still fixed on the chessboard.

And just like that, you saw it - the way Gideon’s focus shifted, retreating inward.

His face darkened, leaving behind a man questioning everything: the cases, his instincts, his very place in the team.

Your heart clenched.

This was the man who had taught you to trust your gut, to peel back the layers of darkness in others to find the truth, that had brought you right where you belonged. He’d been your mentor, the one who shaped you into the profiler you had become. And now, watching him crumble, piece by piece, felt like losing something vital, a part of yourself that had always drawn strength from him.

And so, you stayed.

You overstayed your office hours, finishing your paperwork in Gideon’s office instead of Hotch’s. It wasn’t a solution, but it was something.

And Reid, with his boundless loyalty stayed too, playing chess with Gideon night after night, keeping him tethered to the world for just a little longer.

But as the days passed, you saw it, every time you caught him staring off into the distance, you knew he was drifting further into the abyss.

In those two weeks, you did everything you could to hold him together.

You brought more truffles, more late-night conversations, more quiet companionship. But you knew, no matter how much you tried to anchor him, he was already gone - retreating into the darkness of his own making.

But you stayed anyway, because that’s what you and Hotch had always done for each other. And even though Hotch wasn’t there, you carried on the tradition.

Because that’s what partners do.

---

As the weight of the last night as Unit Chief night pressed on, your phone buzzed in your pocket.

You already knew who it was before you glanced at the screen.

Peter.

You sighed softly, your thumb lingering over the screen for a moment.

“I’ll be back in a second,” you said, quietly excusing yourself as you stood from Gideon’s desk. Reid and Gideon were still staring intently at the chessboard, though Reid’s eyes flickered up to meet yours when you moved toward the door.

He gave you a questioning glance, and without saying a word, you lifted the chain around your neck, revealing the engagement ring you always kept there. You gave it a playful swing, making a mock-embarrassed face, knowing full well they understood why Peter was calling so late.

“Trouble at home?” Gideon teased, his voice soft but filled with implication. He knew the tension between you and Peter had been simmering lately.

You forced a smile. "Just the usual check-in,” you said, stepping out into the hall, feeling the weight of their eyes on your back.

As soon as you closed the door behind you, you answered the call. "Pete, I know what you're going to say," you began, leaning against the wall, trying to keep your tone measured, but your exhaustion was seeping through.

"And you know why I’m calling," Peter’s voice was tense, irritated. "You’ve been in the office for days now. When are you coming home?”

"I’m still here because of Gideon,” you said, your voice dropping as you glanced back toward the door. “I’ve told you this before. He's not... he's not doing well, Peter. He needs someone keeping an eye on him."

There was a pause on the other end of the line. "He’s a grown man, Y/N. Gideon’s been through a lot, but you can’t babysit him. He’s a legend in the field, you really think-"

"I’m not babysitting him," you interrupted, your voice sharper than you intended. "I’m making sure he doesn’t fall apart. You don’t know what he’s been like these past few weeks. He’s barely eating, barely sleeping. You worked with him too, you should understand how serious this is."

Peter sighed, the sound heavy and tired. "You know I worked with Gideon for years, but you’re acting like it’s your job to save him. What about us? What about our life?"

You pressed your lips together, feeling the familiar sting of guilt rise sharply in your chest. "Pete, I’ve seen this before. I know the signs." The words were quiet but filled with a heaviness that made your throat tighten. "When someone stops caring, stops trying... and then, if they suddenly seem calm, peaceful even, it’s because they’ve already made their choice."

There was a heavy silence on the other end, the kind that seemed to stretch into forever, the kind that made you wish he would say anything - anything but what you knew was coming. Peter’s voice cut through the quiet, blunt, almost cold. "Y/N, you can’t save everyone – especially when they’re not asking for your help in the first place."

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, cold and final, the truth of them sharp but unwelcome. Your breath caught in your chest, and for a moment, even the bullpen across from you seemed too small. How could he say that? Didn’t he understand?

"I can’t just let it happen, Peter," you whispered, your voice breaking, the pain barely held back. "I won’t."

His frustration seeped through the line, thick and undeniable. "You always do this, Y/N. You get too involved. If you couldn’t control it in your own home, then what makes you think you can with Gideon? You can’t keep carrying this guilt with you everywhere you go."

His words were biting, an ultimatum thinly veiled as concern. "You need to come home. It’s past midnight, Y/N. This isn’t even your responsibility anymore. Hotch is back as Unit Chief, so stop clinging to this. You’re supposed to be going back to the Academy, back to teaching. You need to remember where you belong, because this - " he paused, letting the weight of the moment hang between you, "this needs to end. Everything’s supposed to go back to normal."

"Back to normal?" you echoed, the bitterness of the words catching in your throat.

As if the past few weeks could be erased.

As if Gideon spiraling wasn’t your concern anymore.

As if you hadn’t been holding everything together, here and at home.

But most of all, as if the cracks in your own life could just be mended overnight.

You sighed, exhaustion settling deep into your bones, making your shoulders sag. "Alright, Pete. Just... give me some time. Let me say goodbye, and I’ll come home. I promise."

There was a brief pause on the other end, a moment where you almost expected him to soften, to understand. But when Peter spoke again, his voice was colder, sharper. "Fine. But don’t take too long. And remember, I love you, okay? I’m doing this for you. You should be grateful I put up with this, most men wouldn’t."

The words stung, but you were too tired to react, too worn down to really let them sink in. "I am… sorry... I love you, too."

"Good," he replied, and there was an edge of something dark there, something you couldn’t quite touch in the moment. "And when you come home, don’t say you’re tired. You’ll find a better way to apologize, won’t you?"

Before you could respond, the line went dead, leaving you standing in the dim light of Gideon’s office. The ache of everything unsaid, everything unresolved, tightened in your chest, but you pushed it down. You had to. There was no space for that kind of pain right now.

With a deep breath, you steadied yourself and walked back toward Gideon’s office. When you pushed the door open, you found them right where you’d left them, both hunched over the chessboard, though they looked up almost in unison when you stepped in. There was an unspoken awareness in the room, like they could sense the shift in your mood before you’d even said a word.

Reid offered a small, tentative smile before glancing back at the chessboard, his brow furrowing as though trying to solve a puzzle. Gideon, on the other hand, didn’t speak right away. His fingers were idly tapping the edge of the board. It wasn’t until you approached the desk that he finally broke the silence.

“Everything sorted?” he asked, his voice soft, though he didn’t look up, as if giving you space to decide how much you wanted to share.

“More or less,” you replied, trying to keep your tone light. You lingered near the desk for a moment before continuing, your voice a little quieter now. “Just... wanted to say goodbye before I head out.”

That made him pause.

Gideon’s head lifted, his sharp, discerning eyes narrowing as he locked onto yours. It was as if he could see right through you, past the walls you were so desperately trying to keep up. His gaze softened, but it was Reid’s reaction that caught you off guard, that really hit you.

Reid’s eyes widened in genuine surprise, as though the reality of your departure had only just dawned on him. “You’re... leaving?” His voice was soft, almost childlike in its sadness, like he couldn’t quite believe it, but it was the rawness in his tone that caught you off guard.

You weren’t sure what hurt more: the way his question lingered in the air, fragile and aching, or the fact that you hadn’t truly accepted it yourself until that very moment.

You nodded, forcing a light smile despite the tightness in your chest. “Yeah, but don’t worry. Hotch will be here in seconds. Knowing him, he’s probably already waiting for me in the elevator, like we’re two Swiss guards changing shifts.” You tried to make it sound casual, but even the humor felt bittersweet. “You won’t be alone here for long.”

Gideon’s chuckle lingered in the air. “Oh, don’t I know it. You two,” he began, his tone tinged with something deeper now, “like some inevitable force of nature. You’re out here burning the midnight oil, and Hotch... he’s already pulling the sun back up. It’s funny, really. Like the two of you are stuck in some cosmic dance. Push, pull. Night and day.”

You couldn’t help but smile, though his words stirred something heavier inside you. “Hey,” you teased lightly, trying to brush off the weight of it, “we balanced each other out.”

“Balanced? You two were an overworking disaster,” Gideon said with a smirk, leaning back in his chair, his tone light but his eyes reflective. “The only relief was seeing you separately this time around.”

He paused, his expression softening, becoming more contemplative. “It reminds me of something from one of Heraclitus’ fragments: ‘The way up and the way down are one and the same.’ That’s what you and Hotch are, not just balance, but two sides of the same journey. You push him deep into the night, and he pulls you back into the day. It’s not just about working together - it’s about how you exist together. Two halves of one whole.”

He glanced at you with a knowing smile. “That kind of partnership... it’s rare. Don’t ever take it for granted.”

And then his mind drifted to more than ten years prior, back when he stood before his class on that first day, the low hum of shuffling papers and whispers settling into silence as he prepared to speak suddenly all came back to him – now.

In his first class there was a routine he had mastered - a careful choreography of words and images designed to unsettle the students, make them question the very foundations of their understanding. These future profilers, most of them ex-cops, were here to learn to see beyond the obvious.

And what better way to start than with a puzzle they wouldn’t expect?

He clicked the projector, and Heraclitus appeared on the screen - his shadowed face staring out from antiquity. The image was his favorite weapon, a portrait of philosophy’s "dark" and "obscure" mind, someone no one in this room was likely to recognize.

It was an intimidation tactic, plain and simple.

The baffled faces around the room were predictable, a symphony of confusion and unease. Gideon could feel the atmosphere shift as students glanced nervously at one another, trying to decipher what that unknown face had to do with the world of behavioral analysis.

But then, in the front row, there was something Gideon hadn’t expected.

A single discordant note in his well-rehearsed composition: a smile.

It came from you.

Gideon’s focus narrowed, his routine thrown ever so slightly off course.

Who was this young student, barely old enough to be in the Academy, wearing an expression of recognition?

Not confusion, not fear, but understanding.

It was unsettling, rare - intriguing. He couldn’t help himself. His curiosity got the better of him, and he went off script.

“What’s so funny about that picture?” Gideon asked, his voice sharper than intended, but charged with genuine interest.

All eyes turned to you, the youngest in the room. For a moment, the room held its breath, waiting for the usual nervous fumbling.

But you didn’t falter.

Instead, you met Gideon’s gaze, confident and steady.

“That’s Heraclitus,” you said, your voice clear, unmistakably sure of itself.

The simple statement landed like a lightning strike in the room. Gideon raised an eyebrow, impressed but still testing. “And what exactly do you find so amusing about Heraclitus?”

Leaning forward slightly, your excitement bubbled beneath your measured tone. “Heraclitus, the ‘Obscure,’ the philosopher of contradictions and paradox. No one expects philosophy in a behavioral analysis class, but he fits perfectly”

Gideon’s lips twitched in the faintest hint of a smile, though he masked it quickly. "Go on," he said, his tone a challenge.

You straightened in your seat, your eyes meeting his."Heraclitus also talked about the unity of opposites, how things that seem in conflict are actually interdependent. ‘The way up and the way down are one and the same,’ he said. It’s like the way we study both victims and unsubs in this field. They seem like opposites, but understanding one helps us understand the other. Just as pain and joy, light and dark, can’t exist without each other, neither can the criminal and the victim in our analysis. They’re part of the same story, the same journey."

Gideon felt a rare flicker of pride - not for himself, but for the potential sitting in front of him. You weren’t just reciting textbook philosophy; you were applying it, weaving it into the very fabric of the discipline you were there to learn.

And you weren’t done yet. Of course, you couldn’t resist - you had to link it to one of your all-time favorite philosophers. You leaned forward, a glint of excitement in your eyes.

"Even Hegel was profoundly influenced by Heraclitus. He said that there wasn’t a single proposition of Heraclitus that he hadn’t adopted in his own logic. Heraclitus' idea of 'becoming,' the flux between being and non-being, deeply influenced Hegel’s dialectic. It’s similar to what we see in criminal behavior - the constant push and pull between identity, choices, and circumstances. It’s never just one thing, it’s always in motion, always evolving."

That was the first time Gideon’s never-failing intimidation tactic had faltered, the only other time it would happen again would be years later, with Spencer Reid.

Heraclitus had marked your first interaction, a bridge between minds.

And now, as he watched you walk toward the elevator for what would unknowingly be your final moment together, Gideon couldn’t help but reflect on the strange symmetry of it all.

Heraclitus - the philosopher of change, of things never staying the same - had also marked your last exchange.

It felt fitting, like the end of a cycle, the completion of a journey.

In that instant, as you turned your back, unaware of the farewell lingering in the air, Gideon felt something unexpected - peace.

A peace that had eluded him for so long, now settled quietly in his chest.

He had done it.

He had left something behind, something more enduring than cases closed or criminals caught.

You.

Spencer.

His legacy.

Not just students, not just colleagues, but two minds shaped by the very philosophy that had shaped him: always seeking, always questioning, always flowing with the deeper currents of human behavior.

Suddenly he was no longer burdened by the weight of leaving. He could let go now, because he would never be truly gone – because his presence, his wisdom, lived on in both of you.

In your intellect, your understanding, in the way you would carry on the work with your own brilliance and compassion. You were the continuation of the journey, just as Heraclitus had once said: the way up and the way down are one and the same.

He had done his part.

Peaceful.

Grateful.

And finally free.

Today was the day.

The day Aaron had both longed for and dreaded in equal measure.

Every action since the moment he opened his eyes had been deliberate, as if each small motion was preparing him for the weight of the hours ahead. His body was already drained, conserving what little energy remained for the mental battle he knew was coming. It was like walking in slow motion, bracing himself for the inevitable.

Haley moved quietly around the table, as if she could feel the tension radiating from him without a word spoken. She handed him a fresh cup of coffee on the table, its dark aroma rising between them like a silent acknowledgement of what loomed.

Aaron ephemerally glanced up, offering her a smile - small, tired, and fleeting, the kind of smile that never quite reached his eyes. She didn’t need to ask; she already knew. The weight of the day sat between them, unspoken.

“Thanks, honey,” he murmured, his voice low and strained.

“Yep,” Haley replied simply, though her eyes lingered on him longer than usual, filled with quiet concern. She stepped behind him, resting her hands on his shoulders, applying a gentle pressure. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Aaron nodded, though it felt more like a reflex than an honest answer. His shoulders stiffened under her touch, his mind far away. He wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince her or himself. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Across the table, Jack was giggling as he tried to scoop cereal into his mouth, his little hands fumbling with the spoon. Kuna, the pine marten plushie, sat propped beside him as if it, too, was waiting for breakfast. Jack giggled again, offering the toy a bite of cereal as Aaron watched, feeling a pang of guilt mixed with love.

“You’re doing the right thing,” Haley said softly from behind him, her voice steady but with an undercurrent of certainty, as if she could sense the turmoil inside him.

Aaron nodded again, staring down into his coffee, his fingers tracing the edge of the cup. “I know,” he replied, though the words tasted hollow. He knew it, but he didn’t feel it. The decision he was about to make—requesting a transfer to Strauss—gnawed at him. He could hear her words ringing in his mind: “If it were solely up to me, you would never get these credentials back.”

It wasn’t just about work, though.

It was about purpose.

These last two weeks had been torture, not because he didn’t love spending time with his family, but because the stillness, the helplessness of suspension, had chipped away at him. Aaron was never the type to sit still.

His entire life had been built around momentum, around action.

These past weeks, he had felt himself slowly unraveling, checking in with you more often than necessary - not to oversee your work as interim Unit Chief, but because he missed it.

He missed the pulse of the job, the sense of purpose that came with it. He loved his family more than anything, but he couldn’t deny the restlessness eating away at him.

"Getting suspended was a blessing in disguise," Haley continued, her hands now gently massaging his tense shoulders. "We deserve a normal life."

Aaron took a slow breath, the words sinking in. He loved Haley, loved Jack, loved the idea of a normal life for them all. But was he even capable of that? Was "normal" ever really going to fit him? He felt the weight of her words more than ever, yet they didn’t soothe him like they should have.

"I love you," Aaron said quietly, turning his head slightly to meet Haley’s eyes, his tone filled with sincerity but also the unspoken conflict that still lingered beneath.

“I love you, too,” she replied, her hands slipping from his shoulders as she gave him a tender smile, though there was something unspoken between them as well. The past two weeks had been hard on both of them, in different ways.

Jack, unaware of the tension, looked up at his dad with a beaming smile. "Sok, Kuna!" he chirped, holding up his sippy cup toward the plushie, as though offering it juice.

Aaron blinked, caught off guard, before letting out a surprised laugh. He couldn’t believe it. His two-year-old son had just said a sentence - albeit a grammatically incorrect one - in Croatian. Aaron laughed, shaking his head in disbelief.

Aaron’s grin widened, the tension in his chest easing for just a moment. Of course, Jack would learn that word. You’d been playfully insisting on reading The Adventures of the Pine Marten in its original Croatian to Jack ever since you’d gifted him the book, mostly to humble him as usual.

At first, it had been a challenge, but after a few butchered attempts, Aaron had managed to learn a couple of basic words. “Sok,” which meant juice, and "Kuna," the name of the pine marten character, were the ones that stuck.

Aaron leaned forward, grinning at his son. “Kuna wants some juice too, huh, buddy?”

Jack, as if determined to correct his father, beamed and repeated, “Sok.”

Aaron couldn’t help but laugh again, shaking his head in disbelief. It was one of the few moments lately that lifted the dark cloud hovering over him. "Sok," he repeated with a grin. "Of course, Jack. Juice."

Haley, who had been watching the exchange with an amused but slightly exasperated expression, raised an eyebrow. “Did you tell her that Jack learned to say 'Kuna' before 'Dad'?”

Aaron groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. “Oh no, she can never know that. You think she’d ever let me live it down? I’d hear about it for the rest of my life.”

Haley smirked, shaking her head, though there was a subtle edge to her amusement. “Only your son could pick up two words in Croatian by the age of two. Seriously, do you even know how many words a two-year-old should know?”

Aaron didn’t hesitate, slipping into profiler mode as easily as breathing. "Between 100 and 500 words. So the fact that Jack knows even 0.5% of that in Croatian is... pretty impressive," he said, pride swelling in his chest.

Haley rolled her eyes, though her smile lingered. "Out of all the words, it’s 'Kuna' and 'sok.' You’re really proud of that, huh?"

Her words had a playful tone, but Aaron couldn’t help but notice the underlying frustration. It wasn’t the first time Haley had made comments like that. “That’s my fault, the only words I can actually pronounce are 'Kuna' and 'sok.'”

Haley let out a short laugh, but it had a bitter edge. “Out of all the bedtime stories you could read, you’re reading that Croatian book. Sometimes I wonder... I swear, Jack reminds me so much of you and her. If this keeps up, he’ll be in university by fifteen.”

Aaron laughed, though he could sense the underlying tension. "Hey, those words - 's,' 'k,' and 'n' - they’re great for his pronunciation. He’s got a head start." He ruffled Jack’s hair, feeling a surge of fatherly pride.

Haley gave him a look, half-joking but with an edge. "Are you going to be mad if Jack grows up to be a linguist instead of a lawyer like you?"

Aaron hesitated, his gaze drifting to Jack, who was happily babbling to his stuffed marten, Kuna. The thought tugged at his heart, and his mind inevitably wandered to you, at the profound impact you'd had on him, his life, and, in subtle ways, on his family.

You’d only met Jack twice, but your influence was undeniable.

It was woven into bedtime stories, casual conversations, even the way Jack’s eyes would light up at words in other languages.

Aaron spoke about you way too often, sharing stories of your time together, your intense passion for languages and philosophy - all those hours you spent digging deep into human nature and meaning.

He’d done it even when Jack was too young to understand, planting seeds that somehow, in his son’s little world, had started to bloom. He liked to imagine that some of your passion had seeped into Jack - through stories, through osmosis, through that connection he always felt when talking about you.

“I wouldn’t mind if Jack grew up to be a linguist like her,” Aaron said softly, a warm smile pulling at the corners of his mouth as he imagined Jack inheriting that same thirst for knowledge, that wide-eyed wonder at the world.

But then, a nagging thought tugged at him - Jack’s repeating words like “Kuna” and “sok” was innocent, even charming.

It was just a toddler picking up on the rhythm of language, right?!

But what if one day Jack started rattling off philosophical musings - your philosophical musings?

Aaron wasn’t sure he could handle that.

The thought of raising a mini-version of you was both amusing and daunting.

He adored you, truly, but he also knew how relentless you could be when it came to deep conversations. Would Jack grow up with that same fierce, intellectual curiosity? Aaron wasn’t surely ready for that, especially not from a toddler.

He chuckled softly, shaking his head, trying to imagine the future. “You know what I’d really be worried about?” he asked, his grin returning despite the weight still lingering in his chest. “If he starts talking about philosophy like her.” He smirked, a playful glint in his eyes as he glanced at Haley, trying to lighten the moment. "Can you imagine? My worst nightmare would be hearing my son say the name Plato."

Haley raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching into a knowing smile. "Oh, please. You love it when she starts talking about philosophy. Don’t act like you wouldn’t secretly be proud."

Aaron’s smile softened at that, his heart swelling with the truth of her words.

Of course, he would be proud.

Just like he was proud of everything Jack did - whether he followed in his footsteps or carved his own path.

But imagining his little boy spouting off Plato or Hegel at the dinner table, at two years old? That was another story.

Before Aaron could respond, Jack, as if sensing his father’s thoughts, piped up from his high chair with a grin. “Plat!”

Aaron’s eyes widened in shock, his heart skipping a beat.

There was no way.

Jack couldn’t possibly be saying Plato, could he?

"Kuna wants some more cereal on his plate?" Aaron asked quickly, trying to redirect the conversation, his voice a little too cheerful as he pointed to the bowl in front of Jack. "This is called a bowl, not a plate, buddy."

But Jack giggled, delighted by the attention, and in that mischievous, toddler way of his, he declared loudly once again, “Plat!”

Aaron glanced at Haley, who was now biting her lip to keep from laughing, and he realized he wasn’t out of the woods yet. His son’s innocent mimicry was hitting far too close to home. But as if to make matters worse, Jack giggled again, this time saying something that sent another shockwave through Aaron's system.

“Heg!”

Aaron froze, staring at Jack with wide eyes.

There was no way his son was about to say Hegel.

He couldn’t possibly.

Not Hegel.

Not the philosopher you mentioned the most.

Frantically, Aaron scrambled to recover. "Eggs, buddy? You want eggs?" he asked, laughing nervously, already planning his escape route for when Jack inevitably started quoting full passages from the works of ancient philosophers. He could feel his heart racing at the thought.

Jack, still giggling, waved his hands as he played with Kuna, blissfully unaware of the existential crisis he was causing his father. Meanwhile, Aaron glanced at Haley, who shook her head, clearly amused by the whole situation.

"You know," she teased, a glint of mischief in her eyes, "if he keeps this up, he’ll be rattling off entire philosophical arguments before he’s five."

Jack’s giggles filled the room, and Aaron let out a shaky laugh, grateful that his son wasn’t quoting philosophers just yet.

But deep down, he knew it was only a matter of time.

The day Jack said "Socrates," Aaron would have to get creative - maybe "sausages" could be his go-to deflection.

---

There was only one person yet to be informed about his transfer request from the BAU.

He couldn’t avoid this conversation any longer.

Even though he knew you were probably heading out to teach your first class of the day at the Academy - something you'd been looking forward to for weeks - he had to do it now.

‘She deserves to know’, Aaron thought, as his thumb hovered over the call button. He took a deep breath and pressed it, listening as the line rang.

"Unit Chief?" your voice answered, light and full of warmth. The sound of your happiness struck him, and he could hear the bustle of students in the background.

You sounded truly happy, like a weight had been lifted from your shoulders. Aaron couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt. You’d taken on so much in his absence, and despite your talent for compartmentalizing the stresses of work and life, he knew it hadn’t been easy for you.

He admired how you could move through the chaos and still find joy, something that felt foreign to him these past few weeks.

"How does it feel being back?" you asked brightly, already celebrating his return as if you were right there in the bullpen with him.

Aaron swallowed hard.

He couldn’t pretend everything was normal.

"I requested a transfer," he said, his voice flat. The words spilled out faster than he’d intended, but he couldn’t hold them in any longer. They were burning a hole in his chest.

The line went silent. One of the few times Aaron ever remembered it feeling uncomfortable between you two.

"Where did she tell you to go?" you asked, your voice quiet but laced with a sharp understanding. You didn’t ask ‘where did you choose?’ or ‘where are you headed?’

You already knew this wasn’t truly his choice, it would never be.

"White-collar crime," Aaron answered, his voice dripping with bitterness despite his best efforts to keep it neutral.

You scoffed, disbelief dripping from your voice. "Seriously, Aaron? Did you put down 'coin collector' in your ‘fun facts about me’ section, and Strauss decided that made you the perfect fraud detective? What was her logic? ‘Oh, he can spot a rare penny, let’s put him on white-collar crime!’" You let out a sharp, sarcastic laugh. "Honestly, your talent - the Aaron Hotchner, wasting away in the land of paperwork and forgeries. Your skills are being thrown in the trash. Why would she do that?"

"She said it’s because I was a prosecutor," Aaron explained, though he didn’t even believe it himself. The words felt hollow as they left his mouth.

"Then she must really hate you," you said, your tone shifting, half-joking but carrying the weight of truth underneath. You always teased him about his past as a prosecutor, poking fun at him for being a 'suit' - but today, there was no laughter nor banter, just an undercurrent of anger.

There was another beat of silence, the weight of the conversation sinking in. Aaron could almost hear the wheels turning in your mind as you processed what he had told you.

"Peter works in white-collar crime too," you said softly, trying to find common ground, trying to make it make sense. "He was a profiler, just like me. Just like you."

Aaron could hear the strain in your voice.

You were trying to offer some kind of comfort, but he could feel the tension, the unspoken weight of something much deeper between your words. Before he could respond, you continued, and this time your voice carried that unmistakable philosophical edge that always made him stop and listen, no matter the situation.

"But you’re different, Aaron," you began, your voice softening as it delved into deeper waters, the kind you knew Aaron always paid attention to. "What sets you apart isn’t just your skill - it’s your empathy. That’s what makes you irreplaceable. White-collar crime... it’s sterile. To them, criminals are just reduced to numbers, a name on a file, detached from any sense of their human nature. They’re stripped of complexity, of identity. But you..."

You paused, feeling the weight of what you were about to say, "You see criminals for what they truly are: people. Broken, flawed, yes. But human."

Aaron’s grip tightened slightly on the phone, but he remained silent, waiting, knowing you were just getting started.

And he was right.

Talkative, as usual.

"It’s easy to see the humanity in victims," you continued, your voice laced with both tenderness and conviction, "because we’re conditioned to feel for them, to mourn them. But you… you do the impossible. You see the humanity in the people who commit the crimes, the ones we’re taught to loathe, to cast aside. You see the hurt, the trauma, the reasons behind their actions. You see them as more than the sum of their worst mistakes. That, Aaron, is rare. That’s what makes you exceptional."

You paused again, the emotion thick in your throat as you tried to find the right words, knowing you had to make him understand. "We were taught to break people down into patterns, behaviors, motivations. But you don’t just analyze - you connect. You see through the layers of darkness and you recognize that beneath the surface, there’s still something worth understanding. You bring out the human element in a job that demands detachment."

Aaron’s throat tightened. How did you always manage to articulate things in a way that made the abstract suddenly feel so tangible? You were right - he knew it - but hearing it from you made the reality of his decision even heavier.

"You can’t reduce people to their actions," you continued, "not the way they do in white-collar crime. Not the way Strauss wants you to. You see beyond that. You’ve always seen beyond that. And that’s why this transfer isn’t just a waste of your talents - it’s a loss for everyone who relies on you to see them, really see them, when no one else can."

Aaron let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, the weight of everything - the decision, the transfer, the exhaustion - pressing down on him.

"And the hardest part?" you added, your voice quieter now, almost a whisper. "The hardest part isn’t just leaving the BAU. It’s knowing that you’ll be asked to abandon the very thing that makes you who you are. That’s what white-collar crime will do to you - it’ll strip away your empathy, piece by piece, until all that’s left is someone you don’t recognize."

You were right, as alwa – most of the times.

But that wasn’t why he requested the transfer.

"Does Peter come home at a normal time?" Aaron asked abruptly, knowing you would catch the subtext.

There was a brief pause, a hesitation that he immediately picked up on. You paused for a fraction longer than usual, and that was all Aaron needed to understand that something wasn’t right. "Yes," you said, your voice quieter, more resigned. "He’s home most of the time, if that was your worry. He’s home even more than I am, actually."

Aaron could hear the bitterness beneath your words. "Does that make you happy?" he asked gently

There was another silence, longer this time. Aaron’s stomach tightened. He could feel it, something was wrong. But what?

The truth was, Aaron had no idea what had happened between you and Peter last night. And when you came home? It had turned ugly.

You could still feel his hands on your body rough, demanding. His words about how you owed him an apology, about how you were supposed to show him you were sorry. You’d been exhausted, drained from everything with Gideon, not after the emotional toll of the past few weeks.

But Peter hadn’t cared.

He hadn’t listened.

He’d just acted.

Aaron’s voice on the phone brought you back to the present, but you were struggling to keep your composure. He was asking questions, trying to understand, but how could you tell him what had happened? How could you explain that everything in your life was falling apart?

"Does that make you happy?" Aaron asked again, his voice gentle but pressing.

You hesitated again, knowing that Aaron could read the smallest of pauses.

But how could you answer?

How could you tell him that everything was wrong, that nothing made you happy anymore?

---

He had barely begun to sort through his books and personal items when Garcia had come in, a mixture of sadness and hope in her eyes.

"Is it appropriate to ask whether I could talk you out of it?" she had asked , almost pleading, yet her tone tinged with the sort of desperate optimism that only her could muster.

Hotch couldn’t look at her.

"Heard you got a bigger office," he said, forcing a half-smile as he stacked the tomes on top of each other.

She played along smiling though her attempt at lightness fell flat. "A swanky new map and everything."

Hotch had paused mid-pack, his gaze drifting toward the stack of files on his desk. He saw her hesitate, holding a file in her hands as if she wasn’t sure whether to give it to him.

"It’s the Milwaukee file. JJ wanted me to give it to you."

His heart clenched. The familiar burn of curiosity flared up inside him. "I’m not working it."

Garcia’s face was tight, holding back something she didn’t want to say. "I’m just following orders." She pressed the folder into his hand, her voice quiet. "They found a new body this morning. The others are headed straight to the scene."

That was hours ago, and yet it felt like only moments had passed.

Now, sitting alone in his car, Aaron stared at the case file in the passenger seat. He knew he should leave it behind, let it go. It was the right thing to do - for Haley, for Jack, for the fragile promise of a normal life he’d been trying so hard to grasp.

But the push of the manila folder was almost unbearable, like a gravitational pull that he couldn’t ignore. It called to him, with a magnetism that felt almost sinful, the kind that wormed its way into his thoughts until it was all he could see.

He knew it wasn’t just curiosity - it was the desperate need to still feel like he was part of the team, like he hadn’t been stripped of his identity, relegated to a role he wasn’t ready to embrace. The file promised him a lifeline to who he used to be, to the life he was being forced to leave behind. He craved the rush, the sense of purpose that only the job could bring.

‘I’ll just put it away in my office’ he tried to reassure himself, even as his fingers twitched toward the folder. But the moment he stepped through the front door, the stillness of the house hit him like a wave, pressing down on him.

His home office, once a safe haven where he could lose himself in the work, felt cold and unfamiliar now - tainted by the distance growing between him and Haley.

He couldn’t go there. She’d notice. She’d feel the shift.

So he waited.

His body was coiled, tense, like a spring, listening for the sounds of Haley moving upstairs with Jack. He held his breath to her soft footsteps, waiting for the gentle click of the nursery door. And when it finally came, he slipped onto the living room couch, the file in his hands, feeling the now-familiar forbidden thrill quicken his pulse.

It was a silent kind of betrayal, opening the file right in their living room, yet the push was too strong, the pull too insistent to take any longer. His hands seemed to move of their own volition, sliding open the manila folder so that the scent of fresh ink and paper filled his senses, hitting him like a drug he'd been too long without.

The rush was immediate -a heady cocktail of thrill and terror - and his sight blurred for a moment as he scanned the introductory paragraphs. The words for one fleeting instant began to shimmy before him, fuzzy, out of focus.

So unlike him.

Always present.

Always focused.

But now?

Everything else paled into insignificance in that single fragment of time: the burden of his transfer, the oppressive silence of the house, the chasm widening between him and Haley. In that swift heartbeat, he was just Aaron Hotchner, or better - Hotch - holding a case file in his hands.

It was a fraction of a second he would wish he could reclaim, the sweet ignorance of what was to come, the last breath of ordinary before everything would begin to break apart.

A fraction of a second, that’s all he had.

And then came the clarity.

Dark blue ink.

Gel pen.

0.7mm tip.

It was immediate.

It hadn’t been JJ who asked Garcia to hand him the file,

It had been you.

The blue ink screamed against the page, a jarring contrast to the black-and-white case details.

The familiar shade of deep blue you always used, the pen that seemed to bear the weight of every observation you made, every thought you trusted him to read.

Your handwriting - one constant in his life - appeared now like an intrusion.

You had pulled him back in, a lifeline disguised as an anchor, tethering him to a life he was already struggling to leave so much.

He knew why you’d done it, felt your intentions through the words you’d scrawled on the side of the pages: a subtle reminder of who he was, a steadying hand.

But it stung, a betrayal dressed as support, calling back his instincts, awakening the part of him that craved the hunt. He resented it, hated how you knew what he needed even when he was trying to silence it.

He didn’t want to be pulled back in.

Not by you.

Because he could always manage to silence his own voice, but yours? Yours never.

He couldn’t stand the way your presence in his mind made him doubt, the way it nudged the conscience he was desperately trying to bury.

But in the silence, he had buried something else - he hadn’t heard the faint sounds of Haley’s footsteps, hadn’t sensed her presence beside him until she was already there.

“Is Jack still napping?” The words slipped out instinctively, a reflex to buy a moment - not to divert her from the case file laying on the coffee table she’d surely already noticed, but to protect the one thing he could still preserve.

He could keep Jack from witnessing what was about to unravel.

Haley’s gaze was steely, scrutinizing him with an intensity that seemed to cut through every layer of defense he had.

"I thought this was over," Haley said, stretching her palms as if grounding herself, her voice tight and hard.

"It is," he said firmly, choosing his words in consideration, measuring each with the deliberation of a man who stood too close to a precipice. “I’m just curious.”

Haley let out a sharp breath, her mouth twisting into a bitter smile that didn’t reach her eyes, a shadow of the warmth he used to see there. They stood locked in a silent standoff, a lifetime of shared memories flickering between them like ghosts. He could feel the argument waiting to break free, simmering in the quiet between them, unspoken words just waiting to pierce the space they once shared.

And then the phone rang.

A shrill, jarring sound slicing through the tension like a blade. It was the household line, buzzing on the table before him. Aaron reached for it, desperate for even a momentary escape from the heaviness that weighed on his chest, but it was a fleeting, fragile illusion of comfort.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Haley’s hand reaching towards the photographs on the table, swiftly flipping them facedown as though the sight of them was something she couldn’t bear.

In that brief, almost tender moment of closeness, he felt nothing but the icy distance between them, a void that had grown too wide to bridge.

“Hello” The word hung in the air, heavy and uncertain. Silence answered him back, a silence that stretched far beyond the line. He tried again, "Hello?" he repeated, the word hanging in the air like a plea, but the line remained dead.

Before he could turn back to Haley, before he could face the storm gathering in her eyes, the phone rang again.

Only this time, it wasn’t the house phone.

The sound echoed from across the room - from her purse, sitting neatly on the side table by the door, ringing insistently, demanding attention.

Her personal phone.

The sound echoed from the side table by the entrance, and both of them turned, their movements perfectly synchronized in that single instant - the first time they had moved together, effortlessly in tune, amidst the discord of their unraveling world. A bitter note of perfect harmony, a heartbeat of shared motion, in a symphony that had become painfully out of key.

And with it came the undeniable truth, creeping in like a cold shadow, that the life they had built was no longer whole.

Clarity.

A chill ran through him, Haley’s gaze flicked from the purse back to him, her face clouding, a flicker of panic in her eyes before something else - a defiance, a kind of worn resignation - surfaced. She looked like the criminals he’d seen in interrogation rooms just before they confessed, her body a canvas of the truth she hadn’t yet spoken aloud.

His heart was shouting at him, urging him to stop analyzing her with his profiler’s eyes, the ones that stripped away any illusions. If only he could switch off that part of himself, maybe he could still live in blissful ignorance, cling to the delusion that his worst fear wasn’t unraveling right before him.

But that was the curse of his job - it defined him, for better or worse.

He was trained to see the truth, to read between the lines, and now there was no unseeing it, even though it felt as if she were the one sleeping with a gun underneath their bed.

The pieces continued to assemble themselves in his mind unbidden, swift and unforgiving, and he saw everything.

He remembered his father.

The infidelities everyone had known about.

The shame he had carried in silence, back when Haley was the only one who’d comforted him, promising he’d never be like his father, that they would build something unbreakable, something lasting. She had seen him through those years of shame and anger, through the wounds his father had left behind.

And yet, here she was.

She had hurt him in the very way that had once broken him.

"What did the Section Chief say?" She asked, her voice tense, her hands moving to her hips - a stance he recognized all too well. It was her defense mechanism, a way to regain control of the conversation, to shift the power back to her.

But the phone was still ringing, hanging in the air like an accusation she refused to acknowledge. He fixed her with a hardened gaze, silently willing her to explain. Instead, she ignored it, raising an eyebrow in a silent demand for him to answer her question.

Only when the phone finally stopped ringing did the silence grow heavier between them.

“She suggested I transfer to a white-collar crime task force,” Aaron said, his voice barely holding together, each word heavy with the weight of what was slipping away. He turned his gaze away from her, looking anywhere but at the face he had once known so well. The pain in his chest throbbed, a wound that felt like it would never heal.

And he moved there it was again, that echo - blue.

Blue, scattered all over the margins of the case files.

He could almost hear your voice in the back of his mind, unbidden, stirring memories he had tried so hard to bury.

“It’s a beautiful metaphor, Aristophanes tells us that when two halves find each other, there is a recognition, a knowing. It’s not just attraction or desire - it’s a profound sense of homecoming, of finally feeling whole.”

He remembered that day, the pride he felt when you stood up at his wedding, your words carrying a weight that felt like destiny. How he had looked at Haley then, feeling so sure, so hopeful that he had found his missing half, the person who made him whole.

“Aaron and Haley, you are each other’s missing halves. You are each other’s home. And today, you stand before us, not as two separate people, but as a whole, as something that the world tried to keep apart but couldn’t. You’ve found your way back to each other, just like you were always meant to.”

Your words were a promise, one he had clung to during every argument, every moment of doubt. He had kept the pages of your speech hidden in his desk drawer, reading them whenever he needed reassurance that they were meant to be, that they could weather any storm.

But now, that certainty felt like a lie, a broken promise that tasted bitter and hollow.

"Would you have to travel?" Haley asked, and there was no curiosity in her voice, no real concern - just a rote question.

“No,” he replied. “I’d have a nine-to-five life.”

But it didn’t matter.

None of it did.

The foundation they had built together was already crumbling.

She nodded, the motion mechanical. "Then it’s a no-brainer," she said, but there was no relief in her voice.

No joy.

Just finality.

An ultimatum.

Then she walked away, her bag clutched tightly in her hand, leaving him frozen in place, staring into the emptiness she left behind. The silence swallowed him whole, and all he could hear were the echoes of his own thoughts, the relentless surge of guilt washing over him like a tidal wave - his oldest, most familiar companion. It weighed heavy on his chest, pushing him down until he felt hollow and exposed.

There was only one thing he knew he couldn’t fail at—the one thing that never failed him.

His job.

With a steadying breath, he picked up the phone - the same one that had rung into nothingness only minutes ago - and dialed.

"Hey," Morgan's voice came through the line.

Hotch immediately replied “How’s it going?”

---

Hotch dressed himself with deliberation, his mind continuously repeating a mantra he clung to - the team needs me - as he methodically went through his motions with the practiced efficiency that was his trademark. He tied the knot on his tie carefully, almost ritualistically, and took the gun from the safety box on the nightstand with silent certitude. His mind was already in Milwaukee, with the team, miles away from where he stood.

Haley burst in as if she were a sudden gust of wind that broke his focus. "What the hell are you doing?" Haley's voice was sharp, almost desperate, echoing with anger and fear.

"Keep your voice down," he calmly but firmly returned, his eyes never meeting hers while continuing to fold the clothes from the dresser. He couldn’t afford to lose his composure now.

"Gideon didn’t show in Milwaukee, and the team needs me," he said, his voice calm but unyielding. He didn’t lift his gaze from his task, already knowing Haley could sense it - the unwavering resolve, the wall she couldn’t break through.

There was no point in arguing, he had already chosen, and nothing she said would change the path he was on.

“I don’t believe this.” Haley shook her head, disbelief etched in every line of her face.

He didn’t stop, didn’t even look at her.

“Don’t worry,” he said, his tone overly steady, betraying how much he was trying to control the situation. “It won’t affect my transfer if I’m working on an existing case.”

His hands moved mechanically, pulling clothes from the dresser and laying them on the bed, his attention focused on his preparations. The meticulous packing felt like his only control in a situation spiraling away from him.

“You’re not working on this case,” Haley demanded, her words clipped, biting. She was trying to reach him, trying to make him see what he was sacrificing, but he remained unmoved.

“I can’t just switch off my loyalty, Haley.” The words came out like an admission, his gaze finally meeting hers.

Loyalty.

What a word, what an irony.

“They suspended you for two weeks,” she said, her voice rising with urgency. She was trying to make him see what he was throwing away. “Who are you being loyal to?”

“The team needs me,” His voice was firmer now, more resolute.

He could have said more, could have pointed out her own failings with the concept of loyalty, but he didn’t.

There wasn’t time, and in his heart, the job came first.

Always had.

He could never be satisfied.

“Aaron, you’re allowed to be satisfied. You’re allowed to find happiness outside of work. It doesn’t make you any less dedicated. You’re not the man you were back then. You’re better.” Your voice slipped into his mind as he stared blankly into the distance. Just allowing your words to surface was already a victor, —he could never shut you out completely.

But looking back, he realized—no, he was even worse.

“I wish it were that simple. I want to believe you, but I keep feeling like… I’m never satisfied. No matter how much I achieve, no matter how far I go, it never feels like enough.” He admitted, not even aware the confession had escaped his lips..

“Aaron, happiness isn’t a destination,” you had said, your response almost immediate. “It’s not something you can chase down like a criminal or lock away like a case file. It’s messy and imperfect, and sometimes, it’s just allowing yourself to be enough. It’s letting go of the ‘what ifs’ and the regrets. You have a chance to rebuild something with Haley, to find that piece of your life you thought you’d lost. Why not take it?”

I love you – here’s why.

He wished he’d had the courage to say what he felt back then. Maybe he wouldn’t be in this mess if he had.

Instead, all he had left was the silent regret - I loved you, and that was his burden to bear.

Back to this hollow routine, back to a crumbling marriage that left him feeling more empty than fulfilled. If it had been you, he thought, you would have understood without him having to explain. You would have stayed by his side just as he would have stayed by yours, without the pain, without the pretense.

Too late.

“No, they need Gideon,” Haley shot back, the desperation in her voice barely masked. He could hear her fear, her anger, the worry she tried to hide beneath her frustration.

Hotch moved to the bathroom, collecting his essentials, his voice echoing off the tile. “Do you know what this guy’s doing to women in Milwaukee?” His voice was tight, his words clipped - almost a challenge.

He was asking because he knew she wouldn’t want to hear it. Because the truth was ugly, and he couldn’t turn away from it.

"I don’t want to know," she said, her voice breaking with emotion, but he continued, unable to stop himself.

“He’s using his son to lure them, he’s holding them, and then he’s cutting their hearts out.” His tone was clinical, detached - a profiler’s voice.

The urgency, the danger, had overtaken everything else.

The case was all that mattered now.

“Aaron, stop!” she shouted, and he froze, finally turning to face her. The look in her eyes - pain, anger, desperation - was like a slap to the face.

“Don’t make me the monster here,” she pleaded, her voice softening, the anger draining from her as she looked at him with something close to resignation. “I feel sick about these women, but when this case is over, there will be another one. And another one and another one. It is never going to stop.”

He held her gaze, feeling the weight of her words settle like lead in his stomach. “This is who I am,” he said simply, and the raw truth in those words cut through the tension like a knife.

“No,” she said, her voice barely a whisper, sadness and frustration mingling together. “This is what you do.”

He swallowed, his throat tight, and tried to explain himself. “I’m trying to do the right thing, here and there,” he began, but his voice cracked, the weight of his choices pressing down on him. “And I would really appreciate a little support.”

Haley’s laugh was short, bitter, a scoff that cut deep. “That’s right, ‘cause you always need to be the hero,” she said, her voice laced with resentment.

“Don’t give me that,” he snapped, his own anger flaring, but she didn’t back down.

“No, obviously, a happy life isn’t enough for you,” she said, her words like ice, hitting him with the weight of a truth he didn’t want to face. He looked at her, his eyes burning with unshed tears, knowing he couldn’t argue, knowing she was right in ways he couldn’t admit.

“But you deserve it, Aaron. You deserve to find the kind of happiness that doesn’t come with strings attached, that doesn’t make you feel like you’re constantly running.”

His gaze fell to where your hands touched, his thumb brushing yours. I love you. That’s the only thought his mind managed to form. But he couldn’t say it.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. “You’ve always been the one keeping me steady, reminding me why I do this. You make it bearable.”

“I’ll always be here,” you said, your voice trembling. “No matter what. Even when it’s hard, even when you feel like you don’t deserve it. I’ll be here.”

I love you.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice breaking slightly. “For everything.”

I love you.

He zipped up his go-bag, the sound unbearably loud in the tense silence that had fallen between them. Haley’s eyes were glassy, the fight leaving her as he turned to go. “Aaron, I need you here,” she said, her voice cracking, a final plea.

He stopped, his back to her, the words hanging heavy in the air. “And I will be here, as soon as this case is over,” he said, his tone detached, determined, before walking out the door, not daring to look back.

As he descended the stairs, her voice rang out behind him, cutting through the silence like a knife. “Yeah, well make sure you give your son a kiss before you leave.”

Jack. His whole world.

Then the memory played in his mind like a haunting melody - Jack’s small face lighting up the moment he first began stringing words together.

Each syllable a small miracle, a bridge to understanding, but the very first combination of words he’d uttered had been “Dad. Work.”

But now he brushed it off.

He didn’t stop, didn’t look back.

He couldn’t.

Not now.

Because the job was all he had left.

Dad. Work.

---

“I told you, I hate politics,” Emily said, her voice steady but resigned as she stood in the kitchen, the weight of her decision heavy in the air.

“Come to Milwaukee,” Hotch pressed, his voice firm, not backing down. He saw it - the hesitation in her eyes, the uncertainty.

It was enough to make him push a little harder. “I’ll make you a deal,” he said, his tone softening. “If your ready bag isn’t here, packed, I won’t bother you anymore. But if it is, I want you on that plane with me. One more case.”

Emily sighed, the conflict clear on her face. “I already turned in my badge and my gun,” she said, the words feeling empty, as if she didn’t fully believe them herself.

“That’s just hardware,” Hotch countered gently, his eyes not leaving hers, sensing the crack in her resolve.

“Give me five minutes,” Emily said, her voice resigned, the decision made.

He won. He was good at his job.

“Good,” he replied giving a slight nod. “I’ll be waiting for you in the car” His voice was steady, calm, as he turned and left the room, leaving her alone with the weight of the choice she had just made.

The ride to the hangar was excruciating, the car barely moving in the gridlock of DC traffic. Hotch’s gaze was fixed ahead, focused on the road, but as they neared a familiar intersection, his eyes darted - just for a second – on something standing on the right of the road, toward your apartment building.

It was a reflex, a momentary flicker of concern, as if he needed to reassure himself that everything was in its place.

But he wasn’t the only one watching.

Emily caught the movement, her profiler’s instincts picking up on the subtle shift. She turned her head, recognizing the building immediately.

“Y/N’s one of the best profilers we’ve had,” Emily said, breaking the heavy silence. “In just two weeks, she surpassed everyone’s expectations. She belongs in the BAU” Her voice was steady, confident.

“I know,” Hotch replied, his voice flat. It was all he could say because he did agree. He knew you belonged with them. With him.

“Then why aren’t we going to get her?” Emily pressed, her brow furrowing.

“I’m not Unit Chief,” he said, the tightness in his voice betraying his struggle. “I can’t authorize her return.”

Emily shot him a skeptical look. “Oh, come on. I resigned, you requested a transfer, and yet here we are, headed to Milwaukee together.” She let the words hang in the air, then added, “What’s the real reason, Hotch?”

He gripped the steering wheel tighter, staring straight ahead. “That is the real reason, Prentiss,” he said, but his voice lacked conviction, and they both knew it. They barely moved in the traffic, only inching forward, and they were trapped together in this car, with nowhere to hide.

“Have you even asked her?” Emily’s tone was sharper now, unwilling to let him off the hook so easily.

“She can’t,” he said, his words clipped, almost desperate.

“She wants to,” Emily said firmly, her gaze unwavering. “Look, she’s living a life that’s not really hers, and we both know why. She wants to be back with the team, Hotch - our life, not some half-life she’s pretending to be okay with.”

His grip loosened on the wheel, but his face remained his usual stoic mask. “I know,” he said quietly, his eyes flicking to the rearview mirror, trying to focus on anything but the truth Emily was forcing him to face.

Emily softened, just a bit. “Hotch, I don’t like you for a lot of reasons,” she said with a small smile, “but if there’s one thing I respect about you, it’s that you don’t quit. You’d do anything for the team, even if it costs you everything. You’ve never given up before - don’t start now.”

He hesitated, his jaw tightening. “The Section Chief won’t like this,” he said, but even as he spoke, his hand was already turning the wheel to the right, aiming the car toward your apartment. “How did you know I was looking at her building?” he asked, a trace of amusement flickering across his features.

Emily’s smirk widened. “Oh, she didn’t tell you?” she said with a light laugh. “Last Friday, we finished early and Y/N invited me, JJ, and Penelope out for drinks at that bar near her place. I don’t remember much about the apartment building because, well... let’s just say the drinks were strong. But I remember the bar, and it’s just down the street. We all crashed at her place.”

Hotch raised an eyebrow. “And you made it to work the next morning?”

Emily chuckled. “Nope. She gave us the weekend off. I told you, she’s fantastic. Hell, she even mentioned how she’d love to try out that new theory they’re testing in Europe, the four-day workweek. Called them ‘exemplars of virtue.’ I don’t think I’ve ever loved philosophy more,” she said with a grin. “And just so you know, she was always the first one in and the last one to leave. She’s more obsessed with this job than you are.”

A rare, quiet chuckle escaped Hotch’s lips. “Sounds exactly like her,” he said softly, a warmth in his voice that hadn’t been there all drive.

Since he rang your doorbell, Aaron hadn't heard anything but the rhythmic click of heels that was getting closer and closer with every step down the hall, the pulsation of his heart immediately tuning to it and making anticipation grow till everything stopped. He held his breath as you opened the door, cautiously, slowly, revealing the face he’d been waiting to see.

He had first glimpsed your smile - slightly surprised, yet lit from inside by something deeper, a feeling of pride hiding beneath a few loose strands of hair framing your face, the only testament to your long day. Then you moved more fully into the light, no longer half-hidden behind the door, he immediately recognized your own version of uniform – a total black three-piece suit.

The close-fitting vest, the shirt buttoned right up to your neck, but with the cuffs folded up to the elbows that showed those light smudges of blue marker on your forearm - a subtle hint of your time spent writing on the board.

It was a small yet telling difference from the past two weeks, a sign of this old rhythm you'd settled back into. The jacket, hanging neatly on the entryway hook, added to the scene, highlighting that you’d just come home from a lecture. You were still in your heels, you hadn’t even had the chance to slip them off yet.

For a moment, you both stood there, frozen in a strange yet familiar silence. The way you looked at him - unafraid, warmly, and with a hint of pride - made him feel seen in a way he hadn’t been in weeks.

Accepted for who he was – and what he did.

“Hotch” you finally said, and he almost flinched, caught off-guard by the weight of that name. You hadn’t called him that in years. Between you, it was always something different, something uniquely crafted only for the two of you, of your partnership that felt as if it had been woven by fate.

It had always been ‘Partner’, your go-to,

‘Lawyer’ when you wanted to tease him on something, it probably was his personal favorite,

‘C3-PO’ that one primordial on-hit-wonder, thankfully only used once after your first case,

‘Unit Chief’ came later, after his promotion a title he saw you’d always used with pride,

‘Aaron’ only in those rare moments when it was just you two, away from the intensity of the Bureau.

One of the few people who was allowed to call him by his name, Aaron. Always Aaron.

Yet today, you chose “Hotch,” and it didn’t feel like distancing - calling him by the name anyone else on the job could use. Instead, it was a recognition. It was a nod to who he could finally be again - the strong, steadfast, but also overworked Unit Chief.

With a straight face, you extended your hand in a playful, formal greeting, as if you were strangers meeting for the first time. It was a parody of the professionalism that defined your roles, a subtle reminder of the colder side of your work. But you two always had a knack for weaving warmth into even the smallest gestures - like this one - turning formality into an unexpected moment of connection, catching him off guard.

He sighed, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he took your hand, meeting your playful formality with his usual steady, intense gaze. The moment his fingers wrapped around yours, a subtle shift passed between you, sending a shiver down his spine.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice quieter than he intended, his hand lingering in the handshake. There was so much he wanted to tell you - how grateful he was for passing the file to Garcia, for understanding without him having to ask. Yet somehow, the words caught in his throat, and he found himself simply holding on, hoping you could sense everything he couldn’t quite say.

“Of course,” you replied softly, your eyes never leaving his, your smile radiating reassurance as you released his hand, stepping aside to let him in.

Walking down the hallway together, he was struck by a wave of nostalgia, seeing you both in your familiar work attire. So much felt the same, yet somehow everything was different. If he squinted, it was almost like those countless evenings at the BAU, the tailored suits and easy professionalism bringing back memories.

As you walked ahead, he noticed the subtle change in how your suit now hugged your form a bit closer, accentuating your figure. It was as though you'd embraced a different rhythm - lecturing definitely didn't require for you to have a full range of motion chasing unsubs through the mud had.

“I didn’t come just to thank you,” Hotch began, his voice firm, but there was a vulnerability in his gaze as he searched yours for any hint of a response. “I know you’re not satisfied with only two weeks at the BAU.”

You looked back at him, and though you didn’t say a word, something in your expression softened, your eyes reflecting that familiar, unspoken understanding. He could see the weight you carried, and there was no denying that you wanted to be part of the team again. He continued, his tone more intimate now, almost pleading.

“The team needs you, Y/N. And I need my partner back. We had a deal.”

"Promise me that you’ll only leave me if you get tired of me. Otherwise, I’ll always fight to have you back - and you have to let me. Deal?"

Your lips curved into a faint smile as a soft sigh escaped between them. "You and your deals," you whispered, your words laced with a hint of desperation.

He held your gaze, a glimmer of hope surfacing. “I can read you as well as you read me. You pulled me back into the BAU, let me do the same for you. I wouldn’t push you if I didn’t know you wanted it too.”

For a moment, your gaze dropped, a flicker of longing overshadowed by resignation. “There’s nothing I want more than to come back,” you admitted softly, a hint of pain in your voice. “But Peter… he won’t be happy about it.”

Hotch’s jaw tightened, and he nodded, already bracing himself. “Let me handle Peter,” he said, voice low and unyielding. “Just let me try.”

But then, before either of you could say another word, Peter entered, his presence breaking the moment like a shattering glass. “Aaron, everything alright? Why are you here?”

Aaron glanced at you with the corner of his eyes, waiting for even a slight nod, some permission to move forward.

No response.

Unusual.

Instead, your gaze was fixed on a blank spot on the wall since Peter had entered, a detail that unsettled him. He noticed the slight tension in your shoulders, the guarded distance in your posture. A realization dawned on him, a sinking feeling deep in his chest. You were avoiding making eye contact with Peter.

Preoccupying.

Only then you turned to look at him, as if sensing his analyzing eyes on you. As you made eye contact, he saw your expression shift subtly, eyebrows lifting just a fraction. Hotch’s trained eyes caught every detail, the slight tremor in your gaze, the way you held yourself like you were guarding something fragile.

Shame – he read.

He looked at you, his stomach twisting. His profiler instincts connected this moment to the hesitation in your voice during that phone call—the pauses you hadn’t been able to hide. He had sensed something wrong then, but now it seemed painfully clear.

Yet he needed to be sure.

It couldn’t have happened, not to you.

With a slight tilt of his head, he asked you silently, ‘What happened?’

He watched as you exhaled softly, the faintest shudder in your breath. Your eyes glistened, fogging over with unshed tears. You hadn’t once looked in Peter’s direction. That small, vulnerable expression shattered something in him.

Avoidance.

Fear.

That was all he needed to know.

A fierce, uncontrollable rage surged through Hotch, flooding him with a fury he rarely allowed himself to feel. His fists clenched, nails pressing into his palms as every fiber of his being strained against the violent urge to rip Peter from the doorway, to make him feel the weight of every unspoken bruise, every flicker of fear he’d seen reflected in your eyes.

But he forced himself to stay rooted. He had to be steady, composed - for you. This wasn’t just about vengeance, it was about being the pillar you needed, holding back the storm that threatened to consume him.

"Y/N is needed for a case in Milwaukee,” Hotch said, his voice low and unyielding, a hard edge replacing any trace of the diplomacy he had planned. His gaze stayed locked on Peter, cold and unwavering, the words landing like an order, not a request.

Peter’s face tightened, but he didn’t back down. “She can’t go,” he replied sharply. “The contract was clear - just two weeks at the BAU. Those two weeks are up, Aaron.”

Hotch's jaw clenched as he turned to you, his eyes scanning for some sign of how Peter's response had impacted you. Your silent, pleading expression said it all: the unspoken hurt, the vulnerability glimmering in your eyes, became a catalyst to rush a wave of protectiveness through him and once again make the promise to be your shield when his anger boiled over.

Peter couldn’t see it - refused to see it - but Hotch did.

And as he held back the fury simmering beneath his composure, one thought pulsed through his mind: ‘Peter should be grateful for every breath I’m letting him take right now’.

Hotch didn’t flinch, his voice turning colder, each word cutting and precise. “This is pre-existing case. Any agreement with Strauss doesn’t apply here - I’m simply requesting her consultation. That’s her choice, not yours.” There was no warmth in his tone, Peter wasn’t owed that. Hotch leveled him with that piercing, unyielding gaze - one that could cut straight through, leaving a person regretting they even graced this Earth.

Peter turned to you, desperation flashing in his eyes. “Did you ask him to come here?” Hotch noticed something unsettling in Peter’s gaze, a hardness he hadn’t seen in over a decade of knowing him. There was a volatile edge, almost aggressive.

“I thought I made myself clear last night,” Peter continued, his voice taut with anger. “If you go back to the BAU, we can’t build a life together. You don’t have to drag Aaron in here to defend your selfish choices, making me look like the bad guy.”

Before you could respond, Hotch cut in, his voice ice-cold and unyielding. “Peter, if you were as perceptive as you claim, you wouldn’t need to ask her something that obvious. I came here on my own. She had no part in this.” He paused, his eyes never wavering from Peter’s. “Shut up and let her decide for herself.”

Peter’s face twisted with disbelief, and he snapped, “Really, Aaron?”

Hotch’s hand clenched involuntarily, his patience on edge. But as you noticed and found the strength to intervene, your tone steady yet pleading. “Pete, it’s just one case - I’m asking for that much. It won’t impact our life as much as you think.”

“Won’t impact us?” Peter’s voice rose, his frustration spilling over. “What will happen when this case over? When come home too exhausted to even look at me? Too tired to even take off your jacket? How can we build a life when you’re always drained?”

You exhaled deeply, shaking your head, “We’ll figure it out. I’m sure we will.” You turned toward the corridor that led to your bedroom, determination etched on your face. “I’ll be back in five minutes,” you declared, glancing pointedly at both Hotch and Peter. “And if I see either of you with even a scratch on your face, I swear I’ll beat you both senseless.”

Peter opened his mouth to protest, but you cut him off, raising a finger for emphasis, looking at him with a disappointed piercing look on your face. “We are beings graced with reason so let’s engage our intellect instead of our fists. As Aristotle said, ‘Man is by nature a political animal’, which means we should sort out our conflicts through dialogue, not by throwing punches. I would hate to resort to that, so do me a favor and keep it civil, okay?”

Hotch nodded, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips, he definitely didn’t expect a scolding from you in your teacher voice. “Understood.”

“Good,” you replied, disappearing down the hallway.

Afraid that Hotch and Peter would end up in the ER, you packed your go-bag in a frenzy, barely taking the time to change from your suit you wore for your lesson into a looser – too many buttons and too little time. You only swiftly traded your heels for your usual leather loafers, and with no time to style your hair properly, you simply tied the front pieces back to keep them out of your face.

As you returned to the living room, you found Hotch and Peter standing on opposite sides of the room, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. You approached Peter first to say goodbye, reassuring him once again. You wore your engagement ring prominently, hoping to remind him of the bond you still shared. But he remained silent, avoiding eye contact as you two exited the apartment.

As soon as the door closed behind you, a long sigh escaped your lips, and you looked up at Hotch. “Thanks for having my back,” you confessed, your voice dropping to a soft whisper as you waited for the elevator.

Hotch glanced at you, his expression serious, a flicker of concern passing through his eyes. “Always. Do you want to talk about it?”

You offered a faint smile, appreciating his offer, but shook your head. “Not right now. We have a case to solve.”

His tone remained serious, and you could feel the weight of his words. “Just let me know when you’re ready. I’ll be here. Just don’t use the case a shield to avoid what you went through.”

“I won’t,” you promised as the elevator arrived with a soft ding. As the doors slid open, you both stepped inside, and the momentary quiet enveloped you, a mix of anticipation and unspoken emotions swirling around. Hotch pressed the button for the ground floor, the hum of the machinery filling the silence.

“I need to ask you a favor,” Hotch said, breaking the quiet, his voice laced with a gravity that made you turn, eyes widening in surprise. He hesitated for a brief second, like he was choosing his words carefully, a weight settling between you. “Morgan told me Gideon didn’t show up in Milwaukee, and he’s not answering his phone. Reid... he’s struggling, not handling it well. I’m concerned for him.”

He exhaled, softening slightly. “I know this affects you too, but you’ve always being able to keep focus, to compartmentalize, no matter what’s happening.”

Hotch paused, his eyes brightening up. “Three days into your assignment as Unit Chief, Reid started a philosophy bachelor,” he revealed, the faintest smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. You raised your eyebrows, caught off guard.

Reid hadn’t told you.

“I honestly thought it’d take him at least a week to get actually hooked by your metaphysics,” Hotch chuckled, the sound warm but tinged with bittersweetness.

“He looks up to you, Y/N,” Hotch continued, his voice quiet but certain. “He needs someone he trusts, someone who can get through to him.” His gaze met yours, sincere, and you could see the depth of his worry, for Reid, for the team, for everything this absence had disrupted. “I know I’m asking a lot, especially now… but he’ll listen to you. You’re the one who can really help him through this.”

You held his gaze, feeling the responsibility settle over you. “It’s not too much to ask, Aaron. I know how much it can help to have someone there when it feels like everything is falling apart,” you said, a small, appreciative smile edging onto your face.

He furrowed his brows, keeping a straight face as he pretended to be surprised. “Was that a compliment?”

“To you? Not even close,” you replied, rolling your eyes. Then your tone shifted to serious. “But you need to promise me something in return.”

“Anything,” he replied immediately, and then regretted it as you extended your hand, palm up.

Of course.

He sighed, handing you the car keys, his fingers lingering for a second as if hesitant, you grinned, a spark of excitement in your expression. “Bet we’ll get to the hangar in half the time now?”

He crossed his arms, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. “When I said you were a ‘good driver’ nine years ago, I didn’t mean ‘racecar-level.’”

“Please, I’m practically an F1 prodigy,” you shot back, pocketing the keys. “I promise to obey the law. Mostly.”

“They’re called guidelines,” you teased, striding confidently toward the car. “Besides, I remember a certain Unit Chief who used to be my copilot during most of those drives. Didn’t hear any complaints then.”

“Oh, I had complaints,” he replied, trying to maintain his seriousness. “Just don’t take any unnecessary risks,” he warned, though his voice was laced with humor. “I can’t afford to lose my partner on the road, too.”

“Relax, Hotch. I promise I’ll drive like my mom is in the passenger seat,” you replied, smirking as you walked to the car.

“Good,” he replied with a smirk, “because I’m not sitting there - Prentiss is.”

As you slid into the driver’s seat, you greeted Emily with a grin while Hotch climbed into the back, securing himself with an almost exaggerated seriousness.

“How come you’re not driving, Hotch?” Prentiss asked, raising an eyebrow as you revved the engine, giving it an amused look.

“Just keeping the pressure off me,” Hotch replied dryly, crossing his arms. “But I fully expect to hear all the wild driving stories, Teach.”

You glanced back, grinning, eyes on the road. “Actually, you feature in most of mine… Should I start with the one on August 23, 1999, or save the best for last?”

“The best?” He raised an eyebrow, leaning in.

“You know, the one that was… memorable in all the wrong ways.” You shot him a knowing smile.

Emily’s interest piqued, and she leaned forward, looking between the two of you. “Okay, I need to know. What happened on August 23, 1999?”

Hotch’s voice was almost comically serious. “Confidential”, he deadpanned.

---

“Look who’s here,” Reid said gleefully, his eyes lighting up as you, Hotch, and Emily stepped into the Milwaukee police station.

Emily settled into the chair next to Reid, flashing him a grin. “Hey, where do we start?” she asked, already scanning the room for files.

You approached, settling in beside JJ and Morgan, giving a small nod as Reid handed you the case file. “Thank you, Doctor,” you said with a smile.

Hotch entered last, carrying the weight of the room’s attention. He placed his bag on the floor and shook Morgan's hand, who seemed to look visibly surprised yet grateful and relieved to see him.

Then he positioned himself between Morgan and you, standing still on his right, and after a beat, immediately swapped places with you, that subtle instinct kicking in - a sense that something just wasn’t quite right until you stood on his left.

It was a nearly imperceptible movement, yet one that anchored you both. That formation had become natural, a silent tradition. Your right side close to his left - a setup that always allowed each of you to feel covered and focused, knowing where the other would be.

A comfort in the subtle code you shared, where neither words nor looks were needed to communicate an understanding that ran deep. Once positioned, you felt that inner switch flip, both of you immediately present, ready for whatever the case had in store.

Emily, glancing over at JJ, grinned. “How fast can you get us up to speed?”

JJ smirked, holding up a file. “How fast can you sit down?”

As Strauss settled into her seat, the tension still thick in the air, you shared a wordless exchange with Hotch. His eyes, steady and unwavering, held a trace of amusement behind his seriousness, as if to say, “Here we go.”

Your raised eyebrow and slight smirk replied, “Always making friends, aren’t you?”

He tilted his head a fraction, a subtle, almost invisible shrug. “Comes with the job.”

Your expression softened, silently saying, “You think she’ll hold her tongue until later?”

He replied with the smallest hint of a smirk, “If we’re lucky.”

You resisted a chuckle, responding with a quick, subtle nod, “Guess we’ll find out.”

Hotch tilted his head slightly, as if to say, “Maybe you could scare her off with some Aristotle”

You slightly raised your eyebrow, “No need to ask me twice, Lawyer”

---

Hotch reached out instinctively as Strauss tripped on the ramp, steadying her with a gentle but firm grip while she clutched the iron fence to regain balance. “Are you all right? You okay?” he asked, his tone professional but soft.

Strauss’s face twisted in horror, eyes filling with tears as she looked at the body. “I-I stepped on her hair,” she stammered, visibly shaken.

Hotch’s voice remained steady, a blend of professionalism and quiet empathy. “If you need a second, take a second.” He watched as Strauss covered her mouth, attempting to pull herself together.

He continued gently, “This is what it is. Just don't let the public see you break down.” After a beat, he helped her turn back up the ramp.

When his eyes met yours, you gave him a small nod, silently volunteering to handle Strauss ‘I got her, you go ahead with the team’. He acknowledged it with a brief, grateful glance before moving on.

You led Strauss a few feet away from the body, keeping your voice low to ensure no one from the press overheard. “Alright,” you said gently, “we’re going to stand here and pretend we’re discussing the case. Take as much time as you need. Just breathe.”

As she composed herself, you continued smoothly, “The unsub changed the dumping site. He usually used the Third Ward, but it seems the only pattern is choosing areas without much public traffic. See? Look around - do you see any residential buildings nearby?

“No,” she replied. You continued using this technique, asking questions to help her focus and steady herself, calming her down bit by bit.

“Good. Now, one more thing,” you said with a warm, gentle smile. “This might seem unrelated, but you do have children, right?”

“Yes,” she answered, looking slightly puzzled but following along, starting to piece things together.

“Exactly. Say you’re at the supermarket, buying your kids a packet of chips. When you’re putting items in your shopping bag, you likely place the chips on top, right? They’re fragile - otherwise, you’ll end up with just crumbs. But if you’re in your head or in a rush, you probably don’t store them with the same care as usual.” She nodded, still piecing it together but following along.

You continued, "Apply this logic to the crime scene here. The unsub chose a low-traffic area with no prying eyes, yet he left the body right at the start of the ramp. He could have moved it a few more feet towards the wall, and you wouldn’t have stepped on her hair. But he didn’t. So, what does this tell us?"

“He was rushed,” she replied firmly.

“That’s a good observation,” you reassured her with your teacher voice, adding, “Or it could also mean he’s escalating, becoming less meticulous. Which is even more dangerous.” You nodded, acknowledging her insight.

“Go brief the team, Agent Y/L/N,” she instructed, a hint of gratitude in her eyes, you took at as a win.

“Yes, ma’am,” you replied, nodding before turning back to the team. As you walked over, you noticed Morgan, JJ, and Prentiss approaching a man who was rushing closer, his face etched with desperation.

He stumbled toward the police barricade, calling out her name, “Claire!” His voice cracked, filled with a futile hope that maybe, somehow, the officers were wrong - that it wasn’t her lying there, cold and with her heart brutally carved out.

“Claire!” he screamed, the sound shattering the quiet like a final, haunting echo. No matter how well you compartmentalized, this part - the raw ache of those left behind - always managed to somehow creep under your skin, always reminding you of the relentless grief and helplessness in the aftermath of violence. But that was a good thing. It comes with being human.

As you got closer towards the body you overheard Hotch say, “Morgan says you're worried about Gideon,” his gaze shifting briefly to you as you walked over, stopping just inches away.

You leaned over beside Reid, bracing your hands on your knees. Sitting at his eye level would have definitely been more ideal, but given your limited range of motion, this position would have to do.

You could feel Hotch's questioning gaze on you, clearly unaccustomed to seeing you in such an unusual stance - almost like a quarterback before kickoff, it felt so… out of character? Probably that’s what he thought, as he looked at you as if to ask ‘Quarterback?’

You arched a brow back. ‘Either this or a body in my living room.’

His eyes momentarily drifted to the necklace hanging from your shirt before he shot you a deadpan look that implied, ‘Not mine.’ Then he immediately shifted his gaze back to Reid.

Reid glanced up at Hotch, his face clouded with worry. “I keep calling him, but he doesn’t call back,” he admitted, his voice strained with concern.

Hotch’s gaze softened as he thought of Gideon’s familiar retreat. “He’s probably at his cabin,” he said gently, his eyes distant. “It’s where he goes when he needs to… get away.” He paused, then added with a preoccupied look, “Reid, I need your head in this.”

Reid’s lips pressed into a thin line, nodding. “I know.” Hotch gave him one last steadying look before heading toward the car.

“I need you to put your heart into this too,” you said, catching Reid’s gaze as you both walked toward the SUV. “The way Gideon would.”

Reid’s voice dropped, his tone laced with sadness. “That’s… not easy.”

"I never said it would be. Why hand you basic multiplication when I know you can tackle differential equations?" you replied with a sly smile. “But if you bring even a part of Gideon’s approach to this case, show up with the same heart, then in a way - he’s here with us,” you continued “By focusing on what’s present, the essence of what Gideon represents lives through you. Husserl’s phenomenology.”

“Edmund Husserl, the mathematician?” Reid asked, a spark of interest lighting up his eyes.

“Philosopher first, mathematician second,” you jokingly corrected him with a soft smile. “I totally recommend diving into his work. You’d find his ideas on consciousness and experience fascinating…and useful.” You paused, the corners of your mouth lifting. “By the way, since we’re on the topic of philosophy - a little bird told me you’ve started to study for your philosophy degree recently”

He tilted his head, brow raised. “A bird?” he asked, clearly confused.

“Judging by his appearance, I'd say it was a great horned owl - a 6’2” stressed, overworked, and somewhat emotionless owl in a suit,” you teased, a grin spreading across your face as Reid’s eyes widened slightly, recognizing the nod to Hotch.

“I was waiting for the right moment to tell you about it, Teach. I’m sorry,” Reid admitted, his gaze downcast.

You shook your head, a soft smile creeping onto your lips. “I’m not mad, I could never be. But I’ll take it personally if you don’t choose me as your thesis supervisor. And if you graduate with anything less than honors, well… that would just be unacceptable.” A playful glint sparkled in your eyes. “After all, if you choose me, you’re guaranteed honors.”

Reid raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “I thought only co-supervisors could be from outside the university.”

You leaned in, lowering your voice conspiratorially. “I have a friend who used to be a prosecutor who’s exceptionally skilled at bending the law, so you might want to start considering your options.” You grinned, the reference to Hotch hanging in the air like an inside joke. Reid chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief.

The two of you were standing on either side of the SUV; you by the driver’s door and Reid by the passenger side.

With a swift flick, you tossed the car keys over the top of the car. Reid managed to catch them mid-air, almost fumbling. “You drive,” you said firmly, a knowing smirk tugging at your lips.

The gesture wasn’t just about who got the wheel, it was a subtle way to keep Reid grounded, away from his spiraling thoughts. As he took the keys, his expression softened, and he seemed to relax just a bit.

For the few minutes it would take to drive from the crime scene to the station, his focus would be on the road rather than his thoughts. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to buy him some peace, if only for a short while.

---

“David Smith, the name of the child,” you said firmly into the phone as you hurried out of the school, adrenaline pumping through your veins, you’ve already taken out the car keys of the SUV. Reid and JJ followed closely behind, their expressions matching your urgency. “He left school early with the nurse on duty. They’re headed back to his house. She might be the next target. I sent you the address the school provided.”

“Alright, see you at his house,” Hotch instructed, his tone steady and authoritative. “Slow down a few houses before the unsub’s. I’m seeing it’s a low-density residential area, you could be noticed.”

“Copy that, we’ll wait for you there,” you replied, glancing back at Reid and JJ, who were already strategizing their approach as you made your way to the car.

Every second counted.

---

“How's she doing?” Strauss asked, her eyes on Prentiss, who was being tended to by the paramedic, her face bruised but calm.

"She’ll be okay," Hotch replied, his tone steady, though his jaw clenched slightly.

Strauss continued, “You know, I can’t officially approve of how this all went down.” Her words held a warning, her gaze fixed on him.

“The arrest was clean. Breaking up this team would be a mistake.” His voice was controlled, but a flicker of frustration lingered beneath. Bureau politics, always standing between him and the work that mattered most.

Strauss’s expression shifted. “None of you will ever move up the chain of command, you know that.”

Hotch didn’t hesitate.

“Why would I ever want to leave the BAU?” He turned away, needing to separate from her cold rationalizations.

But her words echoed, a slow, unwelcome realization: this life, the BAU, his team - it was slipping from his grip.

At home, he’d face Haley, their marriage hanging by a thread he couldn’t pull taut. He’d have to muster the words, once again, to explain why he needed this, why the BAU was the only stability he had left. He wasn’t just fighting to keep the job, he was fighting to keep himself together.

The job would always be his calling, but a gnawing ache tightened in his chest as he watched his team—specifically you, sharing a laugh with Prentiss. Emily was teasing you about the FBI bulletproof vest you were wearing over your outfit.

“Teach, let me say it: with that vest, you kind of look like a pimp,” Emily grinned, the paramedic finishing up her forehead treatment.

“A pimp?!” you exclaimed, shaking your head in disbelief. “You’re saying this only because you’re dying to try it!” You began to unbutton your vest before even finishing your sentence, playfully handing it over to Emily.

You turned your back as she slid it on, raising her eyebrows and asking for your opinion. “Now you look like a magician at a child’s birthday party” you quipped keeping a straight face, and laughter erupted between you two. Hotch nearly chuckled himself, grateful to see you fitting in so seamlessly.

Working with you again after all these years, witnessing your deepening bond with each team member, was a reminder of what he had missed in his life. The connections, the laughter, always having each other’s back - it all felt like coming home.

What had once felt like a distant vision, a hope he could barely allow himself, was now real: you, him, and the team, together. Hotch couldn’t help but let that settle in, a weight of happiness and something like relief.

He couldn’t imagine giving this up not after the seven years it took to get you back to him. Even if he couldn’t sit across from you at your old desks, at least you could always stand by his side.

On his left.

And him on your right.

“I’m seeing you tomorrow, right?” you asked, catching him off guard with your nearness. He hadn’t realized you’d moved closer, the warmth of your presence both grounding and distracting.

He hesitated. “I don’t know yet.”

You gave him a familiar, disappointed look. “You haven’t called Haley yet, have you?”

Hotch’s expression shifted to something darker, more serious. “I’d rather have this conversation face-to-face.” Then, after a beat, he asked, “Has Peter answered?”

Your half-smile was wry, maybe a little weary. “Which one of my 23 calls?” You always softened things with humor, but he could hear the edge in your voice.

“Any,” he said, irritation simmering as he thought of Peter’s silence.

Your ironic grin said it all. “None.” Hotch scoffed, shaking his head, and you gently deflected. “A part of me kept thinking coming back wouldn’t be the same as it was, that working with you would turn into working for you. That’s scary.” You met his gaze, sincerity shining through. “But actually watching you step into your role, I’ve never seen you more like yourself than I did today.”

He sighed, your words striking a deeper chord. “I really needed to hear that, thank you.” he replied quietly, his voice thick with gratitude. “And… you know, for me, you’ll always be my partner. I hope you still think of me as yours.”

You met his gaze, steady and warm. “I do,” you answered softly, a reassurance in your eyes. “But I still expect all my partner privileges, though.”

A grin played on his face. “Your transfer will be the first paper I file.”

“Caught you!” You raised an eyebrow, catching him in his words. “Filing implies you’re still part of the team, which means you’re morally obliged to show up tomorrow, Unit Chief.”

Hotch’s smirk widened, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Morally binding? That’s circumstantial at best,” he replied. “You’ll need a statute or at least a binding contract if you’re going to get me to commit. Moral obligations don’t hold up in court.”

You laughed, but he could feel the seriousness in your tone “Call your wife, Lawyer.”

And that’s when he convinced himself.

He was determined to fight for this life, for you and this team - even if it meant returning home to another confrontation. But fighting alone wasn’t possible, it takes two to spark a conflict, and one person couldn’t sustain it.

You can’t fight if you’re the only one left standing in your own home.

It takes two people to start a conflict. One wasn’t enough.

“Haley?” The word felt like a scream in the stillness of his house, yet it came out as a whisper, more an expression to himself than a call for her. The only answer was an echo, his question bouncing back at him.

He had always argued against responding to a question with another question. But there it was - the truth, indifferent to his profiler rules, obeying only its own logic.

In that moment, everything went blank, his mind shut down. For several moments, he struggled to formulate something – anything - but nothing came to him. Then, only one thought broke through the fog, taking center stage in his mind, grounding him.

‘German philosopher, Hegel once said:

every idea – thesis,

inevitably faces opposition - antithesis,

leading to a resolution – synthesis.’

-Hegel for Dummies.

He ascended the stairs, each step echoing the weight of his thoughts.

Thesis: his resolve, the first step upward, filled with hope this was just happening in his head.

Antithesis: the second step, shadowed by doubt and the painful memory of the love he had just lost.

Synthesis: the third step, an ephemeral blending of grief and determination, a bittersweet acknowledgment of what was and what could never be again.

And then again-

‘German philosopher, Hegel once said:

The synthesis then becomes the new thesis,

sparking further conflicts and resolutions in a continuous cycle of development.

Hegel believed that conflict is essential for progress.‘

-Hegel for Dummies.

Another step-

Thesis: “This is who I am”, “No, this is what you do.”

Antithesis: “I’ve never seen you more like yourself than I did today”

Synthesis: …

But what happens when he is left alone, unable to reach synthesis?

‘German philosopher, Hegel once said:

When there is no synthesis, conflict can lead to chaos.

Without a resolution, opposing ideas may continue to clash

without progress,

resulting in frustration,

confusion,

or a breakdown of understanding.’

-Hegel for Dummies.

He should have called Haley at least once.

Maybe then he wouldn’t be standing here, paralyzed in the doorway of the empty bedroom, a haunting silence enveloping him like a shroud. The air was thick with the remnants of a life that felt painfully out of reach.

She had left, taking Jack with her, and with them went the laughter that once filled these walls.

Thesis: He was a terrible father and husband, forever tethered to his job, sacrificing family for duty. He deserved every consequence of his choices - Jack’s first combination of words echoing “Dad—work,” a reminder of his absence, Haley’s betrayal, and the stark realization that his family had slipped through his fingers like sand.

Antithesis: Yet, his work was the only thing that made him feel whole, a place where he could be competent, useful, the only identity he knew how to embrace. It was where he found purpose, and, for a fleeting moment, a sense of self-worth.

Synthesis: Three buzzes from his phone that pulled him back to reality, and he immediately glanced at the screen, his heart racing.

Philosopher:

I noticed Emily was feeling down, so I convinced her to join me at the bar.

I told her that the big scar on her head would make for a great conversation starter. (I was totally right)

Penelope, Derek, Jennifer, and EVEN Spencer - our kind-hearted colleagues - suggested that Emily and I, the re-integrating members, should fund all the drinks in the spirit of “teamwork”.

Please come rescue our wallets, we’re at the bar between 12th Street and K NW. I owe you a pint, maybe even two.

No pressure, though - stay with Haley and Jack if you need to. The situation hasn’t escalated... yet.

He didn’t have to think it twice, you were all he had left.

---

Aaron arrived at the bar not long after your message, quietly slipping into the group, trying to shake off the hollow feeling that had been creeping over him.

His eyes found you almost immediately, as if magnetically pulled to you, laughing with Emily and the team. But just as he began making his way over, he noticed the entire white-collar unit entering, with Peter at the front.

If he thought he’d hit rock bottom before, he realized now that apparently, there was even a basement below even that. What a perfect timing for a little reunion wasn’t it?

Peter, already a few drinks in, caught sight of you and wasted no time making his way over, his expression tainted with something meaner than usual. “Look who’s here,” he sneered, his voice carrying a sarcastic bite. “The BAU swoops in, disrupts lives, and sweeps my fiancée back into its arms. All so you can play hero.”

The laughter and conversation at the table went quiet as the team noticed the shift in tone. You froze, unsure of what to say, giving him a wary look. “Pete, this isn’t the time or place,” you replied, keeping your voice calm and somewhat quiet, despite the tension building around you.

“Oh, right.” Peter rolled his eyes, a bitter laugh escaping him. “Gotta keep the BAU's image all pristine.”

Peter leaned in closer, his words loud enough for everyone to hear, his gaze lingering on the team around you. “Funny, though, you have all this dedication for them, but no time for… bedtime. You still want this ‘us’ you’re promising me, or was that just a story?”

Oh, he really wanted to punch Peter in the face.

Although Aaron’s face remained impassive, his eyes sharp, his tone calm but lethal. “You know,” he began, stepping closer, “I’ve looked the other way when you’ve crossed lines before. But if you disrespect her like that again, I’ll have no problem spending a night in jail.”

Peter laughed bitterly, turning to him with a mocking smirk. “What, she needs you to fight her battles now? Hate to break it to you, but I’m the one she said yes to, Hotchner. Maybe it’s time you got over it.”

Everything stopped.

The tension inside him turned hot, searing through his last shred of patience.

Aaron didn’t even hear the sounds around him as he moved. His fist shot forward, a flash of rage, finding Peter's face with a controlled, devastating force.

The satisfying crunch of bone and flesh beneath his knuckles felt like long-awaited justice, a release.

Blood trickled warmly between his fingers, and the bar sank into a stunned silence, every gaze fixed on the unfolding scene. Peter staggered back, eyes wide as he clutched his nose, the steady stream of crimson painting a harsh line down his hand.

Derek and Emily jumped to their feet, rushing to Aaron's side, each grabbing one of his arms, pulling him back before the situation could escalate further. “Hotch, that’s enough!” Derek hissed, his grip firm

Aaron shot Peter a glare that could freeze fire. “If you ever speak about her that way again,” he said, his tone barely a whisper but chilling, “I won’t stop at a bloody nose.”

Peter wiped his face with a hand, a cruel smile forming through the pain. “Tough words from someone who can’t even keep his own family together,” he retorted, his words biting, dripping with contempt.

He was dead.

Not today.

He stiffened, a flicker of pain flashing across his face before he shut it down, his expression hardening.

The insult struck a nerve, and he clenched his fists, resisting the urge to strike again.

Spencer, watching the exchange unfold, shuddered slightly, recognizing the dangerous glint in Aaron’s eyes. Even Morgan’s hand, steady on Aaron’s shoulder, seemed to tighten as he held him back.

He felt your hand gently rest on his arm, a warmth spreading through him that caught him off guard. The touch sent a subtle shiver down his spine, a soft but undeniable reminder of your presence, grounding him.

“Peter, that’s enough,” you said sharply, your voice steady despite the emotions roiling within you. “Get away. You’re acting like a child.”

Peter laughed bitterly, his eyes flashing with anger as he backed up, but the look on his face made it clear he wasn’t quite done. “Fine,” he said, wiping his bloody nose.

“I’m done here. Have fun with your so-called family, see you at home, if you still want to.” he sneered, casting one last look around the table before staggering back to his white-collar buddies.

You turned your focus back to him, your hand still resting on his arm. “Are you okay?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded, exhaling deeply. “I’m fine,” he replied, though his voice held a hint of weariness. “I’m sorry - I shouldn’t have let it get to that point.”

You squeezed Aaron’s arm gently, giving him a reassuring smile. “You didn’t have to do that, you know. But… thank you.”

Aaron met your gaze, his expression serious. “I’d do it again if I had to,” he looked at you, catching the unease that lingered in your eyes as Peter momentarily turned away. “Come on,” he whispered, leaning in close enough that only you could hear. “Let’s get you out of here.”

You didn’t argue, simply gave a nod.

Outside, the crisp night air hit you, grounding you just slightly, though your mind still buzzed with everything that had happened, Aaron kept a steadying hand on your shoulder, guiding you to his car.

Once seated, he let out a sigh, his gaze trained on you. “I don’t want you going back to him tonight,” he said softly, his words holding a quiet urgency. “If he’s already drunk and angry…” He left the sentence hanging, the implication heavy in the silence.

You looked away, taking a deep breath. “Aaron, I can’t just-”

“I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you because I didn’t insist,” he interrupted, his tone low, leaving no room for you to argue. “You don’t have to stay for good. Just let me take you back to your place so you can gather some things. Stay with me tonight. Just… please.”

His gaze held yours, an earnest plea in his eyes that made it impossible to refuse.

You gave a small nod, and Aaron’s shoulders visibly relaxed, some of the tension slipping away. The drive back to your apartment was quiet, the kind of silence that held too much weight to break. When you returned to collect your things, you admitted to yourself that Peter’s absence was a relief.

---

As Aaron pulled up to his place, he walked you in, stopping to gesture toward the guest room. “You can take this room for as long as you need,” he said, offering you a comforting smile.

Yet there was something flickering in his expression - an uncertainty, a regret he couldn’t quite mask. You sensed it before he said a word.

“Aaron… is Haley alright with this?” you asked softly, instinctively careful. There was something wrong.

He exhaled, his gaze drifting on a blank space on the wall. “She’s… not here. Hasn’t been, actually.”

That couldn’t be true.

He looked at you, the confession raw and vulnerable, his eyes wet. “She took Jack. When I got back after Milwaukee, the house was… empty.”

Your hand flew to your mouth, unable to keep the gasp from escaping. “Oh, Aaron” you whispered. That’s all you managed to say. No words of wisdom, no philosophical theories, nothing.

It felt like the whole world crashed right upon you.

Why?

Martyrdom only held meaning if death served something greater. That purpose had once been enough to bear it.

Now, stripped of that cause, the reality was laid bare: nothing remained but death itself - cold, hollow, and devoid of purpose.

The emptiness sank in, exposing the unrelenting finality that was no longer a noble sacrifice but a bleak, pointless end.

“It’s my fault. I failed them… just like I’ve failed you.” As he said it, you felt the prickling of tears, unbidden and impossible to hold back.

No sobs, no breaking down, just a quiet release of all the pain you’d kept carefully tucked away.

He reached for you instinctively, his hand brushing your arm with a tenderness that broke the silence. “I never wanted this for you. For us. I’m sorry.”

You tried to smile, but it trembled at the edges. “All I ever wanted was to see you happy, Aaron,” you replied, voice thick with emotion. “I thought… I thought you’d finally found it.”

He sighed, the confession heavy in his voice as he looked down, feeling the regret twist deeper within him. “Sometimes, I wonder if I’ll ever be good enough to deserve that kind of happiness you talked about.” The words hung in the air, unguarded. Echoing in the empty walls of his house.

He led you to the couch, poured two glasses, and offered you one. The silence felt almost sacred, each of you sorting through fragments of your own heartbreak, yet finding a strange comfort in the other’s presence.

After a long pause, Aaron cleared his throat. “Here’s the deal,” he began softly, his eyes meeting yours with a rare openness. “I’ll give you all the time you need. No pressure. If you want to talk about anything, all you have to do is ask. Otherwise, we’ll pretend none of this ever happened… until you’re ready to figure it out.”

His words struck you deeply, and your voice came out more vulnerable than you intended. “What if… what if it’s too complicated?” you whispered, gripping your glass as if it could ground you.

“Then we’ll untangle it together,” he replied, his tone steady. “For now, stay here with me. We’ll both take the time we need to figure this out.” He hesitated, then added softly, “You don’t have to face him. And I’ll figure out… my own things with Haley.”

You nodded, your heart aching with a mixture of relief and sadness. “Thank you, Aaron. I… I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

He looked at you with such warmth that for a moment, the weight on your chest felt lighter. “You’ll never have to find out - partners privileges” he replied simply.

You nodded, letting a deep, unspoken understanding settle between you. Slowly, you leaned into him, your head finding a place on his shoulder, and he responded instinctively, slipping his arm around you in a way that was both familiar and unexpectedly tender.

The weight of his arm was warm and steady, grounding you in a closeness that felt just on the edge of something you’d both carefully avoided acknowledging.

A gentle silence wrapped around you, though it was charged with the kind of tension that comes from being close to a line neither of you dared cross.

The simplicity of it, just leaning into him, felt almost too good, as if it could shatter with the wrong word or movement.

The moment felt fragile.

Precious.

“I wish it didn’t have to be like this,” you murmured, barely louder than a breath, afraid that if you spoke any louder, the delicate tension might break.

He sighed softly, and you felt his cheek rest against the top of your head, the warmth of his breath brushing your hair. “I know,” he replied, voice low and heavy, almost like a vow he couldn’t put into clearer words. “But whatever happens,” he added after a pause, “I’m not going anywhere.”

He shifted, pressing a soft, gentle kiss to the top of your head. You let out a chuckle slightly shaking your head, feeling a wave of warmth settle over you, shoulders relaxing further against him.

He pulled back, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Too much?” he asked, his tone teasing.

You grinned, glancing up at him. “Not unless you’re hiding a bottle of tequila around here.”

He chuckled, his arm steady around you. “Tequila’s been blacklisted since ’99,” he replied with a laugh.

“Good,” you whispered, and a soft laugh escaped. The air felt lighter, like a shared secret wrapped in laughter. You leaned back against his shoulder, feeling the steady rhythm of his breathing align with yours, each second deepening that shared comfort.

He sighed, settling in, voice warm with humor. “Banning tequila was one of the best choices I’ve ever made.”

You arched an eyebrow, pretending to consider his words. “Best choice? So, this ranks above the law degree? The Bureau? Working with me?”

“Easily,” he deadpanned, a hint of his own teasing smile. “Even ranks above knocking on your door to ask you to quit teaching.” He paused, his hand resting easily on your shoulder. “And just so you know, your official transfer paperwork to the BAU is sitting on my desk. Unsigned, waiting for your signature, to make it official.”

“Oh, is that so?” you teased, shifting slightly to look at him. “I’d say this transfer back to the BAU is already morally binding,” you said with a grin, “especially since, technically, I’m living here.”

He raised his eyebrows, clearly intrigued. “Is that right? And exactly why does that make it morally binding?”

You tilted your head, enjoying the game. “Because, by the rules of ‘teamwork,’ I’d feel too guilty taking up space in your guest room without helping out on cases. Besides, someone has to balance out your caffeine intake and remind you to avoid questionable interrogation tactics.”

He chuckled, tightening his arm around you just a little. “Ah, moral obligation then. And here I thought you might just be getting comfortable with the arrangement.”

You smirked, leaning your head back on his shoulder, feeling the steady rhythm of his breathing sync with yours, that rare, unspoken understanding in the air. “It’s your word against mine, Lawyer.”

---

Phi's Corner: Thank you @c-losur3 for the lovely bit that inspired the bar scene, hoping it turned out to be just about right.

taglist: @beata1108 ; @cuddleprofiler ; @c-losur3 ; @fangirlunknown ; @justyourusualash ; @kyrathekiller ; @lostinwonderland314 ; @mxblobby ; @prettybaby-reid ; @reidfile ; @royalestrellas ; @ssa-callahan ; @theseerbetweenus ; @todorokishoe24

#aaron hotchner #hotch #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotch x reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #symposiumff

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