#haven't really drawn him much yet

[mothymort]

Smiley Vash

[kwillow]

As an eligible young noble of no small fame, Ambroys had a number of arranged courtships and suitresses in his youth, but any nascent marriages always fell through.

It's not that he didn't try; he certainly knew how to court a lady (perhaps too well, according to many fathers and husbands), and when he lacked knowledge on the affairs of womens' hearts, he sought counsel from a young woman who was a dear friend of his (perhaps too much counsel, according to his own father). Nonetheless, all he garnered for his efforts was separation after separation.

Ah, well. Maybe it was for the best.

[hibernating-stag]

Good morning I'm up thinking about that forbidden beast again

[forcedhesitation]

I'm. nearly finished the cosmetic contest video. after...almost 13 hours of non-stop editing...

there is not even any respite from this madness in my immediate future...as corydalis' birthday is technically next week OTL

[totalswag]

i love you’re writing so much!! keep it up ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶

i do have a request, if you haven’t done it!

popstar reader wins an award and drew is the one who hands it to her? like they’re dating and he’s presenting the award she nominated for!q

forever grateful ⎯ DREW STARKEY!

authors note may i just say thank you 🥹 really means so much hearing this. i haven't written something like this yet. feedback is always appreciated <3

taglist ✎ ̼ if you would like to be notified every time i post you will type in your username then be all set to go.

masterlist

summary drew giving you an award in one of the categories you were nominated in.

warning(s) none! bunch of cuteness.

Tonight marks the Billboard Music Awards. You've been having a great time with your friends, watching performances, and witnessing award ceremonies. Most importantly, Drew came with you as your plus one, and he will announce the category for which you have been nominated.

Drew was given this opportunity at the time the nominations were first announced. This is crucial for him since he has always wanted to make an award announcement. Drew said previously, "Imagine I announce your name when I present the award."

"Y/N, I can't believe Drew is announcing one of the categories you've been nominated for," Olivia Rodrigo stated before swallowing her water. 

"Dude, tell me about it," you giggle, "I think it's crazy, and we talked about it today," you explain with hand motions.

The lights dim throughout the arena, indicating that Drew is walking on stage. Your face brightened up as he walked on stage with the envelope in his palm. 

Drew walks on stage, microphone in hand, with a confident yet slightly anxious smile on his lips. He's dressed in a fine black suit, every bit the heartthrob the world knows him to be, yet your eyes is drawn to the faint twitch of his fingers, a telltale sign that only you would see. He's nervous about you.

"This next award," Drew's voice echoes through the stadium, smooth yet with a tiny hint of something gentler, "is for Best Pop Artist⎯an award that recognizes not just chart-topping hits but the artistry, passion, and heart poured into every lyric, every note."

The audience cheered and whispered names with anticipation. Applause filled the arena as the screen displayed the talented pop artists that received nominations.

Drew's smile grows a little wider, a little prouder, and his eyes scan the audience⎯searching for you, finding you. "And the winner is..."

"I'm so nervous" you mumbled to yourself.

Drew kept a straight face as he opened the card, "Y/N Y/L/N!" He smiles turning the envelope around before clapping his hands.

The room erupts. Applause, cheers, a standing ovation from some.

Your jaw nearly falls to the floor in absolute shock. This all feels like a fever dream⎯waiting for someone to pinch you. Only thing you could do was put both hands on the side of your head as you lift yourself up from the chair.

When you walk on stage, your dress shimmers under the lights. When you reach him, he hands you the award and whispers, "I knew it, baby."

"I don't know what to say, guys..." you start breathlessly, a giggle slipping through as the audience quiets. "This is a huge honor, and I couldn't have done it without my amazing team, my fans who've supported me every step of the way... and," your gaze turns toward Drew for a moment, "to the person who's been my rock through all of it."

Drew and you will always support one another. It's known that you both don't show affection in public⎯behind closed doors or with inner circle. Fans are gonna go crazy with this.

After thanking those who helped you along the way and those who nominated you, you were escorted back stage. You couldn't take your eyes off the gorgeous award in your hand.

Drew approaches you with a gaze of love and appreciation. "I am really proud of you, and we will celebrate tonight with any takeout you want.

Throwing your head back in laughter at his final comment, "First, I love you so much, and who can say their boyfriend gave his girlfriend an award," he chuckles, "and I will gladly eat takeout with you."

⎯⎯ my taglist! 𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

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[emakataken]

The hospital nursery was quiet. A single monitor beeped gently in the corner. The baby, a little over five pounds slept in a bassinet lined with a soft blue blanket, arms swaddled tight, face scrunched as he suckled in his sleep.

Tommy stood at the foot of his tiny warm crib, unmoving.

His hands were stuffed deep in the pockets of his jacket, shoulders tight. There was soot still streaked faintly behind his ear, a reminder of the shift he'd barely made it through before his world tilted sideways.

He hadn't moved since the nurse led him in.

The door behind him clicked open. "Tommy?"

Evan's voice was soft, unsure.

Tommy didn't turn. Just blinked hard and nodded once.

Evan stepped up beside him, his face drawn in concern, still dressed in work clothes, hair mussed like he'd run a hand through it too many times on the drive over.

"You okay?" he asked, eyes flicking from Tommy to the sleeping newborn. "You said it was urgent."

Tommy swallowed hard. "It is."

They stood in silence for a moment. The kind that stretches and stretches until it thins into tension.

Evan glanced at the baby again, then back to Tommy. "Whose kid is that?" he asked, careful but curious.

Tommy's voice was hoarse. "My nephew."

"Wait. What?" Evan's voice cracked.

Tommy pauses, his mind skimming backwards, trying to remember if he had ever told Evan of his sister. Once, maybe a year ago when they first got together. "His name's not even written down yet," Tommy said, eyes fixed on the bassinet. "He's four days old. Five and half pounds. Born early. And... he doesn't have anyone."

Tommy's shoulders drew tighter. "Jerry, the social worker. He's the one who found me and brought Eliza letter... she signed over her rights. Left the hospital. Named me."

Evan turned toward him, the pieces starting to align. "Eliza?"

Tommy nodded, finally glancing over. "My sister. I haven't seen her in nearly a decade. I looked for her for years... and then she just, disappears. Until now. And this..." He gestured toward the bassinet. "This is what she left me."

Evan didn't respond right away.

His gaze shifted from Tommy's face back to the baby. He took a slow breath, like he was recalibrating.

Tommy's voice dropped, nearly breaking. "We never talked about children."

Evan looked at him, really looked at the red-rimmed eyes, the clenched jaw, the way he stood like he might shatter, was waiting to shatter. That this would be the moment that Evan decided he was too much.

"No," Evan agreed softly. "We haven't."

Tommy exhaled shakily and turned back toward the baby, his voice cracking. "I didn't think I'd ever get to have that. A family. Not really. Not after everything. Not with how I was raised. Now, it's not even a choice. It's just here." He dragged a hand down his face. "I don't even have a crib."

Evan reached out, fingers brushing his elbow. "You have a home," he said quietly. "And you have a heart big enough to say yes. That's more than a lot of kids get."

Tommy didn't answer. His hands trembled slightly.

He pressed his knuckles to his mouth and shook his head. "I don't know if I can do this. Not without screwing it up. Not without breaking something."

Evan stepped a little closer. "Then we'll figure it out. Together."

Tommy nodded slowly, but the words didn't ease the tension in his chest. If anything, they made the weight heavier. "There's more," he said, voice barely audible. Like speaking it might crack something open he couldn't put back.

Evan went still beside him.

"There are two others," Tommy continued. "Levi Thomas and Lila Grace. Eight and five." He swallowed hard, breath shuddering on the way out. "They've been in foster care almost two years. I didn't even know. Not a single word for nine years. Not a letter. Not a call. Just... a letter. A plea to keep them away from our parents."

He blinked hard, his throat working. "I didn't even know they existed. And now, they're mine. Or they could be. All of them." The words came out rough, like they hurt on the way up. Like they weren't ready to exist in the world yet.

Evan didn't interrupt. He watched Tommy carefully, his posture shifting. Like something in him was bracing, uncertain. Like some part of him still remembered the cracks between them, the fault lines they were barely learning how to navigate. His face twisting into the guarded cautiousness their breakup had caused.

It sent an ache through Tommy's ribs. But he kept going, because he had to. Because if he stopped now, he wouldn't be able to start again. "I'm a pilot for the LAFD with fucked hours and I haven't even looked at half my childhood, let alone dealt with it. I mean, I'm trying, have been for years." He let out a bitter, quiet laugh that didn't sound like a laugh at all. "I mean, who the fuck thought this was a good idea?"

He shook his head, jaw tight.

"What if I'm not enough?" His voice cracked. "What if I can't do it right? What if I break something in them that can't be fixed?" His eyes flicked toward the sleeping baby, then to Evan just for a moment.

Long enough for the truth to land in the open space between them. "Who the hell would entrust this tiny, amazing little human to me?"

The silence held for a breath just long enough to feel like his universe might implode. Then Evan stepped in, closer, his voice going firm in away Tommy's rarely heard, "You are."

Tommy looked at him, stunned by the certainty he found laced in those two little words.

Evan's voice stayed low, steady. "And you're not alone." The words fell between them like a promise.

A truth. He let it sit for a second. "Let's just get through tonight, okay? One step at a time."

Tommy huffed a laugh that sounded like a muffled sob. "Yeah," he said, voice thick. "Okay."

"Tonight we'll go home," Evan said, glancing at him, "we'll eat something warm, we'll collapse into your bed. And tomorrow... tomorrow we call that guy again. What's his name, Gary?"

Tommy shook his head, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly despite everything. "Jerry."

"Right. Jerry." Evan smiled, a little crooked. "Tomorrow we'll ask more questions. We'll start an Amazon order."

Tommy nodded. But his eyes had drifted back to the baby again, and his chest pulled tight all over again.

Evan followed his gaze. "He needs a name?"

Tommy nodded slowly. "Eliza said... she wanted me to pick it."

Before either of them could say anything more, there was a soft knock at the door. A nurse stepped in, calm and kind, her smile small but warm. "If one of you would like to hold him," she offered. "You may."

Tommy froze, like the words hit a fault line in his chest. His body tensed, like he wasn't sure if he could trust himself but his gaze followed Evan.

Evan who didn't hesitate. He stepped forward without looking back, without asking, without waiting to be told he could.

The nurse swaddled the baby a little tighter, then carefully placed the small bundle into Evan's arms.

And something inside Evan shifted the moment the weight settled against his chest. His shoulders relaxed. His breath evened. His entire body seemed to soften, like he'd just been handed something that made his entire life make sense.

He looked down at the baby, eyes wide with wonder.

"Hey, little fella," Evan whispered, instinctively rocking. His voice soft with love, "You're small little guy, huh? We're gonna need to increase your protein intake, bulk you up a bit, bubba."

The baby made a tiny sound, a breathy sigh. Evan's expression lit up like someone had flipped a switch in him. Like something in his heart had just clicked into place.

Tommy watched him, unmoving. His heart was still aching and heavy and twisted in fear but underneath it, something bloomed. Something tender. Something that felt like maybe, just maybe, this wasn't a mistake.

"He's so little," Evan murmured, glancing over his shoulder, beaming. "How is he so little?"

Tommy smiled faintly, voice cracking at the edges.

"Luke?"

Evan wrinkled his nose. "No."

Tommy tried again. "Lincoln?"

Evan gave him a look. "After the hot guy in the pub? Absolutely not."

Tommy laughed. For real this time-small and rough, but real. "Okay. Liam?"

Evan went quiet. His eyes dropped back to the baby. He swayed slowly, "Yeah," he said softly. "Liam."

He adjusted his grip, pulling the baby in a little closer like he belonged there, in his arms. Like the tiny bundle hadn't upended their life. "Liam Robert Kinard."

Tommy blinked, startled by the certainty. "Robert?" Evan still didn't look away from the baby. "After Bobby. Liam's big brother Levi was named after the best man Eliza ever knew. I just... figured I'd keep with the theme."

Tommy's breath caught. He stepped forward and gently rested a hand against Evan's back, watching the tiny rise and fall of each breath of the babe in his arms. "You're a good man," he said, voice low and thick and full of everything he couldn't put into words.

Evan finally looked up at him, eyes shining but steady. "Let's just try to be good enough for him."

Tommy stared at the two of them, this man who hadn't flinched, and this baby who had no idea how lucky he already was. "Welcome to the world, Liam Robert Kinard," he whispered.

Part 2

[hellsslibrary]

I have a request for you!! How about a Sae being fucked after he lost a match and frustrated he fights with the reader, one thing leads to another and he ends up crying while the reader penetrates him.

CAN YOU DO IT PLEASE, I WOULD APPRECIATE IT VERY MUCH, I DON'T SPEAK ENGLISH, I SPEAK SPANISH, BUT I LOVE WHAT YOU WRITE.

Thanks!

MASTERLIST is here.

#a.n. : hey, bitches. Don't ask where I've been, you can assume that life has been too good and I've been in heaven for the last... A couple months(?) and I have 89 requests. I'll do them, yeah. I'll try, really hard. I'll do a couple today. ,

!!Warnings: top!male!reader, bottom!Sae, Sae is slightly more dominant but there's no dom/sub, crying (obviously), by the way, it's mostly hurt/comfort, not sexual contact, but a little later in the beginning and at the very end it's still there (I was drawn to something more tragic, and I also just can't imagine Sae crying during sex, so I did it emotionally), pretty wholesome overall!!

"You... regret giving that ball away, huh?" The question escapes your lips as Sae rewinds the footage of his match for the thirty-seventh time, probably trying to get something across to you, himself, or both of you.

"No regrets. I'm annoyed. If I knew that striker was that bad..." Sae sighs, running a hand through his hair, and then turns his gaze to you.

And his eyes are surprisingly thoughtful as he pokes your chest lightly and then just pushes you, causing your figure to fall onto the couch, and he is hovering over you, stroking the curve of your chin.

"You're going to fuck me... Now," Sae says it a little hesitantly, not wanting to force you to do anything, especially just out of spite, but his eyes immediately widen when you switch him and you, instead pressing him to the couch.

And here we are...

"You're always so tight after matches, you know?" a rhetorical question escapes your lips and you feel Sae's palm on your ass squeeze.

"All my muscles are tense... It's normal," Sae mutters, looking down, watching how your cock disappears and reappears inside him.

And this time, for some reason, it really fascinates him. The older Itoshi exhales sharply, looking up at your face, which immediately becomes slightly worried when you see his clouded gaze... Which shouldn't have appeared in the first round.

"Is it okay? We can stop or..." you stop your movements, but squeak when you feel his heel kicking your thigh, and you resume the pace, and he just shakes his head and whispers: "It's okay, really. Don't be an idiot, you haven't fucked me properly yet."

Sae's voice twitched slightly at the end, when the head of your dick rested exactly where it should. And his hands instinctively grabbed your shoulders, pressing your body into his own and his breath caught when he felt your warm, rapid breath on the skin of his neck.

That fucking moment with the ball continues to spin in his head. That cocky smile of that brunette when he said he would score. His own perfect, beautiful pass... And that one-celled bastard sends the ball fifteen meters beyond the net.

Why does he really care so much? He shouldn't care, it's not his fault he trusted that idiot. He would have stuck with Sae anyway, but there was still a feeling of anxiety in his heart back then, a feeling of fucking insecurity that he least wanted to feel now. Right now, he should feel amazing when you penetrate him, hug you, kiss you, listen to your stupid compliments and let you know how good he feels.

But he couldn't.

He thought it would make him get rid of everything. Of course it feels good. Who wouldn't feel good when their man holds them so carefully and does all this to their body? But this... It's just not like usual.

Sae feels an unpleasant lump in his throat, which he can't swallow, and a traitorous sob escapes his lips. His shoulders are shaking. The legs wrapped around your hips fall. And his cold hands immediately cover his face.

You stop immediately, not expecting him to cry. Well, not during sex, obviously. Does it hurt? Or maybe he doesn't like it? Are you overdoing it? You...

"Get out of me."

Four quiet words break you out of your thoughts and you immediately pull out your dick and Sae removes one hand from his face, which was already tear-stained, his eyes and nose turned bright red and he looked into your eyes.

"What happened? Did I do something wrong, Sae?" you ask hesitantly, and he just shakes his head and kisses the corner of your lips so that you don't worry too much, and then buries his face in your chest, just shaking and soaking your T-shirt with tears.

"I don't know why I'm crying," the Japanese mumbles, clinging to you like a cat clinging to a radiator in winter. He seeks comfort in you, such a rare, but such a necessary consolation for the shaky balance in his soul.

You just hug him and kiss the top of his head, burying his face in the midfielder's disheveled hair, starting to rock him in your arms and humming some melody. Even if it was stupid or you couldn't sing and it sounded out of tune. Just to let Sae know he wasn't alone, to affect almost all of his senses.

"... Do you want me to beat him up?" You ask as the shaking in his shoulders subsides slightly, though the crying continues judging by the liquid seeping through the fabric onto your chest.

"Seriously? If I tell you to kill him, you will?" He asks, wiping his face, exhaling shakily, trying to catch his breath and then looking up at you.

"Only if you visit me in prison."

Sae snorts at this, but says nothing, because words are unnecessary here. Completely unnecessary, his hands fall on your shoulders and he climbs into your lap, looking into your eyes, and then kisses the tip of your nose.

"I will."

You blush slightly at this, which makes Sae smile a little, almost imperceptibly. Just a slight upturn of the corners of her lips, and then it turns into something more sly.

"I owe you, don't I?"

He asks and you twitch as he takes your now semi-hard cock and lifts his hips, rubbing the rim of it right against the head.

"What? Sae— Fuck!" You breathe out, grabbing his hips as he sits down on your cock in one easy motion... Well, at least you comforted the man you love, right?

"Relax. It's your turn to cry, love," Sae mumbles, leaning down to your neck, kissing the crook of your shoulder and neck, starting to move his hips in a figure eight, and your cock immediately begins to harden again, causing Sae to only moan in pleasure.

[reidgenius]

Low Pain Tolerance | S.R. x Reader

image by reidgif <3

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader Word Count: 1.4k Category: angst, hurt/comfort? Warnings: commitment issues, wildly insecure!reader (it's really just me) A/N: I haven't written for Spencer before, so please excuse any OOC inaccuracies and be nice okay! I am a long-time lurker/admirer of the lovely @pathologicalreid and am writing this for her cutesy margovember event :) Song Inspo: Low Pain Tolerance by Abby Holliday

You never enjoyed running.

Still, that didn't stop you from doing it often. Whether it be on the job or in a relationship, you ran.

To catch a bad guy. To catch yourself before you fall. To stop something terrible before it happens... You ran.

In this instance, you found yourself running from Spencer Reid.

"Would you look at me? Please?" he pleaded.

You knew if you were to turn around that you'd see his glassy doe eyes and be drawn right back in. You knew your weaknesses, and he was certainly one of them. The biggest one. That's why you stayed put, staring at his bedroom wall.

"I can't, Spence." You meant to say it with finality, but it came out more as a whimper.

"You can't look at me, or you can't-"

"Neither. Both."

As the holidays approached, Spencer had mentioned the idea of the two of you making a trip out to Vegas. "Just for a day or two," he'd promised. Though there wasn't much he treasured about home, you knew that his mother was there, and that was more than reason enough.

This evening, he'd brought it up again after letting you avoid the topic for weeks.

"It's only a matter of time before you figure it out," you admit.

"Figure what out?"

"God, Spence, that I'm only bringing you down!" you nearly shouted, though you hadn't meant to. The anxiety took over. "I'm like... gahhh! I don't know how to do any of this, I-"

To your dismay, he let out a laugh as you finally turned to face him. A real, genuine laugh.

"Bringing me down?" He looked at you with an earnest amusement. "Honey, I don't think you realize what you-"

"I'm scared. Okay? Is that what you wanted me to admit? That I'm scared of meeting her?" A single tear gushed down your cheek.

His brows knit in concern as he quickly thought of ways to disprove the common fears surrounding schizophrenia and it's manifestations.

"Baby, schizophrenia doesn't ma-"

"Dammit Spencer, it's not about that! It's- I..."

You found yourself stumbling over your words.

"I don't care about her diagnoses!" you laughed. (Of course, you did care, but that wasn't what was scaring you.) "I'm scared of this!" you said, waving your hands between the two of you. "I don't want to rush it. I don't want to get her hopes up..."

You let your legs give way to sit on the floor against the wall, your head in your hands, mumbling to the cold hardwood.

"I don't want to get my hopes up."

There was it. That was the truth.

You weren't used to it. You weren't used to someone asking you how your day was and really caring. You weren't used to the notion that a man would want to wrap himself around you at night and keep you close. You'd never been one to draw much attention from men. Or women. Or anyone, really.

Naturally, you figured that there must be something deeply and inherently flawed in you. Something Spencer had yet to discover.

So, being with him was... terrifying. You were constantly waiting and wondering when he'd conclude that you weren't as pretty as he initially thought, or as witty, or as intelligent, or kind, or...

And it would only be cruel to drag Diana into this. To have her think that perhaps her son had found his person. To have her thinking that she might be meeting her future daughter-in-law. It felt cruel to yourself, in some twisted way, to pretend that this was all going to last.

Spencer was typically a fast thinker, but your admission had the cogs in his brain working overtime. You were afraid of him? Of your relationship?

He padded over to join you on the floor, keeping a little distance so as not to scare you.

"Get your hopes up? You don't-" he gulped, "I mean... you don't think we're gonna- that this is gonna work out?"

Still speaking to the floor, you sigh, "I don't know, Spence."

You were exhausted. Incessantly feeling like you're on the brink of being "found out" can do that to a person. It's not that Spencer hadn't done all the right things. No, he was the perfect partner. But therein lied the issue. He was perfect. And, in your opinion, you were far, far from it.

You took a deep breath through your tears.

"I don't think I can keep doing this."

Confusion. Utter shock. Things had been going so well with you the past 8 months. Spencer immediately began to wrack his brain combing through all the possible mistakes he could've made. Did he raise his voice with you? Had he forgotten some big milestone? Was he not giving you enough?

"Honey I-" he gathered himself, placing a hand on your thigh, "I'm so sorry. Can I ask... what makes you say all this?"

Though you were reluctant, you figured that now was as good a time as any.

"Spencer. I am not good for you! Good enough for you!" With each point, you illustrated by raising a finger, "I am impulsive and I complain and I get weird sometimes when you touch me and I can be a massive bitch and I never know how to-"

"Woah, woah, woah-" He snuck up closer to you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and placing his head atop yours, all while you kept rambling. "Why in the world do you say that? Not good enough for me? If anything it's me who isn't deserving of you..."

"No, you-"

He stopped you in your tracks just by saying your name in that beautiful way he does. Like its covered in honey and dripping with admiration.

"You are everything. You may think those things about yourself but I certainly don't." His thumb caressed your bare skin so carefully as he continued, speaking slowly so as to allow the words to really sink in. "You are the most generous person I've ever encountered. You care so deeply about people you love. You are courageous and willing to try all the weird foods I suggest even though you really don't want to." He smirked a bit at that one. "You have taken everything that life has thrown at you and navigated it with grace. You really are just... you're it. You're her. You're the girl - the woman - I've always hoped would come my way but never dreamed actually would. Honey, I've figured out everything I need to know when it comes to how I feel about you."

You sat there, warm under his embrace, pondering his words as he spoke. It's nothing he hasn't said before, granted, in much less grand and emotionally charged ways. But it was like you were really hearing it for the first time. You wanted so badly to believe him.

"I love you," he continued. "I love you so much that sometimes I am afraid of myself. Of what I'd do for you. You, god, you make me so much better."

"I love you, too. Too much," you squeaked out.

"No. Not too much." He leaned back to encourage you to look up at him. "You know I really mean all that right? Just the way you are. Quirks included?"

"I guess. And now I'm just self-conscious that I am so self-conscious..."

"You say that as if I'm not the exact same way!" he chuckles, trying to make light of what is clearly a shared wound. You'll deal with that later. Together, preferably. "Please, trust me. Do you trust me?"

And you did. You trusted Spencer with every cell in your body and hair on your head. There was nobody else you'd ever been so confident in. So, you nod against his chest as your tears begin to subside.

"Good. Now why don't we move this party up into the bed?"

"No offense, Spencer, but the last thing I want right now is to f-"

"No no no nooope! Not that, babe," he laughed. "Just wanna lay with you 'til this feeling passes. Is that okay?"

"Please."

And so, the rest of the evening consisted of cuddles under your massive comforter. Sweet admissions whispered in your ear. The tiniest kisses to your hairline and your shoulder and your nose and your wrists.

By the time you dozed into a worry-free slumber, you believed him a little more.

Perhaps you could let Spencer love you, forever.

[springtyme]

heyy love, could you do an aaron hotchner x fem bau reader where they dated in secretly for a while but then he broke up with her. the reason he broke up with her is because he is her boss and that always was something that made him feel doubtful about their relationship. it’s up to you if you want to end it with an happy ending.

thank youu

𝐃𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐋𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐀𝐭 𝐌𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐄𝐲𝐞𝐬 ♡

Thank you so much for the request, dear anon! Such a lovely one and I was so happy to write for Hotch! mwah <3

Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader || Main masterlist || Spotify

summary: You suspect that you've been in love with Aaron Hotchner since you first laid eyes on him three years ago. Now you're on your way to Idaho to go on your first case together since he broke your heart two weeks ago.

word count: 4.5k

warnings/tags: Angst and fluff. Boss/employee relationship. Hurt/comfort. Heartbreak. Kissing. Sharing a bed. (first time I write for Hotch, so please bear with me) Haven't proof read yet. I don't know if I really like how it ended up tbh, but maybe it's just because I was really tired while writing it..?

You keep your gaze on the pages of the book, despite the words keep blurring together and after having read the same paragraph four times over, without even having registered what you have read. You’ve given up on actually getting any reading done, but you don’t want anyone talking to you right now and you still have almost four hours left before you land in Idaho. So you keep eyes glued to the book, hoping that the act of pretending to read will deter any unwanted conversation.     

You can feel his eyes on you, not all the time, but you feel how his gaze occasionally lingers on you. It’s subtle, almost imperceptible, but you sense his presence nonetheless.  

Taking in a deep breath you look up from the book to steal a glance in his direction, catching his eye for a brief moment before he looks away. There’s a flicker of something in his expression, a hint of longing that mirrors your own. But just as quickly as it appeared, it’s gone, replaced by the stoic mask he wears so well as he continues his conversation with Derek. 

The last two weeks have been painful, filled with a whirlwind of emotions and unanswered questions since Aaron had ended your relationship, before it even had a chance to really begin. It’s been three years since you joined the BAU and from the very beginning you had felt drawn to Aaron Hotchner in a way that defied logic and reason, like there was a connection between you that transcended the professional boundaries of boss and subordinate. 

A silly crush is what it had started as, but the more you got to know him, the more you realized that what you felt was far more than just that. It was a deep, undeniable attraction, a connection that went beyond the surface level. And as time passed, that initial spark grew into something more profound, something that stirred your soul and filled your heart with warmth. 

Sometimes you had let yourself hope that he felt the same way, that the moments of shared glances and unspoken words between you held a deeper meaning, but you had never dared act on it, or let yourself get your hopes up too high. The reality of Aaron’s position as your boss and the boundaries it imposed had always stood as a barrier. The unspoken rules of professionalism, the fear of risking his or your career and the harmony of the team had kept your feelings hidden, buried beneath layers of duty and obligation. 

It was three months ago that things had changed between you. It had been a moment of vulnerability, a shared confession during a late-night conversation with the raw emotions of the aftermath of an exceptionally harrowing case that had laid bare the depths of your emotions, and the longing that had simmered beneath the surface for so long had reached a point of no return. 

He had kissed you that night and it was sweet and tender, yet charged with unspoken desire and desperation. It was a moment of surrender, a brief glimpse into a world where the barriers between you could be broken down and the feelings you had both been suppressing could be allowed to flourish. 

The next couple months had been a whirlwind of stolen moments and whispered confessions, each one deepening the bond between you in ways that words could never fully capture. There were secret meetings in secluded corners of the BAU office, stolen kisses in the quiet of the night, and shared glances that spoke volumes without a single word being uttered.

But as the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, a shadow began to loom over your newfound connection. Aaron had started to act distant and reserved, his once warm and affectionate demeanor now replaced by a noticeable aloofness. And two weeks ago on a night where the both of you had stayed late to finish some reports he had told you that it all had been a mistake, and that the two of you should maintain a strictly professional relationship moving forward. 

His words had cut through the air with a sharp finality and landed like a heavy blow, shattering the fragile hope that had still lingered within you. Aaron’s eyes had been averted, unable to meet your gaze as he spoke the words that shattered your heart.

You steal another glance at Aaron, watching as he maintains his composure in conversation with Derek, his mask of professionalism firmly in place. 

You turn back to your book, the words still a jumbled mess on the page. You can’t pretend to read anymore, not when your heart is heavy with memories and unspoken words. With a sigh, you close the book, making Emily, who is seated across the aisle, glance up from the case file she is reading with a questioning look. 

You offer her a faint smile, attempting to convey a sense of normalcy despite the turmoil swirling within you. 

“You okay?” she asks as she sets aside the case file. You appreciate her gesture, knowing that Emily’s intuition often went beyond words.

You take a moment to collect your thoughts, the weight of unspoken emotions pressing down on you. With a small nod, you offer Emily a reassuring smile, though it doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Just a lot on my mind,” you reply softly, the words carrying a weight that belie their simplicity.

Emily nods in understanding, her gaze holding a sense of sympathy. “He’s an idiot, by the way,” she says with a wry smile, and you feel how your heart stops for a second, panicking at the thought of Emily uncovering the truth of what has unfolded between you and Aaron. 

“What do you mean?” you stammer, the words tumbling out before you can stop them, your heart pounding in your chest as you wait for Emily’s response.

Emily just smiles at you as she picks up her file again. “We’re profilers, it’s not hard to read between the lines,” Emily says with a knowing glint in her eyes, her smile reassuring and understanding. “And you’re not as hard to read as you think, it’s clear that you have been dating someone, you have been looking like a smitten kitten for months, it’s been really cute to see, by the way, but something has changed recently. You’ve been distant, and often lost in thought sulking,” Emily continues, her tone gentle yet perceptive. 

It’s not like it really surprises you, given how perceptive Emily is, and how deeply you’ve been feeling the shifts in your relationship with Aaron, but you had still hoped that you could have hidden your feelings from colleagues. 

“So, yeah, whoever he is that has you feeling like this is an idiot, you’re clearly a catch,” Emily says with a reassuring smile, her words carrying a sense of warmth and understanding.

You feel relief wash over you, though Emily has sensed that you’ve been heartbroken, she hasn’t figured out that it is your boss that has been the course of it. 

“Thanks, Em,” you say, offering the dark haired woman a tired but grateful smile.

Emily returns your smile. “If you ever need to talk or just... not talk, I’m here,” she offers, her voice warm and reassuring.

“I appreciate that,” you say, and you do really mean it, but you know that you’re not ready to talk about any of this yet. “But I think I’ll try to take a nap first, hopefully clear my head a bit before we land.” 

“Mm, sounds like a plan,”Emily responds with a soft chuckle. 

Grabbing the blanket from the empty seat next to you, you lean back in your seat, engulfing your body in the soft, fluffy material. 

Before closing your eyes you cast one last glance at Aaron, his profile etched against the soft glow of the cabin lights. The memories of stolen moments with stolen kisses floods your mind, mingling with the ache of his recent rejection. You feel a pang in your heart, a mix of longing and sorrow, as you turn away, curling up in your seat, closing your eyes to the world outside.

You pull the blanket closer around you, the soft warmth of the blanket envelops you, cocooning you in a sense of comfort and security, providing a shield against the turmoil of your heart. The gentle hum of the airplane engines lulls you into a state of relaxation, the rhythmic sound serving as a soothing backdrop to your thoughts and emotions. 

As you feel yourself drifting further into the realm of sleep, your senses start to weaken, the sounds of the airplane cabin fading into a distant murmur and you barely register the tears gently sliding down your cheeks before you drift off. 

· · · · · 

You’re softly pulled out of sleep by the gentle touch of a hand on your shoulder. As you slowly flutter your eyes open, the soft glow of the cabin lights illuminates the figure beside you.

“Hey, sleepyhead, we’re about to land,” Derek’s voice is warm and filled with a hint of amusement as he gently rouses you from your slumber.

You blink a few times, the remnants of sleep still lingering in your mind as you adjust to the reality of the present moment. With a small smile, you offer Derek a nod of gratitude. Slowly, you sit up in your seat, the blanket slipping off your shoulders as you get ready for touchdown. 

As the plane begins its descent, you feel a mix of emotions swirling within you - longing, sorrow, and a hint of resignation. The turbulence of your heart echoes the turbulence in the jet cabin as you start dissenting onto a lower altitude.     

As the cabin lights dim in preparation for landing, you look up to find Aaron’s eyes looking in your direction, his gaze briefly meeting yours before he looks away, a shadow covering his features in the soft glow. This would all be so much easier if he would stop looking at you all the time.    

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your emotions as the plane continues its descent. The mix of longing and sorrow in your heart feels almost suffocating, but you push it aside. You have to focus, have to keep your head clear for the sake of the case, you are a professional and you are not going to let your emotions cloud your mind. As the wheels touch the runway with a slight jolt, signaling your arrival in Idaho, you

And as the team disembarks from the plane and makes their way to the awaiting SUVs, you feel a sense of resolve settling within you, happy to no longer be confined to the limited room of the jet cabin and as you step out into the crisp evening air, you release a sigh of relief. 

You watch Aaron walk ahead of you, his posture rigid and his expression unreadable as he walks to one of the cars and you beeline for the other. You keep your gaze fixed outside the window for most of the car ride, watching the landscape pass by in a blur as the car speeds towards its destination, a little sleepy town about an hour away. 

As you and the team arrive at the local police station, you can feel the tension between you and Aaron simmering just beneath the surface. The case at hand requires your full attention, and you push aside the turbulent thoughts and emotions that threaten to consume you as you focus on the task at hand.

Throughout the evening and early night, you work alongside the team, profiling the unsub and piecing together clues to hopefully catch the unsub before they strike again. The familiarity of the work, the rhythm of profiling and investigating grounding you in the present moment, making you go into a state of laser focused professionalism. You find a sense of purpose in the work you do, a reminder that you are more than the turmoil of your emotions.

But as the night wears on, the team regroups at the hotel to get a few hours of sleep before continuing the investigation in the morning. You find yourself standing outside the small hotel, looking up at the dark, star lit sky and as you turn to head inside and join the rest of the team, you feel your heart do a little jump in your chest as you see Aaron standing a few feet away, his gaze fixed on you, his usual stoic expression faltered, his brown eyes softening as they meet yours.   

For a moment, the world around you seems to fade away, leaving just the two of you standing in the quiet night, and suddenly, you know that the decision you have made to the hard choice you’ve struggled with for the past two weeks is the right one. 

 Without saying a word, you walk towards him, a mix of uncertainty and determination coursing through you. As you come to a stop in front of him, he opens his mouth to speak, but you raise a hand to silence him. “Not here,” you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper, and you gently take his hand, leading him towards a secluded corner of the hotel grounds. 

As you come to a stop, you turn to face him, the dim light of the night casting shadows across his face. With a heavy sigh, you search his eyes for any sign of the man you once knew, the man who had kissed you with such tenderness and held you with such care, the man you think might’ve even loved you. You had loved him, had long before he kissed you, and you still love him.

 “Aaron, I…” you begin, trailing off as you feel all the words in your head leave you as you look into his eyes, remembering that night he had kissed you for the first time. It had been a late night just like this one, it had been the first time you had ever called him by his first name. 

“Let’s sit,” he says, his voice gentle yet strained, as he guides you to a nearby bench. You both sit in silence for a moment, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavily between you. Finally, Aaron speaks, his voice raw with emotion. “I’m sorry for hurting you, for leading you on, for... for everything.” His words are filled with regret, and you can see the pain in his eyes, a pain that mirrors your own. 

He reaches out his hand, hesitating before resting it on yours. His touch is soft and hesitant but filled with unspoken longing and you feel how your heart skips a beat, how you have missed the feeling of him touching you, even if it’s just the slightest of touches. 

“I never wanted to hurt you,” he says, his voice now barely above a whisper. 

‘But it did hurt, it hurt so, so much’, is what you want to say. But as you look into Aaron’s eyes, filled with regret and vulnerability, you find yourself unable to form the words, the intensity in the warm, chocolate brown depths of his gaze rendering you speechless. You see the conflict within him, the turmoil of emotions swirling beneath the surface, and you feel the need to avert your gaze.  

You look down at his hand on yours, the warmth of his touch sending a shiver down your spine in the balm night air. For a moment, you allow yourself to savor the familiar sensation, the connection that still linger between you despite the circumstances.

Aaron’s hand tightens slightly around yours, a silent plea for understanding. “You deserve so much better than that,” he murmurs, his thumb gently stroking the back of your hand.

You take a deep breath, the words forming in your mind before you speak them out loud. “Maybe I don’t want you to decide for me what I do and don’t deserve,” you say, looking up at him again, your voice steady despite the feelings swirling within you. Aaron’s eyes widen slightly at your words, a mix of emotions crossing his features.

Now it’s his turn to be lost for words, which for some reason seems to give you a bit more courage. You fill your lungs with another deep breath before opening your mouth.  

“I’m quitting,” you declare, your voice firm and resolute. You’ve been struggling with making the decision, but as you look at Aaron now, face lit up by the soft moon light you know that it is the only decision for you, you are never gonna be able to let him go if you keep working for the BAU. “I’m turning in my resignation letter when we get back from this case.”

Aaron’s eyes widen in shock, his grip on your hand tightening even more as he processes your words. The weight of your statement hangs heavy in the air between you, the unspoken implications of what this means for both of you settling in. You can see how a myriad of emotions flicker across his face – surprise, concern, and perhaps a glimmer of something else that you can’t quite place.

“You can’t do that,” Aaron’s voice is firm but filled with a mix of concern and resignation, his gaze searching yours for any sign of doubt

You can’t help but feel a pang of hurt at his words, it’s not like you had expected him to be happy about your decision, but a little, and probably naive, part of you had hoped that he would acknowledge that it would be the solution to how the two of you could be together, hoped that he still wanted that. But you’re not leaving the BAU for the slim chance that you can be with Aaron. You’re quitting because it’s become clear to you that it is the only solution. If the only time you can push aside the pain of being around him is when you’re actively investigating  a violent crime case, you have to let him go, and you can only do that by leaving the BAU. 

“Yes, I can… I have to, I think,” you say firmly, yet you feel your heart breaking a little by the thought of leaving. “I need to do this for myself. For my own well-being,” you continue, your gaze unwavering as you look into his eyes. “I can’t keep pretending that everything is okay when it’s not.” 

Aaron remains silent for a moment, his expression unreadable as he processes your words. Finally, he sighs, a hint of resignation in his voice. “I never wanted it to come to this,” he admits, his voice heavy with regret.

“I know,” you reply softly, a tinge of sorrow coloring your words. “But we both knew the risks when we started this.”

“I should never have put you in this position,” Aaron says, his gaze dropping to the ground as he speaks. “I should never have kissed you that night. Ilet my own feelings cloud my judgment, and I hurt you in the process. I’m your boss, and I took advantage, and I-I hurt you, and…” 

“No, look at me, please.” You reach out and gently cub his cheek in your hand, making him meet your gaze. “Aaron, it wasn’t just you. I wanted it too, I wanted to be with you,” you confess, your voice breaking slightly with emotion. “I wanted to take the risk because I thought it was worth it. And maybe it was, for a while. But we can’t keep going like this, Aaron. It’s not fair to either of us.” 

Aaron’s eyes search yours, a mix of emotions swirling within their depths. “What are you saying?” he asks softly, his voice filled with a hint of desperation. 

“I’m saying that I need to let you go,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “I need to let go of this hope that maybe someday we could find a way to be together. I can’t keep holding on to something that’s only causing us both pain.” Tears gather in the corners of your eyes as you speak, the weight of your decision pressing down on you. But despite the pain, you feel a sense of clarity wash over you, a sense of liberation in finally speaking the truth. 

Aaron’s eyes soften, his hand coming up to gently grasp yours that’s still cupping his cheek. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers, his voice filled with regret and sorrow. You offer him a sad smile, tears finally spilling down your cheeks as you lean forward to press a soft kiss to his cheek before pulling away. 

“Me too, Aaron,” you say softly, your voice filled with a mix of love and heartbreak. As you stand up from the bench, you turn to walk away, the weight of your decision settling in your heart. But before you can take a step, you feel a hand grasp yours, stopping you in your tracks. You turn back to see Aaron standing before you, his eyes filled with determination and a hint of something you can’t quite place. 

“I...I can’t let you leave without saying this,” Aaron begins, his voice wavering slightly. “I’ve been a fool. I’ve let my own fears and insecurities cloud my judgment, and in the process, I’ve hurt you. But I can’t let you go without telling you that I love you. ” 

Your heart skips a beat at his words, the depth of his confession washing over you like a wave. For a moment, you feel a flicker of hope ignite within you, a spark of possibility that maybe, just maybe, there’s a chance for the two of you. “But what does that mean, Aaron?” you ask softly, your voice filled with a mix of hope and trepidation. “What are you saying?” 

Aaron takes a deep breath, his gaze unwavering as he speaks. “I’m saying that I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want to live with the regret of letting you slip away. I want to fight for a future where you are a part of my life. I know it won’t be easy, I know there are risks and complications, but I can’t let you go without at least trying cause I love you.” 

Tears stream down your cheeks as you look into Aaron’s eyes, the sincerity and love shining within them filling your heart with warmth and longing. Taking a step closer to Aaron, you reach out to cup his face in your hands, meeting his gaze with determination. 

“I love you, too. I think I’ve loved you from the moment I met you.” 

Aaron’s eyes widen in surprise, a mix of emotions flickering across his features. Without another word, he closes the distance between the two of you, his lips capturing yours in a kiss filled with passion and longing. The world falls away as you melt into each other, lost in the moment of shared love and desire as the man you love kisses you under the moonlight.

The kiss deepens, becoming a promise of the future you both want to fight for, a pledge to overcome the obstacles that stand in your way, a balm for the weeks of heartbreak. And as you break apart, breathless and filled with emotion, you feel how your entire body shivers, already missing the feeling of Aaron’s warm lips against yours. 

“You’re freezing,” Aaron frowns, quickly shredding himself of his suit jacket and draping it around your shoulders before wrapping his arms around you in a tight embrace. “Let’s get you inside.”

You nod, your heart swelling with hope and love as he takes your hand in his, leading you back to the hotel. Hotel might be a little generous; it’s more of a bed and breakfast, with so few rooms that the team had to pair up and share, but it was the only accommodation in town and it is not like you and the team aren’t used to having to share rooms from time to time. 

It turns out the rest of the team has already paired up and hit the hay, leaving only one room since you’re the last two to arrive. “Looks like you and I’ll have to share a room,” you say, a small smile playing on your lips, an hour ago you would be horrified by it, but now you’re absolutely thrilled about it.  

“Yeah, looks like it,” he says with a soft smile on his face as you get your keys before taking your hand in his again and leading you to your shared room.  

As you step inside, the warmth of the room envelops you, melding with the warmth of Aaron’s touch as he pulls you into his arms, his lips finding yours once more in a sweet, tender embrace. In the dim light of the hotel room, with the moon casting a soft glow through the curtains, the emotions swirling within you are no longer suffocating, but freeing, as you surrender to the love that has bound the two of you together.

As you finally break apart and look around it turns out that the room is a twin room, with two beds divided by a bedside table. It makes sense that your coworkers didn’t leave you to share a room with a shared bed. 

You share a knowing look with him before the both of you start to quickly get ready for bed, it’s late and you’re both exhausted and there is only a few hours till you’ll need to get up again. 

You share one last kiss before moving to your respective beds, but as you lay there, the distance between you feels unbearable. The man you have been pining over for three years has just a little while ago told you that he loves you after weeks of heartbreak and he lies so close yet you can’t even touch him? That’s ridiculous! 

“I can’t do this,” you whisper, your voice filled with longing as you look at Aaron.

“I know,” he replies, his voice just as filled with yearning as he pulls his covers to the side letting you slip into the bed with him. 

You settle into his arms, feeling the warmth of his body against yours, and you feel as if you’re finally coming home. The walls that had been built between you are crumbling down, allowing you to embrace the love that has always been between you.

As you snuggle closer to Aaron, his arms wrapped tightly around you, you feel a sense of peace wash over you. The turmoil of the past weeks fades away, replaced by a deep sense of contentment and love.

“I’m never letting you go again,” Aaron whispers, his breath warm against your ear, and you know that he means it. And you know that you never want to let him go either. 

With a smile on your face, and your heart full of love and hope, you drift off to sleep in the arms of the man you love, knowing that no matter what challenges lie ahead, you will face them together.

[weinq]

kiss me thru the phone

idol!anton x reader synopsis: After a concert, Anton texts you late at night. Despite the distance and time difference, a sleepy FaceTime call turns into a tender moment of love, laughter, and longing. genre: fluff, angst if you squint (?) word count: 1.1k authors note: i wanted to make this very angsty and fluff but this is what i’ve got for now. also, I haven't stopped staring at the pictures / videos of Anton from this live, he looks soo good huhuhu~ not proof read! masterlist

It was well past midnight when Anton finally made it back to the hotel; the pulse of the concert was still thrumming in his veins.

He sank into the chair, the weight of the day pressing down on him. Reaching for his phone, he unlocked it and instinctively scrolled to your messages. A smile curled at his lips as he read the texts you had sent earlier. Normally, Anton was glued to his phone, constantly keeping you in the loop. But as the tour stretched on, each stop had become more demanding, leaving him with fewer moments to share with you. He wished he could do more, but tonight, at least, he had this.

y/n: Have fun out there, rockstar~! y/n: Text me when you get back tho :)

A soft laugh escaped his lips. There was a warmth in your messages that Anton couldn’t ignore. He glanced at the city clock on his lock screen—it was already dawn where you were. He knew you would probably be up soon, starting your day. Despite the time difference, a little part of him hopes that you would be awake as he types out a response. 

anton: Just got back to the hotel, baby. anton: I’ll shower and go to bed. anton: I hope you slept well.

anton: Good morning, baby.

He paused for a moment before hitting send, knowing you’d likely still be asleep. He added the last message felt like a gesture of warmth, something to hold onto until you woke up. Not expecting an immediate reply, he set his phone down on the table and headed for the shower, his mind still lingering on you.

As Anton adjusted the shower's temperature, steam began to swirl in the air, enveloping the room in warmth. He stood there, waiting for the water to reach the right heat, his mind drifting. The quiet was interrupted by the sharp ping of his phone— “A message at this hour?” He paused, momentarily distracted. Anton wondered if it was one of the older group members sneaking out for a late-night snack, or maybe a work-related message? But his gut told him it was something else entirely.

He stepped out of the steam-filled bathroom, drawn to the glow of his phone. He glances at the notification on his phone, which to his surprise, it was yours. You had responded. His heart picked up a little as he stared at your message, a grin spreading across his face. Instinctively, his thumbs moved to type, eager to reply.

anton: Why are you awake at this hour? 🤨

He hit send and leaned back, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. The minutes seemed to stretch as he waited, anticipation thick in the air. Moments later, your reply lit up his screen.

y/n: I couldn’t really sleep. :( I kept thinking about you, and then… I saw you in my dreams.

Anton’s heart skipped at the thought of you dreaming about him, his smile widening. He paused for a bit, before sending the next message. 

Anton’s heart swelled at the thought of you dreaming about him. He couldn’t help but smile wider, warmth spreading through him. He hated how far away you were, how much he longed to be with you at that moment. His fingers hovered over the screen, a deep pull in his chest urging him to reach out.

anton: If you’ve got time now, lovely, do you want to FaceTime for a bit?

He hit send, the words feeling almost too easy to say—too simple, but exactly what he needed. He missed you more than he’d admit, and hearing your voice was the closest thing to being with you. You responded with a call, and Anton picked up in a heartbeat.

“Hello, baby,” Anton said softly, his voice warm as he gazed at your sleepy, yet smiling face. His heart tugged at the sight of you, so close yet so far away.

“Hi,” you murmured, your voice thick with sleep, still caught in the haze of dreams.

Anton couldn’t help but smile as he set his phone down on the desk and leaned back in his chair. “How’s your morning?” he asked, his voice laced with affection.

“Hmm, not bad,” you replied, rubbing your eyes as you tried to fully wake up. “I’m just trying to shake off the sleepiness, though.” Then you yawned, your voice quieter. “How was the show?”

Anton let out a tired sigh, leaning back further in his chair. “Honestly, I’m kinda exhausted,” he confessed. “The tour’s really starting to catch up to me. But when I’m on stage... it’s like I forget everything. I love performing.” He paused, a nostalgic smile playing on his lips. “I wish you could’ve been there today. Wonbin hyung played this sick solo on his bass. It was incredible. Briize lost their minds—one of them almost fell over the barrier.”

You laughed softly, the sound warm and soothing. “That sounds crazy. I hope she’s okay, though.”

“Mhm, yeah. Wonbin hyung went down to check on her while greeting the fans in the front row,” Anton said, his tone lightening a little.

There was a brief pause as you stretched your arms, making yourself more comfortable. “I think I’ve got a busy day ahead of me,” you said, your voice quiet. “Well, maybe not too busy. I have a work meeting first, and after that, I’m meeting Yumi and Jia for coffee.”

Anton nodded attentively, but his mind couldn’t quite shake the thought of you being so far away. He listened to you excitedly talk about your plans, a small smile tugging at his lips despite the exhaustion that weighed on him.

After you finished, the conversation fell into a comfortable silence—one that didn’t need to be filled. Just hearing each other’s presence was enough, even if it wasn’t the same as being together.

“Anton?” you said quietly, breaking the silence, your voice softer now.

“Yeah?” His voice was gentle, full of warmth as he leaned closer to the screen, his heart tight in his chest.

“I miss you,” you whispered, almost as if you were afraid to say it out loud.

Anton’s heart skipped, a soft smile spreading across his face. The ache of longing was palpable, yet his love for you flooded in, making the distance feel even harder. “I miss you too, y/nie,” he replied, his voice thick with emotion. His eyes stayed locked on yours, as though he could reach through the screen and hold you. “I wish I could kiss you right now. God, I really do.” His words were shy, vulnerable, but filled with such longing. 

You smiled, your eyes locking with his. For a moment, it felt as if you were just a breath away, close enough to close the distance. “Kiss me through the phone” you whispered teasing him with the lyrics of the song, your voice barely above a breath, the sadness of missing him wrapping around your playful words.

[gatorbites-imagines]

Would it be weird to ask for main Mark with Deoxys reader?

I can see them bonding about being aliens and being stronger than the average hero and all that(I can kinda seeing him like readers defense form)

Mark Grayson and Deoxys reader 

Headcanons 

This was made with more platonic thoughts in mind. I don't think I've ever played the games where Deoxys is in them, so this is based off the wiki. 

As a virus from space, I can see the reader as someone who just doesn't really... fit anywhere. The universe is massive, so the reader most likely just kinda... floats around for a good while. 

The GDA would be who spots the reader first when you come into like, earth territory. Earth doesn't really have Rayquaza to get rid of you or anything, so theyd send Mark. 

I don't think Deoxys can technically speak human language, but from my understanding the pokemon has a lot of power and mind abilities, so you would be able to communicate with Mark through your thoughts. 

You guys might fight for a bit, but its not completely life and death. More just you guys being unsure of the other, throwing punches first, asking questions later. 

I imagine the reader shows Mark their origin in a truly alien way, by placing their tentacles against his forehead and just like, placing the memories of their creation into his head. 

It might create a mental bond between you two, meaning you also get some feedback from Mark, his memories and feelings, which makes you feel drawn to earth. 

You don't love earth or anything, you could actually care less. You are no human, and you know from Marks memories and everyone's thoughts, that you can hear, that the GDA wants nothing more than to pick you apart and study you. 

Your multiple forms would be really cool to Mark, since he's a nerd and all. He ends up asking a lot of questions, and help you discover your limits and abilities that you haven't had time to study yet. 

You aren't like, property to him the same way pokemon are to their masters in the pokemon universe. Instead, you are more of a strange ally. 

You help earth because you like Mark, maybe because you figure out their treats are really good and that their music is nice, but you don't care much for the people. 

A lot of them project their hate and thoughts way too loudly, but Marks your first friend, so its your duty to help out.  

Being able to regenerate makes you very useful in battle as well, meaning you can step in when things get rough. Though, I feel you aren't there for the most part. 

Instead, you are out exploring the galaxy and helping out when needed, since Mark made so much of an impression you when you guys mind bonded. 

Theres still a thread connecting you guys, so you are able to teleport to Mark when things are truly going to hell, like when Angstrom is running wild, or the Mark variants and Conquest show up. 

I don't think you ever learn how to speak the human language, instead you make different tones and whistles, and being around you long enough means people start to just understand. 

You and Mark can bond on a lot of things, like being alien, too powerful, not fitting in completely, but Mark still has friends and community on earth. Him looking human helps too. 

 You are always an outsider, but not being human also means you don't have the human need for such things. Instead, you like chilling out in space, or at the bottom of the ocean, or wherever.  

You do like hanging out with your human “companions” too, some who have made it their life's goal to introduce you to human culture one shitty movie at a time. 

[redrosydiaz]

its the middle of spring in la, inching closer to summer every day the way it's been growing steadily warmer, so buck's layers have been making less and less of an appearance (they're not completely gone, because even in the middle of summer sometimes buck gets coldcoldcold — from the ac usually, around this time, because eddie looooves that thing, even more so now that he's back, after not having a functioning one for so long in texas.) but still. buck gets cold easily, no matter what, so he always keeps two sweatshirts and his comfiest pair of sweatpants and at least three pairs of fuzzy socks nearby for when that happens).

but. it's spring, it's sunny, it's warm.

and then there is an uncharacteristically chilly day in the midst of it all — overcast, gray skies. the streets wet from the rain. a crisp bite in the air.

the ac isn't on in buck's— no eddie's— no their house on this day, but the windows are cracked, because chilly as it is, the fresh air is nice, and the sound of birdsong is delightful, and the smell of real, fresh rain is better than any candle eddie could buy is.

buck and eddie are on the couch. it's their day off, and christopher is at a friend's house. he spent the night there, and eddie isn't due to pick him up for another couple hours, so they're having a lazy morning — a lazy afternoon, really, now that the clock has ticked over past the noon mark. so they’re on the couch, catching up on one of those silly reality shows they watch together because eddie thinks the drama is fun and buck thinks the way eddie gets super into it is cute (and also because the drama is fun). and buck's bundled up in one of his sweatshirts, because his arms got cold, but hes wearing a pair of sweatshorts — eddie's. the cut off ones he loves. his favorite pair, actually. buck loves to tease him about them, but. well. he might wear them just as much as eddie does. ever since they stopped trying to separate out their clothes in the drawers. it happens much more often now, the wearing each others clothes. neither one of them minds. (they both love it, actually, not that they've admitted it. they haven't admitted anything yet.)

but they're sitting on the couch together, watching shitty reality tv, and buck's leaning against the arm of the couch, his knees bent and toes tucked up under eddie's thigh because, well. because they're cold. he keeps wiggling them, like he's trying to work some warmth back into them, but its not really working.

eddie, of course, notices this. and, he gets up. doesn't say a word. doesn't pause the show. just disappears down the hall. buck pouts, attention drawn away from the screen to watch eddie leave. he's about to call after him, to ask if everything is okay or where he's going, but then eddie is reappearing. padding softly down the hall and back into the living room with something balled up between his hands.

he rounds the couch and sinks back into his spot and then — and then he turns to buck and reaches for a foot. just. curls his fingers around buck's ankle and lifts it up and plonks it right into his lap. and then — gentle, sweet, so achingly tender, eddie slides one of buck's fuzzy socks onto his foot. pulls it over his toes and up his heel and makes sure it's pulled up as high as it goes, fitting comfortably. then he repeats that with buck's other foot. and then, instead of pushing buck's feet off of his lap, back onto the couch, eddie just, takes one between his hands again, and, keeping his eyes on the tv, chuckling softly at whatever ridiculous antics are playing out, he starts to rub buck's foot. a soft touch, a gentle kneading, probably to get the blood flowing again and return some of that warmth back to his frozen toes. mindless, like he didn't even have to think before he did it.

and all buck can do is just. stare. at eddie. with his breath caught in his throat and his heart aching in his chest and his eyes shining. because — because oh.

oh.

buck thinks, i can see my future, and it looks exactly like this.

[dark-konohagakure2]

Madara taking advantage of Hashirama's sheltered younger sister? Like so sheltered that she doesn't even really know anything about sex

tw: dubcon, corruption, size difference, gentle to rough sex, manipulation, coercion, degradation, implied hashimada, sadism, dacryphillia, threats

All characters depicted are 18+

Madara isn't very close with Hashirama's siblings, him and Tobirama have been on bad terms since they were children, and Hashirama's little sister is a shy thing even in adulthood, always hiding behind her brothers and rarely leaving the house, but lately Madara has been finding himself more and more drawn to this meek little mouse.

Hashirama and Tobirama haven't been around their sister as much lately due to their duties as Hokage and Hokage's advisor respectively, so the poor little Senju princess has been lonely lately. Usually Madara wouldn't care about some girl's silly problems, but now he feels obligated to provide some company and comfort for his dear little friend.

He can't help but notice what a lovely and well endowed young woman she's grown up into, Madara isn't usually one to give into lust, he's a scary looking man, not to mention he has more important things to worry about than his primal base desires, but he's only a man, so it's not like he'd be opposed to shoving his cock into a hole with a cute face and body attached to it.

Initially Madara just decides to pin her down and ravage her right then and there, but when she starts asking a million questions about what he's doing, seemingly oblivious to what he's doing even as his cock is out and fully erect. Madara would be charmed by her innocence if it wasn't so irritating, he knew she was naive but this is just ridiculous. While not known for his patience, Madara opts to take a more gentle, albeit manipulative approach.

"Are you daft, girl? This is called fu- ahem... It's called 'making love'... It's something you do with your dear friends, and we are friends aren't we, little one?"

He'll be uncharacteristically gentle with her... initially. He doesn't want to break then illusion of lovemaking just yet, at least not until he gets his cock adjusted to her impossibly tight cunt, she's so tight around him that it almost hurts, and she certainly squeezes him harder than her eldest brother does.

But unfortunately for her, Madara being Madara can't stay gentle for very long, he's a warrior who aims for dominance, not equality, or gods forbid submission to her silly little pleas for 'gentle' and 'slower'. He'll abruptly switch from shallow and gentle thrusts to a savage and brutal pounding to her unprotected cunt, not caring if it hurts her, this isn't about making her feel good, it's about getting his rocks off.

The sudden change of pace will startle and confuse the poor girl, and she'll start blubbering like a sniveling child, asking what he's doing and what she did wrong to deserve him being so mean to her. Normally Madara would simply shut her and her insolent whining up, but he'd be lying if he said that watching her cry and whine beneath him didn't make him go absolutely feral.

In the end he'll leave her battered and leaking with his essence, her ass and thighs covered in large red handprints and her pussy stretched from his cock and gushing with his cum. Madara doesn't have time to appreciate his handiwork however, those imbecile big brothers of hers are going to be home soon after all, and he doesn't need yet another deathmatch with the Senju.

"Congratulations. You were a halfway decent cum dumpster. Now, not a word about this to those idiot brothers of yours if you value your life. Understand?"

Hashirama is none the wiser, thanking his old friend for watching over his beloved sister while he was away. Madara will accept the thanks without hesitation, he did do a good job, at giving her a reality check that is.

[bonus-links]

Have you done commentary on your favorite page yet?

okay this is kind of hard to answer bc there's lots of updates I'm rlly proud of but i think RUINS pt. 3 is my personal favorite so i'm gonna do that one :D

genuinely I think this is the best set of pages I have ever made and I will probably never top them. literally how did I manage this. how have I never cooked like this since. I feel like I have lost this sauce somehow lolol

really I think it's just that I haven't drawn that much action since this. as a writer I rlly gravitate towards more character-driven, dialogue heavy scenes. which also happen to be rlly hard to make into visually interesting comics 😂 sometimes I think it's a flaw of mine but u know what. the point of making this comic is to do whatever I want

anyway. I know i'm just sort of screenshotting this whole page but I really like this sequence. the way that the momentum carries from the lizalfos choking loft into him getting slammed into the ground just really works. I also feel like this color palette is so cohesive. i love this like. acidic yellow and green combo. i should use it more often

this poor lizalfos cowering in the face of beetle's might. side note I kind of miss beetle's big pincers but I don't miss drawing them. I don't rlly regret the beetle redesign HAHA

I also LOVE this set of panels. Lightning powers should always come with glowing eyes, I think. it's non-negotiable.

I didn't even plan this panel in the sketch. It was originally supposed to be a full page, and I literally just wrote "lol" and left it for myself to figure out later. i knew what I wanted it to look like in my head, but it took FOREVER to figure out. It's not perfectly drawn but I still like how it turned out!

i remember this entire fight sequence took SO MUCH planning. I literally spent forever zooming around the spring of courage in botw trying to understand all the different angles I would need. I took so many screenshots.

anyway I knew I wanted Slate's first words to be "well, damn' since the beginning HAHA. Bro was just hanging out in Faron minding his own business before this. He was gonna step in eventually but it seemed like loft had it under control 😂 also, Loft's powers include chain lighting!

anyway that's all I got really, not too much to say abt this one but I'm still really proud of how it turned out

[toxycodone]

hey so what if. curly thought that his favourite crewmate was at least a little experienced and then found out that they actually haven't even kissed before. like maybe if he overheard daisuke making fun of them for it. what then 👁️

ship. captain grant mccurley x reader

content. power imbalance, curly calls you kiddo but you aren’t his kid

“You’ve really never kissed anyone before?”

This was not the type of late night conversation you expected to be having with your fucking boss, but alas, the stars aligned and hexed you stupid, it seems. Curly’s blue eyes practically glow despite the dim lighting in the common room, peering at you with gentle amusement.

You shift in your seat. Suddenly the couch isn’t comfortable anymore.

“No…being on hauls back to back doesn’t give me much time to date and stuff…”

You answer, scrambling for any sort of excuse. It’s genuinely embarrassing. Why has someone your age never kissed anyone yet? Ridiculous. Now Curly probably really thinks you’re some fucking kid.

“I know, it’s weird. Daisuke already made fun of me enough, so please…just drop it.”

The blonde chuckles—deep and gravely as it rolls in his chest. He’s an insomniac, but he still gets that sexy ‘just woke up’ tone this late in the evening.

“You shouldn’t be embarrassed. It’s cute, really. Someone your age still being so pure…that’s rare.”

That familiar feeling of heat starts to burn your cheeks. Oh God. It’s not just from embarrassment anymore. Curly finding it cute…it makes you wanna explode.

“Seriously? You don’t think I’m, like, weird?”

Of course he wouldn’t. Curly’s your captain. Confidant. Friend. At least that’s what he’s made himself out to be. This pseudo-fatherly figure that you can always rely on. The one that’s there for you. Takes care of you.

He shakes his head.

“Not at all.”

His hand’s on your knee.

“Were you waiting for someone special? I mean, a first kiss is a big milestone,”

It’s moving up your thigh. You don’t question it. It’s Curly. He can touch you like this. He doesn’t mean anything by it. He’s comforting you.

You consider his question. Were you waiting for someone special? Or had you been so consumed in work you just never had the time to grow outside of pursuing your career? It’s probably a mix of both. Curly’s been at this job for over a decade, yet he’s definitely managed to kiss a plethora of people. And with a body like that, you bet he even has quite a few notches on his bedpost too.

Would he want to add another?

That thought’s admonished when he gives the fat of your thigh a squeeze. You swallow, but your throat’s dry.

“I mean…I guess.” His gaze pierces through you, causing a shiver to run down your spine. The boring screen full of stars is now quite interesting.

“I just, I don’t know, I—“

“I can show you how to kiss.” It’s offered as casually as a handshake. “So you know what to do when you find the right one.”

This isn’t something a captain should offer his subordinate. Nevertheless, one that affectionately refers to you as kiddo. You’ve called him dad before, either on accident or on purpose—that you aren’t sure. There’s layers of nuance to this situation that makes it inherently wrong. But it’s dangled in front of you like a treat.

“Really…?”

Obedient as ever, you take it despite the risks.

Aren’t you well trained?

But what else is he for? If not to teach you, his favorite crewmate, his sweet little kiddo, everything they need to know to succeed?

“Of course.” The hint of Southern drawl in his sultry tone is enough to rid your inhibitions. You’re drawn to the soft, pink curve of his lip as he leans forward. Your chin’s gently cradled by his index finger and thumb, the callouses on them now hyperaware to your senses.

“It’s easy.” His eyes lock on yours. “You just close your eyes, then pucker your lips.”

You try to follow these instructions, prompting a laugh from Curly.

“Cute. But try to relax, okay?”

It’s hard. You feel his breath on your lips, and it makes you shake like a leaf. He’s so close to you that you can feel the heat radiating off his body.

Curly’s lips touch yours. It’s soft. For such a large, imposing man, the kiss is chaste and sweet. There’s so much care put into the gesture, a testament to Curly’s personality. A shock runs through you, but you find yourself easing into the kiss and relaxing.

His other hand, the one not perched on your thigh and kneading the flesh, moves to cradle the back of your head. This feels like a fantasy. How you’d imagine a leading man would kiss the object of his desire. So much passion exists in such a tiny gesture, your heart feels like it’s going to pop in your chest.

And then, it’s over. When his body moves from yours, you still feel in a daze. Your heavy eyelids open slowly to be met with Curly’s half-lidded ones. He’s close enough you could count his golden lashes if you wanted.

“See? Nothin’ to it, right?”

Curly’s beaming. And even more obnoxiously, the simulated moonlight is highlighting his masculine features in all the right areas. You’re starting to feel dizzy.

Curly’s thumb graces your bottom lip.

“With a little more practice, you’re sure to be a natural.”

How could you say no?