#good morning I've actually been up for a couple of hours now but I've just been resting and relaxing...

[theelvishfiddler]

AN ARTIST'S GUIDE TO HANDS

No, sorry it's actually not an artist's guide to drawing hands. Those are just warmup studies (which I'll talk about in this post.)

This is a guide to Your Hands and how to take care of them when making art.

No one ever sits down and teaches artists how to take care of their hands. They didn’t even teach me this while I was in art college. This is just what I've learned myself through years of pain and scouring the internet for advice.

This is going to be a long one and geared towards illustrative traditional/digital/pen/pencil artists specifically, but artists of other mediums and crafts should take care of their hands too! Well, we all should take care of our bodies in general, but this is about hands.

(advice is below the read more)

First off I'm not a professional or anyone with actual medical advice. I'm just some guy with chronic hand pain who makes art. This advice is free for you to use or discard.

WARMUPS!

Ever sit down in the morning to draw and wonder why your art is so stiff and looks so much worse than what you were drawing last night? It's because you didn't warm up!

You know how for physical sports they all warmup and do stretches before getting into the actual sport. To prevent injuries and all that? Yeah, it's good to do that for art too.

One way to warmup is to just draw lines. Try to keep them as straight as you can. Going up and down and diagonal. Draw squares. Big squares. Small squares. Circles! You are warming up, keep it loose and relaxed! Basically just scribble away.

(examples. I usually keep going until there is no paper white left. This can double as practice for drawing straight lines without a ruler, which is a great skill to have when freehand city drawing.)

Before hopping right into drawing people you can try doing some quick gesture drawings. Line of Action has timed sessions with a large variety of clothed or nude models. I usually do the 30 min class as it has a nice balance of short and long timed poses. The point isn't to draw nice art, but to warm up. Try to get the basic form down, not the details. I find that doing a full class session can really help my drawings feel more loose and grounded in reality for the rest of the day.

Some examples I found in my folders. I suggest looking into what a line of action (not the site) is and giving it a try with some of the studies!

COOLDOWNS!

For sports it's to return your body back to your everyday baseline after a workout.

Example; you are working on a big project! A masterpiece! It's detailed and cool! You have been focusing on this for hours and drawing so intensely. But you need to stop working for the day.

A cooldown is for winding down out of the go go go mindset. Put away the big project and do a couple small doodles and sketches. You are relaxing your hand and letting it stretch out. Keep the sketches loose. Let the art happen slowly. Don't polish anything, that can happen another day. Just ease yourself out of drawing.

...

Cool! Now we get into the meat of this thing.

HAND PAIN

How to avoid it and how to manage it if you already have it.

I love you artists and creatives, I am begging you to please take care of your most important creative tools. I really don't want this to sound like scare tactics like "oooh you better do this or blah blah!" Nope. I just had to learn all this the hard way and I'm extremely passionate about it.

Take this advice or don’t ╮(ﾟ～ﾟ;)╭ I can't tell you what to do, I'm not your dad

Adjustments and Small Solutions

If you are feeling physical discomfort while drawing there are many different solutions to try! Here are some suggestions that may or may not work for you.

Hold your pencil more loosely. Stop gripping that thang so tightly!!! Relax that hand! They make these… squishy pen grip things... I think they are called Adaptive Pencil Grips or Adaptive Writing/Drawing Aids? They stop your hand from being all cramped up by making your drawing tool wider. It's going to take a bit of time to adjust to drawing with it, but it's worth it for those who hold pencils too tightly.

Don't press as heavily. For traditional art, if you find yourself pressing really hard to get darker lines try moving to a softer pencil. Most standard pencils are HB, the B pencils have softer graphite. Experiment until you find the right one for you. For Digital, adjust your pressure settings so you don't have to press as hard to get thicker lines. You should not be pressing so hard all the time, it wears out both your hand and your tablet! It takes a bit of time to adapt to pencil or pressure changes. Try doing some unimportant sketches, they don't have to be good. You are just training your hand and mind to adjust using less pressure.

Draw with your arm and not your wrist! It's small repetitive motions that cause the most strain. You probably hear this one a lot, what does it even mean? It means moving your arm with the motions of your line, and trying not to make too many tiny movements with your just your fingers or wrist. This one is hard! It takes time and conscious thought to change the habit. Tips? Work bigger. Zoom in more. Use bigger sheets of paper.

(Motions exaggerated for a clearer example)

Change the angle of your drawing surface. They make angled tablet holders, angled desks, angled desktop raisers. Experiment, find and angle that is comfortable and the one that causes the least pain. (It's also good to make sure you don't have to hold your head at an uncomfortable angle when drawing. Staring straight down or hunching over a paper flat on the table can cause pain!)

Compression Glove? Wrist brace/tensioners? Some folks use them and I've been thinking of getting one for years now. I can't give advice on this one, because I don't have experience with it. Look into it if you want!

Managing Pain

First things first.

IF YOUR HANDS START TO HURT WHILE YOU ARE DRAWING. STOP! Put the pencil/pen/paintbrush/whatever down. The art will still be there for you to continue tomorrow.

I know from experience that it's extremely hard to pull away when you are hyper focused on an art piece. It's hard to remember all sorts of basic needs like food or bathroom when hyper focused. But you Need to stop when you feel that pain. (Preferably even before the pain…)

Take Breaks! Let your hands rest when you can. Just like a machine, if you don't schedule maintenance, the machine will schedule maintenance for you. Often that means having to wait a few days for it to return to functional. Best to take a day off from heavy usage or take an occasional 30 min break throughout the day to let your hands rest.

Stretching is important! Full body stretches are good; your arms, shoulders, neck, and spine are all connected, but I'm specifically talking about HAND and wrist stretching. There are a lot of stretches and massages for carpal tunnel and arthritis out there. I find they work for hand pain in general. Move into and out of each stretch slowly. Do not push a stretch if it hurts!! Be gentle!!

I am not a qualified professional and I will not be giving out specific stretches (that is beyond my personal comfort level). There are other artists out there who have made helpful stretching info-graphics which are cool, but I will not be because i don't want to be responsible for someone accidentally hurting themself. Ask your doctor for stretches & advice or look some up on your own.

Don't feel bad about forgetting to stretch frequently! Of course it is good to do it regularly and frequently, but I would be a hypocrite if I said that I remember to stretch daily. Setting timers for stop and stretch sessions can work for some people, but also doing stretches whenever you remember is fine! If you are sitting on the toilet you can idly do some hand stretches. On the bus? Laying in bed? At the beach? Do a couple stretches! Even just once a week is better than… nonce a week.

Using Cold or Heat to treat pain. If you really overdid it, put your hands in some cold water or wrap a cloth around an ice pack and apply it to your hand. Cold works best for me, but warmth works for others. This is just pain reduction and reducing inflammation from overuse! This is not a permanent solution.

If your hand hurts a lot! Frequently! Talk to your doctor? Idk mine has never given real advice. Just gently poked my hand and told me there isn't much to be done about it :/ but there are really good doctors out there who will care and give helpful advice!

Again. IF IT HURTS TO CONTINUE DRAWING. STOP DRAWING! This is not a "no pain no gain" type situation. Drawing so much that you hurt yourself isn't noble, it's just… limiting yourself. You only get one set of hands. These things are very handy to have.

Other Advice

Things I couldn't figure out how to fit into the earlier sections.

Your other hand can't handle the strain! Lets say you hurt your drawing hand... the other hand is right there free to use for art. Right? Wrong. Your other hand can't keep up with the demand, it hasn't been trained to the same extent as your dominant hand, it does not have the built up muscle. If you want to use that hand for drawing you are going to have to use it s l o w l y and train it bit by bit over a long period of time. When I tore a tendon in my right hand I decided to just keep drawing with my left and I got Really Good at it. It only took like two months before my left hand hurt too much to move. Then I had 0 functioning hands to pull up my pants. Not fun!!

People who draw on phones. That is extremely impressive! I'm amazed by the things people can create on such a small space. But phone artists are the ones I see most frequently mentioning hand pain. please please please make sure you are taking breaks. Would a stylus work instead of using a finger?

Outside of Drawing. Sometimes it's things outside of drawing that are causing the pain. For me there are multiple sources, but I also have tiny baby hands. Holding a phone too long causes pain. The handheld mode for my Switch causes A Lot of pain. The way my hand rests while typing on my laptop hurts! Playing tense videogames for too long hurts! Find the source of your pain and make some changes. The same things will apply to most; take regular breaks, do some stretches, and find soft things to prop up or rest your arms on.

Change your Artstyle. This one is more of a last resort. You might have to change your art style if you are getting sharp pains every time you draw. I loved drawing tight clean lines and many small fancy details, but drawing like that left me in so much pain at the end of the day. In 2023 I had to take the better part of year off from illustrations just to learn how to sketch and draw more loosely. I had to learn how to be gentle. To stop gripping my pencil so tightly. Learn! Adapt! You might discover a new style that you love even more!

A lot of this stuff gets more complicated in a work setting where you have to draw fast and long in order to get paid. Things like reducing your workload can help, but that can be... financially rough. But outside of that, it’s ok to be a slow artist. Going full steam and hurting yourself is not worth it.

Aaaaaanyway, thats all folks. Today's rant brought to you by me! The guy with chronic hand pain who always forgets to stretch! The guy who got frustrated with a sketch yesterday and decided to push to keep drawing for just one more hour! The guy who woke up this morning and had to spend 2 hours massaging and stretching their hands. The guy who probably shouldn't have typed all of this out because ooww ow ouch

If your hands do hurt, it's going to be ok! You don't need to be a speed demon who draws all the time. It's ok to take your time and take frequent breaks. You are going to do great things! Just be gentle with yourself...

[wileys-russo]

alexia, you shouldn't have tried to outdrink me, bathroom floor

a.putellas II cold tiled floor

"i think you should slow down amor, we have all night." you felt your fiances arm sling around your waist, tugging you back down into your chair as you stood to get another drink.

"ale, baby estoy bien. i've had three champagnes!" you laughed, flattered by her concern and trying to pry her arm off which held a stony grip. "i know. but we have hours to drink and dance cariño, why rush?" the blonde smiled charmingly as your eyes narrowed.

"who said i was rushing anything?" you spoke calmly, raising an eyebrow. "or should i say amor, what do you think i am rushing?" you questioned as alexia's smile never faded, feeling her thumb trace shapes against the sliver of skin poking out the slit down the side of your dress.

"nothing princesa, lo siento a slip of the tongue." alexia assured, free hand picking up her own glass and sipping, eyes never leaving yours which bore into her suspiciously. "you don't think i can keep up with you, do you?" you realised with a laugh, though it was anything but humerous.

"well those are your words princesa, not mine." alexia shrugged, but making no move to actually deny the allegation. "dios mío, you do! you do think i cannot keep up with you." you scoffed, folding your arms across your chest.

"i didn't say that. do you think you cannot keep up with me?" alexia smiled, resting her chin on her fist, thumb still tracing absent minded shapes against your skin.

"no. i can! and i am going to prove it to you." you finally wrenched her arm away, standing up and heading for the bar, the pair of you at a wedding for one of your school friends.

the pair of you hadn't been all that close when you were in school, you had mutual friends but no real mutual interests or hobbies. you hadn't paid her much thought until a few years later you were at your best friends bridal shower and so was alexia, seated next to you.

the pair of you got to talking and spent the entire night practically glued to one anothers side, and neither of you were ashamed to admit you actually did have a lot more in common than you thought, just never having really given one another the time of day to figure it out.

you'd hung out a few times after that but lost touch, alexia rising quickly through the ranks of the barcelona femeni team and you focusing on your job as well as taking a few months off to see more of europe than you'd ever dreamed of.

then just like fate one day your paths had crossed again.

it was a couple of years after you'd lost touch but you recognized her right away, heard her voice a few tables over while you were out for dinner with a few coworkers, watching as she rose to go to the bathroom confirmed it was her.

you didn't think she'd seen you but she had, waiting for you by the door as her own friends had left before yours, giving you quite the fright as she called out your name while your head was buried in your phone trying to order an uber.

she'd offered you a lift home and that had quickly turned into the two of you driving around for hours, alexia having you laughing harder than you had in years as she routinely 'missed turns' or 'misheard the directions' on the way to your house.

you'd teased all she had to do was ask you to hang out if she wanted to spend so much time with you and she'd done exactly that at four in the morning.

years later and here you were, engaged and very happily planning your own wedding, seated together at one of your friends, having spent the morning getting ready, exchanging sweet kisses and talking for hours about your own pending nuptials.

though now your wife to be was not in your good books.

"trouble in paradise hermana?" alba teased as you stormed off, her and a few of alexia's interment family present at the wedding as well, the bride to be close with the whole family having known both you and alexia since the early years of high school.

"she thinks she can out drink me." alexia smiled, unfazed by your reaction as she finished her own drink, snaking her sisters and pushing her hand away when she reached for it again.

"i hope she does!" alba huffed, swiping the glass back and rolling her eyes as alexia only smiled, having finished its contents. "qué cariño, no drink for me?" alexia tutted as you returned with a new drink in hand.

"no. would you like to dance?" alexias eyebrow raised as you quickly chugged the drink in hand, placing it down on the table with a thump. "sí mi amor i-" alexia started but you shook your head.

"no, i was talking to alba." you held your hand out to the younger girl who laughed loudly at her sisters expense, alexia's smug smile falling away as her sister grabbed your hand with a grin and the two of you raced off to the dancefloor, leaving your fiance with a sour taste in her mouth and a scowl on her face.

it was hours later when alexia realized she may have let this game go a little too far.

"alexia." she looked up from her conversation with a slight frown as her mami appeared, taking the seat beside her. "you have proved your point hija, take her home." eli nodded across the room where you were still on the dance floor with a few of your friends, more tripping and stumbling than dancing.

"who told-alba." alexia realised with a sigh, eli chuckling. "sí, now take your fiance home and get her some water." eli smiled, alexia nodding in agreement and quickly apologizing to her friends, standing and headed for you.

~

"vamos cari i need you to work with me here!" alexia grunted, trying to hold you up with one arm and unlock the door with the other. "no i wanna dance!" you whined, having tried to break or run away nearly the entire time alexia had all but wrestled you out of the wedding reception and into a taxi.

you'd easily gone one for one with your drinks, though alexia was quickly realizing maybe she should have swapped some of your own with water or kept a slightly closer eye when your friends had swept you off to the dance floor when you were already looking a little shaky on your feet.

"vale, and we're in!" alexia breathed a sigh of relief popping the door open, kicking it shut behind her and now able to use both her arms to prop you up.

"lets lay down for a second amor, sí?" alexia sighed, gently lowering you onto the sofa as you giggled and mumbled things alexia could make no sense off, clearly in a world of your own.

"i am going to get you some water, stay here por favor." your fiance kissed your forehead and pushed the stray hairs out of your face before standing back up and hurrying to the kitchen.

though she hadn't even opened the fridge when she heard a crash and hurried back to the source, biting her lip to stop her laugh seeing you now on the floor, one heel flung across the room having hit something and knocked it over.

"my feet are killing me!" you whined, head thumping against the carpet as you tried to sit up to take off your other shoe, head spinning and mumbling something else before collapsing back to the floor.

"oye mi vida, que voy a hacer contigo?" your fiance chuckled, bending down and slipping one arm under your neck and the other under your legs, effortlessly picking you up bridal style.

"put me down! i have a fiance, te patearía el culo." you slurred, poking her shoulder accusingly as the blonde only smiled, carrying you off toward your shared bedroom. "sí, lo haría. good thing i am right here then!" alexia grinned, lowering you onto the bed.

"ale! hi baby, come lay down." you gasped, arms suddenly shooting to wrap around her neck trying to pull her down into bed with you. "not yet. soon, prometo mi amor." alexia promised, kissing your cheek and gently prying your arms off.

you groaned and called out for her again as she dipped off into the bathroom, grabbing what she needed and laughing as she returned to again find you trying to wrestle off your other shoe.

"hey hey! you are going to fall off the bed again cari, let me." alexia sat down on the end of the bed, undoing and slipping off your heel as you babbled away clearly trying to talk to her but making no sense at all as your fiance only hummed.

darting off again she grabbed some clothes from the closet and returned, grabbing your hands and pulling you into a sitting position, carefully helping you pull your dress up and over your head, pushing away your wandering hands which tried continuously to pull her down with you.

changing you into something much comfier to sleep in she helped you lay back down and got on her knees on the floor beside your side of the bed, gently wiping away your makeup and still humming as you drunkenly babbled nonsense, poking and prodding at her with giggles.

"i love you, estúpida." alexia chuckled a half hour later once you had finally seemed to settle, both of you changed and makeup free as you lay pressed together in bed, alexia's large hands rubbing up and down your back as you started to doze off, mumbling a response making her smile.

"you love too."

it was the early hours of the morning later when alexia awoke, panic kicking in as she realised she was alone in bed, sitting up boltright as her eyes slowly adjusted to the dark room, heart racing as she couldn't spot you.

but then, finally she made out something a few feet away, kicking off the covers and padding over toward the bathroom with a frown, pulling the door open as a hand flew to cover her mouth.

"oh cari." the taller girl chuckled at the sight of you laid down on your back on the floor, a pair of her prada sunglasses covering your eyes and a toilet clearly half filled with vomit which your fiance grimaced and flushed.

"no! that's so loud." you groaned right away, hands flying to cover your ears as alexia stepped over you and perched herself on the corner of the bath staring down at you with an amused smile.

"cállate putellas." you warned with a mumble as the blonde held her hands up in defense. "i did not say anything mi amor, not a word." your fiance reminded, toe reaching out to poke at your side as you whined quietly and lazily swatted her foot.

"no but you want to." "sí, tal vez." "mierda, hurry up."

"you shouldn't have tried to out drink me!" the blonde laughed, your hands again covering your ears as you grumbled her gloating was too loud and kicked her halfheartedly, alexia moving to sit beside you.

"why are you on the floor?" alexia asked much softer now, thumb grazing your cheek affectionately. "the tiles are cold. feels nice." you mumbled making her grin grow.

"but your hangover does not hm bebita?" she couldn't help but tease as you groaned again and with much effort rolled onto your side so you could hug her bare leg.

"i am never drinking, never ever ever again."

[dorabellingham]

Morning after

warning: none; fluff

characters: jude x fem!reader

summary: when your boyfriend becomes a sweetheart after you have your first time

request: yes!

may contain spelling and translation errors!

On the first morning after the most special night for you, the bedroom of the little house in the countryside seemed to have been frozen in time. The first rays of sunlight filtered through the thin curtains, illuminating the couple's serene faces. The silence was filled only by your calm breathing.

Jude was the first to wake up. He turned his face to you, who was nestled against his chest, your messy hair spread across the pillow. Your face had such a peaceful expression that he almost didn't want to move so as not to wake you, but at the same time, he couldn't help but gently caress your back with his fingertips.

You opened your eyes slowly, blinking to adjust to the light. When you saw Jude there, looking at you with that lazy, adorable smile, your face immediately heated up. The memory of the night before came like a whirlwind, and you covered your face with your hands, laughing softly.

—Don't look at me like that!

You whispered.

He laughed, gently pushing your hands away.

—Like what? —He tilted his head, his gaze full of tenderness. —Like I'm looking at the most amazing girl in the world?

You rolled your eyes, but couldn't hide your smile. He pulled you a little closer, adjusting the blanket around you.

—Are you okay? —He asked, his tone soft but worried. —I mean, after... last night.

You felt your heart clench at how sweet he was.

—I'm fine. Better than fine, actually. —You propped yourself up on your elbow, looking at your boyfriend. —But what about you? Weren't you uncomfortable or anything?

He chuckled, pulling you back to lie down.

—Me? Of course not. But that doesn't matter. I want to know about you. If anything bothered you or if I did something wrong…

You put a finger on his lips to silence him.

—You were perfect, darling. Absolutely perfect.

Jude let out a sigh of relief, but he still didn't seem completely convinced. He began to trace small circles on your bare arm.

—You know... I kept thinking about how special this night was. Not only because it was our first time, but because it was with you. And I just want to make sure you feel the same way, sweetie.

You smiled, your eyes tearing up a little at the weight of his words. You held his face between your hands.

—Jude, it was everything I've ever wanted. Ever since I fell in love with you, I've dreamed of this moment. I have no doubt that it was perfect.

The two of you were silent for a few seconds, just looking at each other. The older Bellingham broke the moment with a kiss on your forehead, and you sighed, feeling completely at peace.

—You know what I think, Jude?

You said, your voice a little shy.

—What, babe?

—That you think too much.

Jude laughed, and the sound echoed through the room, warming you even more.

—Oh, so now I’m the guy who thinks too much? This coming from you, who spends hours writing letters about everything?

You lightly slapped his arm, feigning indignation.

—Okay, okay! Maybe we’re the same in that way.

He pulled you closer, your faces inches apart.

—Y/n, I’ll never forget this night. But you know what I love the most? That every day with you is like the first time. Always special, always unique.

You sighed, your eyes shining.

—How can you be so perfect first thing in the morning? That’s not fair, Jude.

—Perfect nothing. —He shrugged, the mischievous smile returning. —I’m just good at showing you how much I love you.

And with that, he kissed you again, sealing that start to the day with the certainty that they were exactly where you should be: together.

[synthetickitsune]

Petty ✧ h.js

Pairing: Joshua Hong x gn!reader Genre: angst/fluff Summary: Joshua can be a bit petty when he's tired and feels wronged. Even if he's at fault all along. Word count: 2.3k A/N: please get me out of here, i've been in shua brainrot since january and this is once again @hanniedream's fault >:(

Joshua has never hated your bedroom more than he hates it at this moment.

The room is too big. The walls are the wrong color. The windows are too big and it feels like the whole world can see him and laugh at him. The bedroom should be the only room in your house. It wouldn’t be so empty then.

The bed is too big to be sleeping in it alone. It’s cold. The sheets feel like ice around him, no matter how tightly he wraps himself in them, and his arms are empty even though your scent lingers on your pillow. He won’t be as pitiful as hugging it to sleep, he refuses. 

Where are you anyway? 

Pout pulls on his lips without his permission as he strains his ears but he can’t hear a single sound. He checks the clock again, then checks one more time that he’s not seeing wrong. You should be here by now. He accounted for everything - how long your night routine takes, a little snack if you felt like it, the time you’d need to be away from him after the fight, the time you’d waste on thinking whether you should hang onto the resentment or not. You should be here already. You should’ve been here ages ago. So where are you?

It goes against his pride that he gets up and makes his way to the living room where he expects you’d be sulking. And you are there - sleeping soundly.

He huffs in disbelief, hands on his hips as he watches you sleep while he can’t even keep his eyes closed. Does he mean nothing to you? How can you sleep without him?

He has half a mind to wake you up - he walks up to you and leans down, still undecided whether he should do it. What would he say? He can’t admit he can’t sleep without you, so he’d just look like a dick. Besides, you sleeping here means you’re still upset, so you wouldn’t come to bed anyway. Then he notices the dried tears in the corner of your eyes. 

He frowns, any thoughts of waking you up gone from his head. Were you actually mad? The argument wasn’t long or, in his eyes, that big of a deal. True, he was also quite exhausted, so it’s kind of foggy and he knows he was a bit too harsh. He also admits he was in the wrong, a fact he realized during the first two hours of his tossing and turning when he remembered that the events happened differently from what he initially thought. But it wasn’t a big deal anyway… You don’t usually cry over petty arguments. And he knows better than to hope for any sleep now.

Joshua leaves for the bedroom quietly, sighing once he lies down in bed. The pout tugs on his lips again. He feels wronged too. You could’ve just told him instead of immediately getting defensive and calling him wrong when he just didn’t remember at the moment. Why would you cry? Was he really that mean? He doesn’t think he was. He tries to sleep, but over what remains of the night, he can’t get more than a couple minutes of sleep at the time.

Safe to say it didn’t exactly help his sour mood that he didn’t rest at all. As soon as he decides to get up for the day, he struts into the kitchen and starts on boiling the water for his coffee and taking out things to prepare himself breakfast.

“What the fuck, Joshua?” you groan from the adjacent room, voice dripping with annoyance and hostility. Of course the noise would wake you up. And now he can’t exactly explain why he thought he’d get his usual morning greeting - well he didn’t think at all, but now that the routine is broken and not one nice word is spoken to him, he pauses. He swallows uneasily thinking of how it usually goes - waking up with you in his arms or you hovering above him, wishing him a good morning with the sweetest kisses. Not this.

He snaps out of his, his pettiness wavering a little, but not enough. He was in the wrong, but you could’ve explained that to him more yesterday. Not like he was in a state of mind to listen to you, but you could’ve tried… He’s too tired for this.

So he keeps doing his thing, taking out the vegetables to cut. He notices you disappearing into the bedroom, to change and freshen up he supposes. It doesn’t feel great to have you walk away from him without another word.

He’s cutting vegetables when you return. At this point he doesn’t expect much, but he also doesn’t expect you to walk straight past him, barely stop the cupboard door from hitting his head when you take out your mug. He also feels something die inside him when you pour the boiling water into only one mug, making a drink for yourself despite there being enough water for both of you.

His focus is more on you than the knife in his hand, which is not the safest thing when he’s trying to cut the carrot, but he needs to be ready and catch every word you’ll say. Because you need to say something, right? Wrong, apparently. You’re just sitting there sipping your coffee and scrolling on your phone without paying any attention to him. Does he not matter to you?

He wants to get angry, wants to heave a long and angry sigh, slam the knife down and confront you - but that’s not him. It does cross his mind, he just can’t do it. It’d scare you and it’d make him feel like one of those stereotypical angry husbands and that’s the exact opposite of what he wants. Opposite of what he should do if he wants to ever have the chance to call himself your husband.

He closes his eyes and takes a couple of deep breaths. This situation was ridiculous. He can’t go another day without a proper sleep and he doesn’t think he can get through breakfast with you ignoring him. Was Joshua’s pride really more important than you? No. Of course not. Especially not when it was all so stupid and ultimately his fault. 

“I was wrong,” he sighs, he finally puts the knife down before he can cut his finger off, “I’m sorry.”

He turns around, and after what feels like eternity you’re looking at him. You sigh too, rubbing your eyes. Properly seeing you now, he notices you must’ve had a restless night just like him. It makes the last remains of his pettiness dissipate. He opens his arms cautiously, hoping, wishing… You get up and hug him back, let him hold you as he wraps his arm around your middle and cradles your head with the other one. Finally he feels like he can breathe.

“I’m glad you apologized,” you rub his back, and fortunately you don’t flinch away when he kisses the side of your head. He hums sheepishly, squeezing you a little tighter. “I was really frustrated with you. It wasn’t even that big of a deal, you could’ve already apologized yesterday.”

“I know,” he acknowledges. Looking back, he shouldn’t have brought out the issue out of nowhere in the first place. “Are you still mad at me?”

“I wasn’t mad, just frustrated,” you repeat, “It’s fine now.”

He nods, letting you go just enough that he can kiss you properly. His morning feels much better immediately. You smile at him and he’s wondering why would he ever do anything to threaten that smile. He doesn’t want to let you go now that he has you back in his arms, but he’s hungry and he thinks you must be too. “I’ll make breakfast for us, hm?”

You free yourself from his embrace rather than him allowing you to pull away. His reluctance shows in his hands taking hold of yours and bringing them to his lips, lingering. You give him a reassuring smile and only then does he let go. 

What you notice before going back to your chair, before moving from the spot, is Joshua looking at your cup on the table in a way that you can only describe as a puppy watching his favorite toy spinning in the washer. You don’t think he noticed you saw, or that he meant for you to see at all, and it takes a lot not to start laughing. It does give you some satisfaction, though, to know that the argument and his own mistake didn’t leave him unaffected. His shoulders are still slumping and he looks so down you’d think you didn’t make up already. 

“Joshua?” you call his name and he quickly turns his head towards you as soon as he puts the knife down again. You chuckle and rest your head on his shoulder. “Should I make you a cup of coffee?”

“Yes please, thank you,” he beams at you, eyes turning into crescents when you kiss his cheek.

You pull out a mug, conscious of his eyes following your every movement. Something about your choice of the piece of ceramics must be not up to his standards if his displeased grunt is any indication. However when you look at him, he only gives you a small smile.

“What’s wrong?” you cross your arms over your chest. He grows timid, looking away. You roll your eyes. You’re almost sure you’re being played for attention, but you will give him the benefit of a doubt this time because he seemed genuinely sorry for the fight. It’s cute how he melts into you when you hug him from behind, your hands resting on his stomach. 

“What about the matching ones we got for Christmas instead?” he mumbles almost too quiet for you to hear.

“I already have my own cup though,” you frown.

“You need to make a new one,” he says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world

“Huh?”

“We’re gonna restart this morning,” he explains calmly, “I won’t be an asshole and we’ll have a nice breakfast together with our cute matching cups.”

“You called them cringy before.”

“Don’t ruin the vision,” he warns playfully. You hold his gaze, hoping he’ll cave but he doesn’t. You break first.

“What am I supposed to do with the other cup though?” you laugh at your ridiculous boyfriend, but he’s not done being unreasonable.

“Bring it to me,” his tone is suspicious, so you have no idea why you listen. You get to watch as he downs the rest of your morning drink in a few long gulps and puts the cup in a sink. “There, problem solved.”

“Joshua Hong, you’re insane,” you sigh. You’re smiling though - so it’s his win anyway. He won and now he’ll get to watch you boil more water and prepare coffee for both of you, because you need to match one hundred percent of course. It’s still not the safest to cut vegetables when he’s so distracted but his fragile heart is practically jumping off his chest when you take out the very cheesy matching Christmas cups and set them down. “Stop staring.”

“I need to make sure you’re doing it right,” he teases. He’s happy that everything is fine, happy that his morning returned to normal and happy that-

“Do you think I can’t?” you quirk a brow at him, pausing the preparations. 

He swallows and nearly trips over his over feet closing the distance between you and cupping your face in his hands. 

“No, baby, I’m so sorry,” he frowns, kissing your forehead and lingering there, waiting for your verdict. He hears you sigh and his chest feels thigh.

“You’re so cute, Shua,” there’s a smile in your voice and his heart skips a beat when he hears his nickname, “I’m not upset, I’m just playing with you.”

“Don’t do this to me,” he whines, burying his face into your shoulder. His arms wrap around you and you’re stuck between his body and the counter, trapped in his hug. All you can do is hug him back and press some kisses to his neck.

“I’m sorry, baby,” you smile, “How about I finish the coffee, hm? Then I can hug you and cling to you to make up for it.”

“I made you upset first,” he mumbles. You roll your eyes at his sudden self-awareness. He pulls away to look at you, a slight pout on his lips. “But you took advantage of that. I think I deserve a kiss as well.”

You should’ve known it was all a manipulation tactic.

But knowing or not, it doesn’t change the fact that you kiss him and smile against his lips as you do when you feel him smile too. He doesn’t let go until he’s had his fill, until he leaves you breathless and chasing after his lips. 

“I missed you,” he whispers, coming back for just one more kiss, “Hurry up with the coffee.”

You should scold him. You should remind him that he is the reason why your morning is so messy.

But you don’t. 

Instead you do exactly as he told you and enjoy having him close again once the coffee is done. And you enjoy as Joshua feeds you the first piece of breakfast for a taste test, and you enjoy him pulling out a chair for you, bringing you your plate, and holding your hand the entire time you eat.

Most of all you enjoy his warm embrace when you lay down for a nap that won’t make up for the cold and lonely night, but that feels heavenly nonetheless.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for not having time to read my mutual's writing?

Met a mutual on here, bonded through fanfic, have been tight with them for a few years with pretty much no bumps in the relationship, just overall had a really good time hanging around them when I could. We both write a lot and share our writing, and occasionally we talk about that writing/workshop it in passing.

In the past few years I've gone through a ton of life changes. Most notably I went from a multi-person household to a single-person one, and I've been living alone in a prohibitively costly city for a while now working 40 hour weeks and barely scraping by. As soon as the transition started I spent the last of my free income on a shitty little laptop so I could still write, putting down words on my bus/train commutes in the morning and quite literally writing on my breaks at work because I feel insane when I can't create. I bring this up to really stress that I don't have the time for the hobby, I force myself to make the time and even then it never feels like enough.

The only thing I can really stand to do with my 3 hours of free time at night is hang out with my moots online. I'm an extrovert so being around people recharges me. If I don't have designated social time I get super depressed and can pretty much feel my soul withering away. I also feel like I should probably mention that I kinda have a slew of mental issues, personality disorders and PTSD and AuDHD and the works. Point being, shit is rough my dude, but I am a person who likes to work hard and face challenges head on and even though we strugglin, we doing it with a positive outlook.

But! I am an incredibly solution-oriented person and I have found what I personally believe to be a good balance. No one should have to live like this, but I do, and I have found a way to be happy. My writing and my social time is all load-bearing. It is not something I just choose to do on a whim, it's all planned and scheduled and I adhere to those routines very strictly because, I cannot stress this enough, I will go fucking bonkers if I don't.

I'm mutuals with a lot of writers obv, and I sadly don't have time to read their work anymore, unless I get some extra time on my days off or something gets cancelled or like, I end up taking a vacation. I carry a great amount of guilt for this, though, even though I logically know it's reasonable. I try to support them where I can, cheer them on when I see them writing and tell them how cool their ideas sound, hype them up even when I can't actually read & review.

One of the things I do is sometimes I leave a kudos on fic I haven't read. I'm not trying to be ingenuine, and if they asked me I'd tell them like 'Oh I didn't read it yet, just wanted to show support!' but to me it's kinda like ripping a paper tab off a poster so that other's feel inclined to do the same. Plus my pals get a little email and a hit of serotonin.

Except one of my acquaintances, the one I mentioned at the start here, saw that I left kudos on a couple pieces another mutual of mine wrote this year. They more or less blew up my DMs with a ton of accusatory (like, literally presented like a 'GOTCHA!') stuff about how I was selective in who's fic I read, more or less implying that I secretly held some sort of grudge or negative feeling toward them and was making the conscious decision not to read or interact with their writing because of. Something, I don't actually know what they were trying to say. They also told me they vented to their friends about this MULTIPLE times, but they never once approached me to let me know they were feeling paranoid or neglected, they literally just took the most bad faith reading of it possible and then presented that to me like it was something I intentionally did, while the whole time I was unaware.

I tried to explain to them the kudos thing, that I didn't do it to every story, just ones I caught/noticed in my busy schedule. And I laid all this out and asked, multiple times, what free time am I supposed to read with? They didn't answer, and doubled down, kept trying to show me 'proof' that I was shorting them and no one else. Once they started to realize how wrong they were they backed down, but they didn't really apologize, or admit they were wrong, and they tried to end our relationship and left every single server we were in together. Because of some other unrelated stuff going on in my life, I didn't really consider them to be a close friend, but they were someone I really held dear and would've walked through hell for if they'd asked.

I still feel like there is something I'm missing here, and that's why I wanted to ask if I'm TA. I'm a pretty good communicator but one of the things I told myself when talking down my disordered thoughts (guilt about this prior) was "no one in their right mind would use reading fanfic as a metric for friendship." Now that I've had that exact thing happen, I'm starting to think maybe those thoughts weren't so disordered. Maybe this IS a big deal, and I should think about it more, but I don't even know what the solution to that would be. I just. Don't have time to read something lovingly crafted and appreciate it for what it is. All the hours in my week are used up, I'd have to lose sleep for this and with my mental health the way it is that is not an option.

Feel free to be a brutal, my skin is thick. Thanks!

What are these acronyms?

[dalamjisung]

A muted shade of green ✧ Chapter 2: He's not yours to keep

genre: more angst than fluff, but I swear fluff is coming up next!

word count: 5562

pairing: reader x spencer reid

description: you are trying to make sense of all this mess, but it's time to learn that, sometimes, things are just messy and chaotic and you have to learn to look for the silver linings.

a muted shade of green masterlist

previous chapter // next chapter

author's note: I am absolutely over the moon with the response I've gotten on this series and I'm really thankful for all the love and support <3 if you want to join the taglist for this series, please let me know in the comments!

You don’t usually dream. 

Well, actually, if you tell Spencer that, he will say that you’re wrong– you do dream, you just don’t remember it. It’s common, not really recalling the scenes your brain conjure, Spencer would say; it can be due to a series of factors including high levels of stress and poor sleep. He would then tell you to stay home for a day, read a good book, and drink one of his fancy teas Penelope got for him a long time ago. 

But the thing is, Spencer can’t really tell you any of it. 

Not when you seem to be avoiding him even inside his own home. 

It starts after you wake up still in his armchair, feeling exhausted and disgustingly sticky, you finally have a couple of moments to yourself. Spencer is still sleeping, and you’re actually surprised to see him stretched out on the couch– his tie is throw on his coffee table, the purple colour suddenly too bright in the dim apartment, but otherwise, still wearing the same clothes he had on yesterday. You don’t understand why he didn’t change into pyjamas, but then again, you don’t understand much of anything right now. 

So you go through the facts. 

One by one, you list them in your mind– and little by little it dawns on you just how bad this really is. It’s hard, conceptualising that this is reality; that you really do have a psychopath targeting you. It’s the kind of thing that you only saw in those TV shows you loved to binge on late night, the kind of thing you read on the newspaper, happening to other people, but never really you. Except, it is happening to you, and you are not sure what to do next. Do you just sit and wait for her to make a move? Do you continue to live your life normally? How? How are you supposed to ignore the fact that a, as Agent Hotchner had described her, ‘prolific serial killer’ might know who are?

“Oh my god,” You whisper to yourself, head falling in your hands. The watch on your wrist, an old, analogue thing your mom had given you before you left New York, is pointing to a time you would never have been awake before. 5:23 in the morning. The sun is not even up yet and you have hours before you have to open the store, but then again, you have to clean the mess that was left behind due to your rushed departure from it. You wince, disgusted at the thought of having to clean old vomit from the floor, and disgusted with the bitter taste it left behind. Right now, you are a shell of a human being and you need to get yourself back together. 

You follow a familiar routine of recovery. It’s something you’ve done before and something you will surely have to do again, and it all starts with a simple list. 

Firstly, you need to get up. You need to stretch your legs, throw them to the side, and stand. You need to walk, remind your self that you can still make your own path even if it’s only to the bathroom down the hall. 

Then, you need to brush your teeth. The bitter taste stuck to your mouth makes you wince with memories that you want to bury. 

Showering would be your third step, but this is not your home. This is not your space, and these are not your things. 

A pettier side of you, one that is bothered and angry and irritated in a superficial level, wants to march back out to the living room, as loudly as you can, and shake Spencer away. You want to wake him up at the crack of dawn and make him share your torment, because in some level, even if you try to push against it, you blame him. Deep inside, you know that there is a big difference between the two– between blaming him and it being his fault. One is purposeful, conscious; it’s a decision you take and lay on his head. If you blame him, you commit yourself to hate him. The latter, however, is a fact. It’s irrefutable and immutable as the fact that you need air to live. It is his fault, but it was not his goal. 

“He didn’t mean it, but it’s still his fault,” You whisper to yourself, pushing yourself off the sink to try and figure out his shower. It is his house, that’s a fact. But you also deserve a nice, warm shower, and that is another fact. He pushed you to come stay with him, so you need to also push yourself to feel comfortable in this space that feels so foreign to your senses. “He didn’t mean it, but it’s still his fault.”

The words become your mantra. He didn’t mean it, but it’s still his fault. Somewhere in you, you know you have what it takes to forgive, but you just don’t have what it’s needed to forget. By repeating those words, you allow your brain to slowly process this situation as what it is– something that happened because of him, but not by him. As much as you want someone to blame, someone to scream at, Spencer Reid just isn’t that person. 

It takes you a moment to realise you don’t really have a towel or any of your products here, and using Spencer’s shampoo just feels… odd. Like an invasion of his space almost. “Oh thank god for you, Spencer,” You sighed, happy to see the pairing of shampoo and conditioner sitting perfectly on the corner. His hair had been one of the first things you noticed about him, all chestnut and shaggy and longish, but you are aware that not every man knows the basic of self-care. There is something about the way his smell takes over the bathroom, floating with the evaporation of the warm water hitting your skin, makes you smile. You feel closer to Spencer than you’ve ever been, and that is when your sense of danger hits. Your heart starts speeding, and your breathing is suddenly really shallow, and you’re trying to come out of the shower, to breathe in cold air, but all you get is humid mist and you can’t breathe, you can’t breathe at all, you can’t–

“Spencer!” You gasp, eyes wide in desperation once your legs feel like they might just give out. Scrambling to hold yourself up, your hands knock over some things in the counter, making more noise on top of the running shower. “SPENCER!” 

“What? What? What– oh my god,” The door slams against the wall and back, almost hitting him on the side when he crouched down next to your naked, curled up body. It’s quite unnatural for you to witness, him jumping into action so fast, like he is trained to make these decisions in a split second. But then you remember that he actually is trained to make these quick choices– like grabbing the towel before anything else, covering you without a single quip about your nakedness; like sitting you up and putting your back against the wall; like turning off the shower and sitting back down right next to you, breathing deeply and loudly. It’s unconscious, how you let your breathing fall in line with his, and it takes a moment to realise he’s doing this on purpose. “Y/N, are you okay?” 

“No,” You whisper, shaking from either the cold or the nerves or both. There are goosebumps all over your legs, the towel not covering you much from the top of your thighs down. “Spencer, I’m not okay. I’m… Until yesterday, you were just the adorable guy who shared my love for books. Y-You’d come into the store smiling and we’d talk and talk and– and now I have a serial killer possibly tracking me. How am I supposed to be okay? I’m so scared… oh god, I’m so scared, Spencer…” The one thing you are proud, amidst your utter embarrassment, is that you are not crying anymore. You still sound a bit rough, throat tired and hurting, and there is no energy left in you and he can hear that, you know he can, because when your voice echoes in the silent bathroom, kicking from wall to wall, you hear it too– the exhaustion and the numbness and the emptiness left behind. 

“I-I’m still that guy,” He stutters, head falling down in shame but voice still twinged with something resembling hope. “I love books. I love talking to you about books, I love going to your store first thing in the morning. I’m still this guy, I just… I just happen to work for the FBI.”

“Yeah, but I… I think that after having my life turned upside down because of a serial killer who has a crush on you, I’m just not that same girl.”

That is the last time you talk to him that day.

—————————————

Actually, that was the last time you talked to him that entire week. 

After he dropped you at the store that day and you were forced to face the embarrassing remnants of your lowest moment in life, moping old vomit from the floor, that feeling of turmoil in your chest died down. It settled. And it hardened. 

He tried making conversation on the walk back to his, but you’re clearly not up for it, so his voice slowed down, getting lower and lower, until it stopped altogether. This time, you shower before bed and make a beeline to the armchair again, letting Spencer’s begs and pleas for you to sleep on the bed fall in deft ears.

For five days, you two don’t talk. 

It’s a dance of chaos, how you step around each other at the apartment, and seeing him biting his words back or catching a glimpse of the bags under his eyes makes you feel guilty; of course it does. But you know that you can’t help him right now. Even if you were to forgive him, to force your mercy onto the situation, it wouldn’t be genuine. It would give him a false sense of relief while you’d forever be uncomfortable next to him, and you don’t want that. You don’t want to feel on edge next to Spencer, you don’t want to feel nauseous and scared when you’re with him. You want to talk about books and coffee and favourite places to order take out from. Instead, all you get to do is talk about her.

It would be a lie to say you don’t feel slightly jealous with the way that his mind seems to be so wrapped around Cat Adams. The imposed talking ban is hard on you both, that much you know, but the more Spencer let it happen, the more he let it stretch out and continue, the more you feel like maybe he doesn’t care that much. Maybe what is hard for him is the awkward tension trapped in his own apartment, rather than the pain of seeing each other so close yet not being able to laugh like you used to. And you know– you know how ridiculous your thought are, how childish you’re acting, but you can’t really blame yourself for being so on edge lately, not when your emotions are so zip and zapping through your body like thunder and lightening. 

There are exceptions, though. In this case three exceptions, three moments in a day in which he brakes the ban, and you, for once, allow yourself some weakness. 

“Good morning,” Is moment one. He says that every day, when he blinks himself awake on the couch. Ever since you’ve been there, a total of six days now, Spencer has slept on the couch, right next to the armchair you’ve claimed as your own. For these, you meet his eyes and nod, as if saying same to you.

Breakfast is quiet. He makes coffee and you make eggs, because despite you being there under forced circumstances, you are not going to be ungrateful and so you pay him back by getting groceries and cooking most meals. Which leads you to exception number two– the moment when he drops you at the bookstore.

You two walk there at 8 and he’s gone by 8:07, giving you enough time to mumble a “Be safe,” and give him his lunch for the day. He tried telling you that you didn’t have to cook for him, but you don’t really listen. As pathetic as it seems, this is the one way you’ve found to keep what you two had before, alive. 

The third exception is the one that truly breaks your heart, again and again. It’s when he gets home, and he looks exhausted, and his hands fidget with the files he holds close to his chest. You are the first thing he looks for, and you almost melt at the way his shoulders visibly relax when he spots you– always ready for bed, always in the armchair. He stopped trying to come get you at the bookstore at night once you’ve agreed to let the officers walk you home. The spare key he added to your keychain should hold a bigger meaning than it does, though it feels like it does hold a bigger weight. A means to an end, you tell yourself every time you unlock his front door. This is just a means to an end. “Thank you,” he will then say, before he even moves to the kitchen to see whatever it was on the plate you had made and set in the microwave for him. “And good night.” By then, you’re already semi-asleep and you don’t really say anything. 

You never thought you would miss these forbidden exceptions when they’re gone. 

You know that travel is a big part of Spencer’s job, but with all that is going on, you never really considered the fact that he might need to leave for a few days. At least not until he calls you, right before you lock the store. The irregularity of it all has you scrambling to pick it up. “Spencer?” You barely whisper, voice cracking in half as little by little, you freeze up. The sensation is like ice running through your veins, burning it’s way to your heart until it makes it stop. “Spencer? Are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” He quickly answers, voice rushed in a way that makes you relax. He always talks fast and you find it incredibly endearing, even during these times apart. “I’m okay, it’s okay. I’m calling because we got a case.”

“Uh, okay?”

“Y/N, that means they need us in Ohio. Today.” He seems almost hesitant to tell you he needs to leave the state. 

And you are as hesitant to accept it. “Oh,” You mumble, suddenly needing to making sure the officer assigned to you is still outside and ready to go. “Okay. Do… Do you need clothes or something?” 

Spencer’s chuckle almost makes it all okay. Almost. “No, thank you. I just– I want you to be comfortable, okay? Feel free to sleep in my bed and do anything you want to do, I don’t mind! Feel at home! Just… be comfortable.” 

For a second you nod, forgetting he can’t see you right now. “Okay. Thank you.” 

“And Y/N?”

“Yeah?” You started biting your nails when you were twelve and middle school was kicking your ass. To this day, right now, you still bite them when you’re nervous. 

“It’s good hearing your voice.” 

Going home and knowing he won’t be there is not as comforting as you thought it could be. The two of you are not speaking and the constant walking on egg shells does get tiring, so you try to rationalise this as something that is just not that bad. Maybe Spencer going on his mysterious trips is not that bad anymore. Before, your curiosity was your downfall– you worried he had gotten sick or worse. However, you don’t think knowing the truth is much better. The nature of his job is incredibly dangerous, and you don’t even know much about it. Now, you still worry, that much hasn’t changed. What has changed, though, is that getting sick would be considered lucky. Right now, you worried about the ‘or worse’. 

Your mom’s voice fills the empty space for a while. She texted you a couple of days ago and you just now got around to calling. “Sweetheart, how do we switch to video again? I want to see your face.” Alarm bells sound off in your mind and you immediately shut down the idea. “Sorry mom, I can’t right now. I’ll video call you tomorrow, okay? I’m cooking dinner right now.” Her worry is that of a mother, comforting like a blanket and familiar like a home. It is not, though, the worry you want. 

For obvious reasons, you don’t tell her what’s going on, much rather preferring to tell her about the mundane things that keep you going. “And I sold out of the book!” You say, a short-lived excitement running through you. “It’s quite exciting, mom– since I opened the shop I have never sold out of anything! This is a first!”

“That’s amazing, sweetie!” She says, and you can’t help but wonder how Spencer would’ve reacted to the news if he was there. It’s only then that you realise you’re halfway through making him a plate for when he comes home, except he won’t be back until the case is complete and you gulp, too aware of the common noises you hear around you. 

This is when you realise how much you miss you Spencer. And how much, even if unconsciously, he makes you feel comfortable and safe. You thought it was the apartment, but now, by yourself, laying on the armchair yet again, you feel vulnerable and exposed. Footsteps can be heard from time to time, neighbours getting home or leaving for the night, and every time, without a fault, you hold your breath and wait. Maybe the door will open and she will be there, or maybe it will be another delivery. God, it could be anything– a letter, flowers, another box. Knowing that Cat Adams had such easy access to Spencer’s apartment is enough to get you up and running to his room. 

Green. The walls are green, muted and cozy, and you smile even when your eyes sting with tears. There is a hole in your heart right now and it’s Spencer shaped. “God,” You groan, rubbing your tears clean so aggressively that it hurts. “When did things get so fucked up?” 

There’s no real answer to that, and you if you think any longer about this, your brain might just implode. For now, all you need is to sleep, but that won’t happen for a while; not with the way your heart speeds up at every crackle coming from his old, metal heather. Still, the chill air of Autumn seeps in through the walls, and you shiver. I want you to be comfortable, Spencer had said before leaving, and you might be crossing some boundaries right now, but you need him close to feel comfortable. You might not be able to get him, but the next best thing you have right now is one of his sweaters, and you have no qualms about opening his wardrobe and grabbing the first thing you find. Ironically enough, it’s an FBI Academy hoodie, though you can’t really imagine Spencer and all his formal glory in a hoodie. You put it on, nonetheless, shutting the door with your foot and just as you turn around, your eyes catch sight of something. Something big, and beige, and bone chilling. 

The box. 

In the heat of the moment, you simply thought he had throw it away. Hell, it would’ve made sense to throw it away! What the fuck was that box doing there…? With a shaky breath, you open the wardrobe door again, hoping, praying, that you were actually hallucinating and that what you saw was nothing but a shoe box or a bag. “God, please, be a bag, be a bag…” Safe to say, your words are in vain. “Fuck, Spencer, what is wrong with you?”

You’re shaking when you pull the box out of its hiding place, breathing shallow and fast. Reason escapes you as you quickly open it, not worried about how it was or even about putting it back in place; if it was up to you, this box would’ve been gone a long time ago. Clearly, it had not been up to you. “Oh my god, I’m going to be sick.” 

Expectations are a tricky thing to deal with. When it comes to your life, you never expected anything big. You know your limitation better than anyone and the largest you’ve dreamt before was the store. You didn’t expect an FBI agent. You didn’t expect a serial killer. And you certainly didn’t expect a box full of sex toys. “What the…” You don’t want to touch them, not with your bare hands, but it looks like there are tens of toys in there, varying in shapes and sizes and colours. It makes you wonder… last he told you, her games are psychological and manipulative. From what you are seeing, though, this is incredibly physical. This is about touch and intimacy and… fuck. This is about connection. You don’t have to be a profiler to know that, not when you are so secretive about your own toys, hidden in the back of your besides drawer away from unwanted eyes. It’s a private thing, and only people you trusted, people you let into your life, knew about them. 

Before you know what you’re doing, you rush to find your phone. It’s somewhere in the house, and you need to find it, you need to call him. “Pick up,” You whisper when you finally find it in the living room, under your favourite blanket on the chair. Even your fingers are shaking, vision a bit blurred from the adrenaline rushing through you– you feel like you’re in danger, and you don’t know what to do. “Spence, pick up, pick up, please pick up–“

“Hello?” You almost cry when you hear his raspy voice on the other side. It doesn’t make you feel any better to think that you might just have woken him up.

“Spencer,” You whine, embarrass with how needy you sound. The nice officer that brought you home is standing outside the door, and you could’ve gone to him– could’ve opened the door, asked him to stay inside, talk to him a little. Or you could’ve called Penelope. She had given you her number with promises that more often then not, she stayed behind to work from the BAU office. There is no place safer than my office, she had promised you, but how do you tell her that the problem is not your environment, it’s not where you are or what you’re doing… how do you tell her that the problem is you? She might not understand it so you don’t even dare try to explain it. You don’t dare to give her and the team this part of yourself too and you shut your mouth with a firm hand over your lips. 

Memories of a life you left behind flash behind your eyes, and you whimper, hugging your knees to your chest while you hear him desperately calling for you. As far as you can, you kick that godforsaken box away from you. “Y/N?! Y/N, say something, please! Are you okay? Y/N!”

“I’m here,” You whisper, pushing your hair away from your face. “I’m here.’ 

“What’s going on?” 

“Spencer, I–” A moment of regret and hesitation makes you pause. What can he even do all the way from Ohio? “I want to go home.” 

You’re not his priority. 

You’ll never be his priority. 

There is no point to this.

“…did something happen?” This is the Spencer you know– voice soft and guarded– and for a second it feels like you two are getting to know each other all over again. “Did officer Kaper make you uncomfortable? I’ll ask for a change of guard, I’ll–“

“N-No,” You cut him off with a shaky exhale. Your head falls on your free hand, finger tangled with your messy hair, and you tug on it. Sharply, the tingly pain on your scalp grounds you for a second, brings you back to this situation you created. “No, Spence, no no no, I just want to go home, I need to go home, I–“ 

“Y/N, breathe,” He coaches you as gently as he can, voice stable and strong, everything you seem to be lacking. “You’re going to set yourself off in a panic again if you don’t breathe. You’re safe in my apartment, okay? I know it’s not the same as being home, I know, but you’re safe there!”

“You’re not here, Spence!” 

There is a moment of silence for both of you. “You’re not here and you didn’t throw that fucking box away,” You whisper, keeping the moment something in between just the two of you. It’s enough that you are falling apart like this in front of Spencer, you don’t need officer Kaper bursting in the door to witness this too.

“You found the box,” He sighs. This is the first time you notice just how tired he sounds.

“I found the box,” You confirm, sniffling in a stubborn attempt to not start crying all over again. 

“It’s evidence. I can’t throw it away, Y/N.”

“Why is it here?”

“I’ve been working on the case on my free time and it just made sense to keep it at home…” 

“Spence, I want to go home. I don’t feel safe,” You admit, shaking your head. “I don’t feel safe here when you’re not here, Spence, I want to go home.” 

“I thought you hated me.”

“Spencer…” He has a point, though, and you know it. This is the first time you two speak in days, the first time you experience this type of comfort again, but it’s still not enough. He’s still not here, next to you, watching over you. He’s still not with you. “Spencer, I’m sorry.” 

“Silly girl, why are you apologising?” He asks, chuckling on the other side and you can picture him– you can see him shaking his head, hair falling around his pretty face like a perfect picture frame when his eyes, pure honey with specks of green, search for yours. Yeah… you can imagine it to perfection, almost like you are the one with eidetic memory. “This is all my fault. And I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you, Y/N and I’m trying to protect you, so I need you to stay there, okay? I need you to stay in my apartment, please.” 

You don’t know what to tell him. Your eyes wander around the room, looking at all the details he left behind without even noticing. There is a copy of Dostoevsky on the bed side table. I hate Russian literature, you remember telling him once. He was in the shop, bringing you coffee, when you caught a glimpse of a book you certainly didn’t sell him. And I’m appalled you’ve been buying books somewhere else. The way he laughed then, like his biggest problem in the world was explaining to you that this had been a gift from a friend and that he would never betray your trust like this. What do you hate so much about it?, he had asked, leaning over the counter and into you, eager to debate this topic he loved so much. I hate that it’s all about suffering. Even the moments of realisation and self-improvement, they are all through suffering and misery. And of course he had a retort to that, fingers twitching with his enthusiasm. But it’s contextual, you see! Those were written in time of civil unrest and political chaos, and it makes sense to have characters and plot lines that revolve around suffering when that is all you know from the world around you. To this day, your answer paralyses you. I’m a believer in silver linings and happy endings. And not because I’m naive or ignorant, but because the world around me has made me believe that there must be something better out there. Isn’t that nicer?

“Y/N, please tell me you’ll stay there, I need you to stay there.” 

His words almost escape you, but you catch them in the very last minute. It gives you a glimpse into a side of him he has yet to show you, and it absolutely shatters your heart in bits. I need you to stay there, he had said. Not you need to stay there, but I need you to stay there. Suddenly, you realise that this– all of this, the relocation, the involvement of the FBI, the dropping off and picking up– is not just for you. 

“I’ll stay here,” Whispering with him like this helps. “I’ll stay. I’m sorry I woke you up.” 

“Don’t be. I’m happy you called.” 

“I’ll let you go back to sleep, but Spence?” 

“Yeah?”

“Be safe. I need you back here.”

“I’ll be home in no time.” 

For a second, you trust him. You trust everything will be okay, that you can make everything okay until he gets back, and then you’ll pass the responsibility onto him. For a second, you trust him, but you also trust yourself. 

Everything will be okay. 

Everything will be okay. 

Everything will be okay. 

You fall asleep like this; wearing his hoodie and hugging your phone, nose buried on his pillow in hopes to dream of him. The sun wakes you up, and there are birds chirping at your window. Despite the heaviness you feel in you and dooming headache you know will settle soon, the romantic in you believes that today will be a good day. That today will be an okay day.

“Miss Y/L/N? It’s officer Kaper.” 

The knock doesn’t scare you anymore. On days one through three it had you jumping on air, heart about to stop from how fast it was beating. Days four and five were easier, less scary and more anxious, waiting for the punctual 9AM knock. From day six onwards, it was a welcome start to your day, knowing that someone is looking after you. 

You check the fisheye like Spencer told you to, and then you open the door only when you recognise the face on the other side. “Good morning, Officer,” You smile, nodding at him a bit stiffly. The two of you had been formally introduced by JJ, but it didn’t make this any less awkward for you. “Would you like some coffee?” 

“Sure,” He nods, smiling as he comes inside with his usual stack of mail. Everyday, without fail, someone picks up your mail and brings it to Officer Kaper. “Here’s your mail for the day, ma’am.” 

“How was the night shift?” It’s almost like a scripted conversation, these back and forth questions you throw at each other, and you’re finding that you hate this. You hate the stiff conversations and the self-imposed bans. But this is day two, and in just more two days, Spencer would be home. And you would talk to him, just like you used to before, just like you did over the phone. Nothing will change; you’re not going home any time soon and Cat Adams isn’t going to just magically disappear. It’s time to accept it and learn how to live with it, as hard as that sounds. 

Sifting through your mail has to be your favourite part of the day. It’s normal, slightly boring, and a peek into the routine you used to have and love. No one ever sends you letters, so it’s just bills. “Water, electricity, marketing, marketing,” The coffee is brewing in the background and Officer Kaper is telling you about his daughter. She’s a tiny girl, just two and very, very shy, but apparently, she loves stories. “I might have a book for her,” You get distracted from the letters for a second, smiling at the kind officer. “I’ll bring it to you later tonight!” 

When you look back again, it’s the one on top. 

The envelope is white, like any other letter, and it has no thing in the back but your name and address scribbled in red, a big heart right next to it. “Uh, Officer, this is… this is weird.” You’ve been instructed to let someone know if you received anything unlabelled or unexpected. This letter is certainly unexpected. “It has no return address.” 

“May I open it?” He asks and you nod. He opens it with a knife, pulling a small piece of paper inside. “Okay, it seems like a normal letter. There is no signature of any kind.”

“What does it say?” You’re nervous now, walking around Officer Kaper to read over his shoulder. “Oh my god.” 

“Does this mean anything to you?” 

Nodding, you’re dialling Spencer’s number already. “It means I’m fucked.” 

On the table, laid a message you’d never forget.

He’s not yours to keep. 

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

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[unlosts]

hi !!

i'm pretty sure it was me w the perfume request! (my brain is so scattered i barely remember what i asked for but!! i'm so so excited to read it when you're done <33) (btw i'm loving the spencer fics and i'm psyched for more, your writing is so beautiful 🥹🫶🏼)

A/N: Thank you so much for your request! It was exactly the one I lost. Hope you like it, I had a lot of fun with it 🫶🏼.

Also no one asked but I'm a firm believer that Hotch is a Grey Vetiver by Tom Ford guy, or he should be!

At exactly 9:18 the sound of the elevator opening interrupts the quiet morning, Aaron Hochner walks out heading briskly towards his office, coat over his shoulders and briefcase in hand, nodding in greeting to the rest of the team who collectively turn to stare at him with various degrees of confusion plastered on their faces. 

“I was about to call a S.W.A.T team,” Says Emily, stopping him in his tracks “again.” 

At that Hotch finally turns to face them, his usually pristine white shirt wrinkled like he had picked it off the floor that morning. 

“Excuse he?” He asks, brow arched. 

Derek lets out a laugh at this, languidly spinning his chair from side to side but before he can say anything JJ, ever the mediator, interrupts “You’re just not usually this late, we were starting to worry.”

“Yeah, cuz y’know you have a bad track record” Says Penelope with a grimace, she’s perched by Morgan's desk toying with a feathery pink pen while she talks.  

“They were worried, I just knew you were maybe having some fun for once” Derek chimes in with a smile, letting out a huff when Pen pokes his side with her pen. 

“There’s no need to make a scene out of it, I’m sure I've been late plenty of times before” He tries to say in a stern enough tone that they’ll hopefully drop the subject. 

It would be easy to classify it as merely teasing but Hotch knew the entire team worried about him, namely about his lack of a social life outside of work. And usually he would entertain their banter for longer but he really is late today and he can already feel the beginning of a headache forming. 

“Actually," Spencer adds without looking up from his paper“this year, you were only late three times, the last one being about two and a half months ago on July when you had a flat tire and had to wait for triple A”.

“Thank you for that, Spencer” Hotch says, shooting him a look.

“No problem”   

“Nothing happened, I just got stuck in a bad pile up on my way there and I was already cutting it close beforehand, so if you all could focus back on your files that would be great, we have to present our consults before 5 today” He says trying, and failing to regain a modicum of authority. 

Just when he thought that they had tired themselves out, the elevator opens up again and you spill out of it, carrying with you the floral scent of your perfume and a dazzling smile that spells nothing but trouble for him. The kind that makes him stay up until 2am in the middle of the week and turns what was meant to be a quick shower into a half hour delay. 

“Hello hello, sorry for being so late, there was a bad bad pile up on my way here” You speak without pausing once for breath, your heels click clacking on your way to your desk where you unceremoniously dump your coat and purse on top of your desk. Heading for the kitchen to brew a new pot of coffee. 

On your way there you playfully ruffle Spencer’s hair and wink at Pen, who can’t help but comment on your good mood “Well aren’t you happy this morning missy” 

You make eye contact with him for a split second and Hotch can feel his throat dry up, he always felt like you breathed life into any room you walked in, the sun patterns following your steps whenever you went. So it makes sense that even now in the middle of fall he feels something warm settle over him even with such a brief look. 

He thinks he’s been staring at you for hours when it couldn’t have been more than a couple of seconds, by the time he snaps out of it he finds Emily regarding him with a quizzical eye and a smile that does nothing for his brewing headache. 

“Well, I’ve just been having a very nice week” You reply pointedly “even went and got myself a new perfume” He did, actually, but it’s not like you can say that. 

Seeing an out in the conversation he starts once more to go towards his office before he’s interrupted, once again, by one Emily Prentiss. 

“Huh” She says, pinning him down with a perfectly arched eyebrow

“What?” He asks exasperated, quickly losing his patience. 

“Aren’t you testy today?” She teases “I was just thinking about the fact that you both got stuck in traffic, despite coming from opposite sides of the city, that’s all” And with a nonchalant shrug of her shoulders that’s anything but, she turns to work on her files. 

You pop out of the kitchen carrying with you two expertly done mugs of coffee, and even better timing, hastily sitting by Emily’s desk and leaving one mug in front of her. 

“I was hoping you could look over one of my cases with me? I’ve been stuck for ages and I could use a fresh set of eyes?” 

“So this is bribery coffee?”

“No, the bribe is the very nice bottle of red I have back at my place that’s all yours next girls night, the coffee is just because I’m a delight to be around” You reply grinning at her. 

Emily huffs a laugh and with everyone distracted Hotch finally makes his escape, shutting his office door and basking in the blissful quiet of his office. 

He spends the next hour and a half failing to fill expense reports, his mind wandering to your hair splayed on the pillows this morning; you staring up at him in the shower, a droplet of water running from the bridge of your nose to rest on your lip being kissed away by him. The exact dazzling smile from this morning but all his to keep.

The lost twenty minutes after dressing he spend with you pressed against the entrance door, your hands running over his back.  

With an hour left to go before lunch and a creek in his neck from leaning his head on his palm all morning he gives up and goes to get himself his second coffee of the day.

In the kitchenette right by the vending machine is his headache personified, getting herself a bag of skittles. 

While he makes his coffee Emily pauses next to him and extends the bag of candy in a silent offer that he declines with a shake of his head, right before leaving she says “I do love the new cologne, very summery fresh, but just a heads up, I do think she wears it better than you” 

[crowdedimagines]

Roadkill - Aaron Hotchner Imagine

Based around the season 4 episode 23 titled Roadkill! I am going through a rewatch right now and just watched this one!! Also I am trying to stick to the storyline of the episode, but obviously things will be a little different in how they play out 🤩 3.6K

"How do you feel about Oregon?" JJ asks immediately after I pick up on the third ring.

"I have a feeling I would like Oregon a lot more when it isn't 3:00a.m." I tease, sitting up in bed, already knowing whatever she's calling for is going to be bad enough to to call us in this early.

"Can you be in to the office to brief in an hour? Wheels are up around 4:30."

"I'll be there!"

We both get off the phone so we can pack our go bags and get the day started, although earlier for both of us then intended. I manage to take a fast shower by the time I get out my phone is ringing again, this time it's unit leader Aaron Hotchner.

"I assume you've been informed that we have a case and we're meeting shortly." Hotch has his stern, yet tired voice on.

"Yep, showered squeaky clean. I just need some coffee and I will be on my way!" I smile, wringing out the moisture that's still in my hair and put the phone on speaker to set it down on the bathroom counter.

"I actually just made too much, I'm on my way in now. I could bring you coffee." He offers.

I pause in my actions, surprised by the offer. Although I would've been a lot more shocked a couple weeks ago. When I started with the team Hotch was going through a divorce, but in recent weeks there's been a shift in our dynamic and I'm not sure I'm dreaming it up. It all started a couple weeks back when I dropped off some baked goods after a rare long weekend away from work for him and Jack since it was his weekend to have him. They invited me to stay and I spent the rest of the afternoon with the boys. By the end of the night I was calling him by his first name instead of 'Hotch' which was a new development. Ever since it's been small gestures and looks that tell me something is different.

I've been a part of the BAU for a couple years, growing in confidence and skill the more cases I get under my belt. I spent four years in the military as a designated marksman before continuing my training with the FBI, which lead me to the Counterterrorism Division, and then to the BAU.

"That sounds great actually." I grin. Bringing me coffee to work is another new thing. Aaron has been chattier, smiling more, but coffee is a new ball park.

"Alright, I will be in around twenty. Drive safe."

I mutter back a "you too" before we both hang up. As I make my way into the office I'm the first to reach the bullpen, I came a little early once I knew Aaron was going to be in. A traveling mug is sitting on my desk and I take a long sip. It's still hot, and it's exactly how I always make it. It's also the traveling mug he almost always can be seen with. I set my bag down by my desk before climbing up the stairs to Aaron's office.

"Good morning." I knock lightly on his open door, "Thank you for this. It's perfect."

He looks up from the folder in front of him and the frown leaves his face.

"I'm glad."

I take a seat in one of the chairs across from his desk. It'll be fifteen minutes before the rest of the team joins us. Hotch begins to fill me in on some of the details without going too much into it. We still have to brief as a team.

"I don't think I've ever heard of a vehicle being used as the weapon." I surmise.

"It's highly rare. I've never seen a case likely this first hand." Aaron admits and we discuss a few more aspects of the case.

Eventually the rest of the team trickles in and after some light conversation I go back to my desk. Garcia comes in stomping directly to my desk.

"What's up?" I ask.

"Kevin is looking into a working a secret job and I wont even know where he'll be!" She gushes.

"Slow down, he what?" I spin around in my chair. Garcia fills me in on the details of the job and exactly what he had said to her. The worry on her face is permanent.

"Don't worry yet. He hasn't gotten the job, and if he's offered, you don't even know if he'll take it! Lets just wait to worry once we have something to worry about."

Penelope nods agreeing with my words before moving onto Morgan's desk to do the same and I smile and shake my head. JJ pulls us all into the conference room.

"An unsub that kills with his car." Emily states, "I haven't seen that before."

"Neither have the police in Bend, Oregon." JJ replies, displaying pictures on the screen in front of us.

"Two victims in the last twelve days." Hotch adds, "First was hit on a morning jog and the second was a woman stranded after her car broke down."

"Both female victims, but completely different age groups." I speak up, "The first victim was 23 and the second was 43."

"Maybe they aren't connected." Morgan thinks out loud.

JJ pulls up more pictures and explains that both victims were backed over after they were hit. No chance of accident and the same tread marks at both scenes.

"With where these wounds are, the worst of the blow is high on the bodies." I comment looking through the file, "It has to be a truck or SUV to match these wound patterns."

"See if Garcia can follow that. Try tracking makes and models." Aaron directs.

"There should be significant front end damage to the vehicle." Spencer chimes in.

"Unless our unsub is smart enough and skilled enough to cover his tracks." I begin, "Somehow I don't think it'll be as easy as finding a damaged truck."

It's a five hour flight from DC all the way to Bend but thankfully it gives us all the opportunity to rest up again. By the time we land we can go straight to the police station.

"I think it's safe to say our unsub is male." I read over the case file, thinking out loud with Aaron. This is something new too, we often brainstorm together and work well to get the other thinking outside the box.

"I agree." Hotch nods, "Given what we know about aggressive driving and road rage."

"And the fact that men have an unnatural bond with their cars." Emily laughs. JJ chimes in to agree, which turns into Morgan disagreeing before Rossi is also adding to it.

"I think he has to be overcompensating. Why else have a need for a truck that big." I guess.

"Possibly." Spencer comments, "If the unsub is physically defective the car not only gives the power and control he otherwise lacks, but it also serves as a shield."

"A way for him to avoid physical contact?" Hotch asks.

"He wants power and control of his victims." Prentiss shutters, "Female victims. It almost reads like an assault profile."

"I wanna know why he isn't getting personal with it then. If this is how he assaults women, what if there's something that prevents him from going a more traditional route. It's possible he's disabled." I suggest.

Hotch tells Garcia to look into it to see if anything recent could be a trigger and to look at the people surrounding the victims. Morgan and Rossi head to the highway to get a feel for it and see what they can get from it from the second victim's scene. Hotch and I head to where the jogger was hit.

"Not a lot of people jog here. It's a physically demanding hike." The sheriff informs gesturing to the trail.

"Well, she was a triathlete." I remind.

"The assailant drove behind her and ran her down right here." The sheriff walks us in to where the red stained gravel remains.

"She was jogging alone? Any woman would know if a car was following her up the trail. Her intuition would've been driving her crazy. She would get off the trail or call for help."

"What if he was already here waiting." Hotch agrees, taking in the scene, "What if she was the reason he was here and it wasn't random. He was waiting for her specifically."

"That would mean we underestimated him. It wasn't a random attack, it was planned and vindictive.

The team meets back at the station to go over what we've discovered. The second victim's husband comes in and recalls seeing a large black truck parked by their house giving us something. This confirms that he's targeting and stalking specific individuals.

"Ready be done for the night?" Aaron asks, he peeks his head into the conference room that only I occupy at this point. The rest of the team has already gone to the hotel to call it a night, but Aaron was still talking with the husband and I was just pouring over people in the area that raised some of Garcia's flags based on what we know so far.

"I suppose." I close the file I had been reading and rub at my eyes.

"It'll still be there tomorrow." He reminds.

"I know, the sooner the better though." That's something I don't need to remind him on. We both know it all too well. With an unsub this aggressive we know he isn't stopping anytime soon.

The drive to the hotel is short and comfortably quiet. Neither Aaron or myself have the energy to discuss anything as we're going on a fifteen hour day.

"Goodnight, Y/n." Aaron carried my bag in from the car to the foot of my bed in my room, even with multiple reassurances that I could carry it just fine. I give him a soft knowing smile before he leaves for his own room.

The next morning it's discovered that the unsub sabotaged the second victims car in order to strand them. He's very focused and well planned.

"We need to figure out why he's picking these women." Hotch states, "What makes them a target and links them together."

"Road rage, maybe they cut him off at some point?" I question, "Also how does he have the time to stalking these women to know their routines, sabotage a car, park and wait."

"Roughly eight percent of the United States is unemployed." Reid rattles off.

"Including someone who could be disabled and lives off of a pension." I remind from my earlier guess."

"Have Garcia look into it." Hotch states before walking away and I smile.

"Pretty girl is on top of it this case." Morgan teases with a smirk.

"I don't know what you're talking about." I roll my eyes.

"Maybe it's something to do with her getting the case early and going over it with Hotch before our team briefing." Reid says with his nose already in a new file. I can feel my face turn a shade of red.

"Pretty girl is getting extra credit!" Prentiss joins in happy to tease, even adopting Morgan's typical nickname for me and Penelope.

"I don't know what you guys are talking about. I simply got in early and we were both at the office." I take a sip of my coffee, looking for any distraction, reaching out to grab a file for myself to ready through. I'm really glad that I didn't bring Hotch's travel mug in from the hotel, I still have it and I almost used it today. That definitely wouldn't go unnoticed with the people surrounding me.

Thankfully the team lets us move on and were able to brainstorm some more. Unfortunately it doesn't take long for JJ to interrupt to tell us there's been a third victim.

"Impact nearly cut him in two." The sheriff explains.

"Male victim?" I question as we arrive on the scene. The unsub hit him in a parking garage, pinning him between the truck and elevator doors. "He's getting more aggressive."

Cigarettes butts are discovered where the truck was parked in waiting. All of them stripped of the filter showing signs that he's military.

"Guys I think I know what ties the victims together." Reid interrupts, "All of the victims drove two door red coupes."

Garcia was able to look into car accidents that left someone injured enough to the point that he can't kill traditionally. He holds the person responsible for his accident for killing his loved one and his own disability. There's nearly twenty five people to still filter out off of the specifications we gave her.

"Wait you guys I think I found it." I sit up from the most recent file that had red flags, "Ian and Sheila Coakley crashed while driving home from Napa Valley on route 7 around midnight. It appeared their car was run off the road. His wife died at the scene."

"And Ian?" Rossi asks.

"He survived although he suffered a spinal cord injury."

Morgan and Prentiss go to his doctor to verify some information while we try to track down Ian. His house foreclosed after the accident.

"Track the parts for his specific truck. He's been doing his own repairs so they have to be sent somewhere." Rossi suggests to Garcia.

"Rossi gets a gold star!" Garcia sings, "He's having the parts drop shipped, I'm sending you guys the address."

"Hey, what do I get for knowing he would be disabled?" I jest, I called that from the plane.

"Nothing but my love, sugar." Garcia says before hanging up.

"I don't have a gold star, but well done Y/Ln." Aaron nods.

Arriving at the home Ian had been renting we find it empty but lots of surveillance photos of the victims and one other person who hasn't been harmed.

"Send this to Garcia now, we need to know who this is." Rossi hands me the picture. I send it to her and she's able to run his plate from the image.

It doesn't take her long to find him and contact his home, where she finds out that he's out biking with a group doing a thirty mile loop.

"Y/n, you're with me. We'll take the north side, Morgan and Rossi you start south and we'll meet in the middle." I quickly get in the passenger side of the SUV and Aaron takes off.

The biking club that target is in covers a lot of milage as Aaron speeds through the dirt road trying so hard to meet the group before the unsub does. Eventually we're closing in, but unfortunately the black truck is ahead of us and gaining on the bikers faster than we're gaining on him.

"Hold on." Aaron takes a risk by cutting Ian off before he can clip the mass of bicyclists. He does this by driving the front left corner of our car into the back right of his truck.

The airbags go off and were spun around from the impact.

"Y/n." Aaron calls. He says it a second time with more panic when I don't answer.

"I'm okay." I groan. The unsub is attempting to back his truck out of the ditch we're both stuck in to finish his mission. He took a much less impactful hit from our collision. I unclip my seatbelt and swing open my door, shattered glass falling from my lap as I stand up.

"Y/n, wait." Aaron instructs, he pulls hard on his seatbelt. It seems like he's stuck from the accident, but the worry on his face is only for me. I give him a look to say I've got this, while he continues to pull at his jammed seatbelt.

"Ian Coakley." I call out, and the man looks over to me briefly. It registers on his face that I am holding my gun and it's aimed for him, he has tears in his eyes.

"This is for Sheila." he floors it heading straight for the group that's waiting after witnessing the accident.

I plant my feet and aim for the back window of the truck, hoping to hit Ian's shoulder. Enough to stop him in his tracks before can harm anyone else without killing him. I've done enough killing myself over the years, and even with all he's done he's a man suffering with the grief of accidentally killing his wife.

The bullet leaves my gun with a loud crack, shattering the back window of the truck. He swerves but not enough to take him off the road. I let out a breath and fire again, this time sending a bullet into the back of his chair and sending his car off the road again to be stopped by a tree. I let out a huff of exhaustion from the impact leaning against the SUV.

Morgan and Rossi pull up and stop to get out and help Aaron and I after seeing our totaled SUV.

"Go" I wave them to keep driving to the unsub to see if he's ok and they do. Aaron manages to get out of the car finally, I hear Morgan call out to radio in an ambulance.

"He's still alive." Rossi shouts to us referring to Ian, they have him laying down now while applying pressure to his wound. The top of his shoulder which shouldn't be fatal, I sigh in relief.

"Are you okay?" Aaron asks finally rounding the back of the car to join me where I stand, he steadies himself. I nod, finally putting my gun away, feeling how stiff my body is.

Aaron fully ignores my nod, taking my head in his hands and pulling my eyelid open to check for signs of a brain bleed. He wipes at my forehead, pulling back his hand with blood on it. Maybe we were hit harder than I thought. Damn airbags.

"I think you have a concussion-" He states, "and you might need stitches."

The worry on his face is deep. I can feel the guilt radiating off of him, he was the one driving. He's the one that chose to hit the unsub's truck.

"I'm okay!" I reassure him, placing my hands on top of his that still rest on my head. This is crossing a new line. He's never touched my face, and I've never touched his hands like this.

"I shouldn't have done that. It was reckless."

"I'm glad you did." I disagree, "If we had waited any longer he would've been able to get his last victim. There's an entire biking club alive right now because of you."

This reminder seems to help slightly, he looks over my shoulder where the crowd remains. I pull him in for a hug, both of us shaking slightly from the adrenaline. After a while we pull apart, the rest of the team arrives as well as a couple ambulances. One takes Ian away immediately, escorted with two police officers as well.

"It took two shots? You're losing your touch." Morgan teases, thowing an arm around my shoulder that makes me wince a little. My phenomenal aim has always been a touchy subject with him, not liking being second.

"I'm concussed and he was driving fast." I defend, fully knowing how whiny I sound.

"Statically of our entire team Y/n would be the only one likely to have made that shot with the variable speed that Ian Croakley was traveling at." Spencer chimes in.

"I knew you were my favorite for a reason." I grin pulling Spence in for a hug effectively shaking off Morgan's arm.

"Yeah, whatever." Morgan shrugs, ruffling the hair in top of Spencer's head.

"Ma'am, you really need to get looked at." The emt reminds, interrupting our conversation. I leave the group and look over to see Aaron sitting on the back of one of the ambulances. We both finish getting evaluated, thankfully nothing too serious that we have to delay our flight home.

"You were right about the concussion." I grin walking up to Aaron as the sheriff walks off.

"And it would seem the stitches too." He reaches out again, thumb hovering over the threading sticking out of my forehead.

"Yeah, should make fore a pretty badass scar." I tease.

"I'm sure it will." He smiles, a real smile. The Aaron smile that I have seen so rarely, but more frequent lately. The plane ride back home is quiet, everyone drained, Aaron and I just flat out sore. By the time we get back to the BAU, Aaron sends everyone home saying the paperwork can wait for the following day. Everyone clears out and he goes back up to his office.

"Not following your own advice?"I question, walking into his office. I make my way round to his side of the desk and lean back on it. The edge of my thigh just barely meeting the outside of his arm from where he sits.

"Just wrapping up a few things before." He sets down his papers, his eyes raking all the way up me from toe to head, we both pretend I don't notice.

"You know, since I have a concussion they said I need to be under observation. No sleeping, crazy delusions, slipping into comas that sort of thing. You know anyone who wants to stay awake with me?"

"I can think of someone" He smirks, "I can put on a pot of coffee."

I pull out the to go mug he had brought my coffee in a few days ago out of my tote and hold it out to him.

"Take me home Aaron."

AHHHHHHHH i hope yall like this! i haven't written in forever to it was honestly just fun to do! :)

[russellsppttemplates]

It's like we won't even be there (Lewis Hamilton)

Mercedes has three power couples

Note: english is not my first language. After a long time, I'm finally posting this request.

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: mentions gender inequality, misogynistic ideals

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog

"Everyone on social media has an inkling that you're bringing someone to the race. Is it your belle, Mr. Hamilton?", you teased your boyfriend as he got ready for bed.

You had arrived in Abu Dhabi a few hours earlier, caught a cab to the hotel where your boyfriend had been resting before media day.

"Is that so?", he wondered, "I haven't told anyone outside the team. And even them, I told them you would be joining as my guest, only a few people actually know about us", he assured.

"I don't mind it, we'll have to be public at some time. Three years dating outside of the public eye, plus another year of what the kids call soft launching, whatever happens this weekend, happens", you tranquilized him.

This had been an ongoing conversation for you for as long as you've dated. His lifestyle came with many implications, particularly not always being home and public eye. You also spent a lot of time focused on your job, building the company now associated to your name to the people in the finance business, so the latter question was the biggest one. While you were successful, it hardly impacted your life when it came to the public eye or social media. You had your accounts, sure, but they were private and they never got in the way of your job.

"I just don't want people to lash out on you", he replied, sitting next to you on the bed, his fingers tracing shapes in your hand, "I've seen how brutal they can be, I've felt how brutal they can be, and I don't want that for you. They'll gossip because that's how things work, but I don't want them breaking the respect line.", Lewis stated.

"Lew, I understand and appreciate your concern, but I'll be fine. I have you, our families, our friends, I'm going to be just fine. I don't know how they'll react, so I'll work with whatever happens", you smiled, snuggling into him as he caressed your face.

.

"Good morning, Y/N! How have you been? I haven't seen you in so long!", Carmen said as she hugged you once you arrived in the hospitality, Lewis kissing your cheek briefly before he headed for his meeting.

"Hello, gorgeous girl! I've been good, and you?", you greeted her with a kiss on each cheek after saying goodbye to Lewis.

"Same old, busy but managed to come and support G this weekend. You, however, seem to finally let it out", she smirked, walking with you to the coffee station and serving yourselves, sitting in the balcony as you overlooked the track.

"There's no point in keeping it a secret, I guess. We did it for a while, and this past year we both realised that we want to be able to go out and not be worried someone will see us and whatever consequences it could bring. We're adults who hope other adults will behave like such", you smiled.

"A hard thing to do sometimes, for them at least", you heard a female voice coming closer to you, "I don't believe we've met before, but Toto said you were hanging out here", the blonde woman said.

Suzie Wolff had been someone you looked up to since you were little, so this was a proper fangirl moment, "sit, sit! This is Y/N!", Carmen introduced after giving her a brief introduction.

"I keep missing you whenever you join us for the races!", she said, "the pandemic didn't help, and lately I've been so busy with the F1 Academy that I've hardly been to races myself", she reasoned, beginning the start of a conversation that was only interrupted for lunchtime.

"Press usually have a field day with powerful women related to this sport. You should be able to get away with it because you don't work for racing, but they love going on and on about how we got to where we are because of who we date", Suzie shook her head.

"Absolutely, because George is very interested in Family Offices and he got me my job", Carmen rolled her eyes, "you try and give that guy math stuff and you see how it turns out! Besides, not many people actually knew who he was, they're not very into motorsport, only a couple of them!", she teased.

"Agreed! The only way I was able to have my own company was because I name dropped Lewis, who I didn't know at the time. He doesn't know his numbers all that well. It's so easy for them to point fingers, but it's really just because they hate to see a powerful woman get the job done", you offered, seeing your partners arrive to the table along Laura.

"Social media is going crazy about you, Y/N!", Laura, one of the team's social media managers said while you had lunch, "there's people who spent the whole morning trying to find out who you were and they were faling to find your accounts. Apparently, they were looking in model agencies and such until someone pointed out you studied at the same university as them, and it's pointed them in the right direction I'd say?", she shrugged her shoulders, showing you her phone as she scrolled through media, "they're still trying to find out more, but they only have a few articles from your company and a picture of you when you graduated that is on the university's Wall of Fame!", she made you giggle, fondly looking at the wall of pictures you saw everyday on your way to lectures.

"Are you on the Wall of Fame and didn't tell us, Y/N?", Carmen exclaimed at the new information, "it's barely anything, I'm still there probably because someone forgot to remove the picture", you blushed, suddenly feeling like the table's attention was on you.

"Why would they take out the picture of the most beautiful woman with the most achievements?", Lewis charmed, holding your hand in his as he smiled.

.

"Are you guys ready for the race? If all goes well, we can get back to the points!", Suzie cheered as she handed you and Carmen your bottles of water.

"Lew has been beating himself up a lot lately, hopefully everything works in their favour", you held your hands together after setting the water bottle on the counter.

It was very touch and go, but the boys ended up with good results given the position they started in.

"Congrats, my love!", you said in Lewis' ear as he squeezed your torso over the barrier, delighting the sight of everyone who was watching and seeing the happy couple, "couldn't have done it without you, gorgeous girl", he yelled back, stealing a kiss before running to the mechanics.

"I'm just going to check where Suzie is and then we can go for dinner, guys", Toto stated, squeezing George's and Lewis' shoulders before checking is phone to see if his wife had seen the text he sent about said dinner.

"The F1 Academy paddock is closed, you can see it from here that nobody is there", George pointed out as his boss frowned.

"I would help you, but I have to go and look for Carmen, too", George scratched his cheek as they walked along the corridor, seeing Lewis open his driver's room door and slumping his shoulders slightly, "Y/N is not here either".

"Where have the Mercedes missus gone...?", Toto muttered.

It didn't take then long to hear the mix of your three giggles coming from the lounging area, the three of you sat in the smaller sofas around a coffee table, hot drinks in your hands as you discussed something avidly but in a relaxing way still.

"Are the three of you willing to have dinner with the three of us? We'll still let you speak between yourselves, okay? It's like we won't even be there!", Toto joked.

[kaleldobrev]

Midnight Confessions

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Dean have a "heart-to-heart" conversation on the way to Stanford to pick up Sam

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: Cursing (1x), Fluff

Authors Note: I've been wanting to use this gif for something for such a long time and I finally found a way to use it | Takes place pre-season one | I've been really enjoying writing pre-season one fics lately! | Can be read as a “sequel” to Comfortable? or as it's own one-shot | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

“Good morning Sweetheart,” Dean said, as he noticed your movements were starting to get a little bit more prominent than they had been previously when you were sleeping.

When you awoke, you were surprised to still be in the exact same spot and position as you were in when you had fallen asleep: your head in Dean's lap, and the soles of your boots pressed up against the passenger side door. "Morning Handsome," you replied back, giving him a soft smile. "How long was I out for?"

"Couple of hours," he said. "You were mumbling quite a bit. What were you dreaming about?"

"You're going to think it's stupid," you said all too quickly, slightly embarrassed of the dream you had just had. It was nothing awful or terrible by any means; it was actually one of the most peaceful dreams you've had in a while, well...at least the one you could actually remember at least. But part of the reason you didn't want to tell your boyfriend about it was because you knew how he felt about the white picket fence life. "I'd rather blow my brains out," he's told you on more than one occasion. But it was a life that you dreamed of — and dreamed of doing with him someday.

"I promise I won't think it's stupid," he told you, trying to be reassuring. He briefly looked at you, flashing you his charming smile that you had loved so much before looking back at the road again.

You sighed, before getting up from your position on his lap; moving so your back was now pressed up against the passenger side door. This way, you could have a better angle when you told him about the dream you just had — a better angle to see the disappointment and judgement from him. Because you knew, despite this promise of his, you knew him all too well, knew that he would just laugh. “I dreamed that me and you lived in one of those blue suburbans and I was baking you an apple pie while you watched a Cowboys game on the tv.”

Silence was Dean’s chosen response. At least he’s not laughing, you thought. But you hated the silence that he was giving you as well, because accompanying that silence, his hands started to grip the wheel, causing his knuckles to turn white. “Oh yeah?” He finally said, his tone coming off rather calmer than you had expected him to sound.

You looked down at your hands as you started twiddling your thumbs, almost embarrassed at the confession you had made. “I know it’s stupid, trust me.”

“It’s not stupid,” he said, briefly meeting your gaze. “It’s just…unrealistic for people like us,” his tone sounding much more disappointed now, like there was a part of him that had wanted that kind of life. And the truth was, there was a part of Dean that had wanted that life. Wanted a suburbia life. And wanted that kind of life to be with you. But he knew it was a life that he could never have. It was simply just out of his reach. “People like us don’t get white picket fences. We get broken bones and near death experiences.”

You knew that Dean was right; how unrealistic this dream of yours was. To others, it was their normal, but to you it was foreign, a fantasy. “You say that like it’s impossible,” you began. “We’re both still young Dean. We can still get out, sanity still in tact.”

“Y/N, hunting is all I’ve ever known. I’ve been on the road with Sammy and my dad since I was four years old,” his voice starting to sound full of hurt, but with a hint of exhaustion. “The only home I’ve ever known was burnt down and it took my mom along with it.”

“But this is your dads fight Dean, not yours,” you said, trying to be very cautious of your wording. “He should have never dragged you into this crusade of his. He should have given you and Sammy a choice in the matter.” When it came to Dean, he wasn’t very forthcoming with his background. You knew the basics about how him and his family had gotten into hunting, but you never pried as you felt like it wasn’t necessarily your place; his mothers death always being a touchy subject with him. Which you understood, as your own mother died in a house fire similar when you were six months old. But the difference was, your father gave you the choice if you wanted to be a hunter or not. A choice you made when you turned 18.

There was silence between the two of you as Dean refused to look at you, as he was too deep in thought. He wanted to scream at you, tell you to mind your own business. Tell you that you should understand. But he knew that there was no point in yelling at you, no point in getting upset, because as much as he hated to admit it…you were right. “You know, growing up, I wanted to be a firefighter,” Dean said, finally breaking the silence. “But I know that’ll never be in the cards for me.”

“It still can be,” you commented. “I think you’d make a pretty great one.”

You saw him grin from your comment briefly before his face turned stoic again. “I gotta find out what killed our moms first.”

“And then you’ll become one?” You asked, still entertaining the idea with him.

He shrugged. “Maybe,” he grinned again. “How about you? What did you want to do?”

“Veterinarian,” you confessed. “Animals are much better than people.”

“I heard you have to be really smart to do that,” he said turning to look at you.

“Well it’s a good thing I was an AP kid in school,” you grinned.

“Fucking nerd,” he said, letting out a small chuckle, before patting your thigh.

“But I’m your nerd,” you smiled.

“You bet your ass you are,” he smiled back, giving you a wink.

Tag List: @roseblue373 @beansproutmafia @queenie32 @deanwanddamons @missy420-0 @octoberclidan @kidwhofixates @crystal555 @hannahisthebanana @seamlessepiphany @jackles010378 @mrsjenniferwinchester @globtrotter28 @deans-spinster-witch @mrlonelycat @syrma-sensei @k-slla @justletmereadfanfic @deans-daydream @frozenhuntress67 If you'd like to be added to a tag list please follow this link

[itsjustrosee]

hii. i was wondering if you’d be okay with posting boyfriend headcanons? for minho mostly. if not it’s totally fine!!

have a nice day!

yes, I've actually been meaning to write some so yes definitely!

Minho headcanons

Warnings: Sexual inferences and stuff like that ig

(this is for fem!reader btw)

-At first, Alby tried to stop you from dating his best runner. He thought it would distract him, and even though Minho did drift off while on the job thinking of you, you made him even more productive. You made him even more determined to find a way out of the glade for you and for everyone else.

-Alby forbade you and Minho from dating, but of course, you both did it anyway in secret. But straight away, Minho's drastic increase in mood was visible and the runners couldn't help but notice it. After days of prodding and poking Minho, trying to figure out what it was that had him being so nice and lenient, he finally caved and told them how he was dating you. Obviously, the other runners were supportive of it if it meant that Minho was in a good mood all the time, so they all ran to Alby and BEGGED him to let you and Minho date so you no longer had to do it in secret. Alby eventually gave in and allowed it and hasn't had too much of a reason to regret it since.

-Minho was quite the protective man. He cared about you more than life itself and it pained him every day to run into the maze and not be able to look after you in the glade. He always trusted you and never thought you would do anything with anyone else, but he was scared about how some of the other boys in the glade would treat you. That's why he made sure that he got as many of his friends in the glade to look after you until he got back.

-He would always be sure to spend the most time with you as possible as he could when he got back out from the maze. That included him eating dinner with you, showering with you, literally doing anything with you.

-Even though no gladers other than him and Alby are allowed in the maze room he would let you in anyways. You had no idea about how to help him figure out how to solve the maze, but you'd always be there to calm him down once he got frustrated.

-You guys share a hammock with each other because you both always fall asleep quicker when you're next to each other. It also means that whenever either one of you wakes up suddenly bc of a nightmare, the other person is there to calm them down.

-Minho tries his best to not wake you in the mornings when he gets up early to go into the maze and to yk do his job, but since you're such a light sleeper you always end up waking up. You'll end up walking to the maze doors to wave and kiss him goodbye, then head back to bed for a couple hours until you have to go to work.

-Whenever Minho takes a break in the maze with the other runners, while he eats food or drinks water, he always mentions you in conversations. He'll say things like "I wonder what (Y/N)'s up to", and "Do you think she's eating lunch right now too?" Because he's constantly thinking about you and he can't help but ask.

-After the first few times of Minho saying stuff like this, the other runners thought that it was cute that he liked you so much, but now, they just roll their eyes whenever he brings you up and they'll say, "Okay Minho we get it" because after the number of times he talks about you on a day to day basis, yes, they definitely do get it.

-After a certain amount of time in the glade, you've memorized when the maze doors close and open without needing a watch. Because of this, you always head to the maze doors a couple minutes before they're supposed to close to greet Minho right when he steps back into the glade. Whenever he comes back you greet him with the tightest hug known to man because the maze is incredibly dangerous, you know that any day Minho could die in there, which is why it's such a relieving feeling when you see him again.

-Sometimes you guys will go out later at night and just lay on the grass together and talk for however long you both feel like. Minho always makes sure he spends time with you whenever he can, and you both appreciate having these long conversations with each other. Even though sometimes you both just lay on the ground and stay silent, it never feels awkward. Being in each other's presence is enough, and the silence between you can actually feel quite comforting.

-Whenever a new greenie pops up from the box and there's a bonfire, you and Minho make sure to spend all the possible quality time with each other. Sometimes you'll sit on his lap (which never fails to get him a bit flustered), or you'll sit right next to him while his arm is around your shoulder. You've never really been one to drink so you'll often fall asleep on Minho before the night is over, and he'll always leave a little early to carry you back to your hammock.

-You and Minho have come to realize that using each other in certain ways really helps relieve stress. Whether that is by talking and venting to the other person or through being more intimate with each other.

-Minho likes bringing you into the maze room and doing it there because he knows that only he and Alby are allowed in there so he doesn't have to worry about people walking in on you both. He also likes doing it in the showers because being the only girl means that you're the only one allowed to shower during a certain time, and Alby made sure that there would be consequences to whoever tried to intrude on you showering. But that also just happened to make it the perfect time for you and Minho to be in there alone.

-Minho has two different sides to him when you and he are both doing it, which depends on his mood. He's either gentle and kind, or dominant and controlling. Both of them are a total turn-on for you regardless, you're happy to help him in any way you can.

-You love to tease him, and he loves to put you in your place. He always makes sure your needs are met. Even though he loves to please you, you love pleasing him even more, so eventually he gives in and lets you make him feel good. While you're doing it, he always wants to make sure that you know that he loves you, and he loves to praise you.

-Even if he gets more dominant with you, he always makes sure he's never too harsh, and he makes sure that he's never crossing any boundaries. Afterwards, he'll make it clear that he loves you and he'll thank you for letting him take out some of his stress and frustrations with you. He also heavily believes in aftercare so he'll always bring you back to your hammock and because whenever you do it, it's at night, so he'll cuddle you to sleep while you wear his shirt.

Alrighty yallllllllllllllllllll heres another Minho related post. I'm on such a roll omg. By the way I see your guys requests and I'm working on them I promise!! I just have an insane amount of school work I need to do but trust I will get to everything.

anyways, this was so fun to write, thank you for the request!! I hope you liked it

[thatfreshi]

Soulmates Aren't Always Beautiful (Astarion x Reader)

Part 2 to "He's Not Sick, Is He?", the happy ending everyone (including me) wanted.

Recommended Song: Run - Taylor Swift Ft. Ed Sheeran

You fall asleep in the dark alleyway, finding some peace and quiet in the cold stone. Thinking back a couple of weeks ago, Astarion would've killed you for being so reckless, passing out somewhere in the city. When you wake to broad daylight, you wonder if he'd even care, if he'd notice how long you were gone for. You know he cares, deep down you truly do, but it doesn't feel like it. It's hard to seem like you care about anything when you can't even care about yourself.

Astarion has been awake since you left, wondering if maybe he pushed you away for good. Somewhere in his brain, he says that's probably for the best. He knows it's been miserable, that looking after him has been a fruitless endeavor. He goes in between reading a book he's already memorized and staring at the bottle of your blood on the table. It was true, he needed blood, he felt miserable, and yet there was comfort in that misery, as if this is how it was supposed to be. It reminds him of that year in the crypt, when there were no rats to be found, how he desperately wanted a drop of crimson, and yet there was nothing.

He wakes from the memory when his eyes meet the bottle again, knowing you sliced your arm open for him. Why were you so determined to try? Why did you want to be there so badly? Astarion thinks of the moments you laughed together, but he can't place the jokes. He remembers kissing you, finally becoming intimate again, but it's all a blur. The past week has felt like centuries. The vampire desperately wants to take the bottle, try to drink some of your blood, but everything is screaming at him to stay in bed, that his bones will be far too heavy if he even tries to stand up.

Hours pass, it's early in the morning now and you're not back. He thinks about the past week, how all of his friends left the inn and he didn't even say goodbye, how you kept making up excuses for him. Would he ever see them again? Would he ever see you again? Memories flood back of Cazador's palace, stabbing him to death, the sobs and screams. What would he think, if his old master could see him rotting in the sheets, unable to even feed himself. He eyes the bottle again, and slowly moves to sit up against the headboard. It's slow, creaking movement, that feels like trying to break through paralysis. When he's sat there long enough, he reaches out to the nightstand, grabbing the bottle you so kindly gave him. Eyeing the fluid, he almost wants to throw up, nauseous from how long it's been since he last drank. But then, he think of you, of your companions, of Cazador's death. It wouldn't mean anything if he wasted away here forever. He drinks. It's not nearly enough, but it's something, something to make up for days of starving. He begins to cry again, from how hard it was to simply drink your blood. Then, he hears the soft knock on the door, and just continues crying.

You hear him before you see him, and you're rushing in after you knock. It hits you: the bottle is empty. He's not lying down, wrapped up in fabric. Astarion's eyes lock with yours, but he says nothing, and continues wiping away at his tears. You come to the bed and hold him, and he unravels in your hands.

"Thank you my love, thank you for trying. I'm so proud, I hope you know that."

You choke out those words of encouragement, truly shocked that he managed to do anything. It's such a relief.

"I'm sorry."

He whispers to your chest.

"It's okay, it's okay Aster I promise. I've got you, always."

You comb through his hair with your hands, blood still crusted from days ago. The urge to grab an actual comb is strong, but you hold back, knowing he just needs you to be here right now.

"I should feel better. Why don't I feel better?"

"It takes time love, it'll come in time. This is just the beginning, I swear it."

Astarion doesn't often like promises, but he believes them when they come out of your mouth.

"Is... is your arm alright?"

"It'll be just fine."

It definitely wasn't fine now, and would most likely get infected despite your efforts to clean it, but you'd go see Shadowheart soon enough. After a few moments of silence, he shifts to look up at you.

"Could I, perhaps feed on you now?"

You smile.

"Of course."

He's still shaky, softly digging his teeth into your skin. The drinking starts slow, but speeds up once he realizes just how deep his hunger runs. At some point he releases his teeth, and lays back in your grasp.

"Better?"

"A little."

There a few moments where he simply relishes the feeling of being fed. He had forgotten for a moment just how much his stomach ached for blood.

"Are you up for a little more?"

You wonder if this has been enough care for him, if he needs some more rest.

"Could we just, lay here? And you can ask me again in a while?"

You run a spare hand across his back.

"I'd love nothing more."

It hits you in that moment, just how hard taking care of a lover is, how it rips your chest wide open at times. No one could ever make you feel as much anguish as Astarion could, and that was a curse as well as a gift. Soulmates aren't always beautiful. Sometimes they hurt, knowing you're forever attached at the hip to a miserable aching person. But those moments, when you can talk without saying a word, when all it takes is a look, it makes it all worth it. You think about all the times you battled together, how many times he killed in your stead, how many times you did the same. You remember the fear, the love, the pain. Your hands grip him tighter.

No, soulmates aren't this angelic concept. They're messy, affectionate but messy.

"I killed him..."

You're woken from the memories, looking down at the loving elf in your grasp.

"Mhm, you did. He's gone now, forever."

"I'm still scared though."

It tugs at your heartstrings a little, knowing how much this is to process, especially after being under his reign for far too long.

"We're always going to be a little scared, just of more normal things now. Like Lae'zel being angry or knowing Karlach could snap us in half."

He breathes out a little, almost forming a chuckle, lost somewhere in the air. Your eyes trail back to his hair again, and the bloody matted mess it has become.

"Could I try to clean some of this out my love?"

Your fingers glide through the hair closest to his scalp, getting stuck soon after. He makes a small noise of agreement. Trying your best not to make him move, you grab your comb from the other nightstand.

"Anything else you want to talk about?"

You ask, beginning to pick out the dried blood, knowing most of it is Cazador's. It makes your skin crawl a little.

"Do you think I'll be okay?"

The urge to joke with him is strong, like you normally would, but he's fragile right now. Saying 'You have your whole immortal life to be okay' probably isn't a good choice.

"I do. Might take some time, but we'll figure it out."

"It's just... so paralyzing."

"What is?"

"Freedom."

A thought you hadn't had before now. Spending your entire life with one goal, and now being met with infinite choices, that must be terrifying.

"Well, what do you want to do with your freedom?"

"Everything. And nothing. I, I just don't know what's next. I've always known what's next."

"How about we just focus on one thing at a time? Then, you don't have all these options to choose from, just something to do."

"What if I choose wrong?"

"That's the beauty of freedom my love. It's not so black and white. You live in the grey now, where you can't really choose wrong. You can just, choose."

"I almost chose wrong at Cazador's."

You feel a little sick, thinking about what would've happened after the ritual. How different your precious lover would've been, how you would've lost your dear Aster.

"But you didn't."

"Only because you convinced me."

"And I'll be here to help you with the rest, as long as you need my help."

"I think I'll need your help forever."

"Then I'll offer it up for eternity."

You plant a kiss on his forehead, almost done brushing through his curls now.

"But you won't have to make a choice as big as that again. At least not for a long, long time."

For the next couple of hours, you tiredly talk about everything and nothing, finally getting him a fresh change of clothes and a warm bath. There's a moment where you're wiping the blood and dirt off his face, and you pause, lost in his eyes.

"What?"

You smile.

"I just don't know how I got so lucky. That's all."

As you're getting ready to lie down, you remember that every day won't be as successful as this one. Two steps forward, one step back. But you're hopeful, like Gale said, that's all you can be. Astarion melts into your touch and you wrap yourselves up in the shitty inn blanket together, his back to your chest. Sometimes you can feel the scars through his shirt.

"I'm proud of you. For all of it, today, yesterday, everything you've ever done."

He doesn't say anything, but he loses a little tension in his shoulders, unclenches his jaw.

"Just promise me you'll get up and try again tomorrow. That's all I can ask of you, that you keep trying, every single day."

"I do, I promise."

The two of you drift off without saying much else, and it's the best sleep he's had in weeks. The realization sticks with him, that you love him regardless, unconditionally. A smile stretches across his face in his slumber, excited to make a small choice, to wake up again tomorrow and try.

[allllium]

Hey, can I make a Matt x Reader request. Reader is a doctor and lives with Matt one evening Matt comes home with Spiderman who needs help. You become surrogate parents for Peter and think about adopting him since he's a son to both of you anyway.

Peter

~ Sorry this took me so long to get to. I had something written at some point but ended up scraping it 😭

~ Fluff, Maybe a little angst bc Peter is hurt at the beginning?

~ WC: 1,536

~ Matt brings home a kid ~

Being with Matt you've learned always to expect the unexpected. Matt has a heart of gold, always doing everything he can to help those in need. It's a good thing you're the same way. You wouldn't be a doctor if you didn't have the urge to help people but sometimes Matt, in your opinion, helps people that don't help him far too often.

However, one thing you didn't expect was for your wonderful boyfriend to come home with a kid. Okay maybe not kid, he's about sixteen years old, but that's still way younger than you or Matt. And way too young to be doing what he does.

When Matt brings home the kid, the first thing you do is freeze for a second. Who is this kid? How did he get hurt? How does Matt know him? Why is he in your apartment bleeding? 

You're quickly pushed out of your thoughts when Matt helps the kid onto the couch and looks to you for help. You immediately jump in, using your doctor skills to the best of your ability. Both he and your boyfriend stay silent the whole time. Matt stays sitting in an armchair to the side, obviously stressed by whatever happened. 

It takes a while to patch up the kid, whose name you still don't know, but as soon as you're finished, he falls asleep on the couch and allows you time to discuss this strange situation with Matt. 

Why is it that he stays silent the whole time you're busy helping the kid but the second you're ready to talk he runs off to the kitchen, not exactly running off as the kitchen is right there, but still?

“Matt. Explain?” You don't know what to say or ask. A million questions are running through your head as you follow him to the kitchen. 

“His name's Peter.” He hesitates to continue. “He's spiderman, that's how he got hurt.” 

“What? He's a child!” How the hell is a teenager Spiderman? 

“Yeah, I know that's why I've been keeping an eye on him.” He says as if it's the most casual thing ever. As if he didn't just bring me a beaten-up sixteen-year-old to fix up. 

“What do you mean keeping an eye on him? Do you listen to him?” You turn back to the living room and collapse in a chair. 

“No, he lives too far away. I just mean that I call him and check up on him.” His voice is quiet, careful not to wake the sleeping kid. “I met him a few weeks ago.” 

“When you were in Queens? Is that why you left?” A couple of weeks ago, Matt spent a few days in Queens for a new client he met. He never said much about it and you never asked. You never wanted to invade his clients' privacy and you weren't sure he could tell you about it anyway. 

“Yeah actually.” He doesn't say anymore and for some reason, you don't ask. Not sure if you want to know the reasons this kid, Peter you now know, could be in danger. You know Matt can handle himself so most of the time you try not to worry yourself but this is a young kid, that you can almost guarantee doesn't have anywhere near the amount of fighting training Matt had. 

After a few hours of making sure he was okay on the couch, and convincing Matt to stay in for the night, you both decide to head to bed. 

You wake up the next morning to loud crashing noises from the kitchen. You automatically know it's not Matt because one he is a terrible cook and two he is still lying in bed with an arm over your waist. So Peter must have woken up from his injury-induced slumber and started cooking because he's hungry? 

You reluctantly throw yourself out of bed. Despite getting plenty of sleep you feel anything but well rested. As you head out of the bedroom you see Peter wearing the old clothes Matt put out for him and trying to cook something in the kitchen. From the smell of it, he's probably not the best cook either.

“Good morning.” You greet him, coming into the kitchen and leaning against the counter. He whips around to look at you in surprise, he clearly doesn't have the same super senses as Matt.

“Oh uh, good morning!” He tries his best to sound cheerful but his voice has an underlying tone of shock and awkwardness. “Sorry for waking you up. I know taking of someone you don't know so late at night isn't the best, so I thought I would make you and Matt some breakfast to try and make up for it. I'm Peter by the end.” You stay silent as he falls into an awkward ramble. 

“Hi Peter I'm y/n. And you don't have to worry about making it up to us, we were happy to help. Plus I deal with this stuff all the time.”

“Right, you're a doctor! Matt told me about that.” He puts down all the stuff he was “cooking” and leans along the counter with you. 

“Oh, he talks about me?” 

“Well, it was that or all the people we've fought as masked superheroes.” He shrugs. 

“Superhero? Aren't you a little young to be fighting like you do?” 

“Maybe but if I can help people why wouldn't I?” 

“You could always be selfish and use your powers for yourself.” You tell him out of both curiosity and the fact that if you had any kind of powers you can't guarantee you would use them to help anyone else.

“Yeah, I guess.” And just like you both stop talking. Waiting in silence for Matt to wake up before you order breakfast.

Peter stayed with you guys for a little over a week while you made sure he was fully healed from his injuries. Before long he was going back home to Queens to whoever he lives with. You know from one brief conversation that his parents are gone, he never said how or who he stays with now but that's not any of your business. 

He comes over almost every week now for dinner, one of the only nights a week you and Matt cook instead of ordering takeout. You have the feeling Matt has imprinted on Peter, kind of like a baby duck. Maybe it's because they’re so similar. They can relate to each other in a way Foggy and Karen can’t. Well, Frank can but he and Matt don’t exactly get along. 

Today is one of the days that he’s gonna be coming over for dinner. You and Matt are in the kitchen making a new pasta dish. 

“So I wanted to ask you a question?” Matt suddenly tells you, while in the middle of stirring the pasta sauce. 

“You know you don't have to ask to ask a question right?” It doesn't matter how many times you say it, Matt will always warn you before asking a question. Most likely because he's worried about bothering you.

He lets out a deep chuckle. “I know, sweetheart, but I'm worried you'll say no.”

“I doubt it. What is it?”

“You know how Peter lives with his aunt right?” He pulls the finished sauce off the stove so he can put his full attention on you.

“I knew he lived some family member, yes. Why?” You’re very curious as to where this is going. 

“Well, she’s getting older and I thought maybe he could come and stay with us for a while.” Not what you expected him to ask.

“Matt, I would say yes to that if I could see how it would work. We don't have the room.” You shrug. You would love to help Peter out but you don’t think he would like living on the couch for at least a year. 

“That’s why I'm asking you. You always know what to do with these things.” If he means the way you freak out thinking of every possible solution and pretend to know what you’re doing then yeah, you are a master at it.

“I don't know, Matty. There is about a year and a half before he goes to college, there is no way he’ll be comfortable here for that long.”

“I know. Believe me, I’ve been thinking of a way this could work. I just don’t want him to be alone.” 

“He won’t be. Even if he can’t live here he’s always welcome.” And just by saying that you come up with the perfect idea. 

A few weeks later it worked. Somehow everything magically fell into place. At the end of your previous conversation about it, you told Matt how great it would be if Peter could have his own apartment close to yours and magically one became available in the same building. Being sixteen, Peter obviously couldn't pay for the place himself but you were able to help out, having some extra money due to being a good doctor. 

“Thank you, sweetheart.” Matt comes up to you. “You didn’t have to do that.” 

“Eh, you’re rubbing off on me.” You grumble with a fake annoyance.

[wileys-russo]

alessia day II a.russo x reader

tooth rottingly soft self care days with star girl

alessia day II a.russo x reader

4.3K words

licking some jam off the tip of your thumb you looked down to the table loaded with food in front of you and nodded with a satisfied smile, happy with your work for the morning and even happier that alessia hadn't woken up any earlier than you'd hoped.

washing your hands and kicking the dishwasher closed with your foot you downed the last mouthful of your coffee, abandoning the mug in the sink and making your way upstairs. hand on the doorknob of your shared bedroom you pushed it slowly open, wincing as the door itself squeaked loudly but thankfully it didn't appear to phase the soundly sleeping striker on the other side of the room.

padding over to the bed you squatted down lovingly moving a few strands of loose blonde hair away from the girls face, gently murmuring good morning and pressing a lingering kiss to her warm forehead. never having been a morning person your girlfriend stirred but promptly rolled away from you over to the other side of the bed with a grunt.

your smile widened and you let out a small chuckle having already anticipated that the girl would be quite hard to get out of bed this morning, all the stress from rumors of her potential transfer from united meant she'd spent the last couple of weeks getting very minimal sleep. 

alessia had instead spent hours and hours doom scrolling through what social media was saying about it all, only falling into a deeper spiral of anxiety and discomfort much as you tried to beg and plead with her to stop listening to the outside world.

the last couple of days had been particularly brutal. 

ella was asking alessia a lot of questions she didn't have answers to which was frustrating her best friend to no end, the girl having been very vocal about supporting alessia no matter what but wanting to know what her plan actually was. 

but without a confirmed plan forward alessia just felt the pressure increase at ellas questions, fear of the unknown only adding to the heavy load she was already carrying on her shoulders. 

but today it was your sole purpose to take some of that weight away for her, and give her at least one day of feeling as though she wasn't weighed down by the expectations of others, every move constantly watched and over analysed by millions of strangers.

"good morning gorgeous." you hummed softly, climbing onto the bed beside her. "it's time to get up." you whispered poking gently at the blonde who whined tiredly and flopped onto her back, covering her face with her arms.

"come on less, time to wake up baby." you moved to carefully straddle her, torso tucked securely under the duvet as your own body rested atop the covers, legs settling either side of her blanket covered hips. "no it's not." alessia grumbled with a huff, tensing her biceps as you attempted to remove her arms from her face.

"yes it is, now stop covering that gorgeous face." you eventually won, intertwining your fingers with hers and pinning her hands against the pillow, bright blue eyes slowly fluttering open below you. "well hi there." you smiled like a lovesick puppy, letting go of her and moving your hands either side of her face, sweetly pecking at her lips a few times.

"m'tired." alessia slurred still half asleep, blinking a few times and  stretching out underneath you with a quiet groan, hands coming to rest on your bare thighs as slender fingers traced absent minded shapes along your skin. 

"i know you are my love which is why coffee and breakfast are ready and waiting downstairs." you laid down on her a little more, peppering her face with kisses causing the strikers lips to curl up into a smile, cheeks flushed rosy pink and eyes still a little puffy from her half asleep state your heart soared, you couldn't have been any more infatuated with her if you tried.

"today is alessia day so you have to get up because i've got plans for us." you announced happily, alessia tilting her head at your words. "but its not my birthday?" she frowned a little in confusion, arms sneaking up the back of your jumper and short nails scratching gently at your back like she knew you loved as you swooned at the gentle tired rasp of her voice in the morning.

"no its not, but i know you've been under a tremendous amount of pressure lately and i want you to have one day where you don't have to think about any of it, so todays all about you." you promised her sincerely, smoothing out the stress lines on her forehead where she was frowning and stealing a kiss.

"oh baby." you melted as the blonde sniffled, a few stray tears rolling from her ocean blue eyes which you tenderly wiped away with your sleeve. "why are you crying?" you asked softly, raking your hands through her hair as the striker wordlessly shook her head. 

"i don't deserve you." she eventually managed to choke out, tanned arms moving to wrap around your smaller frame the girl sat up quickly and engulfed you into a tight hug, catching you a little off guard the blonde held onto you as if you could fly away at any sudden moment.

"don't be silly less you deserve nothing but the best and if i can even give you half of that i'm happy." you mumbled into her hair, your own arms snaking around her neck as the two of you sat there for a few peaceful moments, just wrapped up in one another's tender and loving embrace. 

"i wasn't kidding though there is breakfast waiting downstairs." you pulled away with a smile, alessia tugging you down into a proper kiss and mumbling a thank you against your lips. 

~

"may i please have my phone back just for a second to text tooney?" alessia asked hopefully, you having taken her phone for the day knowing that you wouldn't have a chance at getting your girlfriend to unwind and relax if she had access to her social medias.

"i already told tooney you'd be off the grid today and i love you so very much but i know you won't be able to resist the temptation to not go for a little look around about the contract drama on social media. so no, you may not." your words may have seemed harsh but you made sure your tone conveyed that they came from nothing but a place of care, alessia nodding along in understanding

"so what's next for alessia day then princess?" the striker smiled pulling herself up to sit on the counter next to you as you finished rinsing the dishes used for breakfast, having banned your girlfriend from helping as much as she'd fought you on it.

"face masks, do each others nails, pitch perfect one to three with your favourite snacks, massage, wash your hair for you, make pasta for dinner." you dried your hands and ticked off your remaining plans using your fingers, moving to stand in between the older girls legs. 

"have i told you how much i love you?" alessia beamed at your words, doing her very best to focus all of her love, attention and energy into being alone with you in the little safe haven you'd both created behind the walls of your shared flat.

"mmm not in the last five minutes no?" you smiled softly, pressing your body against hers as the taller girl crossed her legs tightly around you. "sorry bella were you waiting for something?" alessia teased as you looked to her expectantly awaiting those famous three words, your heart skipping a beat as it always did anytime she spoke to you in italian. which the blonde was completely aware of and had no issues using to her advantage any time she so pleased.

"suddenly alessia day is cancelled." you rolled your eyes and attempted to walk away as the girl was quick to slide off the counter, tugging your back into her front and nestling her face into your neck. 

"ti amo tantissimo, mia bella ragazza." alessia rasped quietly in your ear and smiled against your skin before repeatedly kissing your cheek, watching in delight as they blushed at her words. 

"my pretty pretty girl." she continued, spinning you around in her arms and ducking so her mouth met yours and you wrapped your arms around her neck, tugging gently on her hair as she balled your jumper in her fists, pulling you impossibly close and deepening the kiss with a satisfied hum.

eventually needing to come up for air the two of you pulled away, exchanging a few sweet pecks before you grabbed her hand, tugging her out of the kitchen and whisking her away to continue with your plans.

~

"like this?" you asked holding up a freshly folded piece of ravioli, alessias smile softening at the way your face was scrunched up in concentration, the tip of your tongue just poking out of the corner of your mouth. "yeah, that looks good." alessia complimented, you adding your one piece to her basically completed pile, humming with satisfaction at your efforts.

"now please sit down. you've been so sweet and thoughtful today let me at least cook you dinner amore mio." alessia placed a tender kiss to your lips before playfully shooing you away as you pulled yourself up to sit on the counter, not wanting to be far from her.

she began to speak to you and at first you were following along and contributing to the conversation but as she began to roll out the next batch of pasta you found yourself minimized to only half listened hums in response.

fixated on the way her biceps flexed and tensed as she kneaded at the dough, eyes falling to the veins lining her ring clad hands as they poked and stretched at the pasta, alessia expertly rolling and manipulating it as she needed.

quickly noting your lackluster responses your girlfriend glanced up to find your gaze trained to her forearms, an amused smile settling on her lips as she purposefully rolled up the sleeves of her top and pressed a little harder than normal, flexing her arms and watching with a smug smile as you let out a small content sigh.

rolling out the last of the dough, having already filled and molded most of it into perfect little raviolis the older girl grew bored of your wordless responses. so with a mischievous glint in her eyes the italian grabbed a handful of flour and before you even had a moment to think you were surrounded by a tornado of white, choking on the flecks that made their way into your mouth and frantically rubbing at your eyes.

your girlfriend almost fell to the floor in laughter as you coughed a few times and attempted to shake the loose flour off the top of your head. "alessia!" you managed to choke out in shock, jumping down from the counter and grabbing your own handful of flour, quick to smack it into her head as she was too busy laughing at your misfortune to defend herself.

from that moment on your kitchen became a war zone, the two of you chasing one another around taking turns to douse the other, melodious laughter's echoing around the empty flat as your footsteps pounded against the floor.

"okay truce! we still have to clean this up." alessia glanced around at the ever growing mess as you paused, hand full of flour raised and ready to strike as the taller girl held her hands up in surrender, letting out a small sigh of relief as you emptied your hand onto the counter rather than into her once freshly washed hair.

what she failed to notice was you quickly slip an egg she'd not needed into the pocket of your her nike shorts, attaching yourself to her and bringing the blonde into a sweet kiss, her defenses instantly lowering and leaving her right where you wanted her, blissfully unaware of what you had planned.

"i think you mean you still need to clean this up because you started it!" you pulled away with a shake of your head, feeling the strikers hands slowly slide downwards, eventually settling themselves on your bum. "isn't the rule 'one cooks, one cleans'?" the blonde asked with a cheeky smile, squeezing at your bum and stealing a kiss before you could tell her off.

"is it?" you asked with a put on confused frown, hand slipping into your pocket and tightly gripping the egg, arm darting out to smash it over your girlfriends head as she was mid sentence. the girl let out a squeal at the unexpected attack, large hands grabbing for you as you tried to make a hasty getaway, almost slipping in the egg now joining the flour all over your once spotless floor the striker was quick to catch you, pulling you easily back to your feet.

though she should have known better given her own clumsy nature as no sooner had she steadied you did she slip herself, hands still settled protectively on your waist she unintentionally pulled you down with her.

the two of you shared a look before bursting out into laughter, rolling around on the floor and clutching at your stomachs, gradually crawling toward one another as alessias hand grabbed at the collar of your jumper, tugging you into a searing kiss as she carefully maneuvered herself to hover over you.

caught up in the blissful sensation of her mouth on yours you paid her no mind as she was quick to pin your hands to the cold tiled floor under her knees, settling herself on top of you before pulling away. it wasn't until you looked up and saw the knowing smirk on the blondes face did you realise what her intent was, the taller girl easily stretching up and grabbing what she was after from the counter.

"don't you dare." you warned seriously, squirming underneath her attempting to free yourself but it was to no use as your girlfriend was easily the stronger of the two of you. "you seemed to think it was pretty amusing, no?" alessias smirk widened as she twirled the egg around between her fingers.

"less please come on, you started it!" you whined in protest, trying to crane your neck away from her as her free hand reached out to grab your jaw, firmly holding your head in place as your stomach flipped at the action. 

ignoring your pleas the striker gently tapped the egg on the floor before cracking it open on your forehead, watching with a grin as your glare up at her deepened and the yolk dripped down your face. 

"so we have flour, egg...what's missing?" alessia pretended to think, mockingly stroking at her chin as you spat up all sorts of colorful language and threats in her direction as she grabbed the half full cup of water from the counter and you bucked your hips up trying to throw her off of you.

pushing her body down she was quick to once again have you at her mercy, the striker teasingly tipping the cup toward you but stopping right before the water tipped over the edge. "russo if you want to enter tomorrow a single woman i dare you to tip that cup." you spoke scarily calm, stormy eyes locked with hers in a silent promise.

"you're the cutest little ravioli i ever did see." alessia smirked, putting the cup down and dipping her head, breath warm against your lips as you shook your head, eyes still slit into a glare. "get off me." you demanded firmly, the striker lifting her hips to sit back on her knees  and allowing you to wriggle your body out from underneath hers.

"clean this up and cook that, i'm going for a shower." you ordered as you carefully stood to your feet, crossing your arms and jutting your hip out to the side as the blondes smile only widened, sitting up on her knees and grabbing at you, hugging your lower half as her head rested on your stomach.

"has anyone ever told you that you're extra fit when you're mad?" the girls hands began to wander, fingers tugging gently at the waistband of your shorts. "just some annoying blonde one night stand i can't seem to get rid of." you quipped back, hands finding hers and moving them away.

"well she sounds like a nightmare." alessia tutted with a shake of her head, hands instead sliding up the bottom of your shorts, tracing lines on your inner thighs. "the worst. just so clingy and needy, some people can't take a hint i guess." you shrugged, beginnings of a smile ghosting at your lips as you ran your hands fondly through her flour filled hair.

"want me to get rid of her for you? sounds like she could be dangerous." the blonde offered, your breath hitching slightly as her hands moved even higher. 

"oh yeah she's a stage five clinger, some would say even borderline a stalker! lets herself into my home and walks around with no pants on, eats all my food, hogs the duvet, whinges when i'm on her side of the bed but has a cry when i don't cuddle her enough, forces me to go to all of her stupid football matches then forces me into these disgustingly sweaty hugs when she wins, god she is terribly clumsy and-" having enough of your teasing alessia tugged on your matching top and short sending you falling into her awaiting grip, laying down on the floor with you now on top of her, your mouths moving together in perfect sync.

"sounds like you should break up with her." alessia mumbled into the kiss with an amused smile. "i've tried six times she just keeps coming back, i think she's in denial." you muttered as you moved your lips to focus on her neck, knowing exactly where the girl needed you.

"best alessia day ever." the blonde almost moaned as you softly bit down on her pressure point, hands firmly gripping at your back holding you on top of her. "you know i think i've decided its an ick you keep referring to yourself in the third person, kind of a turn off." you sat up far too quickly for her liking, looking down at her with pity as she rolled her eyes at your continued teasing's.

"i love you." alessia dropped the act and spoke sincerely, eyes shining with nothing but adoration and borderline obsession with the girl sat on top of her. "i love you more." you smiled, bending to pepper her face with kisses before again affirming you both really needed to shower and clean up, both of you getting to your feet.

"good thing you've got that clingy blonde stalker, could she clean up for us?" "yeah you know what i think i'll keep her around for a little while longer."

~ translations; bella - beautiful ti amo tantissimo, mia bella ragazza - i love you so much my beautiful girl amore mio - my love

[sugdenlovesdingle]

Buck's Bisexual Speedrun (AO3)

Neither Buck or Tommy know the meaning of the expression "taking it slow"

A/N: This is based on an ask I saw ages ago on how Buck basically went from 0 to 100 in no time when it comes to his sexuality and his relationship with Tommy, and that at this rate, he'd just walk into work one day soon with Kinard on his uniform because they got married.

---

“Good morning probie.” Buck happily greeted Ravi as he walked into the firehouse to start his shift after having had a few days off.

“You do realise I'm not a probie anymore, right? I'm a fully qualified firefighter, just like you.”

“Of course you are probie.”

“You were there when I officially qualified!”

“Uhuh.”

“You know what - never mind. Why are you so happy anyway?”

Buck shrugged, the smile never leaving his face.

“Can't a guy just be happy? It's a nice day, traffic wasn't crazy, life is good.”

“Right. But it's not even 8am yet. Nobody is this happy this early in the morning.”

“I am.” Buck said simply, brushing past him to put his stuff away, having changed into his uniform before arriving at the station. “Has anyone made coffee yet?”

“Uh... I uh... don't know... uh... I uh... just got here.” Ravi stammered.

“That's ok, I'll go check.” he made his way up the stairs to the kitchen where Hen had just poured herself a cup. “Morning.” he greeted her and moved around the kitchen to find a clean mug.

“Morning Buckaroo. No Tommy today?” She asked.

In the year or so that Buck and Tommy had been together, it wasn't unusual for Tommy to join them for breakfast if his own schedule allowed it.

"Nah, I thought I'd let him sleep. His shift doesn't start until six and I need him well rested when he gets into that helicopter."

Hen nodded and took a sip of her coffee, and choked on it when Buck turned around and she saw the name on the back of his shirt.

“Uh... were you in a hurry this morning?”

“No? I had to run some errands, I've been up since around 5.”

“Errands? This early in the morning?"

“Hmm. Had to pick something up across town.” He picked up his mug and joined her at the table. In the back of her mind the sound of something clinking against the mug did register as off but it was too early to figure out why.

“Right. It’s just that I think you've picked up Tommy's shirt this morning. It says Kinard on the back.”

Buck's smile got even bigger, and he seemed to actually be glowing.

“I know. I took his name when we got married. These are my new shirts. I picked them up this morning." He took a sip of his coffee and that's when Hen noticed the ring on his finger.

“You did what now?!”

“We got married.”

“W-when?”

Buck glanced at the clock on the wall.

“About… 55 hours ago now?” He smiled. “It was kind of a spur of the moment thing. Did you know Vegas is only an hour away by helicopter?”

“I did.” Eddie announced as he walked into the kitchen and pushed past Buck to get himself some coffee. “Morning. What are we talking about, mister… Kinard…” he trailed off. “Are you two becoming one of those couples now? Is Tommy walking around with Buckley on his back?”

Buck grinned and raised an eyebrow at his best friend.

“No. Nope. Don’t answer that. I don’t want to know.” Eddie warned him quickly, holding up his hand as if that would stop Buck from talking. 

“I mean… he’s probably still in bed… so he’s not wearing much of anything right now.” Buck grinned and sat down at the table next to Hen while Eddie groaned and muttered something under his breath about never being friends with couples.

“Did you know?” Hen asked Eddie when he joined them at the table.

“Know what?”

Hen grabbed Buck’s left hand and showed Eddie his ring.

“You asked him? I thought you wanted to wait until the party?”

“Yeah… but then I picked him up from work last week… and I just couldn’t wait.” Buck smiled. “When you know, you know, right?”

“Hmm.” Eddie agreed as he focused on his coffee.

“So you knew?” Hen asked again.

“Yeah. I helped him pick out the ring.” Eddie shrugged. “I didn’t know he was going to propose now though.”

“Oh no, he didn’t just propose.” Hen started. “He proposed and then they eloped.”

“What?”

“I proposed, he said yes… and then we talked about it and decided to fly to Vegas to get married.”

“You did what? Why?”

Buck shrugged.

“It’s just easier this way.”

“Easier…”

“So you don’t want your families there when you say I do?” Hen asked.

“Well that’s the thing we talked about. If we plan a wedding we have to think of a guest list, and I have to decide if I want my parents there or not…” Buck trailed off. “And this way we don’t have to deal with all that and we can just throw a party. And I’ll send my parents a change of address card with my new name on it. They’ll fill in the blanks themselves.”

Eddie stared at him for a minute before shrugging. He had to admit to himself he could see the logic in their reasoning. He wouldn’t want Philip and Margaret Buckley at his wedding either.

“Wait… so the party next Saturday… that’s going to be Tommy’s birthday, your housewarming, and your wedding reception?” He counted the events on his fingers.

“Yeah pretty much.”

“Don’t think I’m getting you three presents.” Hen warned him and the three of them laughed. “Call your husband, get him over here for lunch. We need to celebrate with cake.” She said and got up to make a call, presumably to order a cake.

Buck smiled and pulled his phone out of his pocket to call Tommy.

“Is that from the ceremony?” Eddie asked, glancing at his home screen, knowing Buck didn’t care and often did the same to him.

“Yeah.” He pulled up the picture from the camera roll. “It’s when we said I do actually.” He smiled and swiped through the rest of the pictures, showing Eddie more of the ceremony.

“Who took the pictures?”

“The chapel had its own photographer. And Tommy’s cousin who works on the strip. You know him, the one that always gets you two tickets to the fights.” Buck explained, pausing on a picture of him and Tommy standing in front of the officiant, smiling brightly as Buck is sliding Tommy’s ring onto his finger.

“I’m happy for you man.” Eddie told him with a squeeze to his shoulder. “But I’m a little disappointed I didn’t get to embarrass you in my best man speech.”

“Hold onto it, maybe you can use it in a couple of years if we renew our vows.”

“Buck. Got a minute?” Bobby walked up to the table with some papers in his hand and sat down.

“Uh… sure cap, what’s up?”

“I… just got an interesting call from LAFD Personnel.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah they said to tell you your new turnouts might take a little longer than they first said because they’re going to be put in with the order for the probationary firefighters who are about to graduate the academy.”

“Oh… that’s ok…”

“And to ask you to let them know if they should say Kinard, E or just Kinard.” Bobby relayed. “Is there something you want to tell us?”

Buck blushed and looked down at his hands, fiddling with his wedding ring.

“Yeah… uh… Tommy and I… got married. In Vegas.”

“And that’s my cue.” Eddie said and got up, leaving the two of them to talk in private.

“Vegas huh?”

“Yeah it uh… we didn’t plan it… we just… we decided to go for it. Knowing our luck with weddings it would probably end with one of us in hospital or some natural disaster ruining the whole thing.” Buck explained, looking at a spot on the wall over Bobby’s shoulder, not wanting to see the disappointment or anger on his face. “We didn’t purposely leave everyone out of it, I swear. We just… wanted to be married. And we were still at Harbor anyway, because that’s where I proposed, so we got in a helicopter and just… went.”

“Well I have to admit I didn’t see it coming… but I’m happy for you. For both of you.”

Buck finally got himself to look him in the eye.

“You are?”

“Of course. I told you when you two first got together, Tommy is good for you. And you are for him. I remember when he worked here, he was so closed off. Going through the motions. Until the transfer went through. I called him into my office to tell him, and I’d never seen him as happy as that day. But that was until I saw the two of you together.” Bobby smiled. “You’re both more comfortable in your own skin than I ever saw you before.” He patted Buck’s hand. “Now what should I tell them at Personnel?”

Before Buck had a chance to reply, Chimney walked into the kitchen area, whistling some kind of tune.

“Good morning everyone.” He announced. “I dropped Jee off at pre-school, Maddie at work, got a bagel from that nice place down the block from dispatch that just opened up, AND I beat my personal record in getting here. Yes you may applaud now.” He paused for a minute and rolled his eyes when he didn’t get an applause. “Buck. You need to call your sister.” He said when he noticed Buck and Bobby sitting at the table.

“I-I do?”

“Yeah. About Tommy’s birthday present. Apparently a brewery tour and craft beer tasting for two is not a good gift.”

“He’d probably love that.” Buck mused.

“That’s what I said!” Chimney said, exasperated. “But apparently I don’t know my friend. So, now you can tell her what your boyfriend likes and maybe she’ll believe you.”

“Ah yeah sure… I’ll call her… But Tommy’s not my boyfriend anymore.”

“What? Don’t tell me you broke up. You just moved in together! You are not sleeping on our couch. You can crash at Eddie’s.” He decided. “And you’re not making me choose between you and him. I won’t do it.”

“You won’t have to choose.” Buck told him, trying to suppress a smile.

“Oh? Did you already decide who gets me in the divorce?”

“No… because we didn’t break up. Quite the opposite actually.” He held up his hand to show Chimney his ring. “We got married.”

Chimney stared at his hand and then blinked a few times.

“Well… congratulations. But now you definitely need to call Maddie because I am not keeping that secret until Saturday.”

Buck laughed.

“Don’t worry, I’ll call her. Right after I call my husband to invite him over here to celebrate our marriage.”

The rest of the morning was slow, with no alarm going off and everyone just catching up on chores around the firehouse.

Buck had a sneaky suspicion Bobby had asked for any calls to be rerouted to other stations for a few hours, but decided to just take the easy morning.

He was just finishing up checking the engine on one of the trucks when Ravi called his name.

“Buck! Your boy- I mean husband is here.”

He smiled and quickly wiped his hands on a rag and walked to the open bay doors where Tommy was shaking hands with Ravi.

“Hey probie, hands off my man.”

“I was congratulating him! On your marriage!” Ravi protested. “And I’m not a probie anymore!”

“Yeah, yeah.” Buck waved his comment away, only focusing on Tommy, happily pulling him into a hug when he was close enough. “Just remember this one is taken, alright?”

“Hmm if I’d known marriage would make you this possessive I would have proposed months ago.” Tommy teased after accepting his kiss hello.

“You were going to propose?”

“I thought about it. Ever since I asked you to move in. I was going to get Eddie to help me pick out a ring.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, you just beat me to it. On both Eddie and the proposing.”

“Well Vegas was your idea. So you still beat me on something.”

“I did, didn’t I?” Tommy grinned. “And what’s my prize for beating you?”

Buck didn’t reply, but just gently grabbed his chin, like Tommy had done to him countless times before, and pressed a kiss against his lips.

“Alright you two break it up.” Hen said as she pushed past them, carrying a large box. “We have cake.” She walked up the stairs to the loft.

“I’m not sure I trust you with cake. I still remember the last time I was around you with cake.” Tommy joked as he and Buck followed her up the stairs.

“I promise I won’t push you into this one.” She replied. “It’s for Buck too after all.”

“I don’t know, I think I might enjoy you covered in cake.” Buck said quietly.

“Behave.” Tommy replied but the look on his face told Buck he didn’t exactly hate the idea.

The whole crew was starting to gather in the kitchen and everyone congratulated the happy couple.

“Athena sends her love. She’s sorry she couldn’t get away but she told me to give you this” Bobby said and hugged first Buck and then Tommy. “She wanted me to kiss you both too but I think I’ll leave that for her to do herself on Saturday.” He joked. “Congratulations again, guys. It’s good to see you both happy.”

They thanked everyone for their well wishes and ended up having a mini ceremony in the firehouse kitchen.

Hen insisted they cut their Mr and Mr Kinard cake together and Eddie had assigned himself the job of wedding photographer, making sure to capture every little moment.

Buck made a mental note to get him to send them all to him.

“Evan, are you wearing my shirt?” Tommy asked, amused, a little while later when everyone had gotten their piece of cake and they had a quiet moment to themselves. He traced the letters on Buck’s back with his fingers.

“No, I’m wearing my shirt.”

Tommy frowned.

“Your shirt?”

“Yep. Did you not think I was being serious about taking your name?”

“No… I mean… yes, I know you were. But how did you get a shirt with your new name on it this fast?”

“I just called them and asked.”

“You asked. When?”

“When we got back from Vegas. When you were in the shower. I picked them up this morning. Only my new turn outs will take a few weeks.”

“When I was at the 118 under Gerrard someone somewhere made a mistake with my uniform and I walked around in shirts and turn outs that said Kincaid on the back for months. And you just… ask and get new uniforms in a few days?” Tommy asked laughingly.

“What can I say? My husband is kind of a big deal in the LAFD these days. He flew a helicopter into a hurricane. Got a medal for it and everything.”