#ev conversion cost

[homoquartz]

a show doesn't necessarily have to be ABOUT queerness to BE a queer show. it's a cultural dialect that cishets don't quite speak.

edit: i gotta clarify that the shows do indeed still have to have actual queer characters in them to count

[plugincaro]

Car EV conversion Kit Only Rs 1 lakh - GoGoA1

Kit Price = Rs 100,000 100kms Range need 4 Batteries = 2Lakhs 300kms Range need 12 Batteries = 6Lakhs Continue reading Untitled

[motorsportbarbie13]

A Package Deal - Part 2

In which something a little more serious and a lot more meaningful than either of you anticipated starts to blossom between you and your curly haired crush.

Warnings: nothing, this is so tooth achingly fluffy, you may need a trip to the dentist afterwards. Pairing: Lando x SingleMom!Reader Word Count: 5.3k (oops)

Master List

(quick note in case anyone is paying super close attention. i switched the job reader has at McLaren to fit this bit of plot in. I think switched all mentions over in part one, but just in case you notice the different job title, that was on purpose :) )

yourusername (private) posted:

110 likes liked by landonorris, BFFSarah, coworkerMolly, and others yourusername scenes from the longest winter break ever landonorris is Stella baking me more cookies??? >>>yourusername she gave all gingerbread men mullets 'just like lando', what do you think? >>>landonorris thats my girl!! coworkerMolly that skirt on you is INSANE btw >>>yourusername ;)

The holidays slip away in a blur of presents and hot cocoa dates with Stella so fast that before you know it, school is beginning again and you're forced back into the office on a regular basis. With the way the holidays fell this year, you ended up taking nearly two weeks of annual leave between Christmas and New Years and while you appreciated the time off to reset and battle burnout your job inevitably brought on, by the time you dropped Stella off at school that first morning, you were near ecstatic with relief.

You didn't want to admit it to anyone, not even barely to yourself, but you also had missed Lando. He'd spent Christmas at his parents for a few days before jetting off to somewhere gorgeous and warm with his friends and while he texted you near constantly, you often found yourself wondering what he was doing. You hated how much you looked forward to the chime on your phone alerting you to a new text but even more, you hated how much your heart stuttered in your chest every time you saw it was his name that was lighting up your phone.

You had told Sarah about running into Lando at Harrods that Saturday and then made the mistake of telling her that he had bought the booster seat (downright refusing to allow you to even split the cost it with him) and driven you home. She had grinned like a cat with warm milk, saying she knew something was going on but was wildly excited when you told her about the drive home.

Like you had predicted, Stella had been fast asleep by the time Lando had merged onto the freeway. She had stayed sound asleep even after you had reached your house, Lando allowing his Range Rover to idle for nearly twenty minutes in your driveway as you chatted. The conversation was quiet, neither of you wanting to wake a sleeping Stella but it flowed as easily as champagne on New Years Eve.

As you sat in the passengers seat of the SUV you couldn't help the way your mind wandered into the 'what ifs' of what was happening here. What if everything hadn't been ruined the moment Lando found out that Stella was yours? What if that, despite everything being against you, this was the time it all worked out. They were dangerous thoughts, especially for a single mom who couldn't allow her heart to be compromised. There was another heart that had to be taken into consideration: Stella's fragile six year old heart. So when Lando had started allowing his gaze to wander down to your lips and leaning almost imperceptably closer towards you with each passing moment, you had ignored his advances. You didn't want to, but you were scared. The what if's scared you but the what ifs not working out scared you even more.

You had slipped out of the car before anything could happen, thankful for the fact that Stella began to finally stir after nearly 30 minutes of you and Lando talking.

After that night, the texting had started and while Lando hadn't visted the MTC since, he had made a point to check in with you a few times each day. He didn't want to get ahead of himself, reminding himself of how you had ever so subtly rejected his advances the night he had taken you and Stella home.

As he had been analyzing the evening the next day with Max, his best friend had all but warned him off of you. 'Being with a single mom is a challenge that I don't think you're up for, mate.' Had been his warning, a warning that Lando had so far, chosen to ignore. He knew it was kind of a crazy thing to consider, especially with the lifestyle that he had become accustomed to over the last few years, but there was something magnetic about you. The way you sacrificed everything in order to make sure Stella was taken care of. The way you took on everything solo despite having a solid support system, because you didn't want to be a burden to anyone. The way you still managed to find magic in a life that had to be full of heartache and difficulties.

You were a magnetic force to be reckoned with and the fact that you had opened up to Lando that night in the car while Stella slept soundly in his back seat was something that he cherished.

It was also why he found himself nervously pacing outside of Sarah's office one January morning after he had returned from his vacation in Finland. The new season was fast approaching and it was time to get down to business and spend more time in the sim and at the MTC, making sure he was ready to give everything for the 2025 season. But he also had other reasons to be at the MTC even more: you.

Sarah is in her office that chilly January morning when she hears shuffling outside her door. It's propped open so all it takes is a quick peek outside. "Lando?" She calls, spying the driver hovering outside her door, hands shoved deep into his pockets as he paced the empty corridor.

"Oh. Hi. Sorry." Lando pushes his curls off his face, stepping into the brightly lit office. "Am I interrupting? I can totally come back..."

Sarah nearly laughs at the anxious energy radiating off of Lando but manages to quell it, not wanting to spook him. "No, it's fine. What can I do for you?"

"I...well..." Lando cards his hand hand through his hair once again, searching for the right words. He hadn't gotten the best reception from Max when he opened up about his feelings for you, so he was really nervous about what your best friend was going to say. He didn't want to get told off by her too. "I was wondering if I could ask you for a favor?"

Sarah smirks. "Does this favor have to do with our favorite single mom who works down the hall?"

Lando goes crimson at the question but a bit of him feels relieved at the smile that plays on Sarah's face. "Uh...It does actually. I was wondering if you would be willing to babysit Stella Saturday night so I could take her out to dinner and maybe a movie or something."

Sarah pushes away from her desk, the look on her face transforming from smug to soft admiration. "You really like her, don't you?"

Lando nods earnestly, "I do. Stella kind of threw me for a loop there at first but after spending time with them before Christmas..." He drops the rest of the sentence then, not sure if he should be opening up this much to your best friend. She probably knew how you felt about him already but it was a natural reaction for him to keep his feelings closely held. "I know our lifestyles are not exactly...compatible but she's amazing and I just want to spend more time with her."

"You'd be lucky to land a girl like her, Lando." Sarah observes, leaning back in her chair. "And while I agree, your lifestyles are radically different, I think you two could be good for each other."

"Yeah?" Lando's voice is a wash of relief, having expected to face the same criticism that he had faced from Max.

"Yeah, I do. I'd be happy to take Stella for the night as long as she's okay with it. Have you asked her?"

Lando shakes his head. "I wanted to make sure you were okay with it first."

"Can I give you some advice though?" When Lando nods, Sarah continues. "You're going to have to be patient with her. She's been through a lot and she has a lot on her shoulders. She doesn't need someone adding to that load. She needs someone who's going to help her carry that load, take some things off her shoulders. And if that's not something you think you can do, don't even start anything with her. If you're not all in with her and Stella, please don't pursue anything further, okay?"

Lando leans against the door frame, taking in your best friend's words. "I'd never do anything to add to what she already carries." He says softly and Sarah grins.

"Good. Tell her I'll take Stella for one of our famous sleepovers, yeah? Treat her well, Lando. I don't want to have to kick your ass if you hurt her."

"Thanks, Sarah. I'd never hurt her, I promise."

"Good. Now get, I think she's leaving after lunch today to get Stella for a dentist appointment. She should still be in her office though."

yourusername (private) posted a story:

replies: BFFSarah oh my GODDDDDDDD! you're going to give the poor boy a heart attack. >>>yourusername stoppppp, i'm so nervous. >>>BFFSarah not as nervous as he was when he was in my office on Tuesday asking me to babysit Stella ;) landonorris well hello pretty girl. is that outfit for me? >>>yourusername maybe ;)

"Wait, so you were the one who came up with the idea for that tire deg prediction program?" Lando stares at you from across the table, jaw nearly hitting the white linen tablecloth.

You blush into your wine, not good at taking compliments. The small Italian restaurant that Lando had booked a table at was quiet and cozy, allowing both of you to focus on the person sitting across from you and not anything else. It was nice, getting out of the house without Stella in tow. As much as you adored your daughter and valued every single second spent with her, sometimes it was really nice to have some time away. You were on your second glass of wine and your head was buzzing delightfully, the look on Lando's face as you fell into conversation about the work you were so passionate about sent something that felt a lot like desire curling deep in your belly.

"That was me. I'm actually working on an improved model for the upcoming season. More inputs like weather and historical degradation data should help the model give Andrea and the team a better idea of when the ideal pit window for you and Oscar will be in real time."

Lando just stares at you, dumbfounded. He had known bits and pieces of your job from the time he spent accosting you with questions over the last six months but he had never realized how deeply ingrained you were in his weekend routine already. "That program helped me win Miami last year." He says, totally awestruck.

You fidget under his attention, barely hiding a smile. When you had stumbled upon data analytics and predictive modeling in your first semester of uni all those years ago, you had never imagined it would lead to you writing a program that helped an F1 team predict how and when the tires were going to go off during a race. It was just one of many projects you had worked on in your two years at McLaren but it was absolutely the one you were most proud of.

"Well, hopefully with the improved modeling system I've been working on, we can get you and Oscar onto that top step more this year. I have a meeting with Zak and Andrea next week actually to discuss putting more resources into it so we can further develop it."

"I don't know how you can improve on it, the data I've seen it produce is already wildly helpful." Lando has to resist the urge to cover your hand with his, the need to touch you suddenly overwhelming.

He had been so nervous tonight while driving over to your house to pick you up for dinner, it was a wonder he hadn't ended up in a ditch or something. Stella had already been whisked away by Sarah by the time he got to your house, but there was a (albeit a bit stale) gingerbread man with a curly mullet left on the counter for him. 'Stella gave me strict instructions to make sure you get your cookie.' You had informed him, face serious with the task at hand.

Now that you were sat across from him, plate of food sat half eaten in front of you, Lando found himself not as nervous as he thought he'd be. The butterflies were still there and he had to constantly keep the desire to lace his fingers with yours in check, but the way you had made him feel calm and comfortable during the time he visited you in your office before had simply transferred to dinner tonight. He'd never felt more at ease with someone who made him so nervous before and while it was an uneasy feeling, it also felt like the most natural thing in the world.

"I didn't realize anyone beyond the strategy team used the models." You admit.

Lando likes the way your cheeks flush under his praise, even if you're still refusing to meet his eyes while he compliments you.

"Will and I go over all that data after session. With how unpredictable the tires can be from day to day, I really depend on that information."

"Well, I'm glad my little data project is doing its job." You say simply, before taking another bite out of the food before you.

The rest of dinner passes in casual conversation and meaningful looks exchanged over drinks and dessert. If having dinner with Lando and Stella in London had been fun, this dinner was certainly a more intimate affair. It wasn't until your third glass of wine that you settled into the feeling that there could be something between you and Lando, allowing the fear to take a back seat even for just one night.

"Can I ask you something?" You ask boldly while dessert is being placed in front of you.

"Anything."

And he means it.

"I know the first time you found your way into my office was by mistake but I've always wondered why you kept coming back. I mean, my office is literally on the opposite side of any place you'd ever be normally."

"Besides the fact that you're the prettiest girl I've ever seen in my life?" He flirts shamelessly, the alcohol in his system making him braver than he really felt.

"Lan..." You scold, fighting the urge to roll your eyes.

Lando chuckles and finally loses the battle he's been fighting all dinner. He reaches across the table and slips his fingers into the spaces between yours, rubbing his thumb over the soft skin of your hand. The spark that ignites when he touches you has the breath catching in the back of your throat. "Because you talked to me like a normal person. It was right around the time the championship race was heating up, as manufactured by the press as it was. The team was a bit in shambles and I just felt really unsupported."

He doesn't have to say it, but you instinctively know he's talking about the Hungary race earlier in the year. The Wednesday after that race, Lando had popped up in your office first thing in the morning and had sat across from you until well after lunch. The way his shoulders hunched and he kind of just folded himself into the desk chair that you now kept specifically for him had broken your heart.

"You never asked me about racing or the championship or anything like that. You let me talk and ask questions about your job and I was just able to forget the outside world for a bit. I was never Lando Norris, McLaren Formula 1 driver competing with Max Verstappen with you. I was just 'Lan'. I really appreciated that, especially during the second half of the season."

You had become his safe space was what he wanted to say but fear kept that bit of information from passing his lips. For now.

The warmth of Lando's fingers tangled with yours travels through your entire body. "I'm glad I helped." You murmur, heat pooling low in your belly at the look he's giving you from across the table.

"More than you know."

"Okay. No, I understand. Yes, she was fine when I dropped her off this morning. Okay. Yes, thank you. Tell her I'm leaving work right now, I'll be there in about twenty minutes. Thank you, Ms. Rose."

Panic floods your chest as you stare at the computer screen in front of you. "Fuck." You whisper, frantically looking up the phone number for Zak's personal assistant. "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck."

"That is a lot of swearing for 10 in the morning on a Wednesday."

Your eyes fly from your computer screen to the door of your office where Lando stands, leaning against the doorframe looking unreasonably handsome in a green jumper and jeans. You couldn't admire him for long though, panic returning to the front of your mind as you desperately try to figure out what you're going to do.

"Stella's school just called." Lando immediately crosses the room and sits down in 'his' chair, as he's begun to think it. Ever since your date last Saturday night, he hasn't been able to get you off his mind. He's been at the MTC every morning this week, something that even Zak noticed this morning and made a comment about him being extra dedicated to getting the new season started off on the right foot. If only he knew the real motivation for being around all the time now. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd spent any time back at his other apartment in Monaco.

"Everything okay?"

"No, she's running a fever. They need me to come get her except remember that meeting with Zak and Andrea I told you about? It's in..." Your eyes flicker back to your computer screen before bouncing back up to meet Lando's concerned gaze. "Fifteen minutes. I'm going to have to cancel and God knows when I'm ever going to get this kind of face time with either of them before the start of the season. Without their support, the upgrades to that tire deg model I want to make will basically be dead in the water."

Normally, you handle the pressures of being a single mom pretty well. You realize your career trajectory is a little different than normal, with you being unable to work late or travel extensively or do any of the other things that usually help with job advancement and you made your peace with that a long time ago. You make enough to provide very comfortably for Stella, so when you're passed over for promotions or unable to dedicate extra time, you're usually fine with it. Not today though.

"I've been prepping for this meeting for weeks. Weeks, Lando. Sarah is on annual leave in Spain and my dad is in London today with a client, there is literally no one else to go get her. Today of all fucking days." Tears threaten to spill over, you're so frustrated. You've worked so hard to get this meeting and now it's all going to go to waste.

"I'll go get her." The way Lando says it has shock slicing through your heart, quick as a knife. He says it so casually, like you're silly for not even considering him.

"What? No, Lando, I can't ask that of you."

"You're not asking, I'm offering." Lando stands, pulling out his phone. "Text me the address of her school and I'll go get her. I drove my Rover this morning and guess what I still have in the back seat?" A brilliant smile flashes across his face.

Something stills in your chest at the fact that Lando left your daughter's booster seat in his car after all these weeks.

"Lan..."

"I don't want to hear any more arguments, mama."

Well that was certainly something you'd have to unpack your reaction to later.

"Are you sure?" You bite at your lower lip and Lando has to physically restrain himself from kissing you right there in your office. Something which he still hasn't done, as much as it was killing him. After dinner the other night he had wanted to kiss you more than anything but he hadn't wanted to rush you, Sarah's words echoing in his head. How he needed to be patient with you and how you'd bene through so much the past few years so he had chickened out, erring on the side of caution and had settled for a hug and quick press of his lips to your cheek instead. He had regretted it every moment since dropping you off at your door that night.

"Absolutely. Now, go call Ms. Rose back and tell her Lando Norris is coming to get Ms. Stelly Belly. Do you have a spare key for me? I'll take her back to your place and we'll watch movies 'til you can get home."

An unfamiliar sense of calm settles over you at the sound of confidence in Lando's voice. You don't let just anyone take care of Stella, especially when she's sick. Really, the only other two people that you'd ever trust with her are Sarah and your dad. That list now was a list of three, you supposed.

"Okay." You reply weakly. "Thank you, Lando. Seriously. I don't know how I'm ever going to repay you."

"Go get ready for your meeting, pretty girl." Without a second look, Lando turns and walks out of your office. Moments after he gets into the lift to head to his car, his phone chimes with a text from you giving him the address to Stella's school.

A few hours later, you slot the key to your front door in the lock, swinging the door open as quietly as you can manage. From the entryway, you can hear the TV playing in the living room on the other side of the house.

Just in case Stella is asleep, you don't announce your presence opting to tip toe towards where you think Lando and Stella will be instead. The sight that greets you when you finally spy them has your heart clenching painfully, stealing the breath straight out of your lungs. The couch is perpendicular to where you stand, so you can just see Lando's profile as he sits, cheek tilted down resting gently on Stella's head as he watched Frozen playing on the TV in front of him. Stella is cuddled up in his lap, her arms thrown around his shoulders and her little head is buried deep in the crook of his neck. Lando's arms are wrapped securely around your little girl as he cradles her to his chest.

You rub at your sternum, desperatly trying to massage the ache that has settled there at the way Stella is curled up into Lando for comfort. You've never seen her do this with anyone other than you. Not even Sarah.

Lando senses when you walk into the room, having not even heard the door open moments before. Stella sleeps soundly against him, her warm breath tickling at the space between his neck and shoulders. They hadn't been home longer than twenty minutes when Stella had started to cry because she felt so poorly. When Lando had offered her a cuddle to make her feel better until you could get home, Stella had crawled right up into his lap and fell asleep before Anna even had a chance to build that snowman.

He was surprised at how comfortable this felt, with Stella seeking comfort from him. How easily it had come for him to just wrap his arms around her frame so she'd stop crying. He was pretty sure he'd do anything to get your little girl to stop feeling sad.

Lando turns to you after a few moments and smiles. Something passes between you then, with Stella asleep in front of you. It's powerful and reassuring and everything that you've been waiting for since the day you had realized you'd be raising Stella on your own.

"I think I finally got her fever down." Lando whispers, not wanting to wake Stella up.

"Oh my gosh, I didn't even tell you where the paracetamol is in the house." Your hand flies back to your throat in horror.

"It's okay. Stella told me where it was. My mom helped me figure out the dosage for her."

"Your mom?" You squeak, swaying on your feet.

Lando chuckles. That had been an interesting call. He hadn't had the time to explain to her exactly why he was asking for help to figure out how much paracetamol to give Stella but he was panicked, the school being unable to give her a dose of anything and her fever was going up. She had been confused, but helped without further question.

"It's fine. We got it figured out and then I turned Frozen on and she fell asleep pretty quick after that. I haven't found the thermometer yet but she feels a lot cooler than she did earlier."

For a moment, all you can do is stare at Lando. It unnerved you how comfortable he was with her. Not in a bad way but in a completely unexpected way that had goosebumps littering your skin.

"How'd the meeting go?" Lando breaks the silence after a few moments.

Your eyes snap from Stella's sleeping frame to meet Lando's gaze. He made no attempt to move Stella off his lap or hand her over, just kept his arms securely around her while he waited patiently for your answer. He could tell you were trying to wrap your head around what you were looking at and he was hoping it was a good thing. He knew you weren't used to people stepping up for you, the close inner circle you kept was very small, but he hoped that after today you'd maybe let him in a little more.

"Oh..." You pause, struggling to focus on anything other than the sight in front of you. "Good actually! Zak was super impressed with what I've got done so far. He wants me to go to Bahrain later in the month for testing with the team to test the program first hand. And he wants me to go to a few races too"

"Baby," Lando coos, reaching out a hand to capture your fingers with his. Your heart squeezes at the pet name as you barely hold in the squeal at the nickname. "I'm so proud of you, that's amazing."

Tears threaten at the edge of your vision. It had been a long time since someone other than your own father had told you that they were proud of you. "I called my dad and him and my step mom are going to watch Stella whenever I need to travel and whatever they can't cover, I'm going to hire a nanny."

It had been Zak's idea to hire the nanny, a suggestion that nearly bowled you over when he made it. He knew your situation and had wanted to make sure that you were able to travel while being comfortable with leaving Stella with someone.

"Zak offered me a raise to help offset the cost of hiring someone." You say quietly, reflecting on how insistent the man had been when you waffled at the thought of traveling more this season.

The thought of getting to travel with you this season, even if it was solely for work, was so appealing to Lando it was a little silly. He had been thinking the other night how much it was going to suck having to travel so much this year just as things were getting started with you. He usually loved losing himself in the season, not having anything hold him back or weigh him down from enjoying the constant moving and sleeping in different hotel rooms every weekend. But as the season had approached and the prospect of spending less time with you had started to become a reality, the thought of the start of the season had filled Lando with a bit of dread and anxiety.

You just sat there for a moment, smiling over at Lando and Stella as he grinned back at you. It was a comfortable silence as that same feeling from earlier crackled through the air. Like something was being set into motion today that neither of you quite understood but both knew was the start of something important.

"It's almost dinner time. Why don't you go put her down in her bed, she sleeps like this whenever she's sick, and I'll make us dinner?" You suggest finally, realizing your stomach is begging to be fed.

Lando follows your suggestion and within a few minutes, is joining you in the kitchen as you bustle about trying to figure out what to make. "I was going to make some chicken noodle soup, I think I have everything for it and Stella loves it when she's sick."

"Considering I was going to be ordering take away tonight, anything you want to feed me is good." Lando murmurs, coming to stand behind you at the counter as you peel some carrots and chop the onions.

His arms slip around your waist and you can't help but lean back into his warmth for a moment, enjoying the way the heat of his body seeps into your muscles. Lando nuzzles into the crook of your neck, breathing in the scent of you as deeply as he can, trying to commit your scent to memory. He wants to remember every little detail about this evening, something calm and steady settling into his bones as he gets a glimpse of what could be.

"You're distracting me." You mumble, the heat of Lando's breath tickling the sensitive skin at your neck.

"I"m sorry, but you're a constant distraction to me so consider it payback."

You chuckle, putting down the knife so you can spin around to face Lando instead. Your arms snake up his body before you clasp them behind his neck, enjoying the way he melts even further into your body now that you're closer.

"Thank you for coming to my rescue today." You whisper, voice raspy with emotion as you think about how much Lando's done for you in the short time you've been spending time with him.

Lando bumps his nose with yours and grins, the way you feel in his arms is something he's never experienced before. "I'd do anything for you and Stella, you know that."

"After today, I certainly do."

The look Lando gives you turns your core molten and you struggle to catch your breath. Gazing up at him through your lashes, you drop your gaze down to his lips before they flit right back up to those green blue watercolor eyes that always seem to find you wherever you are lately. Before you can steady yourself, he's leaning forward eyes locked on yours. The smile that sits at the corner of his mouth is so utterly enticing, you nearly forget your own name.

When Lando covers your lips with his for the first time, you swear you see stars. Gold bursts of light spark behind your closed lids, your entire world stuttering down to the way Lando kisses you. It's full of promise and longing and the smokey taste of desire. Your hands tangle through his curls on their own accord as you desperately try to get impossibly closer to him, losing all sense of decorum and control with just a simple kiss.

When he pulls away, Lando is satisfied at the heavy lidded look you stare up at him with, heart hammering in his chest like he's just finished the Singapore Grand Prix.

"I've been thinking about that since I left you at the door on Saturday without kissing you." He confesses, forehead tipping forward to rest on yours.

Emotion clogs your throat as you struggle for a response. Warmth pools deep in your belly as you settle on just a simple nod in response, knowing that Lando will instinctivly be able to tell that you feel the same. Silence fills the kitchen, comfortable and easy as Lando kisses you again. Both of you could feel it with that second kiss, this thing happening between you on this random Wednesday afternoon and both of you were secretly scared to death at what this was going to mean for every facet of your lives.

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[dipnots]

Portable EV Chargers: Charge Your Electric Vehicle Anywhere, Anytime

Electric vehicles (EVs) are becoming increasingly popular due to their environmental benefits, lower running costs, and technological advancements. However, one of the main concerns of owning an EV is finding a charging station when you’re on the road. This is where portable EV chargers come in. In this blog post, we will explore the benefits of portable EV chargers and how they work. EXPLORE…

[bmwbestusa]

New Ford Explorer EV 2024 Design, Price, Release Date

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[mingi-s-dimples]

Cost of Entry - sangi *300 followers special*

andddd here it is! thank you so, so much for 300 followers! it means everything to me! I love every single one of you 🤍

pairing: mafia leaders!sangi × fem!reader

genre: 18+, mafia au, filth

summary: you just wanted a break from everything.. and you decide to sneak in the VIP section. One of the best choices in your life.. despite the dangers lurking in.

wc: 9.4k (half plot/half smut)

warnings: mafia au, possessive and controlled!san, drunk and teasy!mingi, bratty f!reader, drunken confession (mingi), teasing, mentions of alcohol, alcohol ingestion (mingi), drunk sex (mingi was wasted), lots of cum, multiple orgasms, san eats her out, mingi is loud, san is a calm controlled storm until he isn't and mingi is ravished all over, enemies to lovers slightly more like forbidden encounter, double penetration, 3some, a singular degradation *slut*, choking, head pushing, oral (f and mingi receiving), manhandling, bulge kink (the one where reader gets turned on by seeing.. mingi’s bulge), size kink, some making out, some praise, unprotected (wrap up irl!), completely consensual, for sure forgot something, might edit later.

Author's Note: I feel like I improved so much since I first started writing... and it’s been a while since then 🥹 I don't care about the following whatsoever, but seeing all of you like, reblog, and appreciate my work is so fulfilling for me. School and life in general have been shit these past couple of months, starting with October, and I'm so grateful for everyone that waited for the kinktober fics 😭 I know it took me ages to write them but, hey! we're done, and I hope all my readers have had time to read everything ^^ watch out for three requests and one New Year's Eve Special (it's gonna be steamy 🤗)

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and doesn't represent the reality of the members in any way.

The club was alive with an almost oppressive energy, and the air was thick with heat, sweat, and the faint sting of alcohol, mingling into something intoxicating. People moved like shadows across the dance floor, their faces blurred under flashing lights and clouds of smoke. The space was designed to disorient, to make you forget time and place.

You hadn’t planned to end up here.

Your life had been spiraling lately—work stress, personal struggles, and the kind of exhaustion that made everything feel heavier. Tonight, you’d needed a change, an escape from the suffocating routine of your life. But as you wove your way through the crowd, sober and increasingly overwhelmed, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you didn’t quite fit.

And then you saw it—the VIP section.

It was set apart from the rest of the club, a raised platform encircled by a sleek black rope. The lighting was softer there, casting an ambient glow over the space. Plush leather couches and polished tables hinted at luxury, while the guests seated within exuded something else entirely—an aura of power. It wasn’t the kind of wealth that came from successful businesses or old money; this was something sharper, more dangerous.

You didn’t know the specifics, but you’d heard whispers. The people who occupied those seats weren’t just rich; they were the kind of people you wouldn't usually meet. You didn’t ask questions, didn’t get too close.

But tonight, curiosity—or maybe desperation—got the better of you.

You watched the bouncers for a moment, waiting until one of them turned to speak to someone at the entrance. Then, with your heart hammering in your chest, you ducked under the rope. It was a calculated risk, but as you stepped into the VIP section, the change in atmosphere was immediate. The music was still present, but muted, as though the space itself demanded quiet. The people here weren’t shouting over the bass like the crowd below; their conversations were low and deliberate.

You hesitated, your steps faltering as your eyes scanned the room.

That’s when you saw them.

Two men occupied the largest couch, a bottle of expensive whiskey on the table between them. They were seated with a kind of confidence that drew attention without effort, the kind of presence that made everyone else fade into the background.

The man on the left, dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit, exuded control. His dark hair was slicked back, and his sharp jawline caught the light as he leaned back in his seat. His gaze was steady and piercing, scanning the room like he was cataloging every threat, every movement. Something about him was almost surgical in its precision, his presence commanding without needing to speak.

The other man was a striking contrast. His posture was looser, his energy more chaotic. His shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, revealing a hint of tattoos beneath. He held his drink lazily, swirling the liquid as he leaned forward to say something to his companion. Where the first man was sharp and quiet, this one was wild, his energy buzzing beneath the surface like a storm waiting to break.

They were magnetic.

You didn’t know who they were, not exactly, but you didn’t need to. The air around them crackled with something electric, and your instincts screamed at you to turn back. These were not men you messed with. But before you could make your escape, their attention shifted.

The man in the suit noticed you first. His gaze snapped to you, sharp as a blade, and you froze under the weight of it. A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, but it was cold, calculated.

“Someone’s feeling brave,” he murmured, his voice smooth and quiet but carrying an edge that made your pulse race.

His companion followed his gaze, his expression twisting into something halfway between amusement and curiosity. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as his dark eyes raked over you. “Well, well,” he drawled, his voice rough and teasing. “What’s this? Lost your way, sweetheart?”

You swallowed hard, your voice catching in your throat before you managed to find words. “I didn’t mean to intrude. I just... I needed a break.”

The suited man tilted his head, his smirk deepening. “A break,” he echoed, as though the word was unfamiliar to him.

“From what?” his companion pressed, his tone almost playful.

“I—” You hesitated, feeling their eyes on you, dissecting you. “From everything.”

The man in the suit leaned forward slightly, resting his chin on his knuckles as he studied you. “Interesting choice of refuge,” he remarked, his voice soft but cutting.

His companion chuckled, low and rough, as he grabbed the bottle of whiskey from the table and poured a generous amount into an empty glass. “You know what they say: When in Rome.” He slid the glass toward you, his smirk widening. “Drink. You’ll need it.”

You stared at the glass, your mind racing.

“She doesn’t drink,” the suited man observed, his gaze never leaving you.

You met his eyes, your voice steadier than you felt. “How do you know that?”

His smirk deepened. “You’re still standing upright, and your shoes are in one piece.”

San's words lingered in the air, his sharp gaze still locked onto yours. There was a weight to his presence that made it hard to look away, as if he was silently daring you to say something—anything—that might amuse him. Mingi, on the other hand, was all energy and movement, the chaos to San’s calm. He leaned back with a smirk, his glass dangling loosely between his fingers as he looked at you like you were the night’s entertainment.

“Cat got your tongue?” Mingi teased, his deep voice carrying just enough bite to make your cheeks flush.

You squared your shoulders, willing yourself not to let their intensity overwhelm you. “I didn’t realize needing a break required permission,” you said, your voice steady despite the fluttering in your chest.

Mingi’s grin widened, and he let out a low chuckle. “Feisty. I like her.”

San didn’t smile, but there was a glimmer of amusement in his dark eyes. “You should choose your words carefully,” he said, his tone calm but cold. “You’re in a space where even the smallest mistake can have... consequences.”

You forced yourself to meet his gaze. “Noted.”

Mingi set his glass down with a deliberate clink, then rose from his seat. He was tall—taller than you’d realized—and every step he took toward you felt like a test. When he reached your side, he sat down on the couch, the leather creaking softly under his weight. His broad shoulders and long legs made the space feel impossibly small, his proximity overwhelming.

“You don’t mind, do you?” Mingi asked, his voice low as he leaned closer. He didn’t wait for an answer, instead reaching for the bottle of whiskey and pouring himself another drink.

Your pulse quickened as his thigh brushed against yours, the heat of his body seeping into you. He didn’t touch you outright, but the way his arm draped over the back of the couch—his fingers just inches from your shoulder—made it clear he was testing boundaries.

San’s gaze flicked to Mingi, his expression unreadable. “You’ve had enough.”

Mingi snorted, swirling the whiskey in his glass before downing it in one gulp. “I’ll decide when I’ve had enough.” He set the glass down with more force this time.

“Mingi.” San’s voice was sharper now, carrying an authority that made the air feel heavier. “Enough.”

Mingi ignored him, his attention fully on you now. His hand brushed your shoulder, his touch deliberate as he leaned in, his breath warm against your ear. “You’re awfully quiet for someone bold enough to crash our table,” he murmured, his tone dark and teasing.

You shivered under his gaze, unsure whether it was fear or something else entirely.

“Mingi,” San said again, his voice colder this time. “Stop. You’re scaring her.”

But before Mingi could respond, you spoke, your voice barely above a whisper. “It’s okay.”

San’s sharp gaze snapped to you, his expression unreadable. “Are you sure?”

You nodded, your cheeks warming as you whispered, “Yes.”

Mingi’s grin returned, this time more feral. He turned back to San, gesturing at you with a lazy wave of his hand. “See? She’s fine.” Then he leaned in closer, his eyes gleaming with mischief and menace as he added, “Not like she had much of a choice anyway. She’s in our territory now, and what’s in our territory...” He let the words hang in the air for a moment before finishing with a smirk, “...is ours to play with.”

The words sent a shiver down your spine, the weight of their meaning pressing down on you.

San’s jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing at Mingi. “That’s enough.”

Mingi only laughed, the sound low and dangerous, as he sat back and grabbed the bottle of whiskey again. “Relax, San. You’re always so uptight. She’s not running.”

You glanced between them, your heart racing as the tension crackled like a live wire.

Mingi’s body was a furnace beside you, radiating heat as he poured himself yet another glass of whiskey. His movements were slower now, less precise, but his grin was as sharp as ever. You could tell he was far gone—the slight slur to his words, the way his fingers occasionally fumbled for the glass—but it didn’t seem to bother him.

San, on the other hand, was the picture of control. He sipped his drink slowly, his sharp eyes flicking between you and Mingi like a predator assessing the situation.

“You’re really not going to join in?” Mingi teased, leaning back against the couch and spreading his legs a little wider. His arm stretched out behind you, his fingertips brushing your shoulder as he spoke. “You’re missing out, San. She’s... something else.”

San arched a brow, his lips quirking in a faint smirk. “Unlike you, I know how to pace myself.”

Mingi chuckled, the sound rough and low as he turned his attention back to you. “Pacing is fucking overrated.” His hand drifted lower, his fingers trailing down your arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

The club around you seemed to fade into the background, the music a dull thrum as Mingi’s touch became more deliberate. His fingers brushed against your waist, testing, teasing. You froze for a moment, your breath catching in your throat. And then you saw it—a noticeable bulge forming in his pants, pressing against the fabric.

Your cheeks burned, and you tried to look away, but your eyes kept flicking back to it. Mingi caught the direction of your gaze and grinned, leaning closer so his breath tickled your ear. “See something you like?”

Your hand trembled as it moved, almost of its own accord, resting lightly on his thigh. His grin faltered for a split second, surprise flickering in his eyes before it was replaced with something darker, hungrier.

San let out a low chuckle, drawing your attention back to him. “Brave,” he said, his voice dripping with mockery. “But you shouldn’t be here. You’ve got no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into.”

You frowned, your heart pounding as you tried to steady your breathing. “And why is that?”

San leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as his dark eyes bore into yours. “Because we’re not the kind of men you walk away from,” he said, his tone cold and deliberate. “We’re mafia leaders, sweetheart. Every choice you make with us has consequences.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, but before you could fully process them, Mingi let out a bark of laughter. “Mafia leaders, consequences... You’re scaring her, San.” He turned to you, his hand sliding a little higher on your waist as he smirked. “Don’t listen to him. You’re already here. Might as well enjoy yourself.”

San’s gaze flicked to Mingi, his expression unreadable. “You’re not exactly helping your case, Mingi.”

Mingi ignored him, his focus entirely on you. His eyes roamed over your body, lingering shamelessly on the curve of your waist, the swell of your breasts. “You know,” he said, his voice rough and slurred, “you’re driving me insane. The way you walked in here like you owned the place... That bold little attitude of yours. And don’t even get me started on this body.” His hand squeezed your waist gently, his fingers pressing into your skin. “Your waist, your thighs, those perfect—”

“Mingi,” San interrupted, his voice sharp, though there was an edge of amusement in his tone.

“What?” Mingi shot back, his grin widening as he leaned closer to you, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I’m just being honest. She deserves to know how fucking gorgeous she is.”

You felt your heart racing, the heat of Mingi’s words and touch sending a confusing mix of adrenaline and desire coursing through you. Your gaze darted to San, whose smirk deepened as he leaned back, watching the scene unfold like it was some sort of game.

“She doesn’t belong here,” San said after a moment, his tone soft but firm. “And if she has any sense, she’ll leave before it’s too late.”

Mingi let out another laugh, shaking his head. “Too late for what? She’s already in our territory.” His hand moved again, brushing lightly against your hip as his grin turned wicked. “And as I said.. what’s in our territory... is ours.”

The words sent a shiver down your spine, his rough, drunken demeanor making the statement feel both dangerous and thrilling. San’s expression shifted slightly, his smirk fading as he studied your reaction.

“Well?” San asked, his voice quieter now but no less intense. “Do you want to stay?”

Your hand tightened slightly on Mingi’s thigh, your body betraying you even as your mind screamed at you to be careful. You nodded, your voice barely above a whisper. “Yes.”

Mingi’s grin widened, and he let out a low growl of approval. “Smart girl,” he murmured, his hand sliding to rest on your lower back. “I knew you’d be fun.”

San chuckled, shaking his head. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

San’s glass clinked softly as he set it down on the table, the whiskey within barely touched. His movements were deliberate, calculated, as he rose from his seat. The room seemed to shift around him, his presence commanding enough to silence even Mingi’s drunken teasing.

He stopped directly in front of you, looming but not overbearing, his sharp gaze pinning you in place. For a moment, he simply stared, his expression unreadable, the corners of his lips twitching as though he were debating whether to smirk or scowl.

Then, without warning, he reached for the whiskey bottle, filling his glass to the brim. He tilted his head back and downed the entire thing in one smooth motion, his throat working as the liquid disappeared. When he lowered the glass, his dark eyes met yours, burning with an intensity that made your breath hitch.

San leaned down, his face inches from yours. His hand brushed the back of the couch, caging you in without touching you. His voice was low, a near-whisper that somehow drowned out the pounding bass of the club.

“You think you’re clever, don’t you?” he murmured, his breath warm against your ear. “Sneaking in here, testing us. But let me make one thing clear.” He paused, his lips barely brushing your skin as he spoke again, each word slow and deliberate. “You’ll regret it if you mistake this for mercy. I am not the man who lets you walk away unscathed.”

The words sent a shiver down your spine, his tone dripping with something dark and forbidden. For a moment, you couldn’t breathe, caught in the gravity of his presence. And then, just as suddenly as he leaned in, he straightened, his face an unreadable mask once more.

“Enough,” San said, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. His gaze flicked to Mingi, who was still leaning against you, his hand idly tracing circles on your hip. “Stop.”

Mingi scowled, his drunken grin faltering for the first time. “What’s your problem, San? She’s fine.”

San’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t reply immediately. Instead, he turned away, pulling his phone from his pocket. “She’s coming with us.”

Before you could fully process his words, San pressed the phone to his ear, speaking in clipped tones. “Bring the car around. Now.”

The command was brief but absolute, and you didn’t doubt that whoever was on the other end of the call would obey without question. San hung up and turned back to the two of you, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary.

“Get up,” he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Mingi groaned but obeyed, standing and stretching lazily before offering you a hand. You hesitated for a second, glancing at San, who watched you. Finally, you took Mingi’s hand, and he helped you to your feet, his grip lingering just a little too long.

The three of you made your way through the VIP section, San leading the way with his usual precision and control. The club seemed to part around him, the crowd instinctively moving aside as he passed. Mingi stayed close to your side, his hand brushing yours occasionally, whether by accident or design, you weren’t sure.

When you reached the exit, a sleek black car was already waiting at the curb. The chauffeur stepped out to open the door, bowing his head slightly as San climbed in first.

Mingi gestured for you to follow, his grin returning as he leaned down to whisper, “After you, princess.”

You slid into the car, the cool leather seats a sharp contrast to the heat of the club. San was already seated, his gaze fixed out the window, his profile sharp in the dim light. Mingi climbed in after you, the door closing with a soft thud as the car pulled away from the curb.

The tension in the car was palpable, the silence thick enough to cut with a knife. Mingi shifted beside you, his knee brushing against yours as he leaned back, his arm draping casually over the seat behind you.

San’s gaze flicked to the rearview mirror, catching your reflection for a brief moment before he looked away again. “This isn’t a game,” he said, his voice low but firm. “You’re in over your head.”

Mingi laughed, the sound rough and carefree. “Don’t scare her off, San. She’s more fun than half the people we deal with.”

San didn’t respond, his focus returning to the city lights streaming past the window. You glanced between them, your heart racing as you tried to make sense of the situation.

“Relax,” Mingi murmured, his hand resting lightly on your thigh. His touch was warm, almost soothing, but the glint in his eyes was anything but. “We’re just getting started.”

The car continued its smooth journey, the cityscape blurring as you wondered what exactly you had just stepped into.

In the dim, confined space of the car, you shifted slightly, catching San’s reflection in the tinted window. He sat stiffly, his gaze fixed outside, the sharp angles of his jaw tightening every few moments. You could tell he was irritated—whether it was at you, Mingi, or the entire situation, you weren’t sure.

But something about his restrained demeanor, the tension radiating off him in waves, made you bold. Maybe it was the lingering adrenaline from sneaking into their space, or maybe it was the effect of Mingi’s earlier touch still tingling on your skin. Either way, you couldn’t resist.

“So, San,” you began, your voice light and teasing as you crossed your legs, the movement subtle but deliberate. “Always this uptight, or is it just when women crash your little mafia clubhouse?”

Mingi barked out a laugh, his arm still stretched lazily over the back of the seat. “She’s got a mouth on her, huh? I like it.”

San turned his head slightly, his dark eyes meeting yours in the reflection. “Careful,” he warned, his voice quiet but dangerous.

You leaned forward just a bit, your smirk growing. “Or what? You’ll lecture me again? Maybe I should take notes. You seem like the type who likes to be... in control.”

The corner of Mingi’s mouth twitched as he tried to stifle another laugh, clearly enjoying the show. San, however, didn’t react immediately, his silence only fueling your determination.

“I mean,” you continued, feigning innocence as you leaned back against the seat, “you’re all about consequences, right? But it makes me wonder...” You let your gaze trail over him, slow and deliberate. “What would it take to get you to lose that cool composure of yours?”

San’s jaw ticked, his grip tightening briefly on the edge of his seat. The way he inhaled deeply, his nostrils flaring just slightly, told you you’d struck a nerve. Good.

The car rolled to a smooth stop in front of an imposing apartment building, its sleek façade gleaming under the city lights. San stepped out first, his movements stiff and controlled, as though he were holding himself together by sheer will. You followed, with Mingi stumbling slightly as he climbed out after you, muttering something about the uneven curb.

Inside the lobby, the tension didn’t ease. The three of you moved toward the elevator, Mingi swaying slightly as he leaned against the wall while San pressed the call button. The soft ding of the elevator’s arrival broke the silence, and the doors slid open.

The ride up was quiet at first. San pressed the button for the 25th floor, the soft hum of the elevator filling the small space. Mingi leaned against the corner, his head tipped back against the wall, but his drunken grin hadn’t faded.

You stood between them, your heart pounding as you stole a glance at San. His posture was rigid, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

Then the doors closed, and something in San snapped.

In one swift motion, he turned toward you, his hand reaching up to grip your jaw—not harshly, but firmly enough to make you gasp. He tilted your head up, his dark eyes locking onto yours with a fire that burned through every ounce of control he’d been holding onto.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” he growled, his voice low and rough, the sound sending shivers down your spine.

His free hand ghosted over your throat, his fingers barely brushing your skin as he leaned in, his lips so close you could feel the heat of his breath.

“You wanted to piss me off?” he continued, his tone both dangerous and unbearably sensual. “Congratulations. You did.” His thumb traced the line of your jaw, his grip tightening slightly as he added, “But let me make one thing clear—you don’t play games with me unless you’re ready for the consequences.”

Your breath hitched, your mind spinning as his words sank in. Before you could respond, his lips crashed into yours, fierce and demanding, as though he was determined to claim every ounce of control you’d tried to take from him.

His kiss was a contradiction—hot and cold, restrained and wild. His hand remained on your throat, his fingers flexing just enough to remind you of the power he held without crossing a line.

When he finally pulled back, his breathing was ragged, his forehead resting against yours. “You drive me fucking insane,” he murmured, his voice raw. “That mouth of yours, the way you look at me like you’re daring me to lose control... You have no idea what you’ve started.”

Behind you, Mingi let out a low whistle, breaking the moment. “Damn, San. I didn’t think you had it in you.”

San straightened, his gaze never leaving yours as he ignored Mingi’s comment. He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply before stepping back, his composure slipping back into place like a mask.

The elevator dinged, signaling your arrival at the 25th floor. San gestured for you to step out first, his expression unreadable once more.

“Let’s go,” he said, his tone clipped but softer than before.

You stepped out of the elevator, your heart still racing as you followed them down the hallway. Whatever you’d walked into tonight, you knew one thing for certain—you weren’t walking away unscathed.

San’s demeanor changed the moment the door to the penthouse swung open. The space was vast and modern, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a breathtaking view of the city below. Sleek black leather furniture contrasted with the warm tones of wood paneling, and a massive crystal chandelier hung above the open living area, its light casting intricate patterns on the marble floor.

But none of it mattered—because as soon as the door clicked shut, San turned to you with a look that could melt steel.

“Bedroom. Now.”

You barely had time to react before his hand wrapped around your wrist, firm but not painful, as he pulled you through the space. You caught glimpses of the penthouse as he led you—an open kitchen with gleaming stainless-steel appliances, a curved staircase leading to a second level, and finally, a door at the end of a hallway.

San pushed it open, revealing a massive bedroom. The centerpiece was a king-sized bed with a dark gray headboard, framed by sleek black nightstands. The room was minimalist but luxurious, the kind of place that radiated power and control.

Before you could take it all in, San was on you. His hands gripped your waist, spinning you around and backing you toward the bed. The edge of the mattress hit the backs of your knees, and he didn’t give you time to steady yourself before his hands moved to your shoulders, pushing you down with controlled force.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve,” he said, his voice a low growl as he loomed over you. His dark eyes burned with a mix of anger and something deeper, something you couldn’t quite name. “Waltzing into my world, running that mouth of yours. Do you even understand what kind of fire you’re playing with?”

You met his gaze, refusing to back down even as your pulse raced. “Maybe I like the fire,” you shot back, your voice sharper than you expected. “Maybe I want to see just how far I can push you.”

San’s jaw clenched, his hands gripping the edge of the bed on either side of you. “You think this is a game?” he said, his voice cold and biting. “You think you can just walk into my territory, challenge me, and get away with it?”

Your lips curved into a smirk, your heartbeat thundering in your ears. “What if I do?”

For a moment, there was nothing but silence, the tension between you crackling like a live wire. Then, Mingi’s voice broke through, lazy and amused.

“Now this,” Mingi drawled, leaning against the doorframe with his usual casual confidence, “is entertaining.”

You turned your head to look at him, and your breath caught. Mingi had stripped off his shirt, revealing a body that was all hard muscle and tattoos. His skin glistened slightly, the faint sheen catching the light as he crossed his arms over his chest.

His gaze dropped to the bulge straining against his pants, and he let out a low chuckle, his hand brushing over it lazily. “San,” he said, his voice laced with mockery, “you’re hogging all the fun.”

San didn’t look at him, his focus remaining solely on you. “She’s the one who wanted to test me,” he said, his tone dark. “And I’m going to make sure she understands exactly what that means.”

Mingi smirked, pushing off the doorframe as he sauntered into the room. “Be my guest,” he said, his fingers teasing at the waistband of his pants. “But don’t take too long. I’m not exactly a patient man.”

San finally looked at him, his expression hard. “Stay out of this,” he said, though his voice lacked its usual edge.

Mingi raised his hands in mock surrender, his grin widening. “Whatever you say, boss.” But his eyes drifted back to you, his gaze heavy and full of unspoken promise.

Your breath hitched as San’s gaze returned to you, his hand brushing against your jaw in a touch that was both possessive and almost tender.

“You wanted this,” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous. “Don’t forget that.”

San’s hands gripped the edge of the bed with enough force to leave marks in the sheets, his eyes never leaving yours as if trying to read your every thought. The way his gaze darkened, the slightest shift in his posture, told you everything—you had pushed him to the edge, and now there was no turning back.

You could feel the heat radiating between the three of you, Mingi leaning against the doorframe with a wicked grin that only fueled the fire. He sauntered toward the bed, his presence almost magnetic. His gaze roamed over you, his eyes lingering on your every curve, drinking you in. His fingers twitched, as if testing the waters, before his hand settled on your arm, warm and possessive.

San watched every move Mingi made, his eyes narrowed, but he didn’t speak. He was too far gone—his control slipping, his desire too raw and evident in the air. He was trying to contain it, but the force of it all was starting to unravel him.

Without warning, Mingi’s hands moved to your shoulders, his fingers brushing over your skin in slow, deliberate strokes. He leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. “You look so fucking good,” he murmured, his voice thick with lust and amusement.

You shivered, your body reacting involuntarily to the heated touch. You tried to suppress the tremble in your voice as you met Mingi’s teasing gaze. “Is that what you want, Mingi? To watch me squirm?”

Mingi chuckled softly, low and deep, his fingers lightly tracing the neckline of your shirt. “You don’t know how much I enjoy watching you try to fight it,” he said, his voice dropping an octave as his eyes darkened further. “You’ve got a fire in you, and I can’t wait to see how far it burns.”

San’s jaw tightened, a flicker of possessiveness flashing in his eyes, but he stayed silent, watching. He wasn’t backing down—he was waiting for something, for you to push him further, maybe.

You wanted to respond, to fire back, but your thoughts scattered as Mingi's hands shifted lower, finding the hem of your shirt. His fingers tugged at the fabric, pulling it up slowly, deliberately. The cool air of the room hit your skin as your shirt was discarded to the side.

Before you could process the situation, San moved, his body shifting with an almost predatory grace. His eyes never left you as he reached for the buttons of his shirt, undoing them with a sense of urgency that surprised you. He was just as affected, just as hungry.

“You’re mine,” San growled, his voice rough, filled with something primal. He pushed you back against the bed with just enough force to make you gasp, the heat of his body pressing against yours as he loomed over you. “And I won’t let anyone forget that.”

Mingi’s voice cut through the air again, but this time there was no teasing in it, only admiration as his gaze dropped to your chest. “You didn’t tell me about these,” he murmured, his eyes flashing with something like appreciation. “Damn, you’re perfect.”

San’s eyes flicked to Mingi then, a hard, sharp glance that had the younger man holding his tongue for a second. He knew the territory; San had already marked his claim in the club, and it was clear now who had the upper hand.

“I said stop talking about her body like that,” San snapped, his voice carrying the weight of authority.

Mingi raised his hands in mock surrender, a playful glint still in his eyes, “Alright, alright, I get it. You’ve got her.”

San’s grip on your wrist tightened, his fingers moving with the same deliberate intensity he’d shown earlier. His gaze never left you, he stood over you, fully exposed, his muscles tense and rippling as he leaned down to capture your lips in a kiss. It wasn’t soft; it wasn’t tender. It was rough, commanding, a mark of ownership.

He pulled back for a split second, his breath hot against your cheek as he muttered, “You don’t know what you do to me.”

In that moment, you knew exactly what he meant—everything about you drove him wild. And now, there was no way out. The tension had broken, the line had been crossed. The storm had begun, and you were caught in its eye.

“Don’t you dare play games with me,” San murmured, his voice low and dangerously quiet, a thread of restraint running through it. “You’re in my world now.” His grip on your wrists tightened just enough to remind you of who was in control, his other hand moving to undo your pants with the same cold precision.

You held your breath as the fabric slid down your legs, leaving you exposed beneath the harshness of his touch. But even then, you didn’t look away. You felt the pulse of electricity between you—his power, his control, and your own challenge to it.

Mingi, still lingering by, watched with a smirk that never faltered. His hand brushed over his chest as he approached, his gaze flicking from you to San, then back to you with a teasing glint in his eye.

“You’re really not going to let me have any fun, are you?” Mingi said, his voice playful but carrying an underlying heat.

San’s response was a sharp glance that silenced Mingi for a moment. But then, with a barely-there nod, he signaled for Mingi to move closer. Mingi’s smirk grew as he leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice a teasing whisper. “Don’t think we’re done here. You wanted to get under his skin, didn’t you? Now you’ll see what happens when you do.”

His words hung in the air as he pulled back, allowing San to take the lead once again. You barely had time to process before San’s lips were on your thighs, his touch firm and deliberate as he kissed and trailed his lips up your skin. His breath was hot against your flesh, and you could feel the intensity of his presence, his hunger for control, in every movement.

“You want me to stop?” San’s voice was low, almost a growl, as his lips hovered just above your skin.

It wasn’t a question you could answer easily, not with the fire coursing through your veins. Your body betrayed you, trembling with anticipation, your pulse racing with every subtle touch, every whispered command. You fought to hold onto your composure, but it was slipping, bit by bit.

Mingi, watching all of this unfold, let out a low chuckle, clearly amused by the sight of you trying to stay in control while San worked his power over you. “She’s got a fire,” Mingi muttered to himself, leaning casually against the wall.

San, hearing his words, shot a glance at Mingi, his jaw tight. “She’s in my hands now,” he said, his tone laced with something possessive. “And she’ll learn what it means to be tested.”

San’s gaze never wavered, his focus entirely on you. The air between you seemed to thicken, charged with tension as his fingers traced the line of your jaw, tilting your face so you couldn’t look anywhere but at him. His voice dropped to a low rumble, the weight of his authority palpable. “Eyes on me. You don’t get to shy away now.”

Mingi moved closer, his presence as heavy as San’s, though tinged with a teasing energy that made your heart race. He settled beside you, his hand brushing against your shoulder, a touch both gentle and possessive. “You’re holding back,” Mingi murmured, his voice like a soft hum against your skin. “Why don’t you show us what you’re really capable of?”

San smirked at Mingi’s words, his expression dark with satisfaction. “She will,” he replied confidently, his hands steady as they skimmed over your thighs, his grip tightening just enough to draw your attention fully back to him. “I’ll make sure of it.”

Mingi, not to be outdone, shed his remaining clothing as well, his smirk never faltering as he took his place beside you.

San chuckled, his hands returning to your hips, pulling you closer with a firm but careful tug. “She’ll take everything we give her. Won’t you?” His words were a challenge, laced with something possessive, his tone daring you to deny him.

Your breath hitched, and San leaned in closer, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he whispered, “Don’t fight it. Let me see how much you can handle.” His fingers dug into your sides slightly, not enough to hurt, but enough to remind you that he was in control.

Mingi’s hand trailed down your arm, his touch light but deliberate, sending a shiver through you. “I think she’s ready.”

San smirked, leaning back just enough to lock eyes with you. “Not yet,” he replied, his voice low and commanding. “She’s not done proving herself to me.”

The cool sheets beneath you were a stark contrast to the heat radiating from your skin as San positioned himself between your legs, his movements deliberate and brimming with purpose. His sharp eyes drank in every inch of you, a reverent smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Look at you,” he murmured, his voice rough yet warm, carrying a weight of appreciation that sent a shiver through your entire body. “How can someone be this breathtaking?”

His words, so unexpectedly tender, made your breath hitch.

On your right, Mingi knelt with a smirk that was anything but soft. His dark eyes roamed over you, his expression hungry, though laced with mischief. “Breathtaking, huh?” he drawled, one hand resting on your side, his thumb brushing over your ribs. “That’s one way to put it. But I’d call her... delicious.”

His teasing tone made your cheeks burn, but before you could respond, San’s voice cut through, steady and commanding. “Careful, Mingi,” he said, glancing over his shoulder with a faint edge in his tone. “This isn’t about you.”

Mingi raised his hands in mock surrender, his grin widening. “Relax, San. I’m just admiring your masterpiece.”

San turned his attention back to you, his expression softening as he cupped your cheek, his thumb tracing your skin gently. “Ignore him,” he said, his voice dropping to a low rumble meant just for you. “Right now, you gotta focus on me."

The weight of his words settled in your chest, grounding you. But then, San’s lips curved into a wicked smile, and his hands tightened on your thighs, spreading them a little wider. “Actually,” he murmured, his tone taking on a darker edge, “I have an idea.”

You blinked up at him, your body already reacting to the shift in his demeanor. “An idea?” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart.

San’s smirk grew, his hands trailing down your thighs with deliberate slowness. “I’ll show you just how much I want you,” he said, his voice smooth yet laced with intent. “And Mingi here can... keep himself occupied.”

Mingi raised a brow, his grin turning sharper. “Occupied, huh?” he echoed, his gaze flicking between you and San. Then his attention locked onto you, his smirk softening just slightly. “You wouldn’t mind helping me out, would you?”

The intensity in his voice sent a shiver down your spine, and you barely had time to process his words before San leaned down, his breath warm against your thigh. “It’s not really a question,” San murmured, his voice dripping with authority. “You’ll do exactly what I say, won’t you?”

His confidence left no room for hesitation, and your body answered before your mind could catch up, your breath hitching as you nodded. San chuckled, the sound low and rich as he pressed a kiss to your inner thigh. “Good girl, or may I say.. good slut? That's more like it." he whispered, the degrading praise sending a thrill through you

San’s hands tightened on your thighs, grounding you as he lowered himself further, his presence overwhelming and commanding all at once. “Keep your focus,” he ordered, his voice low but firm, even as his lips trailed closer to your cunt. “You don’t stop until I tell you to. Understood?”

The weight of his command left you breathless, and all you could do was nod.

The headboard was cool against your back, grounding you amidst the heat that filled the room.

“You’ll watch me, won’t you?” San murmured, his voice low and commanding. “Every little reaction you give belongs to me.”

Before you could respond, a hand brushed against your jaw, turning your attention upward. Mingi, his towering frame casting a shadow over you, stood by the side of the bed, his gaze locked onto yours with a hunger that was impossible to ignore. His smirk was a challenge, daring you to take control even as he exuded a quiet authority of his own.

“Don’t get distracted,” Mingi murmured, his voice smooth yet firm as he guided his cock closer, his confidence unwavering. He took your hand, his touch deliberate as he placed it at the base of it. “You’re going to be good for us, aren’t you?”

Your fingers hesitated for the briefest moment before wrapping around him, the weight of his command making your heart race. Slowly, you moved your hand along his cock, your palm brushing over every vein, feeling his breath hitch slightly as you teased him.

San chuckled darkly from between your thighs, his lips curling into a satisfied smirk as he watched. “Look at you,” he muttered, his voice laced with pride. “Already falling into place like you were made for this.”

Mingi’s hand tightened on yours as he guided you further, his deep voice a steady presence above the storm San was creating. “That’s it,” he murmured, his tone equal parts encouragement and demand. “Just like that. Don’t hold back now.”

The tension in the room thickened as the sounds of your shallow breaths and soft whimpers intertwined with the low rumble of their voices. San’s grip on your thighs tightened as he leaned in. His lips finally reached the place you needed him most.

The first stroke of his tongue was unrelenting, both tender and possessive as though he wanted to draw every ounce of reaction from you. Your back arched against the headboard, a trembling whine escaping your lips, but it was quickly muffled by Mingi's cock.

He held your jaw gently, tilting your face so that his tip brushed against your parted lips. “Show me how good you can be.”

You took a shaky breath before wrapping your lips around it, your fingers curling at the base for balance as you began to move your head. The heat radiating from him was overwhelming, his low groans blending with your muffled whines as San’s movements became more precise.

San’s hands slid up your thighs, grounding you, anchoring you against the overwhelming sensations. “So responsive,” he muttered, his tone dripping with satisfaction. He pressed his mouth more firmly against you, his tongue working in slow, deliberate patterns that sent waves of electricity coursing through you.

Your cries reverberated around Mingi, the vibrations making his jaw tense as his hand moved to cradle the back of your head. “That’s it,” he groaned, his deep voice resonating through you. “You sound so pretty like that.”

San chuckled darkly against you, the vibrations sending shivers up your spine. “She’s perfect, isn’t she?” he mused, his voice muffled but no less commanding. “Taking everything we give her so beautifully.”

You couldn’t focus on anything but the push and pull between the two of them, the way Mingi’s deep groans matched the rhythm of San’s relentless attention. Every touch, every sound built the tension inside you higher, drawing you closer to the edge with a heady mix of roughness and sensual control.

San pulled back slightly, his lips glistening and his dark eyes sharp as they met yours. He let out a low, mocking chuckle that sent shivers down your spine. His grip on your thighs never faltered, his thumbs pressing into your skin just enough to keep you firmly grounded in the moment.

“Here’s the deal,” San murmured, his voice a low, tantalizing growl. “You don’t get to come until he does. Show me how good you are at taking care of him, and maybe I’ll give you what you’re begging for.”

Your wide, needy eyes met his, your body trembling from the intensity of his gaze and the deliberate tease of his hands on your skin. San leaned closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he added, “Make him fall apart first, and I’ll give you exactly what you need.”

Mingi groaned softly at San’s words, his hand cupping your cheek to guide your attention back to him. “You heard him,” he said, his tone rough but lined with a teasing edge. “Show me how good you can be.”

Your resolve firmed despite the heat coursing through you, and you took Mingi deeper, the sound of your efforts mixing with his low, guttural groans. Your hand stroked him in time with your movements, your tongue trailing against him in a way that had his breath hitching. His free hand gripped the edge of the headboard, his control faltering with every deliberate flick of your tongue.

San watched with dark satisfaction, his hand sliding along your thigh as a silent reminder of his presence. “That’s it,” he murmured, his voice smooth but edged with hunger. “You can do better than that. Make him feel it.”

You pushed yourself further, letting your lips tighten and your tongue tease, drawing a shuddering gasp from Mingi. His head tipped back, his grip on the headboard tightening as his breaths grew uneven. The sharp inhale he took before he came was punctuated by a low, satisfied groan, his body trembling as he filled your mouth with his cum.

San’s pleased hum was the only warning you got before he shifted you slightly, his hands moving to adjust your hips as he leaned in closer. “Good girl,” he murmured, his tone dripping with approval. “Now, let me give you what you’ve been waiting for.”

The first touch of his mouth was unrelenting, and your cry of relief was immediate. San worked with precision, his movements rough enough to leave you trembling but careful enough to draw every ounce of tension from your body. His hands held you in place, his grip firm as he pushed you closer to the edge.

Your hands gripped the sheets tightly as the waves of your orgasm finally crashed over you, your body arching against the headboard. You cried out, San’s name spilling from your lips as he carried you through every trembling moment, his hold never faltering.

As you came down from the high, San’s lips brushed against your thigh, his voice low and satisfied. “That’s how I want to hear you,” he said, his tone possessive but lined with pride. “Falling apart for me.”

Mingi’s deep voice rumbled from behind San, a teasing smirk playing on his lips. “If San gets to have ideas, then I have one too,” he said, his tone smooth but carrying an undercurrent of mischief. He leaned back against the headboard, his broad frame radiating confidence as he continued, “What if we both take care of her?”

San froze for a moment, his sharp eyes narrowing as he considered Mingi’s bold proposition. But before he could respond, you felt the weight of Mingi’s gaze on you—curious, warm, and daring. It wasn’t until he noticed the flicker of excitement in your eyes, a spark you couldn’t hide, that his lips curved into a knowing grin.

San caught that spark too. He tilted his head, his initial hesitation melting into something darker, more intentional. “Interesting,” he muttered, his fingers still trailing along your thigh. “You’re into that, aren’t you?”

Your breath caught, the tension in the room thickening as Mingi made his move. Without waiting for further confirmation, he reached out, his strong hands finding your waist as he effortlessly guided you onto his lap. The shift was seamless, his strength evident as he settled you above him, his arms caging you in with a gentle but commanding grip.

Mingi’s voice was a low murmur as he tipped your chin up to meet his gaze. “Don’t be shy now,” he said, his thumb brushing against your jaw. “We’re just getting started.”

San moved behind you, his presence grounding you as his hands found your hips, steadying you against Mingi’s chest. The duality of their touches was overwhelming—Mingi’s hold firm and encompassing, San’s deliberate and teasing.

“You’re going to be good for both of us,” San said, his breath warm against your ear. His fingers traced the curve of your spine, a slow, deliberate movement that sent chills through you. “Let him see how much you want this.”

Mingi chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through you as he shifted beneath you. “Don’t worry,” he said, his voice a tantalizing promise. “We’ll take care of you.”

Their combined attention was intoxicating. Mingi’s hands spanned your waist, holding you close as San’s fingertips teased along your sides. Their coordination was seamless, their shared focus on you leaving no room for doubt.

Mingi tilted your chin down toward him, his dark eyes locking onto yours. “You’re ours tonight,” he murmured, his tone heavy with intent. His grip tightened slightly, his strength a silent reassurance as he added, “Let us show you how good it can be.”

Behind you, San’s hands slid along your body, his touch purposeful as he leaned in to press a lingering kiss against your neck. His lips curved into a smirk as he felt you shiver beneath him.

“Trust us,” San murmured, his voice a velvet promise, “and let go.”

Mingi’s grip on your waist tightened, his strength palpable as he held you effortlessly above him. His dark gaze locked onto yours, the intensity in his expression making your breath hitch. With a slow, deliberate movement, he guided you down, your body trembling as he buried himself in you, his hips rolling upward with an undeniable authority.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his voice a low, tantalizing growl. His hands splayed wide on your hips, holding you firmly in place as he set the rhythm, his dominance radiating in every calculated move. “Take all of me. You’re not going anywhere.”

Behind you, San’s restraint was hanging by a thread. His fingers dug into your shoulders, the pressure almost bruising as he steadied you between them. The sound of your breathless whimpers seemed to snap something inside him, his control shattering as he thrust forward without warning. His movements were rough, almost desperate, his hips slamming into you with unrelenting force.

“You feel too good,” San growled, his voice a low rasp that sent shivers down your spine. His grip on your shoulders tightened, pulling you back against him as he drove deeper, each thrust more powerful than the last. “I can’t stop. Don’t even think about asking me to.”

Mingi chuckled darkly beneath you, his hands sliding up your sides to keep you upright as your body trembled. “He’s lost it,” he said, his tone dripping with amusement and pride. His thumbs pressed into your waist, his hold steadying you as he tilted his head back to watch the way your body responded to their relentless pace. “But you can take it, can’t you? You’re ours. We’ll make sure you do.”

Your legs threatened to give out entirely, the overwhelming intensity of their combined focus leaving you barely able to hold yourself up. Mingi’s grip on your waist grew even firmer, his strength keeping you steady as he thrust upward with a controlled power that left you gasping.

San, on the other hand, was a storm. His lips found your neck, his teeth grazing your skin before he bit down gently, marking you with a possessive edge that left no doubt about his intentions. “You’re mine,” he growled against your ear, his voice rough and unyielding. “Ours. Don’t forget it.”

The room was filled with the sound of ragged breaths, low groans, and the slap of skin as San and Mingi worked in perfect, chaotic tandem. Mingi’s hands slid up to cup your face, tilting your chin down so your eyes met his. “Look at me,” he commanded softly, his voice a dangerous mix of gentleness and authority. “Don’t you dare look away.”

Behind you, San growled in frustration, his pace growing even faster as he leaned forward, his chest pressing against your back. His hands moved to your waist, gripping tightly as he took over the rhythm, each thrust forcing a breathless cry from your lips.

“You’re perfect,” San muttered, his voice strained and full of raw hunger. “Made for us. Look at how you’re falling apart. Can’t even stand, can you?”

Mingi’s laughter rumbled beneath you, his arms wrapping around your trembling form to keep you steady as San continued his relentless assault. “She’s ours now,” Mingi said, his tone possessive and dripping with satisfaction. “Completely and utterly ours.”

They moved as one, their shared goal clear: to claim every part of you, to leave no inch of you untouched by their relentless intensity. Your body trembled in their grasp, every ounce of your strength surrendered to their combined power.

“Give in to us,” San growled, his breath hot against your ear as his movements grew even more forceful. “Let us ruin you.”

And you did—completely, utterly, and without hesitation. But they didn't falter. they didn't stop.

San, his chest rising and falling with each measured breath, leaned down toward you with a simmering heat in his gaze. Without a word, his hand reached out to harshly wrap around your neck, his fingers pressing in just enough to pull you closer to him. His grip was firm, as he slowly lifted you, bringing you flush against his chest.

San’s voice was a low murmur, soft but commanding, his lips grazing your ear. "Don’t forget who’s in control."

You could feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your cheek, and the way he held you, just barely choking you with his gentle pressure, made your body shiver.

Mingi, still inches deep inside, watched the scene unfold with a sly grin, his hands staying steady at your waist, making sure you felt both of their presence, unyielding but tender. He moved gently beneath you, adding to the slow, simmering rhythm of the moment.

Both men fucked you relentlessly through your orgasm until they were satisfied enough.. and that meant right when they filled both your holes up with their cum, mingling with your juices. A string of curses escaped Mingi’s lips as San lifted you up and softly placed you on the bed, your legs trembling and threatening to give out at any moment. You were dizzy, overstimulation hovering over as San leaned in, softly enough to give you a forehead kiss.

“How about a warm bath?" San asked softly, his fingers brushing your hair away from your face as he looked down at you with concern. His voice had softened, but the possessiveness remained in his tone, making you feel like you were still entirely his.

Mingi, ever the playful one, leaned back with a teasing grin. "If you’re getting the bath ready, don’t forget about me. I wouldn’t mind a round two in there," he said, his tone lighthearted, making you smile despite the tension that still lingered in the air.

San chuckled, brushing his lips against your forehead before offering you a hand. "Let’s get you in the bath first. You deserve a moment to relax." His touch was gentle now, his usual intensity replaced with a soothing calm.

The two of them guided you to the warm water, their care wrapping around you like a soft blanket, the playful teasing from. You.. for sure, didn't falter from their grip unscathed.

NETWORKS:

@blossomnet

@illusionnet

PERMANENT TAGLIST:

@mingleshine @musiclovingfairy @crazylittlebisexual @sanhwalvr @artistic-rendition @hongjoongtime117 @cypher-03 @peachy-bell26 @atiny1 @my-atiny-kookie-rkive @atzlordz

[floralcyanide]

— 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜 (nsfw)

important note: if you don't like rpf (or fanfic about real people), please just scroll past. don't be rude in the reblogs or tags or I will just block you. it costs zero dollars to mind your business and keep scrolling. tom will literally never see this. I will never send it to him. therefore, no one is getting harmed by this. rpf is written by many about many real people and has been for a long time. if you'd like to file a complaint, I'd love to see you say that writing rpf is weird to the Hamilton fandom, the Billy the Kid fandom, the Elvis/ Queen/ Greta Van Fleet/ other bands and singers fandoms, (especially the k pop fandom. I pray you survive if you do.) etc etc. basically, just ignore this if you don't wanna see it. have a good day (:

⌯ pairing: tom blyth / fem!reader

⌯ warnings: mentions of alcohol, consumption of alcohol, mentions of smoking, reader smokes but it isn't explicitly described (can be an ignored detail), eventual smut, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (please protect yourself with strangers), oral sex (f receiving), nipple play, cum eating, fluff if you squint

⌯ word count: 3454

⌯ summary: at your friend's christmas party, you meet tom blyth and there's a strong connection off the bat. after a little too much to drink and a night spent talking, the two of you have an intimate christmas eve together. (based on those nights by bastille.)

⌯ author’s note: I've been so busy that I haven't been able to finish this until today lol and it took ages because I kept getting distracted ((: anyway!! merry christmas and happy hanukkah, I hope everyone enjoys this (: if you don't pls keep it to yourself

divider credit: @arminsumi | @eloquentreverie | @cafekitsune ⌯ masterlist ⌯ taglist form

this fic has been cross posted to ao3.

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ʀᴇᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴏɴ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ, ᴀᴏ3, ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴇʙsɪᴛᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ɪɴ ᴀɪ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀs ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʀᴛɪғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟɪɢᴇɴᴄᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ᴛᴏ sᴇʟʟ ғᴏʀ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ

You’re nursing a glass of half-sipped champagne, trying your best to pay attention to what your friend is saying to you through the pounding music. Being social with them is the least you can do, considering this is their holiday party you’re attending. And they’ve supplied the alcohol that you’ve helped yourself to all night. This is one reason why you can’t focus very well, but there’s another reason, too. You swear you feel eyes from somewhere in the apartment searing into the back of your head. At first, it wasn’t a big deal. But now it’s almost as if you’re scared to move in case someone is watching. Still listening to your friend, you realize you’re unable to look around to find the source. So you push away the sensation the best you can for now. A mutual friend waves at you from across the room where the makeshift bar is. Downing the rest of your champagne, you bid the friend you’re conversing with a quick goodbye for the time being. Hurrying to your friend who beckoned you over, you look at them with a raised brow when their face scrunches up into a giddy smile.

“Why do you look like that?” you ask, carefully eyeballing them.

Your friend chuckles at you, leaning into your ear, “There’s a hot guy back there who has been eyeing you for quite some time.”

Your face contorts into realization. So that’s why you’ve been feeling eyes burning into you. You hesitantly turn around, hoping you aren’t too blatantly obvious in finding who is staring. However, at this point in the night, you aren’t entirely graceful by any means. Your eyes catch onto a brunette man almost immediately, like you’re drawn to one another somehow. The man glances down at his drink before letting his eyes shoot back up to yours, his determined gaze sending goosebumps across your skin. Your friend has been too busy making you a drink to notice the tension but still manages to switch out your empty glass with a full one despite your daze.

“I’ll be right back,” you say just loud enough for your friend to hear over the song blaring through the speakers.

With the alcohol burning in your system, the atmosphere of the apartment seems otherworldly. It’s a fairly glitzy party, so you’re dressed for the occasion. Your outfit highlights your best features, allowing you to have an air of confidence. A kind of confidence you don’t usually carry. The alcohol certainly helps with that. The shimmery lighting bouncing off the walls gives off an ethereal vibe to the apartment. The dim glimmer of the room casts the shadow of the brunette man’s eyelashes onto his cheekbones. The closer you get, the more you notice about him. His aquiline nose, the contour of facial hair on his face, the tasteful and subtle golden hoop in his left ear. You see a small smile stretch across his lips as you approach him.

“I am so sorry if I’m coming off as creepy,” he shouts over the music, laughing to himself, “I promise I don’t mean to. You’re just really attractive.”

You take a moment to let your eyes take in his form as discreetly as possible, noticing his towering height and lean physique. Now that you’re close enough to properly see his face, you note that his eyes shine a hauntingly beautiful shade of icy blue. He takes a moment to study your face as well, waiting with bated breath for your response.

“That means a lot coming from someone who is also attractive. And I thought I felt someone staring,” you jokingly smile at him around a sip of your drink.

“Sorry about that,” the man rubs the back of his neck nervously, “I just never know how to approach without being awkward.”

Butterflies flutter in your stomach at the heavy weight of the brunette’s eyes on yours, your drink burning away any nervousness that had previously lingered.

“I get it,” you match his smile that has yet to wipe off his face, “I’m not the type to come up to someone I find cute. But…” you trail off, taking in the man’s attractiveness, “There’s something about you I can’t put my finger on.”

“Well,” he chuckles at you, bringing his glass to his lips before hesitating, “You’ll figure it out eventually.”

“Oh really?’ you raise your eyebrows, a playful tinge to your voice, “How’s that?”

“Do you smoke?” the man asks.

“Only when I’m drinking,” you chide. 

The two of you weave around the other party-goers toward the fire escape, and you snatch the bottle of something from your friend’s hand while passing the bar on the way out. After clambering from the window behind the tall man, who effortlessly climbed out, you take his outstretched hand. Planting your feet on the landing, you watch as the man fishes out a pack of cigarettes and a pack of matches from his back pocket. He looks up at you expectantly, patting the spot on the metal grating next to him.

“I don’t bite,” he jokes, “Not hard, anyway.”

You bite back a snort but sit down anyway. You take a swig of the clear liquid in the bottle you took before offering it to the man with a sour face. He’s in the process of lighting up, the cigarette hanging between his lips casually as he holds a lit match to the end. You watch him do this, and something stirs inside you. He takes a drag before handing the cigarette to you and taking the bottle from your hand. 

“You smoke a lot?” you ask him before taking a drag of your own, your eyes not leaving him.

He shrugs, “I picked it up while in college. It’s a bad habit I go back to sometimes.”

“I see,” you say, “I forgot to ask, but what’s your name?”

“Tom,” the brunette says, the cigarette dangling from his lips as he offers a free hand for you to shake. You gently take it.

Despite the chill of the night, Tom’s hand is warm against yours. You both hesitate to pull away, but a shy chuckle shared between the two of you causes a natural break of grip. You continue to smoke and pass the bottle to and from each other, talking about this year’s notable events in your lives. You speak for a while before more personal details begin spilling. Like how much you hate your job and how Tom missed his co-stars from his last project. Or how you both hate being single during the holidays. The more alcohol that’s consumed, the more you discuss your lives. It’s only been an hour or two, but it feels like you’ve known each other forever. 

A comfortable silence falls over the two of you. Tom looks over at you, admiring how your cigarette looked so natural in your hand. And how your hair fell perfectly around your face and how you swung your legs back and forth innocently. The corners of Tom’s lips twitch upward as he subtly moves closer to you, his thigh pressing against yours. He thinks you’re quite interesting and pretty- he doesn’t know why you’re still single when you’re such an amazing person.

You feel the roughness of his trousers against your bare thigh as you finish your final cigarette. You swish the remaining contents of the bottle around, deciding that your blurry peripheral vision means it is time to stop drinking. When you turn to offer Tom the rest of the alcohol, he’s facing you already, mere inches away. Your breath hitches as his eyes look into yours. They drop to your lips, and despite your intoxication, you feel giddy in your stomach. 

“Can I,” Tom whispers, lifting a hand to your cheek, “Can I kiss you?”

You sit the bottle down on the other side of where you’re sitting, a drunken smile growing on your face, “Of course you can.”

Tom leans in, pressing his lips to yours gently. You inhale sharply through your nose at the intense feeling of electricity between the two of you. You can taste the alcohol on him when you run your tongue across his bottom lip, testing just how far he wants to go. Your hand reaches up and cards through his dark hair, bringing him as close as possible as the kiss becomes more passionate. Tom’s free hand grasps your hip, his thumb digging deeper into your skin the harder you kiss him. Your head swims as he peppers his lips along your jawline and under your ear.

“We should probably go inside,” you pull away reluctantly, but even in your stupor, you don’t want to get carried away and fall off the fire escape.

You struggle to push up the cracked open window, and Tom giggles at you as he effortlessly pushes it open for you. Both of you climb through, and your friend shakes their head at you when your feet land firmly on the floor.

“I had wondered where you ran off to,” they chuckle, “I see you’ve met my friend Tom.”

“Uh, yeah,” you smile, looking up at him as he stands beside you.

Your friend looks closely at the two of you, noticing your bitten lips and Tom’s flushed face, “Now that the party has dwindled down, you guys can chill upstairs where it’s quiet. I have a book collection you two would enjoy.”

“Gotcha,” you nod as they walk away to mingle with other partygoers.

Looking around, you notice the remainder of the gathering is in other parts of the apartment, leaving the living room and upstairs unoccupied. Tom grabs your hand, pulling you away from the kitchen to the hallway leading to the stairs. You pull him into another kiss, Tom giggling at your eagerness as he sways slightly. He walks you backward until you feel your back against the nearby wall. Neither of you would do this on a typical day, but the energy between both of you is so intense. Your hands move underneath his shirt, your cold palms making contact with his warm skin. Tom gasps into the kiss at the contact, and you scoff, pulling away from him and grabbing his hand to drag him up the stairs.

“Careful,” Tom says to you as your legs wobble. Meanwhile, he’s struggling to climb them as well.

After a few minutes of tussling and laughing, the two of you finally reach the second floor.

“So about that book collection,” Tom raises an eyebrow, catching his breath as he grabs you by the hips, bringing you close to him.

“Only if you really want to,” you look up at him, both your and his eyes glazed over.

“I do,” Tom runs his hands along your sides, his gaze heavy on you, “Lead the way.”

You walk ahead of him, pulling him into the guest bedroom, where the books do happen to be stored in a giant bookcase along the wall. String lights around the ceiling give a soft golden glow to the room as you approach the mass of books. Tom closes the door softly as he enters the room, walking up behind you as you trace the spine of one of your favorite books. Tom wraps his arms around you, leaning down to kiss the back of your neck gingerly. You melt into his chest, closing your eyes as he travels down your shoulder. Your dress has an exposed back, and Tom is taking advantage of it as Tom falls to one knee and continues kissing down your body. He delicately unties the silk ribbon holding the two sides of your dress together, pausing before allowing it to fall to the floor.

“Let me know if you want me to stop,” Tom says.

You turn around and walk to the bed, allowing your dress to fall behind you. Sitting down, you motion for Tom to come over to you. His eyes scan your face, avoiding your intricate and deep-colored underwear as he stands up. Tom stands between your slightly parted legs, and you move your hands to the lapels of his black blazer, pushing them open. He discards it from his arms and to the floor before pulling his t-shirt over his head. You try not to ogle at his perfect body, but your hands wander anyway. Up his abdomen and across his chest until you reach his neck, where you pull him down for a heated kiss. Tom lightly pushes you onto the bed, and you move to the pile of pillows to rest your head. He climbs over you, caging you underneath him. Before you can react, Tom pulls your legs up around his waist as he rests his body on yours. His lips hover over yours, his darkened eyes boring into yours much like they did the back of your head earlier in the evening. 

“Don’t stop,” you say, crossing your ankles behind Tom’s back.

Tom attacks your neck with hot kisses and soft bites, your hand grasping the back of his head. As his body relaxes into you, his weight presses you against the bed, and you feel how hard he is. You lift your hips to lightly grind into Tom, and his soft bite into your collarbone turns harsh in reaction. He continues downward, slipping his fingers underneath the straps of your bra and sliding them down your shoulders. You arch your back so Tom has the room to unclasp the band and remove the garment from you. He wastes no time resuming his kisses on your sensitive skin, avoiding the areas you desire his kisses most. You gasp when Tom lets his hand brush against your breast, his thumb circling your nipple softly. A small moan leaves your lips, and Tom glances up at you through his lashes to gauge your reaction. He admires how your eyebrows crease momentarily in pleasure, so he circles his thumb again. You moan louder this time, craving his touch without hesitance.

“Please,” you sigh, “Don’t hold back either.”

Tom hums in response before dipping his head down and enveloping your nipple in his mouth, flicking it with his tongue teasingly. He rubs your other nipple with his thumb, simultaneously stimulating you. You whimper, heat from your still buzzed body rushing to your clit. Your hips roll in response, and you’re sure Tom can feel your dampened panties against his chest. He gives your nipple a sharp tug with his teeth before focusing on your needy core. He leaves an open-mouthed kiss on your clothed heat before removing your underwear. Still buzzed from all the alcohol earlier, Tom tries his best to be soft with you despite the pit of desire growing between you. You want him- all of him, and you want it now. And Tom wants you. Before you can speak, Tom’s warm mouth meets your folds, his tongue lapping at your arousal. You squirm from the sudden stimulation, but he stills your hips with his grip. A hand flies to Tom’s mussed-up hair as he plunges his tongue into you, his nose pressing to your clit. He inhales your scent, and it intoxicates him more than alcohol ever could. Shaking his head, Tom’s nose rubs against your clit perfectly as his tongue fucks you. Your whole body is up in flames, your fingers tightening in his hair. 

You’re muttering incoherent praises as you ride Tom’s face. He replaces his tongue with two of his fingers, your relaxed wetness allowing him to slip them in easily. They scissor against your fluttering walls as Tom sucks on your bundle of nerves. Your fuzzy mind keeps you from hiding how good his mouth feels on you, and your moans grow louder. His mouth leaves your cunt abruptly before reattaching to yours, silencing you immediately.

“Gotta be quiet,” Tom huffs against your lips, “People are still downstairs, love.”

You wrap your legs around him again, grinding yourself into his still-clothed cock. He’s the one to moan this time, slipping his tongue into your mouth and letting you taste yourself. You unwrap your legs and work to unfasten Tom’s trousers, pushing them down his thighs. He kicks them off the rest of the way, along with his underwear, as he continues to kiss you. You reach down between your bodies and palm Tom’s length, to which he groans into your mouth. You guide his tip to your entrance, allowing him to comfortably push into you. Your hands grasp Tom’s shoulder blades, your nails lightly digging into his skin with every inch that enters you. You whimper in pleasure at him finally being inside you after longing for it all night. Tom bottoms out with a content sigh, also elated at the feeling of you clenching around his length after craving it for so long. 

Your chests heave against one another, your forehead pressed to Tom’s. His enticing blue eyes meet yours as he slowly pulls out before slamming his hips against yours. You gasp, arching your back and letting butterflies swarm in your belly when Tom kisses the corner of your mouth. He fucks into you again, slowly building a steady pace. Your lips barely brush against Tom’s as he snaps his body into yours. Your buzz has now faded away, allowing you to feel him entirely sober. He sneaks his hand between you and presses his thumb to your clit, making you hiss at the sudden stimulation. Your head pushes against the pillows, exposing your throat. Tom lets his hand lazily wrap around it, not squeezing but instead holding it as he grazes his teeth on your skin there as he kisses your neck. 

“Feel so good around me,” Tom says dazedly, and you feel his eyelashes flutter under your jaw, “So gorgeous.”

Your hand rests in his hair again, gently combing through his locks as he rocks into you faster. His weight on you, his thumb still rubbing your clit, and his hand around your neck seals the deal for you as he plows into that sweet spot inside you. 

“Tom,” you moan, “I’m close.”

“Me too, baby. Me too,” he whispers into your skin, leaving soft kisses in contrast to his rough thrusts.

“You feel so good,” you mutter, your chin resting on Tom’s head.

Tom lifts your leg and places it on his shoulder, allowing him to hit a new angle inside you. You bury your face in his hair to deafen the cry that escapes you in response. 

“Right there,” you pant, your hands desperately holding onto Tom’s hair as your mouth hangs open in silent pleasure.

Tom breathes heavily into your neck, using all the energy he has left to mercilessly fuck your weeping cunt. You feel your stomach tensing, alerting you of your impending orgasm. Tom chants your name as he firmly presses his thumb into your clit, causing the tightly wound knot inside you to snap undone. Your thigh clamps into the side of Tom’s neck while the other shakes against the bare skin of his sweat sheened back. The feeling of your tight pussy pulsating around him makes Tom explode inside you with a gasp. You grip Tom’s hair desperately as you milk him of everything he has, his thumb still not letting up on your clit. Another orgasm washes over you suddenly. This time it makes you convulse, your cunt gushing around Tom and dripping down your thighs as you cry out in pleasure. 

“Fuck,” you gasp for air, Tom pulling out of you.

He moves down to your pussy, cleaning up the cum spilling from you with a hungry tongue. You’re so sensitive that your thighs slam into the sides of Tom’s head. He suckles your clit for a moment for good measure, making you writhe underneath him. You pathetically whimper when he pulls away, finally catching your breath. Tom returns to his previous position on top of you, his face buried in your neck. He wraps his arms around you, softly stroking your skin. 

“Wow,” you giggle, letting your nose dig into Tom’s brunette hair.

“Yeah,” he smirks, “You’re amazing.”

“That’s all you, I’m afraid,” you say.

Tom hums, “I disagree, sweetheart.”

He rolls over momentarily, lifting the duvet for you to climb under. He embraces you again, holding you close as if you’ll disappear like some sort of dream. You wrap your arms around Tom’s, smiling as he presses his nose to your hair. 

“I still haven’t put my finger on it,” you say after a moment of silence.

“Hmm? On what?”

“That something about you.”

“I guess you’ll have to stick around and find out, then.”

“Deal,” you chuckle, “Merry Christmas, Tom.”

“Merry Christmas, beautiful.”

taglist:

@barbaraelaine @devotedly-sassy @nowitsmissing @arzua10 @screamqueenpink

[kaerumi]

Hello dear, I was wondering if you can do some yandere for the very infamous OP men shanks, mihawk,ace,and sabo with normal y/n who's younger than them in separate senariors..

Y/N traits : innocent, sweetheart, warm personality, enchanted beauty with extremely cutie pie face and amazing warm and calm voice that melts the snow from its sweetness it's make anyone feel at ease only by hearing it , it's one of the most reasons why those men had gone insane over her ,why they want to possess her at any cost .

TY and have a good day ☺️.

TW/CW: Yandere, Age gap is up to 3 years, obsession, implied murder, implied poisoning, mention of murder & arson, manipulation (for Sabo)

Notes: I'll be honest I have no clue how to do an innocent reader. And it's gonna be GN Sorry I don't particularly do Female readers Also sorry for not writing in so long :^

Shanks

Shanks was a popular Model, he can flirt with anyone without hesitation.

Then there was you, you weren't popular at all. When he saw you he felt the urge to just... Take you.

He felt jealous of the guys around you that soaked in your attention, in your voice and innocence and especially your beauty.

He just needed it. Needed you.

Eventually he started obsessing over you trying to find every photo there was of you, eventually it got worse

Just hope for both your innocence and sanity you don't meet him.

Until you did.

And suddenly you started to notice people around you get killed, you somehow trusted the red bloody haired man with your safety.

"You'll be fine I'm here after all! All you need is me sweetheart."

After all what did you know?

You're innocent after all

And that's what made Shanks' job of getting you to be his more easier.

Mihawk

Mihawk was a famous swordsman and you were always interested in swords so naturally you took interest in Mihawk.

Unfortunately he took a interest in you as well.

You ended always staying behind the classes because of how much trouble you had with sword, you'd have small conversations with Mihawk.

Slowly Mihawk started to know everything about you and wrote of it down in a notebook that was always locked in a case.

When someone annoyed you too much or confessed to you they suddenly would fall ill and be unable to attend.

Due to Mihawk naturally being cold people didn't notice anything different about him and you didn't know better.

Though you slowly started to blame yourself because people around you would get ill and naturally they ended up dying to the illness.

"My dear... It's not your fault, they naturally fell ill. It is not your fault and anyone who is saying such things is a horrible person who is just jealous. It is unfortunate they fell ill yes but there was nothing you could do. My dear..."

You never knew why they fell ill, and you may never know.

Maybe it's better if you never did anyways.

Ace

Ace was Ace, he's a popular play boy in the town but all he did was flirt and play with hearts.

That was before you came along.

He knew he needed you once first meeting your eyes.

You were most certainly more cuter than anyone else's hearts he's played with.

He wasn't gonna break your heart, no. He could never, he was gonna make sure he was the only one in your heart not matter what he had to do.

He would do whatever you wanted to do or needed.

He'd gladly kill with no hesitation.

Want him to stab that guy who catcalled you? Done.

Want him to burn down a place that has bad memories? Done before you could mention it.

No one went near Ace when the missing people news started getting known, knowing how cold he got when it came to that, they tried to warn you how cold he could be.

You always laugh it off and hang out with him anyways.

He'd act like nothing was happening.

Why read the news when you already know it before anyone else?

You wake up from your nap when you started hearing the news "Mmmh?" Ace turns off the Tv "Don't worry about it my love just go back to sleep."

Sabo

Sabo was the second in command of a powerful business.

Once you joined everything changed.

However unlike the other three Sabo wouldn't kill, no. Sabo wouldn't want his hand or gloves dirty and blood stains too.

Sabo would figure out your favorite things to do and food and everything and give it all to you.

He'd spoil you with everything you'd ever wanted.

He'd help you with a lot of things

He sublely manipulates you into being dependent on him and him alone.

No one would dare go near you if they cared for their job or reputation.

No one went near Sabo either, Sabo didn't mind this, it just meant he could give all his attention to you.

He tested it once day by hiding on purpose.

When you realized Sabo wasn't there you got really nervous and got a bit upset, until Sabo popped

 up and helped you again which you immediately calmed down when he did.

Sabo smiled at you, he was glad that his plan was working and working well.

"Please don't leave me alone..." "I promise I won't ever again my angel..." "Thank you Sabo." "Anything for you. My sweet Angel."

[itsvelyria]

"new years eve with the boys"

Charles Leclerc

the festive chaos envelops the Leclerc home, everyone having gathered to watch the countdown. bubbles of champagne dissolves in your mouth as you giggle over shared jokes with a friend. hollers of "10, 9, 8"s shocks you, whirling to watch the numbers flash a touch too brightly on the TV screen. "7, 6, 5," has you craning your head over the exhilarated crowd, struggling to find charles. you wonder if he's somewhere outside as someone shouts "4, 3" right into your eardrum. now you're half sure you're deaf as the tipsy mess screams the final numbers. a muscular arm finds its way around your waist, twirling you round to meet the eyes of your much-missed boyfriend. "happy new year," he whispers along with the rest of your loved ones, soft lips meeting yours to celebrate a new beginning with your love.

Carlos Sainz

carlos steps onto the red carpet, polished loafers gleaming black against the textured fabric. his hair is coiffed and a watch that costs a little too much on his wrist. but all that pales in comparison to the jewel on his arm. an air of sophistication surrounds you two as you attend a glamorous new year's eve gala for ferrari. the elegant event has celebrities you had only seen through screens milling around, dressed in stylish attires. your partner turn heads with his charismatic presence, grinning at cameras with his boyish smile. in the buzz of lively conversations and artistically plated food, you clink glasses with people whose names go right over your head. when dawn breaks, all you can recall is carlos' voice calling you his and all you can care about is the expanse of warm golden skin beneath your head.

Danny Ricciardo

the dark colour of the ocean should scare you but all attention is drawn to the huge bonfire in the centre of the sandy shores — the heart of danny's new year's eve celebration. the beach is a turquoise canvas that has been painted with shades of relaxation, with the rhythmic sound of waves and the crackling fire creating a carefree atmosphere. friends and acquaintances huddle together in groups, boisterous laughter intertwining with the music that echoes along the shoreline. you perch on a washed-up piece of driftwood nursing a beer, watching the bonfire flames dance against the night sky, casting playful shadows on daniel’s face as he goofs around with his friends. cheers sound against the crashing waves as a chugging competition begins, your boyfriend at the heart of the chaos. and even in the midst of it all, he manages to pull his gaze away to search for yours, a bright smile crossing his face when he notices your attention already on him, waving you over.

George Russell

in a last-minute attempt to avoid the holiday craze in London, you and george decide escape to the secluded beaches of Koh Samui, far away from the adrenaline that seems to pump through everyone’s veins during this period. on the serene beaches, far from the public eye, you send off a selfie you two took lying yesterday with the stunning fireworks. a reply shoots back quickly from your mother, a thumbs up and heart. putting the phone aside, your attention turns to your boyfriend who is fast asleep beside you on a hotel towel, having fully embraced the peaceful surroundings. burning the image of your boyfriend in a state of tranquility, you decide you quite like him here, not needing to share him with the rest of the world and all for you.

Lando Norris

in the heart of new york, the city that never sleeps, someone had done a fantastic job turning their apartment in a haven for celebration. the floor length windows was recently polished in preparation for viewing of the ball drop and fireworks. the cityscape was stunning, the lights in almost all the building windows – everyone awake to ring in the new year with their loved ones. a familiar hand proffers a beer at you and you take it gratefully. the heavy arm slings over your shoulders, a familiar weight, and pulls you closer to its owner. lando presses a long kiss to the side of your head, silent words telling you he had missed you in the few minutes away. and in the countdown that would come soon, he would cup your face in his cold hands, ignoring the shivers that ran down your spine, and kiss you with an intensity that seemed to grow with every exchange.

Lewis Hamilton

lewis, in classic hard-working fashion, has orchestrated an exclusive charity gala, the festive spirit of the date infused with purpose. the sophisticated venue had been adorned in blues and greens, with the flair of a charitable celebration. influential figures and friends gather, floor length gowns and full suits bringing an air of sophistication. as his partner, you find yourself at the main table, beaming as he takes the stage, not only as a host but as a force for change, raising funds for a cause dear to his heart. if being with lewis has taught you anything, it was that your support and presence meant more to him than any present you could gift. and you have grown to love the man and all his ambitions and dreams. but if you find yourself in the backseat of a car later, being thanked by a barrage of kisses, it would be your little bonus.

Max Verstappen

max opts for a quiet night in, a private new year’s celebration with just the two of you. he had spent the day setting up the apartment, delicately strung fairy lights on windows and a lit scented candle he had found somewhere near the TV. the flickering candlelight on the dining table between two intimate place settings giving rise to an house of warmth and mellowness. as the clock ticks toward midnight, max holds you close, his deep breathing music to your ears, unknowing of how it feels like a drug on you. the cloying scent of vanilla marks the moment and the calming joy of the evening is found in the simplicity of shared memories, tender smiles, and the promise of a new year together.

[amethystarachnid]

Can you write New Year’s Eve Countdown with Tony? Tony organized a party for all the Avengers, Tony and reader are in a “mutual pinning” situation and they’ll share their first kiss at midnight and promise to stay together forever as a New Year’s resolution 🤍🤍🤍 it’s for female reader

MIDNIGHT KISS

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

ᯓ★ Pairing: Anthony “Tony” E. Stark x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, fluff

ᯓ★ Request from: MARVEL Holiday special

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 6.5k

ᯓ★ Summary: Y/N and Tony Stark share a mutual but unspoken attraction as they navigate a New Year’s Eve party filled with tension, playful flirting, and subtle jealousy. After a series of near-confessions and teasing moments, Tony finally gathers the courage to kiss Y/N at midnight, asking her to be his girlfriend as part of a New Year’s resolution.

ᯓ★ TW(s): nothing

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The Stark Tower is alive tonight, pulsing with energy as if the building itself knows the year is ending and something bigger is coming. The city skyline glitters just outside the massive floor-to-ceiling windows of the top-floor lounge, a perfect backdrop for a party only Tony Stark could throw. You stand off to one side, a glass of champagne in hand, watching the room fill with some of the most powerful people on the planet. Quite literally.

Tony’s spared no expense, as usual. Golden lights drip from the ceiling like falling stars, illuminating the room in a warm, inviting glow. There’s a live jazz band playing in one corner, the music melting into the buzz of conversation and laughter. Waitstaff weave through the crowd with trays of expertly crafted hors d'oeuvres, and the bar is fully stocked with bottles that probably cost more than your rent. You shouldn’t be surprised. Stark’s New Year’s Eve parties are legendary, and this one seems determined to outdo all the rest.

You catch sight of Tony across the room, looking effortlessly sharp in a tailored suit that somehow manages to be both classic and undeniably him. His tie is slightly loosened, the top button of his shirt undone, and the glint of his arc reactor peeks through the fabric like an open secret. He’s holding court, of course, surrounded by people hanging on his every word. The way he commands attention is almost hypnotic, like a gravitational pull you can’t resist.

He must feel your gaze because his eyes snap to yours suddenly, like a magnet locking in place. The smirk that spreads across his face is slow and deliberate, a challenge wrapped in charm. You take a sip of your champagne, feigning nonchalance, but your heart is beating faster, traitorous and uncooperative.

"Y/N!" Tony’s voice cuts through the air moments later, rich and teasing, like he knows exactly how to unsettle you. You blink, and suddenly he’s standing right in front of you, all charisma and mischief. "Looking good tonight. Is that new, or have I just been too distracted to notice?"

You roll your eyes, but there’s no stopping the warmth creeping up your neck. “You’re always distracted, Stark. I’m surprised you even remembered my name.”

He laughs, a deep, genuine sound that sends a ripple through your chest. “How could I forget? You’re the one who keeps me on my toes. Besides,” he adds, leaning in just slightly, “it’s my job to notice when someone outshines my own party.”

The air between you tightens, crackling like the champagne in your glass. You glance around, looking for an escape route, but the room seems smaller now, the crowd fading into the periphery. It’s just you and Tony, standing too close and not close enough at the same time.

"Careful, Tony," you say, forcing a casual tone. "If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were flirting with me."

He tilts his head, considering you with a mock seriousness that’s entirely too disarming. "And if I was?"

Your breath catches for a split second, but you recover quickly, masking it with a smirk of your own. "Then I’d say you should work on your timing. There’s a whole party waiting for you to be the center of attention."

"Ah, but you see," he says, his voice dropping lower, "I’ve got everything I need right here."

A laugh escapes before you can stop it, and you shake your head. "Unbelievable."

"That’s what they say," he quips, straightening up but not stepping back. He gestures toward the bar. "Another drink? Or are you pacing yourself for midnight?"

You hesitate. This is dangerous territory, and you both know it. But there’s a thrill in the way he looks at you, like you’re the only thing worth paying attention to in a room full of gods and heroes. Maybe just one more drink couldn’t hurt.

"Sure," you say, handing him your empty glass. "But make it something good. None of that cheap stuff you probably save for people who don’t know better."

His grin widens, all teeth and trouble. "As if I’d ever let you drink the cheap stuff."

You follow him to the bar, weaving through the crowd that seems to part effortlessly for Tony. He orders something in rapid-fire bartender lingo, and the mixologist nods, setting to work with a practiced efficiency. While you wait, Tony leans against the counter, his attention back on you.

"Having fun?" he asks, his tone casual but his eyes anything but.

"It’s your party, Tony. How could I not?" you reply, dodging the weight of his gaze.

"That’s not an answer," he counters smoothly, his smirk returning. "Are you really having fun? Or are you just standing around, trying to pretend you don’t want to bolt?"

You sigh, leaning your elbow on the bar. "It’s a little overwhelming, okay? Half the room could level a city block with a flick of their wrist, and the other half probably have no idea who I am."

"I know who you are," he says, the flippant edge in his voice softening just slightly. "And trust me, nobody here could miss you if they tried."

Your cheeks heat again, and you’re saved only by the arrival of the drinks. Tony hands you a glass, and your fingers brush briefly against his. It’s nothing, just a moment, but it lingers, sending a jolt up your arm like static electricity. He doesn’t pull away immediately, and for a second, you wonder if he feels it too.

"Cheers," he says, his voice quieter now, more intimate. He raises his glass, and you tap yours lightly against it, the crystal ringing out like a bell.

"Cheers," you echo, taking a sip. The drink is perfect, just as you knew it would be, but you barely register the taste. Your mind is spinning, caught in the push and pull of whatever this is between you and Tony.

The band strikes up a livelier tune, and Tony’s face lights up with the kind of grin that usually means trouble. "Come on," he says, grabbing your hand before you can protest.

"Where are we going?" you ask, your voice rising slightly as he pulls you toward the makeshift dance floor.

"You’ll see," he says over his shoulder, his grip firm but not unpleasant.

When you reach the center of the room, he spins to face you, releasing your hand only to offer it again, palm up. "Dance with me."

"Tony—"

"Don’t overthink it," he interrupts, his expression unreadable but still magnetic. "It’s just a dance."

It’s never just anything with Tony Stark. But the challenge in his eyes is impossible to resist, and before you can talk yourself out of it, you place your hand in his.

The next few moments are a blur of movement and music, your world shrinking down to the rhythm and the feeling of his hand on your waist. He’s a better dancer than you expected—confident but not overbearing, playful but precise. You can feel his eyes on you, and every look sends your pulse into overdrive.

"See? Not so bad," he says, his voice low enough that only you can hear.

"Don’t get cocky," you shoot back, but your breathlessness undermines the bite.

"Too late," he says, spinning you out and pulling you back in with a flourish. The move leaves you dizzy, your balance tipping slightly as you crash back into him. His arm steadies you instantly, his hand splayed against your back in a way that feels far too intimate for a public setting.

"You okay?" he asks, his tone soft now, almost concerned.

"Yeah," you manage, your voice barely above a whisper.

You’re not sure how much longer the dance lasts, or even what song is playing anymore. All you know is the way Tony’s hand feels on yours, the way his smile makes your chest ache, and the way the space between you seems to disappear, little by little, until it feels like you’re the only two people in the room.

When the song ends, there’s a smattering of applause, and you step back reluctantly, your hand slipping from his. You’re hyper-aware of the eyes on you now, curious and speculative, and you can’t decide if you’re relieved or disappointed when Tony takes a step back too.

"Not bad, Y/N," he says, his smirk back in full force. "I might have to make this a tradition."

"Don’t push your luck," you reply, but there’s no real bite to your words.

"Wouldn’t dream of it," he says, but the glint in his eyes suggests otherwise.

The party surges back to life around you, but the world still feels slightly off-kilter. Your heart hasn’t quite settled from the dance, and you’re certain Tony knows. He’s standing closer now, close enough that you can smell his cologne—a warm, intoxicating mix that suits him entirely too well.

"Where were we?" he asks casually, as if the last few minutes hadn’t already shifted the entire dynamic between you.

"You were probably saying something obnoxious," you reply, a little too quickly. Your drink feels suddenly essential, so you take another sip, hoping the bubbles will dull the edge of your nerves.

"Obnoxious? Me?" He places a hand over his chest in mock offense, the corner of his mouth twitching with amusement. "I’ll have you know, I’m the very picture of restraint tonight."

You arch a brow. "Restraint? Is that what we’re calling it when you hijack the DJ, commandeer the dance floor, and steal someone’s drink all in the span of twenty minutes?"

He grins, unrepentant. "Admit it. You’re impressed."

"More like exhausted," you deadpan, but your lips betray you, tugging upward in a smile.

Tony notices—of course he does—and his grin only widens. "You’re terrible at hiding it, you know," he says, leaning in slightly. "The fact that you’re having fun."

"I didn’t say I wasn’t," you counter, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks again. His proximity is dangerous, intoxicating, and the way he looks at you makes it almost impossible to think clearly.

"So you are having fun," he says, victorious. He raises his glass in a mock toast. "To progress."

You roll your eyes, but the warmth spreading through your chest makes it hard to muster much of a protest. "You’re insufferable."

"And yet," he says, lowering his voice just enough to make your pulse stutter, "you haven’t walked away."

"Maybe I’m just waiting for you to run out of charm," you quip, though your words lack conviction.

Tony steps closer, just enough to blur the already thin line between playful and something much more precarious. His eyes search yours, the teasing glint in them softening into something warmer, deeper. "Careful, Y/N," he says, his voice low and almost serious now. "I’ve got a lot of charm. You might be here all night."

Your breath catches, and for a fleeting second, the party seems to dissolve entirely. It’s just the two of you again, caught in a moment that feels both inevitable and utterly unexpected. You’re not sure who looks away first, but when you finally blink, the world snaps back into focus.

"So," you say, desperate to break the tension. "What’s the plan for the rest of the night? I assume you’ve got some ridiculous surprise lined up?"

Tony leans casually against the bar, his confidence returning like a switch flipped. "You’ll just have to wait and see. I can’t give away all my secrets."

"You’re terrible at secrets," you shoot back. "Half the room probably knows already."

"Maybe," he admits with a shrug, "but not you."

"Is that supposed to make me feel special?" you ask, arching a brow.

"Depends," he says, his expression unreadable for a moment before his trademark smirk returns. "Does it?"

You shake your head, laughing despite yourself. "Unbelievable."

"I’ve heard that one too," he says, clinking his glass lightly against yours.

The night stretches on, and the two of you fall into an easy rhythm of banter and stolen glances. Every so often, someone pulls Tony away—Pepper with a logistical question, Thor with an enthusiastic slap on the back that nearly sends his drink flying—but he always returns, like some invisible thread keeps tugging him back to your side.

At one point, you’re standing by the windows, staring out at the glittering expanse of New York City, when Tony appears beside you again, holding two fresh glasses of champagne.

"Figured you could use a refill," he says, handing you one.

"Thanks," you say, taking it gratefully. The view is breathtaking, the city alight with the promise of a new year, but you can’t help noticing that your focus keeps drifting back to Tony.

"Pretty spectacular, huh?" he says, nodding toward the skyline.

"It is," you agree, though your voice comes out softer than you intended. "But I’m guessing you don’t spend much time appreciating it."

"Not as much as I should," he admits, his tone unusually thoughtful. Then he glances at you, his expression shifting back to that familiar mix of charm and mischief. "But I’ve got a good excuse tonight."

You give him a look. "You’ve got about twenty of those running around here," you point out, gesturing vaguely at the crowd. "I think they call them ‘the Avengers.’"

"Yeah, but none of them are standing here with me right now," he says, his voice dropping just enough to make your heart trip over itself.

You open your mouth to respond, but before you can, Sam Wilson’s voice booms from across the room.

"Yo, Stark! We need a ruling over here!"

Tony groans, looking momentarily torn before he turns back to you. "Stay right here. I’ll be back."

"Take your time," you say, forcing a casual tone. He narrows his eyes at you briefly, like he knows better, but he doesn’t push it.

The second he’s gone, you let out a slow breath, the tension finally breaking. You glance back out at the city, but it’s no use. All you can think about is the way Tony looked at you, the way his words lingered in the space between you like an unfinished promise.

You’re in trouble. And it’s only 9:30.

You’re still standing by the windows when a voice pulls you from your thoughts. It’s smooth and confident, but it’s not Tony’s.

"Beautiful view, isn’t it?"

You turn to find a man standing a little too close. He’s tall, with sharp features and the kind of tailored suit that screams money. His smile is polished, a little too practiced, but polite enough not to send you running.

"Yeah," you reply, offering a noncommittal smile. You glance past him instinctively, wondering how long Tony’s going to be caught up with Sam.

The man extends a hand, undeterred. "David. And you are?"

"Y/N," you say, hesitating briefly before shaking his hand. His grip lingers just a second too long, and you step back slightly, trying to create some space.

"Y/N," he repeats, his smile widening. "I don’t think we’ve met before. Are you with the Avengers?"

You laugh lightly, shaking your head. "No, definitely not. Just a guest tonight."

"A shame," David says, tilting his head. "I bet you’d make a hell of a hero. Or is this more of a behind-the-scenes thing? You know, the brains behind the operation?"

"Not quite," you say, trying to keep your tone light.

David takes another step closer, ignoring the subtle shift in your body language. "Well, whatever your role, I’m glad you’re here. It’s not every day you meet someone as striking as you at one of these things. Stark’s parties can be… overwhelming, don’t you think?"

"Sometimes," you admit, taking another sip of your champagne in hopes of ending the conversation.

"Maybe I can make it less so," he says, his smile turning more confident. "What do you say we—"

"She’s good," a familiar voice cuts in, sharp and unmistakable.

You glance over and find Tony standing there, his jaw tight and his eyes locked on David. The easy charm he usually wears like a second skin is gone, replaced by something harder, sharper.

David straightens, clearly surprised by Tony’s sudden appearance. "Tony," he says smoothly, offering a polite nod. "Didn’t see you there."

"Funny," Tony says, his tone dangerously casual. "I’ve been standing here for a while. Long enough, anyway."

There’s a beat of tense silence before David clears his throat. "Well, I’ll let you two catch up," he says, flashing you one last smile. "Nice to meet you, Y/N."

You manage a polite nod as he retreats, but the moment he’s gone, Tony steps into the space David left behind. His presence is overwhelming, magnetic in a way that makes your pulse race.

"Making new friends?" he asks, his tone light but edged with something unmistakably sharp.

"Not exactly," you say, raising an eyebrow. "What’s with the interrogation?"

Tony doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he takes a slow sip of his drink, his eyes fixed on yours. When he finally speaks, his voice is low and deliberate. "He was hitting on you."

"So?" you challenge, crossing your arms. "It’s a party, Tony. People flirt. It’s not a big deal."

"It is," he says, his voice hardening slightly. "When it’s you."

Your breath catches, and you blink at him, trying to process the weight of his words. "What does that mean?"

Tony exhales sharply, raking a hand through his hair. For a moment, he looks almost vulnerable, like he’s weighing whether or not to say what he’s really thinking. When he meets your eyes again, the mask is back in place, but the intensity hasn’t faded.

"It means I don’t like sharing," he says simply, his gaze unwavering.

Your heart flips, and you feel a mix of frustration and exhilaration bubbling to the surface. "Sharing what, exactly? Because last I checked, we weren’t—"

"You know what," he interrupts, his voice quieter now but no less firm. "Don’t act like you don’t."

The air between you feels electric, charged with the weight of everything unsaid. You open your mouth to respond, but no words come out. Instead, you find yourself searching his face, trying to make sense of the storm in his eyes.

"Tony," you begin, your voice softening.

He steps closer, closing the already minimal gap between you. His hand brushes yours, a fleeting touch that sends a shiver up your spine. "If you don’t feel it," he says, his voice barely above a whisper, "just say the word, and I’ll back off."

You swallow hard, your heart pounding so loudly you’re sure he can hear it. The truth is, you do feel it—every stolen glance, every teasing remark, every moment that lingers a little too long. It’s been building for months, and now it’s here, staring you in the face, impossible to ignore.

"I didn’t say that," you manage, your voice trembling slightly.

Tony’s expression shifts, the tension in his shoulders easing just a fraction. A slow, almost disbelieving smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. "No?"

"No," you say, more firmly this time.

His smile deepens, and for a moment, the confident Tony Stark you know is back in full force. "Good," he says, his voice low and warm, like a promise. "Because I wasn’t planning on letting him win."

The night stretches on, and the party seems to gain more energy with each passing hour. The room is alive with laughter, the clinking of glasses, and the hum of conversation, but your focus keeps drifting back to Tony. Even when he’s across the room, talking to Bruce or trading stories with Thor, you can feel his presence like a gravitational pull.

Unfortunately, it seems David can too.

Every time Tony is pulled away, David reappears, slipping into the space Tony vacates like clockwork. It starts small: a comment here, a compliment there. At first, you consider brushing him off, but an idea forms in the back of your mind, reckless and enticing. If Tony wants to keep circling his feelings, maybe it’s time to push him out of orbit.

"So, Y/N," David says as you linger near the bar, his smile sharp and calculated. "I was going to wait until later, but I can’t resist. Care to join me for a proper drink upstairs? The private bar’s a little quieter. We could actually hear each other talk."

You laugh lightly, deflecting. "That’s a generous offer, but I think the view’s better here."

David doesn’t back down, leaning closer. "I think the view’s perfect right where I’m standing."

It’s bold, more so than his earlier attempts, and while his confidence is starting to border on arrogance, you decide to let it play out. After all, you’ve already caught Tony glancing your way more than once. If this doesn’t make him take the leap, what will?

"I’ll take that as a compliment," you say smoothly, sipping your champagne. Your tone is warm enough to keep David interested but neutral enough to maintain plausible deniability. It’s a delicate balancing act, but you’re determined to see it through.

The effect on Tony is almost immediate. Out of the corner of your eye, you see him pause mid-conversation with Pepper, his gaze locking on you and David. His jaw tightens just slightly, the kind of subtle shift most people wouldn’t notice. But you’re not most people. You know Tony Stark better than that.

When Tony finally makes his way back to your side, he doesn’t waste any time.

"David," he says smoothly, his tone polite but razor-sharp. "I didn’t realize you were still here. Thought you’d left hours ago."

David straightens, clearly picking up on the tension but choosing to ignore it. "Not a chance, Stark. I wouldn’t miss the chance to get to know your… esteemed guest here a little better."

Tony’s smile is all teeth. "Esteemed is right. Y/N’s got better taste than to waste her time on second-rate charm."

David laughs, but there’s a flicker of irritation in his eyes. "Funny. I thought she seemed interested."

Tony steps closer, his hand brushing your arm as if to remind you—and David—exactly where you belong. "Y/N’s a lot of things," he says, his voice calm but carrying an unmistakable edge. "Interested in you isn’t one of them."

You feel your cheeks heat, but instead of stepping in, you let them spar, curious to see how far Tony’s willing to go. There’s a thrill in watching him tiptoe the line between his usual bravado and something far more personal.

"That so?" David asks, glancing at you with a cocky smirk. "She doesn’t seem to mind my company."

Tony doesn’t miss a beat. "That’s because she’s too polite to tell you to get lost. But I’m not."

"Tony," you say finally, your tone light but firm enough to draw his attention. "I think I can handle myself."

"Of course you can," he says, his gaze softening slightly when it meets yours. "But you shouldn’t have to."

David raises his hands in mock surrender, his smirk firmly in place. "Relax, Stark. I was just trying to enjoy the party." He turns back to you, his smile sharpening. "If you change your mind, you know where to find me."

Tony doesn’t even wait for David to disappear into the crowd before he rounds on you, his expression unreadable but brimming with something unspoken. "What was that?" he asks, his voice low and pointed.

"What was what?" you reply, feigning innocence as you take another sip of your champagne.

"You letting him flirt with you," Tony says, his tone laced with frustration. "You didn’t exactly shut him down."

You shrug, keeping your voice casual even as your heart pounds in your chest. "He was being polite. Mostly."

Tony’s brow furrows, and he steps closer, the space between you vanishing once again. "You’re not seriously considering—"

"Why do you care?" you interrupt, your voice sharper than you intended. The words hang between you, charged and dangerous, but you can’t stop now. "It’s a party, Tony. People flirt. You said it yourself—no big deal, right?"

His eyes search yours, his usual quick wit faltering as he struggles to find the right words. "It is a big deal," he says finally, his voice quieter now. "When it’s you, it’s—"

You wait, holding your breath, willing him to say what you’ve both been circling all night. But just as the moment stretches taut enough to snap, someone calls Tony’s name from across the room.

He hesitates, his jaw tightening, before finally stepping back. "Don’t go anywhere," he says, his voice firm but tinged with something softer. "We’re not done."

"Wouldn’t dream of it," you reply, watching him disappear into the crowd once again. Your heart is still racing, and you know you’ve pushed him to the edge. Now all that’s left is to see if he’ll finally take the leap—or if you’ll have to jump first.

You can feel the tension simmering just beneath the surface as the night wears on. Tony’s brief departure leaves you restless, the unanswered weight of your earlier exchange hanging in the air. You’ve played coy, let the jealousy simmer, and even pushed him to the edge, but he still hasn’t crossed the line.

It’s maddening, but you’re not ready to back down. Not yet.

When Tony reappears, he’s alone this time, his gaze immediately seeking you out. There’s a flicker of relief in his eyes when he spots you still standing by the bar. You take a deep breath and make your move, the kind of bold decision that would make Natasha proud.

"Hey, Stark," you call, your voice cutting through the crowd.

Tony raises an eyebrow as he approaches, his usual confidence masking any lingering frustration from earlier. "Back to last names now? That’s cold, even for you."

"Couldn’t resist," you say with a playful shrug. You set your empty glass on the bar and lean closer, just enough to draw his attention. "Dance with me."

The surprise that flashes across his face is brief but satisfying. "Dance? Again?" he asks, a slow smirk tugging at his lips. "You sure you can handle it this time?"

"I’ll try to keep up," you reply, grabbing his hand before he can argue. His fingers curl around yours instinctively, warm and firm, as you lead him toward the edge of the dance floor. The DJ has shifted the music to something slower, sultry, and the timing couldn’t be more perfect.

Tony doesn’t protest, but there’s a flicker of something unreadable in his expression as you pull him close. Your hand rests lightly on his shoulder, his settling on your waist, and for a moment, the rest of the room falls away.

"You’re full of surprises tonight," he says, his voice low and teasing. "What’s next? A karaoke duet?"

"Don’t tempt me," you shoot back, feeling the electricity crackle between you as your bodies move in sync. "You’re already out of your depth."

"I don’t know," he says, his tone dipping into something darker, more intimate. "Feels like I’m right where I’m supposed to be."

The words send a thrill down your spine, but you refuse to let him see how much they affect you. Instead, you step a little closer, letting your fingers graze the back of his neck as you tilt your head up to meet his gaze.

"You talk a big game, Stark," you murmur, your voice barely audible over the music. "But I think you’re all bark."

His eyes darken, the playful edge replaced by something more dangerous. "Careful, Y/N," he warns, his hand tightening slightly on your waist. "You might not like what happens when I bite."

"Maybe I would," you challenge, your heart racing as the tension between you reaches a breaking point.

Tony’s grip shifts, pulling you flush against him, and for a moment, you forget how to breathe. His face is so close now, his breath warm against your cheek, and the sheer intensity of his gaze leaves you dizzy.

"Is that what you want?" he asks, his voice low and rough, his thumb brushing against the fabric of your dress in a way that sets your skin on fire.

You don’t answer right away, your pulse hammering in your ears as the world narrows to just him. He’s holding back—you can see it in the way his jaw tightens, in the way his hand lingers just shy of something more daring.

And yet, he doesn’t move.

You tilt your head, your lips so close to his ear that your voice is barely more than a whisper. "You’re hesitating, Tony. I didn’t think that was your style."

The words are a calculated risk, and they hit their mark. Tony’s grip tightens almost imperceptibly, his composure slipping just enough to reveal the storm brewing beneath the surface. For a second, you think this might finally be it—the moment he stops holding back.

But then, just as quickly, he pulls away.

His hand drops from your waist, and he steps back, putting a deliberate distance between you. The mask slides back into place, his expression carefully neutral, and your stomach twists at the sight.

"Nice try," he says, his voice lighter now, almost teasing. "But you’re going to have to do better than that."

It’s infuriating, the way he brushes it off, like he hasn’t just unravelled you with a single touch. You force a smile, masking your disappointment with a flicker of defiance.

"Guess you’ll just have to wait and see," you reply, your voice steady despite the ache in your chest.

Tony holds your gaze for a long moment, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. Then, with a slight nod, he turns and disappears back into the crowd, leaving you alone on the edge of the dance floor.

Your hands curl into fists at your sides, a mix of frustration and longing swirling in your chest. He’s so close, teetering on the edge of everything you want, but still too stubborn to take the leap.

And the worst part? You know you’re just as guilty.

The night stretches on, the party’s energy climbing as the countdown to midnight approaches. The chatter grows louder, the laughter more uninhibited, and yet you find yourself slipping away from the crowd, seeking a moment of clarity amid the chaos. You end up back at the windows, staring out over the glittering cityscape below.

You barely notice Tony until he’s right there beside you.

“Good spot,” he says, his voice quieter than usual. His hands are in his pockets, his posture casual, but his eyes are locked on you. “Looks like you’re hiding.”

“Just needed a breather,” you reply, glancing at him from the corner of your eye. “Your parties are a little… overwhelming.”

“Don’t I know it,” he says with a smirk, though it quickly fades into something softer. “But you’re not running away, are you?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you tease, but there’s a vulnerability in your tone you can’t quite hide.

Tony shifts closer, just enough that the warmth of his presence brushes against your skin. He hesitates, something uncharacteristic and almost shy, before finally speaking.

“I’ve been looking for you,” he admits, his voice low, almost tentative.

“You found me,” you reply, turning to face him fully. There’s something in his expression that makes your breath hitch, a mixture of determination and nervous energy you rarely see from him.

“I need to say something,” he says, his gaze steady. “Before the night’s over. Before it’s too late.”

Your heart pounds, the weight of the moment settling over you like a thick blanket. “Okay,” you say softly, bracing yourself.

Tony exhales, a self-deprecating smile tugging at his lips. “You’ve probably noticed I’ve been… off tonight. Holding back, maybe.”

“Maybe,” you say, unable to hide the faint smile that sneaks onto your face. “Subtle isn’t your strong suit.”

“Not usually,” he agrees, chuckling softly. “But tonight, it’s different. Because tonight, I wanted to do this right. And I couldn’t screw it up—not when it’s you.”

Your breath catches at his words, the sincerity in his voice stealing any witty reply you might have had.

Tony steps closer, his hand reaching up to brush a stray strand of hair from your face. His touch is light, almost reverent, and his eyes search yours with a vulnerability that makes your chest ache.

“I wanted to wait until midnight,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “Because starting the new year with you feels like the biggest win I could ask for. And because if I’m going to do this, I’m going to do it big. You deserve that.”

“Tony…” you begin, but he shakes his head, cutting you off gently.

“Let me finish,” he says, his lips twitching into a small smile. “I’ve spent so much time holding back, circling around this, because I thought it’d be safer. But the truth is, I don’t want to play it safe with you. I don’t want to keep pretending it’s nothing when it’s… everything.”

You swallow hard, the lump in your throat threatening to overwhelm you as he continues.

“So, here’s the deal,” he says, his confidence returning with each word. “When that clock hits midnight, I’m going to kiss you. And then, I’m going to ask you to make me the luckiest guy alive by letting me be your boyfriend—starting with a new year’s resolution to not screw it up.”

Your heart feels like it might burst, the intensity of his words sinking in all at once. “You’re sure about this?” you ask, your voice barely audible.

“More sure than I’ve ever been about anything,” he replies, his hand brushing against yours. “But it’s up to you. Midnight’s coming fast. If you want me to back off, tell me now.”

The thought is laughable—impossible. You meet his gaze, your own resolve matching his as you step closer, your fingers curling around his hand.

“Not a chance,” you say, your voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions in your chest.

Tony’s smile deepens, the relief and joy in his eyes unmistakable. “Good. Because I’ve been dying to do this all night.”

The countdown begins in the distance—ten seconds, nine—and the room around you erupts in cheers. But you barely notice. Your world narrows to just him, the anticipation building as the seconds tick down.

At the stroke of midnight, Tony closes the gap, his hand cradling your face as his lips capture yours in a kiss that’s equal parts fireworks and homecoming. It’s soft and deliberate, a promise in every touch, and it leaves you breathless.

When he finally pulls back, his forehead resting against yours, he smiles. “Happy New Year, Y/N.”

“Happy New Year, Tony,” you whisper, your heart soaring.

“So,” he says, his voice teasing but still brimming with emotion. “What do you say? Will you let me start the year off right by making you mine?”

You laugh softly, your fingers brushing against his cheek. “I thought I already was.”

His grin is blinding, and he pulls you into another embrace, the rest of the world fading away. In that moment, everything feels exactly as it should be.

The morning—or rather, early afternoon—sun streams through the gaps in the curtains, painting lazy stripes of light across the plush duvet. You stir, blinking against the brightness, your senses slowly coming online. The first thing you register is warmth—a solid, comforting weight wrapped around you. Tony.

He’s spooning you, his arm slung around your waist, his chest pressed against your back. His slow, even breaths tickle your neck, and you can’t help but smile, even as your mind pieces together the whirlwind of events from last night. Midnight kisses. His confession. Laughter that lasted far too late into the night.

You stretch slightly, careful not to disturb him, but Tony grumbles groggily, tightening his hold.

"Morning, sunshine," he murmurs, his voice still raspy with sleep.

"Morning?" you say, twisting to glance at the clock on the nightstand. "Tony, it’s past noon."

"Afternoon, then," he amends, nuzzling into your neck with a soft groan. "Still counts."

You roll your eyes, though your heart does a little flip. "You’re ridiculous."

"I’ve been told," he says, his lips brushing against your skin as he speaks. "But hey, you can’t complain. I mean, after all, you’ve been my girlfriend for a whole year now."

You let out a sharp laugh, turning in his arms so you can properly glare at him. "It’s literally January 1st, Stark. Don’t start."

His grin is unrepentant, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief. "I’m just saying, technically, we got together last year. You can’t argue with science."

"I can argue with you, though," you counter, poking his chest for emphasis. "And I will. Relentlessly."

"Sounds like a great way to spend the year," he replies, his hand sliding up to brush a strand of hair from your face. "Which, by the way, I still can’t believe you agreed to spend with me. You must really be a glutton for punishment."

You sigh dramatically, even as your cheeks heat at his tender expression. "I already regret it. This relationship is exhausting."

Tony’s laugh rumbles in his chest, and he pulls you closer, his voice dropping to a soft murmur. "Liar. You love it. You love me."

It’s a bold statement, but you can’t deny the truth in it. Instead, you bury your face against his shoulder, muttering, "Maybe. But if you keep making dad jokes, I’m reconsidering."

He gasps in mock offense, his hand flying to his heart. "Dad jokes? That was a finely crafted piece of wit, thank you very much."

"It was terrible," you say, giggling despite yourself.

Tony leans in, his lips ghosting over your forehead. "You’re lucky you’re cute," he murmurs. "Otherwise, I’d be offended."

"Likewise," you reply, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. The soft smile on his lips makes your breath catch, and before you can think twice, you lean in, closing the gap between you.

The kiss starts slow and languid, a perfect echo of the lazy comfort of the morning—or afternoon, technically. Tony’s fingers trail up your back, pulling you even closer as the kiss deepens. You lose track of time, lost in the warmth of his touch and the familiar spark that ignites whenever you’re together.

Eventually, you pull back just enough to catch your breath, your forehead resting against his. "We should probably get up," you say, though your voice lacks any conviction.

"Probably," Tony agrees, though he makes no move to release you. Instead, he shifts so you’re lying more comfortably against his chest, his fingers lazily tracing patterns along your arm. "But let’s not. It’s still technically the holidays. We deserve a break."

You laugh softly, unable to argue. "Fine. But only because I’m too comfortable to move."

Tony presses a kiss to the top of your head, his voice filled with affection as he murmurs, "Happy New Year, Y/N."

You smile, your heart full. "Happy New Year, Tony."

And as you lie there in his arms, the rest of the world forgotten, you can’t help but think that this is exactly how you want to spend the rest of the year—and all the years to come.

[jvliaxox]

My favourite quotes from the Neapolitan novels

To cause pain was a disease.

... there are no gestures, words, or signs that do not contain the sum of all the crimes that human beings have committed and commit.

'What does "a city without love" mean to you?' 'A people deprived of happiness.'

I thought of the neighbourhood as a whirlpool from which any attempt to escape was an illusion.

'For your whole life you love people and you never really know who they are.'

'Life without seeing and without speaking, without speaking and listening, life without a covering, life without a container, is shapeless.'

They dived in without hesitation, Lila with a long cry of joy. They were happy, full of their own romance, they had the energy of those who successfully seize what they desire, no matter the cost.

... the beauty of things is a trick, the sky is the throne of fear; I'm alive, now, here, then steps from the water, and it is not at all beautiful, it's terrifying; along with this beach, the sea, the swarm of animal forms. I am part of the universal terror; at this moment I'm the infinitesimal particle through which the fear of every thing becomes conscious of itself.

It was as if she wanted to take the power away from even the realistic possibility of violent death by reducing it to words, to a form that could be controlled.

... it's not the neighbourhood that's sick, it's not Naples, it's the entire earth, it's the universe, or universes. And shrewdness means hiding and hiding from oneself the true state of things.

... every choice has its history, so many moments of our existence are shoved into a corner, waiting for an outlet, and in the end the outlet arrives.

The mind, ah yes, the evil is there; it's the mind's discontent that causes the body to get sick.

While men devote themselves to undertakings in space, life for women on this planet has yet to begin.

The new living flesh was replicating the old in a game, we were a chain of shadows who had always been on the stage with the same burden of love, hatred, desire, and violence.

How much I had lost by leaving, believing I was destined for who knows what life.

... we struggled to understand what a woman was. Our every move or thought or conversation or dream, once analysed in depth, seemed not to belong to us.

Eve can't, doesn't know how, doesn't have the material to be Eve outside of Adam. Her evil and her good are the evil and good according to Adam. Eve is Adam as a woman. And the divine work was so successful that she herself, in herself, doesn't know what she is, she has pliable features, she doesn't possess her own language, she doesn't have a spirit or a logic of her own, she loses her shape easily.

Oh God, how out of order everything was: they, I, the world around us: a truce was only possible by believing lies.

In what disorder we lived, how many fragments of ourselves were scattered, as if to live were to explode into splinters.

Should I remain this shadow -- my mother, all our female ancestors -- or should I let her go?

So what resurrection? It was only cosmetic, a powder of modernity applied randomly, and boastfully, to the corrupt face of the city. It happened like that every time. The scam of rebirth raised hope and then shattered them, became crusts upon ancient crusts.

Where is it written that lives should have meaning?

... evil took unpredictable pathways. You cover it over with churches, convents, books... and the evil breaks through the floor and emerges when you don't expect it.

Every intense relationship between human beings is full of traps, and if you want to endure you have to learn to avoid them.

... I want to leave nothing, my favourite key is the one that deletes.

I am still alive -- I thought -- and yet I can't feel any different from that big body lying lifeless in that sordid place, in that sordid way.

Unlike stories, real life, when it has passed, inclines towards obscurity, not clarity. I thought: now that Lila has let herself be seen so plainly, I must resign myself to not seeing her anymore.

[fakeagatha]

Mrs Fletcher | Prof!Eve Fletcher x Fem!Reader | Chapter Three: Announcement

Summary: Eve announces an annual field trip to Malta, and both you and your best friend can go.

A/N: For my own reasons, I got very inspired to continue writing for this series fic. I had already planned out the story, but I changed my mind a few days ago about how I want it to go, and what to include. Please let me know of any errors, and enjoy!

Warnings: Alcohol

Word Count: 1055

Your mind was a complete blur as you woke up on the floor, your bed a mess. You knew Steve was with you, so you assume you must've sent him back to his dorm out of exhaustion.

You wondered why everything was fuzzy, until you noticed the bottles of wine on your desk. That explains it.

You have class, and your head was still hurting. Surprisingly, you didn't seem to be too hungover to the point you couldn't function, though you still can't miss out on your education that your parents are just barely affording. So, after finishing up in the bathroom, you took your things and left.

You smirked after realizing your first class was with Mrs Fletcher. Something inside you made you admit to yourself that in fact, maybe you do like her. It's a disaster of course, but can you control your feelings? Unfortunately not.

You entered her class and sat next to Steve, who also seemed to be in a bit of a state.

"When did you leave last night?" You mumbled.

He blinked, and simply shrugged, "I don't remember... Are you hungover?" He randomly added.

You grimaced in response "No, not really, I feel a bit tired, but I'm doing okay. You?"

"Same." He replied, scratching his head.

When your professor entered the room, you acted casual. Now that your feelings were confirmed to yourself, everything felt more real. Your eyes widened as she brought up the work that was due, but quickly relaxed after realizing you'd completed it a few days ago. You handed her your text book, and she smiled at you.

Eve's hand brushed yours as she took the book from you, and she blushed. She couldn't believe she felt this way about her student. She wasn't sure why, but you were different to her.

The conversation she had with Amanda the night before switched something on inside of her. She knew that she must remain professional, even though she was crushing on her student. It was very new to her, as this was the first time she had accepted any kind of feelings she had for anyone after Amanda, and Julian, literally being her son's old classmate.

Eve cleared her throat, holding her hands in front of her as she got everyone's attention.

"So, I have an exciting announcement to make..." She smiled softly to herself, "We've been approved for our yearly school trip to Europe!"

You gasped, your eyes shining slightly. You've been to Europe before, Germany specifically, but you've wanted to go again, you wanted to travel.

Eve took a breath, "We'll be going to Malta, and the cost is 1000$, but that includes tax, as well as the sight-seeing and museum costs."

Everyone looked around at each other excitedly, already discussing their plans before Eve could even give them any more information. Eve lightly hit her desk with her palm to get everyone's attention again. "Can everyone who would consider attending raise their hand, so I can write their names down and let the principal know?"

In an instance, several hands went up, except for one or two students, who either weren't interested or were disappointed about the expensive cost.

You hesitated to raise your hand, since you weren't sure if you could cover the cost, though you did anyway, smiling when Steve did the same. Then, Eve interrupted your thoughts. "You might be wondering which professors will be joining you," Everyone went quiet to listen, "It will be me, of course, couldn't miss it," She chuckled, "Mr Rogers, Miss Davis, and Miss Evanora." She bit her lip as a few students groaned at the last name.

You turned to your best friend, "Hey, a lot of teachers behave differently out of school, Evanora might not be that bad!" You whispered, and he shrugged, "I guess so, well, I hope so honestly. She's... quite the character." You both laughed quietly.

Then, after a few moments, you smirked to yourself. Eve is coming with you! You absolutely have to go now, you just can't miss this trip. Also, you've never been to Malta, and you haven't even traveled a lot before if anything.

Your parents were out of state, back in New York where you grew up. They both still work, and even though you don't usually like to ask for help, you figured that they both would be more than happy to help with the cost of your trip. You glanced back up at your professor as she spoke,

"Our flight is on..." She looked through a sheet of paper she was holding, "May 12th! So it's just less than three months from now." She nodded,

"Perfect! That gives both me and my parents plenty of time to gather the money!" You whispered to Steve, and he smiled "Yeah, same! We're gonna have an awesome time."

And you knew you would...

The rest of the day went by smoothly, to your surprise, and even some stricter professors were quite relaxed. After the day ended, you got the chance to call up your parents. Not only to ask for money, but also to check in on them, as you haven't spoken yet this week.

Both of them happily obliged, feeling happy for you and the opportunity to travel with your peers. You thanked them continuously, and after hanging up, you had to tell Steve that your parents agreed.

Y/N: Steve! My parents are helping me pay for Malta!

Steve: Just called mine... They said we can't afford it :(

Y/N: You're kidding, right?

You looked at your screen, watching the text bubbles reappear as he typed,

Steve: Lol yeah I am kidding. They're gonna pay half!

You rolled your eyes,

Y/N: You're an asshole, but I'm pleased we can both go.

You sighed, putting your phone down, and opening up your diary.

January 16th, 2019

Miss Fletcher just announced our annual school trip! I asked mom and dad for some financial help, and they agreed! Eve is coming with us, and that makes it all the more exciting! Miss Evanora is coming too, but me and Steve figured that she might be more laid back on our trip, unlike how she is in school. I already know, for my own reasons, that I'm going to have an unforgettable time in Malta.

[ash-says]

Handling curiosity so the cat doesn't get killed:

We all have been there at least once in our life where we allowed the curiosity to get the best of us and instantly regretted the decision. Being extremely mercurial in nature it comes naturally to me. To be curious on the continuous lookout to find something that will stimulate my brain or make it go crazy obsessive.

That's how I learned the harsh way that being a curious cat might sound cute but it can cost you your life or sanity. One of my dearest friends once said something along these lines,"Some truths are better left unknown. Truth and knowledge can turn into poison when consumed carelessly."

The reason why I am talking about this is because I hardly find people discussing it.

Yet mythology has so many great examples, Pandora opening the box, Eve eating the apple it wasn't just temptation it was also laced with curiosity of what might happen?

I am listing out a few things that you should avoid pursuing under sheer curiosity to save the poor cat in you:

1) A street fight. Two people are fighting. Let them. It's not your job to be the mediator and it's irrelevant to find the reason. Until and unless there's no aggression involved mind your own damn business.

2) Spiritual stuff especially dark ones. I believe energy is both light and dark in nature if you don't know the way to alchemize it better stay away.

3) Attempting things without any prior knowledge. Especially speaking about dangerous stuff here. If you love your life better do it under professional supervision.

4) Your partner's/crush feelings towards you. Girl if he likes you. You will know. Trust me. Been there. Done that. Constant microanalysis. It's tiring. Let him be.

5) Others life. Stalking and obsessing over how a particular person is living their day to day life is literally embarrassing. Get a life, Sushma!

6) Know the red zones in a conversation. If meeting in a professional setting try to avoid personal questions. Learn to sense a person's discomfort and never push someone to answer your questions that have literally nothing to do with you.

7) Celebrities personal life. Another waste of time.

8) Do not show your curiosity for sexual acts, things,etc in front of a man. It's the easiest way to put yourself in danger. You are the target babe. Congrats!!

9) When someone tells you knowing the truth will hurt you. Let it be a secret. Don't persuade that person to tell the truth. I strongly believe when you don't control the situation the truth automatically finds its way to you (conditions applied).

10) About the stuff people say behind your back. A full proof route towards people pleasing, anxiety, self doubt etc. Don't go out of your way searching for what's cooking. The cake might turn out to be burnt. Who knows.

That's all for today's show on ash-says. Stay tuned for more illegal tricks and explosive opinions.

[sirwadewilsonfromimgur]

Deadpool and Wolverine KCAU Christmas Special

Part 2

Authors note: This part of the story has been broken up into chapters to make it an easier read and more manageable for me... fair warning, this is 2065. It's an adult Dr. James Wilson story which as you may or may not know, unless you've read my other stuff, is a Marvel and House MD crosover-vers... So come play with me in my sandbox.

New Jersey Earth-10005

Christmas time 2065

Chapter 1

It was the week before Christmas, Princeton-Plainsboro Hospital dosn't stop working for holidays. James was already having a shit day as he walked in to his office... his friend Gregory house was behind his desk, likely waiting for him or hiding from someone. You never really knew... he was on the phone with someone.

I know right, its crazy how... oh, he just walked in.

Who are you on the phone with?

Your sister Ellie, fun gal. We were just discussing your high-school years. She called for you, but I was already here so I took the call for you...

God damn it! Give me the phone...

Hello.

Hello James, your friend Greg is hilarious, I hope no one ever pays me to kill him...

Why do you always say creepy shit like that, Ellie. Can't anyone in this damn family have a normal phone conversation?

Oh, we sound a little testy today. I'll cut to the chaise... Dad wants all of us home for Christmas this year. Including you and Laura. He wants to do a whole thing... your presence... is not optional thos year. I'll see you on Monday.

Ellie thats fucking ridiculous.

I am busy. People don't stop getting sick just because it's December. I'm a doctor. i can't just take a week off without notice... I know that's a hard concept since you decided to make it your vocation to put people in hospitals or worse.

Or worse cost extra, but that's besides the point...We all make choices, little brother.

The question is, are you prepared to deal with the consequences...

You can get in the jet dad will 100% send on Monday, fly home for the week willingly

Or....

Deal with Laura when she comes to collect you along with her entourage of Xmen... I'm sure the hospital staff will love that.

I don't think they're in the business of kidnapping doctors. Laura wouldn't do that even for dad.

Well, I would... and I'll bring all my favorite armed thugs to help... Or I suppose we could do christmas in New Jersey. As long as we're all together. Right?

Eleanor... you're a bitch.

Love you too, James... oh... and don't be surprised if dad hasn't already called that Cuddy Lady...

My Boss!

You know dad, I told him you'd tell me you're busy... so he was likely proactive. She is either terrified or the proud recipient of some large donation oooor "porque no los dos" as Laura would say.

James hung up the phone. He knew Ellie was serious, when Wade Wilson set his mind to it, he was focused and rarely didn't achieve his goals... a admirable trait. Until a gang of paramilitary goons show up to kidnap you so you don't miss traditional christmas eve lasagna.

-Cut to Wilson in Cuddys office-

He'd explained to her the situation... and she was well aware of the consequences. Wilson's relationship with his father was almost as crazy as his relationship with House...

She recalled a time before she was Dean of medicine. When Wade found out Wilson had received a mediocre review... he'd used his considerable influence and threats of violence to have the accreditation board threaten to pull certification from the hospital until it was remedied...

that's actually how she got the position. The previous dean was regularly harassed any time he felt Wilson was slighted, and finally, he couldn't take it anymore and retired early... to Wilsons credit, he had no idea this was going on until Cuddy took the job. the previous dean was probably threatened into silence on the subject, too...

Cuddy was never one to be bullied and had come clean with James about all of his father's antics shortly after taking the position. Wade Wilson was dangerous, but she'd be damned if she'd let a mercenary tell her how to run a hospital

Wilson quickly put a stop to this behavior and added that Cuddy was a friend knowing that bare minimum his dad would be less threatening to one of "Kittens" friends.

She agreed to give him the week off despite late notice and the myriad of other HR and staffing problems associated with being short a doctor on one condition... he had to take Greg with him... she didn't have the time or patience to Deal with the illustrious Dr House without Wilson to help her.

By the time he'd gotten back to his office house hadn't really moved much... sitting behind Wilson's desk playing on his phone...

Don't you have a patient or something to attend to?

Actually, no... none worth my time anyway... Forman and the cute australian one can handle what is obviously subclinical measles with a secondary flu infection... vaccinate your kids... idiots.

Well, since you're not busy, I guess you'd be ok leaving early with me and packing for a trip... I'd like you to come to Kansas city with me for Christmas...

Kinda short notice to book a flight. he said suspiciously

it'll be a direct flight, Private... no TSA and probably a bottle of Dom Pérignon. he said this in a tone of playful temptation.

I thought you were Jewish?

On paper I am... I converted for Bonnie when we got married, House... you were there at the wedding... I told you this.

like I keep track of your current brand of imaginary friend that closely... I do remember that marriage ending because despite converting to Judaism, you couldn't get a grasp on the Seventh Commandment in particular

Ok, ouch.

That leads me to my next question. What makes you think I want to go with you to your weird families christmas?

Because if you don't... unless you get an interesting case soon, Cuddy said you'd be scheduled 12 hour shifts in the clinic every day next week.

Damn it...

I suppose I will go with you to the middle of bum fuck and flyover and enjoy a country christmas on the ranch with you... not like I have a choice, besides I've never really had the chance to get to know your parents. I drank so much at the last wedding. The only thing I remember of them is one of them wore a red mask... and the other looked like an angry Calvin Kline model.

Kansas City is an actual metropolitan. My parents live in a high rise, not on a ranch... and dad... can be kind of shy in large groups of people he doesn't know.

Well, since im not allowed to be unsupervised, there are worse places to be in December... like the clinic, holiday ailments are the worst. At least one person has an ornament shoved up their ass... But it beats the hell out of spending the holidays with my parents. You're lucky, really. My dad was a Marine constantly moving... or abandoning me with my grandmother.

Oh, are we playing this game? I was raised by a mentally unstable warlord with a gun fetish and his Victorian era husband the worlds grummpiest teddy bear who has knives in his hands and PTSD from the American Civil War.... and a grandmother who did more drugs than every member of the Rolling stones combined, and she liked to tell me wildly inappropriate stories... usually about my dad's banging, or how she was a sultry honey pot when she worked for MI6.

well, my grandmother beat me..

Jesus fine, you win.

on that note, Johns Hopkins didn't exactly have a good mutant biology program... if they're both genetically you parents shouldn't you *waves his hands in the air making mock magical gestures* have some power

I'm pretty sure my mutant ability is loving and tolerating reprobates and assholes.

It takes one to know one, James...

Our story ends here for now... the boys go home and pack for a week in Kansas City.

Wade had indeed arranged for a car to pick them up and take them to a private air strip where a Gulfstream G700 was waiting for them

Fancy!

Trust me, it gets old quick.

Link to Chapter 3

Silly photo shop for fun.

[admistedenslush]

Eve of Destruction

Dark!Priest!Aemond Targaryen/Reader

TW: NON CON, fem!reader, drugging

AN: I hope the switch in point of view does not cause confusion

──────────────────

In a softly lit room, you find yourself perched on a weathered wooden stool, gazing into a mirror with a subtle crack. Sunbeams delicately dance through your modest window, casting a faint glow upon your figure, adorned in a simple nightgown with delicate ribbon-fastened stockings.

With calloused fingertips, you traced the contours of your face, pinching your cheeks for a touch of color. Completing your daily morning ritual, you embarked on a task at the behest of your affluent father, a skilled goldsmith who presided over his own shop.

Clutching a hand-woven basket protectively by your side, you ventured into the bustling streets of the village center. Amidst the vibrant marketplace, an older woman grinned at you as she prodded her collection of spices.

“Just imported from Dorne,” she boasted, her voice laced with mischief.

Smiling at her, you replied, “Just some sugar, please. There's no need to brag—I know you sell only the finest.” Handing her a few copper pennies, you concluded the transaction.

Off in the distance, observing from a fruit stand, the town's priest, Aemond Targaryen, maintained a stern countenance. Anxiously, he squeezed a fresh lemon, his agitation evident as sour juice dripped down his hand.

The man harbored an aversion towards old maids —a belief instilled in him by his religious associates that older, unmarried women held malevolent intentions. Witnessing you, a beautiful young maiden engage in conversation and make purchases from the questionable female merchant troubled him greatly.

Although Aemond recognized you from church, encounters were infrequent. He could not help but adore the sight, your delicate curls peeking from beneath a plain cotton cap and your flawless skin aglow in candlelight.

Passionate thoughts swirled inside him, intensifying his yearning. Aware of the detectability of his intentions, yet driven by a perceived necessity, Aemond Targaryen resolved himself to take action.

𐕣

The following day, the priest set out early on his journey to visit the reputed “witch” at the street market. As he walked along the picturesque path, he contemplated the intricacies of life and the lengths to which people go in pursuit of something as pure as true love. Simple-minded was the Priest.

Upon arriving at the older woman's booth, the priest made his presence known with an ostentatious cough and a disdainful gaze.

“How may I assist you, sir?” she murmured, nimble fingers interlocking as they cracked.

In a rushed and fearful tone, his eyes darting around the foggy surroundings, he whispered, “I am in need of a remedy for sleep deprivation, perhaps a sedative?”

The woman frowned, deepening the wrinkles on her face, and pressed her dry lips together in the chilly autumn morning. Doubt crept into her mind about his true need for such a remedy, but regardless, she opted to assist the man.

“I happen to have a concoction that is perfect for your needs, sir… It's a combination of herbs and oils that works wonders!”

“Very well… And how much would this… remedy cost?” he inquired.

With a smile directed at her customer, the woman relished in the business at hand, finding pleasure in her ability to profit, regardless of the identity of her clientele.

𐕣

Lacking a mother and with a father consumed by work, you shouldered the responsibility of cooking, cleaning, and tending to the various chores around the house. With no siblings to assist you, friendly neighbors occasionally lend a helping hand. On this particular day, you embarked on the preparation of a meal featuring chicken and potatoes. The potatoes were already peeled and simmering in the kitchen. It was time for the next step.

Embracing a lively and clucking chicken, you approached your neighbor's porch and called out for the farm boy.

“Jace!…Jace…Oh, please!”

The boy came running to your aid, gasping and breathless.

“What happened? What's wrong?” he asked, his voice filled with concern.

You gently revealed the chicken still nestled against your chest.

“Could you please slaughter this chicken for me?” you whispered softly, tears welling in your desperate eyes.

“It's no trouble at all! I'll be happy to do it,” Jace responded warmly.

He took the chicken from your nurturing hold, inadvertently brushing his hand against your damp palm. Jace peered into your sorrowful face, his heart aching for you. Regardless, he smiled as he positioned the chicken on the wooden block.

“You're so tender-hearted and sweet,” he remarked.

With a single swift motion, the chicken's head was abruptly severed, blood spilling onto the woodblock below.

Seated side by side on a decaying bench, you and Jace carefully plucked feathers from the lifeless creature. Occasional glances were exchanged between the two of you, catching each other staring. At that moment, it was the most beautiful evening you had experienced in a long time. A sense of profound joy washed over you, as if the world had tenderly embraced your being, infusing you with a soothing warmth that refused to let go.

“Ah, I should get going… the potatoes are still boiling,” you remarked, feeling a mixture of reluctance and excitement.

You hurried inside, but not before glancing back, shamelessly grinning at Jace, tilting your head and stretching your neck enticingly.

“Save me some food, won't you?” the boy giggled, his eyes filled with mirth.

𐕣

Sunday was the day when I would rightfully seize what was truly mine. My beloved sweetling was always faithfully attending church on Sundays, never daring to miss the service. As the somber ceremony unfolded, I meticulously prepared the consecrated elements, with a sinister focus on the bread. This bread, destined for her consumption, had already succumbed to the vile touch of the necessary evil bestowed upon me. I cannot take full blame, for I had assistance in my actions.

Throughout the ritual, I clutched it tightly in my hand, its presence serving as a chilling reminder of my nefarious purpose. As the line began to form, my sweetling found herself twelfth in line, unknowingly inching closer to her fate. With each passing moment, a wicked anticipation grew within me, anticipation for the moment when our eyes would meet. Finally, she stood before me, her innocent gaze locking with my predatory stare. In that fleeting instant, I almost forgot the sinister reason behind my presence. It was our first intimate encounter.

“Body of Christ…"

“Amen…"

I watched her devour the bread, and with a slow stride, I passed by her. Briefly, my arm brushed against her shoulder, providing a fleeting warmth that offered a momentary solace in the chilling confines of the church. The congregation began to take their seats, oblivious to the darkness unfolding. I couldn't help but fixate on my sweetling, her countenance gradually relaxing, devoid of any emotion. The effects of the tainted product were taking hold swiftly, and I realized the extent of its potency. I understood that my plan had succeeded, and a shiver of satisfaction coursed through my veins.

After a while, the room grew eerily silent as people started to leave, their voices reduced to muffled whispers and their footsteps fading into the distance. The surrounding seats emptied, leaving only a handful of stragglers. From a distance, I watched her, a supposed sleeping girl, her vulnerability stark against the backdrop of indifference. No one reached out to offer help or even spared a passing glance. The collective indifference was a cruel reminder of the harsh reality we inhabit. And as I beheld this cruel scene, an unbidden smile crept across my face, pride that I couldn't suppress. I approached her slowly and cautiously, my steps measured and deliberate. There she lay, resembling a late summer nymph, peacefully snoring like a kitten. Gently, I touched her forehead, my hand sliding beneath her hood to reveal a simple plait in her hair. With a light touch, I loosened the braid, letting her hair cascade freely.

Taking out my pocket knife, I carefully began to cut open her modest dress. At that moment, her eyes fluttered open, and her index and middle fingers tapped irregularly on the armchair. The only swift movement came from her eyes, shifting from right to left, and then right again, an unsettling rhythm.

"Whhas..whhaA.."

I watched as she grappled to string together a coherent sentence, her words stumbling and faltering along the way.

Then I started and didn't stop.

Gently grasping her bosom, applying pressure to feel their firmness. Resting my head against their velvety skin, I deeply breathed in her sweet aroma. With gentle motion, my finger delicately slips into her wet cunt before being brought back into my mouth. I find her utterly delicious.

Consumed by an overwhelming desire, I reached a tipping point where I simply had to satisfy my craving. Carefully fiddling with the laces on my breeches, I extracted my cock and eagerly plunged into her. Intermittently, our gazes intertwined and a solitary tear traced down her delicate cheek. And when I was done, I made her decent and went home.

𐕣

Trapped in the suffocating grip of immobilizing paralysis, your mind became a twisted maze, rendering coherent thought an elusive mirage. Your desperate attempts to gather your scattered musings were futile, as they slipped through your grasp like sand slipping through an open hand.

Gradually, whispers of distant voices and fleeting glimpses of faces emerged from the depths of the ethereal realm. A swarm of eyes, suspended in the air, fixated their piercing gaze upon you, their silent judgment seeping into your vulnerable state.

"Leave... leave me be," you called out in a hoarse voice, the plea laced with desperation. But they persisted, unyielding to your pleas, forcing you to shut your eyes in an attempt to shield yourself from their relentless scrutiny.

And then, amidst the darkness, you saw him - the mirror image of the haunting figure etched in your mind. His white hair cascading like a waterfall, and his eye, a haunting shade of lilac, drilling into the depths of your soul. A wave of nausea churned your stomach, and cold sweat trickled down your forehead as you tried to steady your breath, inhaling deeply.

But as anxiety consumed you, an uncomfortable cramp seized your body, and shortly after, your frail form succumbed to the violent upheaval of vomiting. Panic surged within you as you fought to sit up, feeling weak and breathless. With trembling hands, you attempted to salvage your torn dress, desperately trying to maintain a semblance of dignity amidst the chaos enveloping you.

Strange voices began to echo around you, their words snaking into your consciousness. Shadows lurked in every corner of the church, their presence casting a sinister pall over the space.

"I... I didn't do anything," you stammered, your voice trembling with a mix of fear and confusion, as doubts crept into your mind.

"Did you really?" the voices whispered back, their tone laced with accusation, their words slithering like venomous serpents.

𐕣

@valleyof-goldenlilies

[emberfrostlovesloki]

Now You're Everything [Hotch x Reader]

Photo credits: Left (@unheartbreakable) Center (@milla984) Right (@poseidonsarmoury)

Prompt: It’s been a long time coming and after an emotion-heavy year, Aaron finally shows the BAU-reader how much he wants them. 

Pairing: Aaron x fem!reader. The reader uses she/her pronouns. 

Category: fluff/comfort/minor whump. 

Word Count: 9.9K

Content Warnings: Light swearing and drinking, mention of kidnapping and torture [Hotch], Hospitals and IVs, Minor unwanted advances [reader]. If I missed any, please let me know. 

A/N: Hi, loves! Happy New Year's Eve! This is for my love @silk-spun. It is the second fic I’ve written based on my December Prompt List (linked) Dialog prompt #6: “Let’s skip the office party and go out on the town instead!” I changed the wording a bit, but this is basically all the times Aaron and the reader don’t have the right words to confess, and the one time they don’t need them to get their message across. There is one short mention of Aaron being tortured on a case, and I plan on turning that into a full fic soon. So look forward to that (?). I hope you have a great evening and stay safe. If you like this fic, likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! Love Levi - ❤️

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_y/l/f/d_ = your least favorite designer 

_y/f/d_ = your favorite drink 

Aaron looked around the room which was shockingly full for it being 9:30 p.m. He scanned the groups of people clustered around tables and sitting in chairs talking. Some had plates of food, others glasses of alcohol or sparkling soda. The person whom the supervisory special agent was looking for wasn’t there. He wondered if she was using the lady's room. The last time he’d seen _y/n_ she was being cornered by Freddy from finance. Aaron hadn’t attempted to listen in on the conversation because it was mostly Fred talking to _y/n_. It seemed the pox-faced man wasn’t letting _y/n_ get a word in edge-wise. That sounded like a personal hell that he would avoid at all costs. He had to do enough wine-ing and small talk at the annual Winter Holiday party as it was. He’d talked to Strauss, the Director of the Pentagon, and all the other heads of teams that had made it to Quantico for the party. He’d heard about so many cases that they started to blend together, but for Aaron, nothing would top his team or the crimes they solved. Hotch listened to Bernard Shaw, head agent for the Tax Fraud department, as the white-haired man droned on about a new loophole for the Cayman Islands and how much of a pain it had been that year. Aaron looked over his team with a soft appreciation for how hard they all worked, how they had gelled to feel more like a family than just profilers doing a difficult, dangerous job. There was Derek, who could always be called on to help with anything. The built agent was talking to Spencer. The genius had been so young when he joined the team. Aaron had taken on a fatherly role with Spencer without even thinking about it. Before Jack had ever been born. Rossi had just taken Aaron’s place with Strauss, and they were talking about some half-shared hobby or new bureau policy. Both of those conversations looked the same. Hotch caught Dave’s eye and the older man gave a small shrug, indicating, “This is what the holiday party is for. Making nice one last time before we get a break.” Aaron gave a small nod of agreement before turning his attention back to Shaw. The man hadn’t noticed as Aaron’s attention had waned and then returned to him. Hotch cleared his throat and said, “I’m going to refresh my drink, but it was good to catch up, Bernard, and good luck in dealing with the fallout of S.B. 103b.” Bernard nodded, and the two men shook hands before Aaron walked back to the table with the alcohol on offer. As Hotch poured himself a glass of white. He guessed at how much the liquor alone for this party cost. His guess was around 2,000 dollars. The FBI didn’t ever recommend frivolous spending, but even they realized that sticking a hundred agents and department heads together required the good stuff. 

As Aaron sipped on the cool chablis, he swirled the liquid in his glass slightly. The rare sound of mirth at this dull and quiet frankly depressing party was coming from his team. It was Emily, JJ, Garcia, and _y/n_.” As he looked at _y/n_ in her semi-formal _y/f/c_ dress that was just long enough to be appropriate, Hotch assumed it was some cocktail dress _y/n_ had pulled from the back of a closet behind all of _y/n_ business formal and work attire. The black tights made the outfit work in a fashion way that Aaron didn’t have the right words for. He had to tear his eyes away because if he kept looking at _y/l/n_ much longer, the butterflies in his stomach would soon unfurl their wings and move into his ribcage in a way that he hadn’t felt in a long time. Aaron moved to Rossi, who was free now for support. Dave grounded him, which he needed right now. His feelings for _y/n_ had been coming to a head for months now and somehow, Aaron didn’t feel the bureau holiday party was the place for a confession. Even if _y/n_ was receptive to his advances, he worried. His role as her superior and the age gap had him wondering if they had enough in common to sustain a relationship. They’d grown up in different decades, and y/n_ seemed to have the youth and energy he lacked as he neared late middle age. The part of Aaron that longed for _y/n_ in unexplored ways knew that Hotch’s concerns were self-imposed. That _y/n_ had been sending him small signs of affection and care that didn’t even think he deserved. But Aaron’s fear was real and steeped in policy and power dynamics that would come with having a committed relationship with _y/n_. Hotch moved next to Rossi and asked his friend about his New Year's plan. If he was currently seeing anyone. The basic life and catching up questions that they rarely had time for during work. As Dave answered, Hotch’s eye kept flicking back to _y/n_, as she laughed at some comment of Penelope’s. Rossi noticed and stopped talking about himself. Instead, he said, “She’s not going to wait forever you know, Aaron. _y/n_’s a patient person, but I think she deserves to know how you feel about her.” This comment had Hotch flush and take a breath in. Aaron had tried very hard to keep any of his feelings for _y/n_ hidden beneath a cloak of professionalism and feigned disinterest in the team's personal life as a whole. After all, he was their boss foremost, but it was hard to tune out when the team spoke of their weekends. It was doubly so when it was _y/n_. He’d overhear her complaints about bad dates and rent, and how her dryer was broken in her unit. Hotch had wanted to offer to fix it himself but stopped himself before the words could slip from his mouth. He’d also heard her when she talked about the good things like a new cafe she had found, or getting tickets for a band she adored. If _y/n_ was talking and Aaron was around, he listened but tried to look very hard to not look like he was listening. He wondered if he had played into that a little too hard. Hotch looked at Rossi and asked, “Is it that obvious? And what if _y/n_ doesn’t feel the same way? Her feelings could just be due to proximity, or that I’m her boss or something.” Rossi scoffed and said, “You’re deflecting, Aaron. This isn’t Fifty Shades of Grey. A young woman is allowed to have feelings for a guy, who in my opinion is a pretty good catch.” Dave’s complement had Aaron scoff, but that didn’t stop Rossi from continuing. “Listen, Hotch. I knew you liked her and that she liked you ever since you were in the hospital after the case in Indianapolis. I think what happened in that hospital room told me that there was more than just a feeling of friendship between you and _y/n_. As for whether her feelings are the same way for you and you do for her, I can’t tell you. I’m no love expert. But you’re never going to know how she feels about you unless you ask. And I think you both deserve to know the answer, Hotch.” 

With those words of advice, Dave gave Aaron a pat on the arm and excused himself for the night. The older profiler had done the rounds with the higher-ups and was excited to head home, nurse a whiskey, and watch an episode of The Suprano’s. Aaron on the other hand still had about five people to speak to before he could excuse himself. The added discussion about _y/n_ wasn’t going to make small talk any easier. So, with wine still in hand, he steeled himself for another hour of conversation. Hotch had almost made it through the last of his people. He needed to “catch up with.” The room had cleared significantly since his talk with Rossi. Derek, Spencer, and Em had all left, waving or saying a quick goodbye to him as they exited. Garcia was talking to a tech friend of hers from the third floor, and JJ was speaking in hushed tones to Will. But _y/n_ was nowhere to be found. Hotch watched as Arnold, the last person he should talk to approached him. Aaron didn’t think he could take any more small talk, and because Arnold was in Legal, he always asked Aaron loads of questions. Although Hotch didn’t mind flexing his JD now and again, he preferred to do it in a courtroom, not at parties, and not with Arnold Shortes nearly taking notes over their conversation. Aaron turned on his heel and walked quickly to the elevator before Arnold could catch him. Even after a few minutes _y/n_ still hadn’t come back into the second-floor conference room which had been cleared and rearranged for the party. He considered that _y/n_ might have dipped out with Emily, but he was sure she would have told him goodbye before she had left. She always told him goodbye unless he was in a meeting or seemed overly absorbed in his paperwork. _y/n_ introducing her comings and goings had become so routine that he used it as an informal clock now. _y/n_ would always enter the bullpen at 7:45 a.m. sharp unless there was something amiss. And then in the evenings at 5:10 p.m., she’d knock on his office door and wave before skipping down the stairs and to a life that Aaron assumed was filled with much more interesting things than his own. In fact, Hotch had become so accustomed to using _y/n_’s timeliness that he had almost missed a meeting with Strauss because of it. 

Hotch had been sitting in his office looking over a case report, waiting to hear _y/n_’s chipper, “Hey guys,” down in the bullpen. He knew once he heard that he’d have just enough time to grab a coffee, wave to the team, and then make it to Strauss’s office. But it seemed to be taking longer than usual. Concerned, Aaron looked at his watch and was startled when he realized it was already 7:55 a.m. Aaron had to run to the elevator and just barely made it to the meeting on time. After the hour with Strauss, he had found JJ and asked, “Where’s _y/l/n_?” A tinge of concern laced his voice. The media liaison had replied, “She caught a bad cold last night. She just called Emily to let her know that she’s taking the day off with PTO.” Aaron nodded, absorbing the information. He was glad to know that _y/n_ wasn’t in any trouble, or stuck in traffic, but being sick didn’t sound great either. Aaron had spent the rest of that day fiddling around anxiously. Hotch knew it was because of _y/n_ but refused to admit it. Finally, when 5:10 came around, he pulled out his cell and called _y/n_. She’d picked up on the third ring and sounded terrible as she said, “Hey, Hotch. What is it?” Aaron let out a breath and said, “Sorry to disturb you, _y/n_. I just wanted to see how you were doing?” There was a muffled cough on the line, and Aaron cringed as _y/n_ hoarsely replied, “I’m still feeling pretty bad, but the fever is down at least. Hopefully, I’ll be back in a day or two.” Hotch nodded and replied a little too quickly, “Take all the time you need, _y/n_. When you feel better, come back.” There was an awkward pause because Aaron didn’t know what else to say, and _y/n_ hadn’t expected to hear such genuine concern coming from her normally very composed superior. At least not over a little cold. Eventually, _y/n_ who was feeling sleepy again said, “Thanks for checking on me, Hotch. I’ll be alright, just need some sleep.” Again, Aaron nodded. He replied, “Okay. Rest well, _y/n_. See you in a few days.” After that, he hung up and put his head in his hands in desperation. He knew he shouldn’t be having the feelings he was for _y/n_ It was inappropriate. His inner voice reminded him, “She’s sick goddamn it. She probably doesn’t want you around right now.” Aaron did justify his line of thinking slightly because he was just picturing making her some tea to smooth her throat and tucking the blankets around her more tightly. It’s not like he was having sex with her… though he’d had those thoughts before too. In his waking mind, he could stop those images with ease, but in his dreams when he made love to her, it was always overpowering. A time or two, he’d even waken mid-dream to find his body aroused and tense. On these occasions, he’d had to go to the bathroom and find release below a steaming shower. The guilt of doing this weighed on him heavily. One of the times he had done this was during a case, and he hadn’t been able to look at _y/n_ most of the day without flushing and internally reprimanding his body and mind like a teenager. But a majority of Aaron’s thoughts about _y/n_ centered around mundane things like waking up beside her, or cooking dinner together. Aaron knew he was boring, and led a boring life, but if it was possible, he’d like to lead it with _y/n_ beside him. Aaron sighed as the elevator reached his team’s floor. He wished he didn’t sound so melancholic, so lovesick. It wasn’t like him. But _y/n_ pulled the emotions from him like the moon pulled the tides. If nothing else, Aaron had learned something valuable tonight; as Rossi had said, _y/n_ wouldn’t wait for him forever, and they both deserved to know how the other felt about the other.

The bullpen was mostly dark with a few lamps on some desks still on, plus the lamps in Aaron’s office burned down on the rest of the space with their soft halogen glow. Hotch didn’t want to seem like a creep, but he wondered where _y/n_ had wandered off to, or if she had just left without telling him. The latter sounded unlikely. Hotch moved to her desk and noticed that _y/n_’s chair was pulled out with her bulky coat draped over the back, and her sneakers and socks sitting underneath the desk. This indicated to Aaron that _y/n_ was still around. Aaron leaned against the desk, much like Morgan did every day when _y/n_ got into the office. Hotch flushed at the idea of _y/n_ sitting in the empty chair. Being so close and causal like Derek or Garcia were with her. Hotch rarely found himself jealous of Morgan for many reasons, but in this case, he was. He couldn’t afford to be too casual with anyone on the team, especially not with _y/n_. If he was, he knew he’d fall head over heels for her. It was hard enough thinking and dreaming about her. He didn’t need more fuel for that fire. Thinking about this sparked a memory from earlier in the year, and suddenly, Aaron had a sense of where _y/n_ was. It had been after a long day in October. The time change had meant that it was dark outside before anyone left the office. The whole team was still around filling out some reports, except _y/n_ seemed to be missing. Hotch approached Emily and asked, “Where’s _y/n_?” Prenitess chuckled at his question and said, “Licking her wounds up on the roof. Freddy Hareld from Finance just made a big deal about “Just how keen _y/n_ looked. And how she must just be dying to get to know the city better now that she’s part of the BAU, and wouldn’t she let him show her around on Sunday.” Hotch’s eyes grew wide at the story. He was rarely privy to office gossip, even though he knew stuff like this happened around him all the time. However, his co-workers kept him out of the loop, which he didn’t mind until now. Aaron cleared his throat and asked, “Did she seem alright?” He wasn’t one to notice or judge men much, he knew he wasn’t perfect either, but Freddy didn’t seem like _y/n_’s type. Hotch was surprised the man had mustered up the courage to ask. Emily nodded and said, “She just looked annoyed. Apparently, Fred talked, loudly, for about five minutes before she had to shut him down and tell him that she wasn’t interested.” Even though Aaron trusted Prentiss, he wanted to make sure that _y/n_ was okay for himself. Office drama could be uncomfortable. Hotch had spent a good bit of time on the roof himself when he was new to the team. It seemed to be one of the only places in the building where you wouldn’t be disturbed, but now that Aaron had his own office, he didn’t need to find an escape from the team or his own thoughts anymore Much like the first time he had found _y/n_ on the roof seeking an escape, _y/n_ was leaning against the railing, looking out onto the canopy of trees that surrounded the Quantico office and the highway beyond them. Hotch cleared his throat, as he stepped closer to _y/n_. She turned around and felt a blush paint across her face when she saw it was him. 

_y/n_ had just been thinking about him, and there he was. _y/n_ had been considering how they had both been dancing around the other's feelings all year. And two things _y/n_ knew for sure, she wasn’t great at dancing, and her feet were fucking tired. _y/n_ had hoped that there would be a way for her to tell him how she felt without it being awkward or jeopardizing her job. She hoped that she’d at least shown Aaron her care with her actions if not her words. Unfortunately, the few times that had seemed perfect had been cut off by Haley and Jack. The first time had happened in June. A terrorist group was planning on poisoning the largest high school in the region. It had all been a test run for a bigger operation that would take place in D.C. The team had caught on the terrorist’s trail first. But not before Hotch had been taken and tortured for information. The few seconds of audio that Aaron’s captors had shared were so sickening to _y/n_ that she crumpled in on herself and almost vomited. She couldn’t hide how much hearing Hotch in pain was hurting her. When the cell had been caught, the other half of the team moved to Aaron’s location. _y/n_ had shot and then subdued three men before she, Rossi, and Spencer found Hotch black and blue and tied to a chair. He was barely conscious with his mouth gagged. The wad of cloth in his mouth was soaked with sweat and blood that had dripped down the side of Aaron’s face from a large gash on his eyebrow. _y/n_ helped free his mouth while Spencer cut off the zip ties around his battered arms and legs. Rossi was on the phone with the paramedics who were already en route. Once Aaron’s limbs had been freed, he slumped heavily into _y/n_, who supported his weight. She and Spencer helped him to the ground, and he groaned in pain at being shifted. _y/n_ quickly took off her outer jacket and covered his waist. His kidnappers had stripped him of everything but his briefs, and _y/n_ was certain he didn’t want to be so exposed. The paramedics came shortly after and took Aaron to the nearest hospital._y/n_ was grateful that she didn’t have much time to see or think about all the cuts and burns littering Hotch’s prone form. Seeing him like this felt so wrong that it twisted her insides. 

Later, when the doctor had methodically detailed Aaron’s injuries, _y/n_ burned with a fit of anger even _y/n_ didn’t know that she possessed. When he was cleared for it, the team had all gone and saw Aaron in his room. He was surrounded and attached to multiple medical devices keeping him medicated and stable. Even though everyone appreciated Aaron and what he had gone through, no one particularly wanted to stay with him long after wishing him a good night’s rest. No one except _y/n._. Aaron knew it was his fault. He hated hospitals. He would gripe and groan and generally be in a foul mood until he was released as quickly as possible, so he was surprised in his pain-induced state to see _y/n_ pull up a chair close to his bed and just plant herself there. Aaron shifted on the bed to look at her better. That was a bad idea as a sharp pain moved up his side. Hotch muttered, “Fuck” under his breath. He moved his left hand which was attached to an IV toward his stomach to apply some pressure where the pain was radiating from. _y/n_ watched as Aaron moved around. He was straining the line of his IV, and _y/n_ jumped up softly saying, “Hey, hey. Take it easy there Hotch. Just stay calm if you can.” Aaron grunted, but acquiesced as _y/n_ took his left arm and rested it back by his side. She looked at him, concern etched on her face as she asked, “Where does it hurt, Hotch?” Aaron swallowed and almost said everywhere. But his stomach was especially tender and he said, “My, my stomach, but you don’t have to do anything _y/n_. You don’t need to stay here. I’m a pain in the ass when I’m like this.” _y/n_ nodded in understanding as she gently applied a bit of pressure to where he had been trying to reach earlier. He closed his eyes as _y/n_ gently rubbed circles over the inflamed flesh of his torso. Any words about protocol or regulations left him as soon as _y/n_’s hands met his clothed skin. He let out a breath and _y/n_ asked, “Is this okay? I can get a nurse for you?” Aaron shook his head no. He was sick of being poked at. Having three IVs was already putting him on edge. The possibility of more medical equipment was too much to bear. And whatever _y/n_ was doing was soothing him. Hotch softly said, “No nurse. Please. This is good.” Even saying those words seemed to exhaust him. _y/n_ just nodded and kept gently running her hand over his stomach. She didn’t want to think about how this was probably breaking ten rules, or how Aaron’s body looked under the flimsy hospital gown. She just kept moving her hands and watched as Hotch seemed to still and then finally sleep. When his breathing had evened out, _y/n_ pulled the covers over him again and took her seat once more. She didn’t care if he was in a mood or snapped at her. _y/n_ just didn’t think he should be alone right now. So she was going to sit with him until either he told her to leave or someone in the hospital kicked her out. It was at that moment that all of her disparate feelings for him coalesced into one of love. Not a fling or a passing fancy, but the kind of love that lasts through illness and grief and every other part of life. _y/n_ sighed and thought, “What a time to have a revelation like this,” as she kept watch over her boss, unable to leave his side. 

Aaron had shown interest in her too. _y/n_ felt a bit better that she wasn’t the only one falling in love. He was more subtle about it, or at least he was trying to be. But that hadn’t stopped her from noticing how he looked at her, how his gaze lingered just a second too long in meetings. He’d pull his eyes away quickly as if he’d been caught doing something improper. Then there was the time he’d called her when she was sick and how he’d seemed a little too excited to have her back after a short four days of illness. And he looked out for her on cases. Not that Aaron didn’t look out for everyone, but he seemed to take her comfort more seriously than he needed to. He held the door for her and let her sit in the passenger seat so they could throw ideas back and forth. At first _y/n_ had thought it was just because she was the newest member of the team. But the behavior from Hotch continued, and just one time on a case, he’d pulled her out of a line of fire and rolled on top of her even though he probably didn’t need to go that far. As Aaron let out a breath of excitement over the case and the woman below him, _y/n_ caught the tells of desire on his face. It didn’t help that they were in what could be an intimate position. His pupils were wide and his breath came in little gasps. _y/n_ didn’t need to see his groin to know that he was excited down there too. After a second, Hotch quickly got up and helped _y/n_ stand too. Aaron nervously straightened his shirt and tie and after quickly asking _y/n_ if she was okay, and her response of “yes,” he moved away from her to gather some semblance of composure. The fact that Aaron was flushed and couldn’t look at her for the rest of the day told _y/n_ all she needed to know about Hotch’s thoughts about her. Or at least the uncontrollable whims of his strong body.  _y/n_ didn’t let herself get carried away. Aaron was still her boss, and she was his agent. And because of this neither had said anything or acted like they were falling in love with the other because it didn’t feel like it could happen. Not to them. But now as _y/n_ sat by his hospital bed, she wondered what it would be like with Aaron. To peek behind his well-kept facade and just be close to him. _y/n_ assumed this was the nearest she’d ever come to that, so she settled in for a long night and decided if this was all she was getting, then she would accept it. Fate had never been so kind to give her something as lovely as Aaron, Hotchner, and she accepted it. 

It was a long night. Hotch woke almost every hour in pain or needing to adjust for his comfort. _y/n_ moved his pillows and blankets for him, helped him drink a glass of water, and called a nurse when he needed to relieve himself. The next morning she was tired, but when Aaron woke, he seemed much improved. He softly said, “_y/n_, thanks for last night. For being here. You made being here, comfortable for me.” _y/n_ took his hand softly and rubbed over his knuckles with her thumb. Gently she said, “It was nothing, Aaron. I’m just glad you’re okay.” _y/n_ was so tired that she was about to speak transparently and say, “I’d do this all the time if you needed me to. I don’t mind staying up all night with you whether you’re sick or not.” That was the closest thing to a confession that _y/n_ could think of. But she had been interrupted when a nurse knocked on the door and said, “Mr. Hotchner, your son, and Ms. Brooks are here to see you. Should I let them in?” Hearing this, _y/n_ dropped his hand and her head a tiny bit. She stood and said, “I’ll give ya’ll some space, Hotch.” Aaron nodded yes to the nurse, and watched as _y/n_ left the room. He felt like he’d just missed something big,  but didn’t know what. _y/n_ passed Haley and Jack in the hall. _y/n_ gave the pair a small smile and nod, and she made her way to the hospital lounge to get some much-needed coffee. The Hotchner-Brooks divorce was still very new, and _y/n_ wondered where things had fallen apart between the two of them. She also wondered if there was any chance at all for her and Aaro.  It didn’t feel like it at the moment. 

_y/n_ snapped back to the present when Aaron said her name more loudly. He was holding out his suit jacket for her and saying, “You look a little cold.” Hotch was right, she was cold. _y/n_ had wished she’d brought her coat up to the roof almost as soon as she had stepped outside. However, she was too lazy to want to go back in. She’d escaped Freddy’s boring conversation and looked at Aaron right before she moved to the roof for some fresh air. _y/n_ was pondering if she should just give up her dreams about Hotch. Neither of them seemed to be making any moves out of fear that they might say no to the other or that they might ruin the strong friendship they had now. _y/n_ was getting tired of it though. But then there was Aaron as always being a gentleman and looking out for her. _y/n_ nodded and Aaron slipped behind her, placing the jacket over her shoulders. His hands brushed over her exposed skin, and _y/n_ felt that familiar spark burn through her anytime she felt Aaron’s hands on her. Those times were few and far between. She looked over at Aaron and decided that tonight she was going to give him a line and see if he took it. If she didn’t seem interested, she’d let her infatuation go and move on. She could be happy not loving Aaron. At least she hoped she could. Hotch moved to her side next to the railing and he asked, “Was Fred trying to ask you out again?” _y/n_ flushed because it was so rare for him to ask her about her personal life. She remembered the first time it had happened she’d nearly dropped her _y/f/c/b_. That first time had been Freddy-related too. That time they both seemed embarrassed to be talking about it. Now _y/n_ was much more comfortable being open with Aaron. She looked at him and replied, “No. Not this time thankfully. I think the third time actually did it. No today he was just asking about the cases the team has been on recently, and then, inexplicably, he started talking about his pet lizard.” Hearing this, Aaron couldn’t help but cringe. _y/n_ chuckled and said, “You know he’s not a bad guy, just not the guy for me. But bless him, he needs to learn to read a room.” Aaron hummed and said, “Well I’m glad he’s ended his crusade.” _y/n_ laughed at his commentary and replied, “You know he’s right about one thing. I still don’t know this city at all. The cases keep me tired enough to not want to explore on my days off. What do you say we skip the party and you show me something worth seeing?” And here was _y/n_’s line. All Aaron had to do was give it a tug. Hotch looked at her with some surprise, like he had when he was half-dazed in the hospital bed. He cleared his throat and said, “Are you sure it’s me you want? Garcia, or even JJ could show you a better time. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind…” _y/n_ could sense that he was deflecting, and said, “No. I want you. You’ve lived here longer and you’ve gotta know the places that aren’t tourist traps. Plus, Garcia is flirting up a storm with that tech down there and JJ only has eyes for Will. I wouldn’t dare break up either of those conversations right now.” After a pause, _y/n_ added, “Come on Hotch. You looked miserable in there. You’re honestly telling me that you want to go back?” 

Aaron let out a warm laugh and said, “Alright, I wasn’t particularly enjoying myself. Too much small talk makes me feel like a dog that’s been bred for show. And I never understood why they held this thing after Christmas and between New Year's. That time feels sacred in some unspeakable way.” _y/n_ was grinning and said, “Totally. I know the director said there was some sort of conflict, but that just read like bad code for, ‘Let me take my ski vacation with my family first.’ And don’t mention the playlist in there. Nobody was enjoying that, I swear to god.” Hotch had to stifle a harsh laugh to not sound unbecoming. That was another thing about _y/n_, they synced with each other’s humor. Sometimes he had to look away from her in meetings to avoid bursting out laughing. The fact was a joy and a pain in equal measure. Aaron looked over to her again, and he realized that she was still waiting for an answer. He took a breath to steel himself. Aaron left like it was now or never, and he didn’t want to let _y/n_ go. Not after all they’d been through this year. He did, however, need a moment to think about where exactly to take _y/n_. He hadn’t exactly been on the town himself since the divorce. Hotch slowly said, “I’d be happy to show you around, _y/n_, but would you give me a minute to think about where exactly to take you? I’m, um, particular about places.” _y/n_ nodded and relaxed into the railing. Aaron looked her over again. She looked ravishing in that dress, and it didn’t hurt that she had his jacket on too. He rested his hands on the cool metal and looked out onto the highway. Gently he asked, “What do you think about when you come up here? I used to spend a good deal of time up here too. When I was new to the BAU at least.” _y/n_ looked over him. Pondering the question. Trying to picture him as a green agent under Gideon. Trying to imagine him in his early thirties instead of his late forties. That all felt like a different time. She hadn’t been there then. _y/n_ moved her gaze to the highway and said, “Well most of my time up here is spent far less productively than yours was. I’m sure. In fact, three of the seven times on this roof have been an escape from Freddy. The other four times, I’m sure I was just annoyed, at myself or someone else. It’s a good place to cool off. Shake the cares of the day away.”

Aaron rolled his eyes. Most of his time up here had been spent sitting against the wall and questioning his life choices, but he didn’t verbalize that thought. He didn’t need to as  _y/n_ continued, “But sometimes I like to close my eyes and pretend I can see D.C. from the rooftop. The capital or Washinton Mall. I know it’s silly, and I’ve explored that city even less than this one, but that’s why we’re here, aren’t we? To keep people safe. To keep the dream alive for everyone who doesn’t have to see the dark underbelly of this country. It gives me comfort.” Hearing this, Hotch stepped forward and placed a hand on _y/n_’s shoulder. He wasn’t sure why. He replied, “I don’t think that’s silly at all, _y/n_.” Something _y/l/n_ had said had sparked an idea in Hotch. There was a place on the border between D.C. and Virginia that he’d liked a long time ago. Politicians from either side of the aisle would meet there to make deals and broker favors. As a younger man, he had thought it was cool. Aaron looked at _y/n_ and said, “How do you feel about jazz?” _y/n_ nodded yes and said, “I don’t mind it. Improvisation is good for the soul. Gets you out there. Is there dancing?” Aaron tried to remember the intimate club and eventually nodded yes, saying, “I think so. But I wouldn’t trust me with that. I’ve got two left feet.” _y/n_’s laughter cut through the cold night and she said, “It’s alright. Me too most of the time.” Aaron shifted his hand to her lower back as he asked, “This place is too far to walk. Did you drive here?” _y/n_ replied, “No. Em took me. I was planning on taking an Uber back when I was done with my private roof party.” Aaron noticed her eyes slowly blowing out and her breath coming in faster in her chest. Aaron nodded and said, “Okay. Well, we’ll take my car if you're comfortable with it. I can drop you off at your place after?” _y/n_ agreed and said, “Sounds like a plan.” 

The pair made a quick stop by Aaron’s office and _y/n_’s desk to grab their things before heading out. Neither made any formal goodbye at the party. Hotch felt oddly free as he stepped out of the field office with _y/n_ by his side. On the drive to the jazz club, he pointed out different areas of the town to _y/n_. He knew he sounded like a dad, but _y/n_ seemed interested in learning more about the area and asked follow-up questions as they cruised down the dark streets. There was no parking in front of the club, so Aaron found some down the road. The club was unassumingly nestled into the facade of a street full of high-end stores. Now it was _y/n_’s turn to point out interesting trends in the window and designers she despised. Aaron got a small tirade about _y/l/f/d_ when they passed that storefront. _y/n_ was sure Hotch had lost interest at that point, but when she looked at him, he seemed engrossed. He looked over at her and said, “Well, I’d have never known that unless you’d told me. Now I’ll have something smart to say when there’s more small talk to be made at parties.” _y/n_ smiled at Aaron. She knew she had her eccentricities, but he took them with such grace and she wondered what she’d done to earn even an hour of this man's time.  _y/n_ spared him any other commentary. When they stepped into the small, dark space of the club, Aaron told the matre de that it was just two, and the man led the two toward the back of the space. The head waiter graciously motioned to a small couch near the live band playing soft jazz in the back corner of the room. Aaron let _y/n_ take a seat first, and he followed after her. Shortly after being seated a waiter came and took their orders. Aaron got an old-fashioned, and _y/n_ ordered _y/f/d_. As they waited for their drinks to arrive, _y/n_ asked Aaron, “So, how did you find this place?” Hotch did his best to summarize his first year in the BAU. How unsure he was about the shift in jobs. How Haley had been the one to get him out of the house and office. As Aaron recounted his story, _y/n_ didn’t pull away or, cringe at the mention of the former Mrs. Hotcher. _y/n_ realized as much as anyone how important Haley was to Aaron. He’d loved her for a long time before things had fallen apart. And she’d loved him too. _y/n_ was far less insecure about this fact now. She was ashamed about how she’d felt about Haley at the hospital that one time. Not only was Haley important, but _y/n_ realized that Jack was the zenith of Aaron’s life. And she respected that. Fatherhood seemed far from easy, and add being head of the BAU on top of that? Hell, Aaron made it look easy. So she listened to him open up in a way that he never had in front of her before, and _y/n_ got her small peak behind his work facade. She realized that he was just a man doing his best. Trying to juggle all of the plates at his feet, and somehow that was the most attractive thing possible about Aaron Hotchner that she hadn’t ever noticed before that instant. 

Hotch looked at _y/n_ after his long-winded story and expected to see boredom there. Or disappointment at how often he’d brought up Haley or Jack. But he didn’t find it. Only a look of admiration that he couldn’t quite place. And suddenly Hotch wanted to say everything that he’d bottled up over the year and wanted to lean down and kiss _y/n_ on the lips like he had in his dreams. And _y/n_ watched as Aaron shifted in his demeanor. How his eyes were wide again and he seemed to be building to something new. Something yet said or explored between them. The sudden and insistent beeping of Hotch’s phone cut off that moment in an instant. Aaron pulled back from _y/n_ a bit and murmured, “Sorry,” as he accepted the call. After a second, Hotch’s mood changed again, as he replied to the other end of the line. “Is he alright? What’s the matter?” _y/n_ pulled back a bit more, realizing this was a private conversation and she was a bit too close to Aaron for it to be happening like one. His frown and worry lines increased, as he listened to the dialog she couldn’t hear. After a minute he replied, “Yes, I’ll head over right away. You said the doctor was on his way too?... Yeah, yeah. I’ll just be twenty minutes or so… Okay. Tell Jack I’m on my way… Yeah. Bye.” Aaron dropped his hand with this cell in it and looked at _y/n_ with sad eyes. She looked back and him and said, “Is it Jack?” Aaron nodded and replied, “Haley said he has a bad fever, and it’s getting worse. She called a doctor and she thinks I should come over. _y/n_, I’m sorry.” _y/n_ gave him a pat on the arm and said, “Go be with your son, Aaron. There are more important things than me in the world. At least in your world.” Hotch nodded with the same sad eyes. He realized how much of a sacrifice _y/n_ was making for him, how life in the BAU was a whole big load of sacrifice. Aaron stood, and just to show a fraction of how grateful he was for _y/n_’s presence in his life, he leaned down and kissed her forehead. It was chaste, and he pulled away before he could get ahead of himself.

Aaron was gone before _y/n_ could even fully register what had happened. The bell at the door told of Hotch’s departure, and _y/n_ could have screamed out of desire or despair at how the night had come to a quick conclusion. But she didn’t. _y/n_ knew how important Jack was to Hotch. Everything else but his son was at the periphery of Aaron’s life, and Jack was at the center. As _y/n_ settled back into the loveseat, now alone, she contemplated how yet again any plans or revelations of their feelings had been dashed. But _y/n wasn’t mad about it. _y/n_ had to remind herself that for the half hour, they had been together that night, Aaron had allowed her to see more of himself. And he was, as _y/n_ expected, as good a man as they came. _y/n_ thought, “How often does a girl really get to see a good man?” It was a pleasure, even if it was for just an evening. 

The final few days of December passed in a wave of the hand. _y/n_ had asked Aaron if Jack was alright the morning after their night on the town, and he’d said that the fever had broken in the night and that his son was on the mend. Aaron had asked _y/n_ in the same text exchange if she’d gotten home okay after his sudden departure. She had told him that she’d called a Lyft soon after he’d left to get home. And then, before _y/n_ knew it, she was packing her bags for a long weekend at one of Derek’s properties on a lake outside the city limits. She was carpooling with Emily and Garcia. _y/n_ had heard that Morgan’s New Year’s Eve parties were times to remember and she was finally going to experience one for herself. _y/n_ was already excited to be spending time with her friends, but when Emily said, “You know Aaron’s coming too? He apparently called Morgan last minute and asked if there was still an empty bed, _y/n_’s jaw dropped. _y/n_ quickly composed herself and said, “Well the more the merrier.” Em rolled her eyes and said, “The more the merrier my ass, _y/n_. You know he’s just going there for you. When are you going to catch on that he’s in love with you?” Penelope agreed from the backstreet and said, “Honestly. _y/n_. He’s been making googly eyes at you all year. And what was that with him taking you out after the Holiday Party? Do you see Hotchy doing that with anyone else?” _y/n_ sighed exasperated with her friend's encouragement. She half-heartedly said, “Well, he could have been.” this had Garcia and Prentiss cackling and Penelope said, “This is the time, _y/n_. I swear. If it’s not, I’ll pull Hotch aside myself and give him a piece of my mind.” Despite _y/n_��s friends banter, _y/n_ felt reluctant. None of the other times seemed to work out, and she didn’t see how this was going to be any different. 

As Morgan’s lake house came into view, _y/n_ tried to let everything go. Whatever happened would happen, and she planned on having fun no matter how the next day and a half went. The trio of women were the second to last to arrive. Spencer joined them a half-hour later. Derek quickly showed everyone to their rooms. It felt like an adult sleepover and an energy charged the air. For the first hour or so the team just relaxed and unpacked. Derek, Rossi, Spencer, and Aaron sat on the leather couches and talked about the year. Their highs and lows. They also debated which case was the most interesting from the year. As the men talked, Emily, _y/n_, JJ, and Garcia all tried on the dresses they had brought for the end of the night. As they were helping with the zippers and hemlines, _y/n_ said, “I’m sorry Will couldn’t come tonight, J.” JJ smiled and said, “Yeah. But I think it’s fine. We’ll be married soon enough and we’ll have the rest of our lives to be together. Tonight feels like the gang is back together in a nostalgic sort of way. You know what I mean?” The other nodded alone and Emily said, “I feel ‘ya JJ. What a year it’s been. But we’re all happy for you know. I think you got the last good guy on the market with Will.” JJ grinned and helped _y/n_ slip into her ‘dress.” The media liaison seemed to glow with a pre-marriage, I’ve-found-the-love-of-my-life aura even four months before her wedding day. And suddenly all the women were dressed, and they all looked at each other and complimented each other. Emily was in a sleek purple pants suit. JJ was in a fitted black dress. Garcia, as always, was wearing a bright orange tulle skirt with a pink top, plus white fingerless gloves. The tech noted, “And I’ve got about ten million little things to put in my hair too!” Lastly, _y/n_ was wearing something far slinkier than her friends. It essentially amounted to a lot of large, shimmery _y/f/v_ sequins held together with tiny metal rings. _y/n_ hadn’t worn it since before turning twenty and she couldn’t remember why she’d bought it. “Maybe for a rave?” She thought. Because the garment was so sheer, she was wearing sensible black underwear and a matching bra underneath, but _y/n_ flushed at the one time she’d gone clubbing without the undergarments beneath. That had been a fun evening.

The compliments made the rounds, and Garcia told _y/n_, “You look drop-dead good in that, _y/n_. The boys won’t know what hit them.” At the mention of “the boys,” _y/n_ looked at the ground and said, “You know I would have picked a different outfit if I’d known Hotch was coming.” The others snickered, and _y/n_ laughed too, saying, “I’m being serious. I’m not trying to look like a slut in front of him. The brief said ‘Fun New Year's attire and this is the funniest, New Years-ist dress I’ve got.” Emily moved forward and gave _y/n_’s shoulder a pat saying, “You’ll be fine, _y/n_. You look glorious. Plus you’re the youngest one here. That means you can get away with wearing something more risque. I’m just shocked you can wear something from that long ago. I’m lucky if I could pull off something from two years ago and it look good, I can’t even think about five or ten.” Prentiss shuddered at the thought, and that got a good laugh out of all of them. 

 A knock at the closed door, had them all look away from each other. It was Derek saying that he, Aaron, and Rossi were going to take a walk along the path that went around the lake nearby. And if any of them wanted to join them? _y/n_and Em jumped at the chance. The pair quickly changed back into their casual clothes and headed out with the guys. The walk was pleasant and they all just took in the fresh air and saw the trees surrounding the water. Aaron was walking a few steps behind _y/n_ and he contemplated his feelings about her once more. Even he was getting annoyed with himself. He blamed it on being indecisive in the worst possible area of his life, partnership. But he’d decided today was going to be the day. He was going to bite the bullet and ask _y/n_ how he felt about her. Even though he couldn’t picture the words leaving his mouth, he swore to himself that it was going to happen. The walk concluded, and then everyone got some drinks which Aaron happily and skillfully mixed. Then Derek and Rossi made dinner and everyone ate outside around the fire. And by that time it was already ten and the first fireworks were dotting the sky. Aaron and _y/n_ were sitting next to each other. Close enough that he could move his arm just an inch and he would be touching hers. Hotch’s eyes stayed on the sky as he asked, “Do you have any plans for the New Year?” It was too cliched to ask about resolutions, but he did wonder what someone like _y/n_ thought about the future. _y/n_ turned her gaze to him, and replied, “I don’t know. I want my apartment to feel more homey. It’s still giving college vibes if I’m being honest. I’d like to buy some better furniture, like the opposite of the stuff from IKEA. And then there’s helping JJ with the wedding, and then just going out more. Seeing the city like we did after the party.” _y/n_ felt like saying, “I’d like doing that with you,” and also, “Does this make me sound boring?” But _y/n_ couldn’t vocalize either of those thoughts as Gacia stepped out onto the patio and proclaimed, “It’s dress-up time, baby girl!” _y/n_ shook her head and chuckled. Aaron gave her a hand up and watched as she disappeared into the house. _y/n_’s list sounded just up his alley, and he wondered why he’d been putting off his feelings for so long. Why he couldn’t just man up and tell her he loved her? That he was mad about _y/n_. Aaron sighed and walked inside after _y/n_.

It was 11:15 when the girls were all dolled up with their outfits, heels, and makeup. Derek had the TV playing with the countdown to the ball drop on as ambient noise. The champagne was ready to be popped, and the new year was rung in with friends and laughter. Garcia and Derek were both oddly big about watching the ball drop. _y/n_ had interrogated Penelope about this on the way up to Morgan’s house. Garcia had just said, “It’s tradition, and you don’t mess with tradition.” Just as the group of women stepped into the light to be seen for the first time, the power went out. There was a moment of silence and then Derek said, “Really house. You do this to me now?’ That got everyone laughing, and Aaron asked, “Where’s the breaker Morgan? I’ll give it a look.” Derek told him and Hotch stood outside for a second. While Aaron was gone, Penelope and Morgan talked about what they would do about a countdown. Nobody wanted to just look at the clock. That, Morgan had said, “Wasn’t festive at all.” Aaron came back and said, “It’s not good news, the main fuse is fried.” That had Derek thinking and he announced, “Alright, change of plans. There’s a dive bar down the road. If we book it, we can make it there before midnight.” There was little complaint from the group as Morgan and Penelope hustled everyone into two cars and down the street. There was so much excitement that nobody got to see the women’s outfits until they were standing outside the bar. The space was a dive and it was packed with partiers. The walkway up wasn’t paved, so Aaron took _y/n_’s hand with his left, and even though he didn’t need to, he placed his right on her lower back. Again he felt that spark shoot through him. The cool sequins juxtaposed to _y/n_’s warm skin were doing things to him that he didn’t want to think about right now. Or maybe it was the dress that didn’t leave much to the imagination. Either of those was a good option. Inside, the team found a spot to stand and watch as the time ticked down from 11:55 to midnight. Derek joked and said, “Alright, who’s kissing who when it’s time?” Emily raised a hand and teasingly said, “I volunteer for you, Morgan.” The team laughed and then started counting down. Everyone except Hotch, who was standing a bit farther back. _y/n_ sighed, knowing he was never a big fan of crowds. She stepped close to him. Even as Aaron sought a moment of reprieve, both _y/n_ still had to stand almost body to body to avoid bumping into anyone. As “THREE, TWO, ONE” were unanimously chanted in the tight space, _y/n_ was going to try and pick up where their conversation had stopped earlier in the night. To see if Aaron had any plans going into the New Year. But she didn’t get the chance to as the call of “Happy New Year!” Hotch bent down and pressed his lips to hers. 

Aaron had meant for it to be a little peck. Just something to ring in the new year with. But _y/n_ only stood in shock for a moment before she realized what was happening, and she’d waited so god damn long for this very moment that she quickly leaned into it, pressing her body to Aaron’s as her arms wrapped around him. Aaron reciprocated in kind and placed one of his hands on her hip and the other on the crown of _y/n_’s head. Holding them together like he might fall apart if he let her go. Aaron's lips were slightly chapped and his cologne, which _y/n_ knew well, crept over her like a sunray. As soon, as they’d started, they didn’t want to stop. Then it dawned on both of them, like they hadn’t been yearning for the other for over a year, that they didn’t have to stop. So they didn’t. Not until they had to pull away panting for air. And once they’d gotten breath back in them, they came together again. This time it was more cautious.  More subdued as Aaron began to memorize the shape of _y/n_’s soft mouth pressed against his own, _y/n_ made a small contented sound that only he could hear and smiled as she placed her hands on his chest. _y/n_ his body in a way that indicated an intimacy that had always been there between them. The rest of the team watched them with Garcia saying, “About time. My god, I thought I was going to have to lock them in a closet together later tonight.” Rossi joked and said, “Well, there’s still time to do that later,” as he came back with a handful of champagne flutes. Dave handed one to each member of the team and then walked a pace over to _y/n_ and Aaron. Hotch was looking into _y/n_’s eyes but stopped when he noticed his friend. Rossi smiled and said, “Alright you kids. How about you take a moment and join us for a toast?” _y/n_ flushed, but nodded taking a glass from Rossi. Aaron chuckled and got a glass himself. He never let his hand lose contact with _y/n_’s side as all three walked back to the table. Rossi gave Aaron a strong pat on the shoulder as they moved to the group and winked at _y/n_, which only made her flush further. Hotch didn’t even care as the whole team's little “oohs and ahhs” sounded at their return. Aaron realized that scrutiny or affection didn’t feel so bad with _y/n_’s hand in his. He realized with full clarity that she’d been there all along, and he’d just not moved his hand to meet hers. He’d tell her he was sorry for that later. For stringing her on so long. He’d tell her he loved her more times than he could count too. But for now, as everyone lifted their glasses saying “Happy New Year!” The future never looked brighter.

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