#i just need all these characters to be happy

[hayatoseyepatch]

Ｄｅｓｃｒｉｐｔｉｏｎ: Assigning positions I think the Love & Deepspace men would fuck you in. With twitter links! Mostly Inspired by Juno — Sabrina Carpenter.

Ｃｈａｒａｃｔｅｒｓ: Zayne|Rafayel|Xavier|Caleb|Sylus

Ｗｏｒｄ Ｃｏｕｎｔ: 3.5 k

Ｃｏｎｔａｉｎｓ: Multiple Characters x Fem!Reader

Ｃｏｎｔｅｎｔ Ｗａｒｎｉｎｇｓ: NSFW visuals (videos) in the links, penetrative sex (duh), unprotected sex, praise, degradation, mentions of breeding, use of pet names, manhandling, somnophilia (Xavier’s), cock warming (Rafayel’s), spanking, choking, marking, semi-public sex (Zayne’s).

Ａｕｔｈｏｒ’ｓ Ｎｏｔｅ: Happy New Year everyone! (੭ˊᵕˋ)੭♡ I feel like it has been an absolute MINUTE since I’ve written anything, and even longer since I’ve done headcannons. But with this most recent quad I’m feeling inspired. My writer's block has been absolutely insane someone please save me. I’ve never done this type of post just wanted to test the waters with something different. We also have so little on Caleb so his may not stand the test of time, but we shall see LMAO. Let me know what you think and I hope you enjoy! (ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ.ﾟ

Ｘａｖｉｅｒ － Ｓｐｏｏｎｉｎｇ

Xavier wasn’t sure how he slept at night before having you in his arms again. Rousing from sleep he couldn’t help but smile into the back of your neck, nose burying itself in the hair that rested at the base of your neck, taking a deep inhale of your scent. He never knew a smell could make him feel so at ease, but also stir up such heat in the pit of his stomach. His hands wandered your sleeping from, seeking out the warmth radiating from your skin. Nimble fingers slipping beneath the them of your sleep shirt, mind fuzzy and still glazed over with sleep. He was acting purely on instinct, and by the way you subtly arched your back into his touch as a large hand slipped beneath the swell of your breast — you were too.

The plush of your skin was so malleable beneath his fingers, thumb swiping the stiff peak of your hardened nipple as his lips kiss a trail up and down the side your neck. Swallowing a groan when his hips roll into the swell of your ass, not wanting to rouse you from your slumber just yet. His tongue slips past his lips to lick a fat stripe up the side of your neck before attaching his lips to the juncture where your shoulder met your neck. Desperation growing, the kiss was a mess of teeth and tongue, marking your skin as his hips continued to grind against you from behind. Xavier was so lost in the feel of you he nearly missed the groan that slipped from your lips and the way you began to grind back against him. Almost. Moving his lips to press against your ear, his voice is breathy and laced with yearning.

“Please bunny, need to be inside you, cant take it anymore.”

You were too groggy, still half asleep, so all you're able to muster is rolling your hips back on his own as your sign of approval. And that was all Xavier needed. Deft fingers pull your panties to the side, quick to also push down the waistband of his sleep pants, freeing his throbbing cock from their confines. He grips the base of himself with a shaky hand, using the head of his cock to part your folds. He allows himself a moment to swipe himself up your slit, collecting your wetness to use as lube. The head of his cock brushing your clit with every pass. Before long you finally felt the glorious stretch of him pushing past your entrance, sinking slowly inch by inch into your awaiting cunt. The both of you let out sighs of matched contentment as you take him to the base.

Xavier stays there for a moment, relishing the feel of your warmth engulfing him. However, his patience has its limits, and this yarning for you wins out as he begins to move. Xavier sets a steady pace from the start, using his grip on your breast and another on your hip as leverage to guide his thrusts, deep and shallow as his mouth continues it’s attention to the sensitive skin of your neck. Rocking his hips, angling them to hit that spot nestled deep inside you that has your vision blurring more with every pass. You knew neither of you would last long, not like this.

It seemed as if Xavier slept so much to simply replenish the energy needed to fuck you more. It was rare for you both to have a day off, and he didn’t intend on letting you leave this bed anytime soon. Not when your voice, airy and rasp from sleep, called his name so sweetly. Not when he could feel your walls spasming around him in an attempt to milk his cock for all he was worth. And especially not when you abruptly turn your head, lips slotting over his own in a desperate kiss, forcing him to swallow your moans as you came around his cock for the first of many times that day.

Ｚａｙｎｅ － Ｄｏｇｇｙ Ｓｔｙｌｅ

Zayne liked to consider himself a patient man, not one to lose his cool or one to give in when that patience is tested. But he is also a man, and everyone has their limits. Those limits being you coming into his place of work for your checkup lacking panties. He was suspicious from the moment you came in, wearing that smile that always alerted him to you being up to something. The small upward turn of your lips and poorly concealed anticipation lighting your features. He knew you better than anyone and always knew even the slightest change in you behavior. So as you sat on the examination table, he scrutinized you.

“What’s the matter? Is something wrong, doctor?”

That was his second inclination, the way you purred his profession title, as if the both of you did not share the same bed at night. With a lifted eyebrow he sanitizes his hands before sliding his gloves over deft fingers, scrutinizing eyes overlooking your frame. Taking this opportunity, you cross one leg over the under, the short length of your skirt revealing just whet you weren’t wearing underneath. Today had been a long day for Zayne, several surgeries and a booked schedule causing hm to miss his lunch. Hoping to get some reprieve with your presence he supposes at least it was thoughtful of you to bring him that lunch he missed out on.

 He wasted no time in locking the door to the examination room, coming to you in long strides before dropping to his knees. Strong, gloved, hands parting your thighs as he delves into your folds like a man starved. Zayne was usually a patient lover, taking his time to savor every part of you, making sure you’ve been thoroughly satisfied before indulging in his own pleasure. That was not the case today, eating your cunt until it was dripping with a combination of your arousal and his saliva, he stands to his feet. Not so much as bothering to remove his lab coat as he undoes his buckle. You only get a momentary glance of his cock before the world shifts. Using his strength to easily flip you over on the examination table. Bunching your skirt past your hips to expose your ass to his hungry gaze. A latex covered hand comes down on your ass in a harsh smack, fingers grasping the plump skin of your ass, using his grip to expose your dripping cunt to him. He sinks himself to the hilt with one harsh thrust. Leaning over to press his lips against your ear.

“You want to act like a slut, darling? Then I’ll fuck you like a slut.”

Zayne sets a steady pace from the start, relishing in the sounds he not only pulls from your lips but from your cunt as well. Loud squelching and the sounds of skin slapping against skin echo against the walls of the room. His fingers curling against the column of your throat, feeling your racing pulse beneath his fingers, as he uses his grip to aid in bouncing you back on his cock. He could feel the way your walls were fluttering around him, knowing the cut to your airflow with his earlier actions were sending you spiraling toward your release. Effortlessly he slides his free hand beneath you, fingers rubbing tight circles against your clit. Feeling you tighten around him coupled with hearing the begs and pleas that spill from your lips is all the encouragement Zayne needed. His hips lose the steady pace he had set opting instead to slap harshly and erratically against your own, chasing his high.

The sheer pleasure running through his veins is nearly overwhelming, spilling inside you with a groan. He was sure his sheer volume would be enough to rival your own, however he couldn't find it within himself to care too lost in the way you were making him feel. His hips continually rolling against yours even after he has spilled every last drop he had to offer deep within your walls, before the overstimulation he was giving himself becomes painful. He pulls from you, resting back on his heels, using a thumb to part you folds as he hungrily watches your cunt contract around nothing, his come starting to drip from your abused pussy, letting out a groan at the sight.

“How sweet of you to bring me lunch, darling. Now lets get you home for some rest, doctor’s orders.”

Ｓｙｌｕｓ － Ｍａｔｉｎｇ Ｐｒｅｓｓ

Sylus hated being away from you, between your job and Onychinus the both of you hadn’t been afforded the opportunity of spending too much time together as of late. Your opposing sleep schedules only aided in your recent separation, you coming home to him still asleep and just coming home as you opened your eyes. It was driving him mad. Pent-up frustration had his temper short and his trigger finger happy. So after an insistence from Luke and Kieran to return to your shared home early for the day, he would make no complaints. He hammed as he entered the home, seeing you just getting ready to tuck into bed. Eyes taking in the sight of you in nothing but one of his shirts, he was on you in an instant. Eyes rolling back at your scent, mixing with his own on your skin. Only to have you laid bare split open on his cock as quickly as he would allow himself to.

His hips don't falter, he keeps up his speed. Though each snap of his hips hitting deeper with each pass, angling his hips just right to find that sensitive spot deep inside your walls, grinning maliciously when he does so. His grip stays firm on the backs of your thighs keeping them pressed to your chest to reach the deepest parts of you. Loving the way your eyes roll back as you struggle to form even a coherent sentence from the way he used your body. His chuckle is deep, cruel, against your neck as you struggle to get out the syllables of his name. Coming broken between thrusts of his hips.

“Awh my poor little kitten, she’s getting her cunt fucked so good she can't even finish my name. Poor thing, here let daddy take care of you sweetie.”

He grins, reattaching his lips to your neck. Tongue, teeth, and lips marking the sensitive skin. He removes one hand from your knee. Eyes flickering with unbridled lust when our grip replaces his own, keeping your leg pressed where it was before he cold even obey you to do so. The thumb of his free hand slotting itself between your lips, eyes rolling back when your tongue circles the digit. Popping it from your mouth he used the coated wetness as lubrication to rub tight circles on your clit. Hips picking up pace in time with the kneading. His lips leave your throat capturing a sensitive nipple into his mouth, sucking on it harshly, aiming to overstimulate all of your sensitive spots in tandem. A loud cry falls from your lips, your unoccupied hand flying to your lips in an attempt to muffle the sound, lest Luke and Kieran hear your cries for their boss within their rooms. Noticing the hand you attempt to use to cover your mouth he grabs your wrist pinning it to the mattress next to your ear with the hand that was just overstimulating your clit.

“Sorry sweetie, I want to hear every cry, curse and whimper that falls from those lips, let me hear you kitten.”

He wastes no time returning the pace he had set, loud squelching and your moans filling the room like the sweetest symphony. The coil had been tight in his abdomen, but he would hold out, he wouldn’t allow himself to fall over the edge before you had. He picks up the pace once more, thrusts growing sloppy under the pleasure. His thumb quickens its pace pressing harder against the bundle of nerves. He groans loud and deep feeling your walls slam down on his cock eyes rolling back as whines and whimpers fall from his lips as your own release triggers his own. His body trembles violently as he topples over the edge painting your walls white. He slows his thrusts, body shaking as he overstimulates you both just a little bit before his hips are finally still. He releases your legs, quick to readjust your form wrapping you around him and pressing a long loving kiss to your lips.

Ｒａｆａｙｅｌ － Ｃｏｗｇｉｒｌ

You weren’t sure how long you had been sat here, when your boyfriend had asked if you wanted to sit with him while he finished his painting, you hadn’t envisioned that you would be doing that sat on his lap with his cock nestled deep inside you. Cock warming with Rafayel never ended in just that, his pleading excuse of “It helps me concentrate, cutie, please?” had you falling for it every time. Every shift in his seat, every time he reached over to dip his brush in the paint on his pallet, sent his cock deeper inside your drooling cunt. You were sure he knew it too, felt the way that even plugged with his cock, your arousal still leaked around you both. That he felt it dripping down his skin. You could only hope this was nearly as torturous for him as it was for you. By the sweat forming on his brow, and the way his paintbrush trembled in his grasp, you were sure it was.

And you would be correct.

It wasn’t long until the painting was long forgotten, Rafayel’s lips consuming your own, as if on a mission to lose himself in the embrace. Skilled hands removed your dress with ease, the lingering paint on his skin, staining your own as you hastily removed his shirt. His eyes zeroed in on the colors adorning your skin, a tangible reminder of his touch, he places a hand on your back to steady you, reaching over to coat his hand in the paint that was on his easel. He grips your wrist as he rolls his hips up into your waiting cunt, lips attaching themselves to the delicate skin of your collarbone, kissing a trail up to the shell of your ear. His hot breaths against the sensitive skin has a shiver raking up your spine in his grasp.

“Go on cutie, put your hand in the paint, want you to make a masterpiece on my skin, my muse.”

Grabbing your wrist, he dips your hand in the paint, just as he had done. A desperate whine slips past your lips when he thrusts sharply upward, hands gripping his shoulders, nails sinking into his skin in their grip. Using your hold on him as leverage to keep bouncing on his cock, the paint marking him, the sight of it on his skin makes your head fuzzy. Seeing the remnants of you on him has you touching him more, smearing the paint on his skin. You continue your movements, bouncing on his cock in time with his upward thrusts. Head dipping downward to capture a pebbled nipple between his lips, tongue laving over the bud as the sound of skin against skin fills the studio.

Your thighs tremble from the burn of exertion of your repeated movements. Sensing you were coming to your end, Rafayel comes to your aid. Hands gripping the plush of your hips as he fucks up into you, heels digging into the bar at the bottom of his stool to ground himself as he meets each one of your thrusts with one of his own. He knew your body like the back of his hand, every tremble, every quiver of your cunt, every desperate sound that fell from your lips he could identify as you nearing your end. His mouth switches to pay attention to your opposite nub teeth and tongue giving it the same treatment in time with the push of his hips. Pulling from you with a 'pop' to grit his teeth, baring down to keep his composure before you were able to release before him. He lets you pull him close hips snapping relentlessly thrusts growing sloppy as he feels your walls clamp down on his cock in your release. It sends him hurtling to his own release hips slapping violently against your own as he paints your insides with a loud scream of your name. His thrusts slow making sure he had filled you with every drop he had to offer. Heart racing, as his arms wrap around you and he pulls your trembling form to his chest pressing tender kisses everywhere his lips could reach.

“Such a good girl for me, cutie. Look at you, I think this might just be the most beautiful piece of art I’ve ever laid my eyes on.”

Ｃａｌｅｂ － Ｍｉｓｓｉｏｎａｒｙ

Caleb had always thought himself lucky to have spent so much time with you. He had the privilege of watching you grow, being by your side through so many monumental moments in your life. Birthdays, graduations, holidays — he got to spend every last one of them by your side. But the more you both grew older the more he realized you hadn’t seen him the way he had seen you, at least he hadn’t thought so. The way you had always treated him had felt so platonic, with no hope for you to ever see the way he had felt for you For him it was never platonic, being in love with you for longer than he could remember. And now, even as you both hastily pulled your lips from each other only long enough to rid each other’s clothes from your trembling bodies, he couldn’t believe you were finally his.

Caleb had dreamed of this for years. Having you like this, being able to touch you like this, seeing the way your face contorted in pleasure as you trembled beneath him. For once seeing him differently, not the sweet boy from your childhood, but as a man. Could only imagine the delicious way his name would sound not in the way he had always heard it but practically purred when laced with lust-fueled ecstasy. He was basking in it. The way you felt beneath his fingers as you trembled from his touch. Had fisted his cock on lonely nights to the mere thought of ever having you like this. Had spilled into his palm as he finished with your name on his lips.

But now he had you, and he had no plans on letting you go any time soon. He lets out a groan into your neck as he sinks into you, inch by agonizing inch until he was buried balls deep in your awaiting cunt. His eyes roll back at the way you greedily pull him in deeper, the fluttering walls of your cunt urging him to begin to move. He starts with deep shallow thrusts, wanting to savor the feeling of your welcoming walls after so many years of yearning. Needing to feel your deepest parts and enjoy every moment of being connected with you. However, he had his limits and the sweet way you cooed his name as you urged him on has him picking up the pace. His hips setting a steadfast pace, going deeper with each pass, gripping your hips as you call out his name.

He can't help it, the feeling of your velvety walls surrounding him, sucking him in for all he was worth, he throws his head back with another loud groan as he slowly withdraws his hips, pulling back until just the mushroom tip of his cock remains inside. With a perfect snap of his hips, aided by the sheer amount of wetness that had gathered to this point he enters back in with ease before picking up the pace again. His gaze returned to you, only to see how your arm was thrown over your face shielding you from him and muffling the sweet sounds spilling from your lips. Grabbing your wrist, he pins it firmly against the mattress beneath you, striking eyes boring into your own.

“Look at me, pipsqueak. I want you to keep your eyes on me.”

Caleb's voice came out gruff, desperate, as the pads of his fingers sank into the plush of your cheeks — forcing your gaze to remain locked on his own. The nickname you had heard your whole life now took on a different edge, sounding almost foreign to our ears.

“Need to see the look in your eyes as you lose yourself on my cock baby.”

Dividers, character banners, & writing by me. ૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა

Network tags: @pixelcafe-network @interstellar-inn

[mixedcontents]

Still my favorite character and the reason my cat Hardison is named Hardison she is now 11! I had finished the original series a while prior to getting my Hardison and I was like ok next cat I get no matter what I'm naming them Hardison after my favorite character and then one fortunate day my mom went to the store across the street to get missing taco ingredients and forgot half of them bc she was so excited to bring home the kitten she'd picked out (some girls were giving away the kittens their cat had had outside one of our small town grocery stores) best tacos we will ever have because we got to have them while getting to know Hardison after all these years I'm still so thankful we got lucky enough to get her thought our Hardison is a bit more thief than hacker as when she was 7 months old my sis ran into a kitten who was abandoned by his momma and she wouldn't take him back into her litter bc he had a physical deformity and she just kept moving her litter away from him and finally my sis was like I know what to do and called me and then I spent some great weeks bottle feeding my baby Neptune and every time I so much as glanced away Hardison would steal him and try to mother him (she was spayed so early and only 7 months old but she was like oh baby? Don't mind if I do I'm the mother now) she'd follow me around when I was caring for Neptune and constantly supervising me Hardison is literally the best and sweetest kitty to this day she so much as hears a baby kitten mew on my phone she's like baby?? Where baby? I need to mother this baby now she also loves chicken and sleeping on mom or me and she loves playing nurse when we're sick and she's just the best kitty anyone could ever want I hope she continues to live a long happy life with us she's a senior now but thankfully still so healthy and active

endless favorites ♡ alec hardison (leverage)

“you know, it’s real cute, man, how you still believe in privacy.”

[miyukisu]

DT 01: Gym Encounters .ᐟ

EP 01 | "Babe, what would you do if a girl approached you at the gym?" ╰ feat. gojo satoru, geto suguru, nanami kento, hiromi higuruma, choso kamo, toji fushiguro, sukuna ryomen, yuji itadori, megumi fushiguro, yuta okkotsu, inumaki toge (JJK)

tags - mostly crack, bit of fluff, tiktok trend, established relationship, playfully toxic just for the humor, slightly suggestive in nanami/hiromi/geto 's part, sukuna is violent what do you expect

MEGA MASTERLIST

DOING TRENDS MASTERLIST

"What would I do?"

"Yeah." You don't give him a chance to prepare as you go into character, pretending to be another girl trying to shoot her shot at him at the gym. It was only then he realized he was being roped into more of your silliness.

What was he going to do now?

────────────

— Does everything wrong -> Toji (sus...) & Yuji (genuine lol)

He was always down to humor your antics, especially this one as it piqued his interest. His enthusiasm made you happy. But you should have known that happiness would be shortlived.

There was a smile already plastered on his face before you even approached. Although, you chalked it up to him anticipating the scenario and not ACTUALLY smiling at a random gym girl coming at him... because why? Just why?

"Heyyy," you drawl out. "Would you mind being my spotter for a bit? I'm trying out a new PR for my squats."

Of course. It had to be squats. To be fair, the right answer here, regardless of the exercise, was to say n—

"Sure."

What.

"Excuse me. What?" you say out loud.

He shrugged and simply repeated his words. "Sure. I can help you out. PR you say? That's great. Hitting your gym goals and whatnot."

Eyes were narrowed and fists were clenched. He doesn't even look like he was second guessing himself. You weren't in the mood to even continue at this point.

"Game's over. You failed by the way."

A look of genuine shock crossed his face as if he didn't just happily entertain this hypothetical gym girl. "What? How? I was so nice though?"

"That's the point!"

Dumbfounded, he tried tracing back his actions, figuring out what he did wrong. "Isn't being gentlemanly the point here?"

This time, it was you who was dumbfounded. "You... you thought... you thought this was a test to see how gentlemanly you were?"

How even...

He nodded, hoping that his nobleness would somehow change your mind. He's lucky you're feeling kind today. He might need to redeem himself another time though...

— Absolutely won the trend -> Nanami, Hiromi, Geto

He was a bit reluctant to do it at first—not because he wasn't willing to participate in your fun—in fact, he was always ready to do his best if you asked him of anything.

It's just that he doesn't find himself to be a convincing actor, even in this kind of situation.

"It's okay," you reassure him, "just act how you would if some random girl flirted with you at the gym."

He gave you an uneasy smile. "Alright... if it makes you happy, sweetheart."

Glad that he finally agreed, you put on your best flirty girl impression and walked over to him. You could still see the hesitance on his face, but you thought it was a bit funny.

"Hey there," you say, smiling. "I'm looking to improve myself... I'm sure a good looking guy like you would have some tips hm?"

A beat of silence passes before he laughs awkwardly, probably stalling to give himself some time. "I don't know about that. I'm not exactly a coach or anything."

The fact that he even responded made your eye twitch and your eyebrow raise. "Oh that's alright," you say sweetly. "I bet a even a professional pales in comparison with a body like tha—"

He immediately crosses his arms as if to conceal the goods—err... his massive pecs, rather. He offers a smile. But it wasn't at all friendly. There was a menacing edge to it—a cautionary smile, if you will.

"If you're really looking to improve your appearance then maybe you should ask my beautiful girlfriend instead. I'm sure her experiences will align better with yours, will it not?"

Your eyes widen for a second at his unexpected response. He managed to turn the girl down while boasting about you. Talk about hitting two birds with one stone.

You let out a low whistle in response. "Nice response. I liked that."

He lets out a breath he'd been holding in for a while, playfully clutching his chest in relief. "For a moment I thought I had failed."

"Failed? Baby you earned yourself a fun night tonight."

"Oh? Oh."

— Ignorance is bliss -> Megumi, Yuta, Inumaki

He goes quiet after you assume the role of another girl—one who has the guts to approach a guy like him who CLEARLY wants nothing to do with anyone else at the gym. There's a look in his eyes that's telling you, "I don't want to be bothered right now."

That earns him more points in your book, of course.

"A guy like you must know his way around the gym eh?"

No response. Well, if him turning his back is counted as a response, then that's just about it.

"What? You shy or something?"

Still nothing.

"Yoo hoo~ I'm talking to you?"

Not a word escapes him. Instead, he begins walking away. A goofy smile spreads across your face at his actions, proud that your boyfriend passed with flying colors.

But being the menace that you are—you decide to pester him more. It's not everyday you get to pretend to be some random girl trying to flirt with him.

You quickly follow behind him. "Aw c'mon don't be like that. I'm just trying to be friendly." You reach out to grab his arm but he quickly turns around with a condescending expression.

"Back off. My girlfriend's scary."

Instantly, you let go of his arm and it drops down to his side. "Seriously? Me? Why not say that you're the scary one?"

"Did I lie though?"

...

"Okay. Fair enough. You passed though!"

He sighs. He's sure he's going to have a head full of white hair at an early age...

BONUS (Inumaki): You prompt him to whip his face towards you as you grab his forearm. With practiced speed, he pulls his high collar down to reveal his mouth adorned with his cursed markings.

"Leave me alone," he mutters. Any louder and the effects would have been stronger. Obviously, it was still you that was playing pretend with him, but he needed to prove a point.

Your arm forcibly lets him go and your body turns the opposite on its own, beginning to walk away.

"This is kinda freaky," you said. "But good job!"

— Exaggerated but eh... guess it works -> Gojo & Choso

You muster up the best flirty expression you can and began approaching him. But before you could get any closer, he held out his hand to stop you.

"I HAVE A GIRLFRIEND!"

A look of confusion crosses your face—amused by his exaggerated reaction. "I haven't even said anything?"

"I know a temptress when I see one. Just so you know—a temptress is nothing compared to a goddess," he exclaims. "The goddess being my girlfriend, by the way," he explains before clearing his throat. He was so into it that even his voice had a different lilt to it.

Throughout that entire exchange, he kept his arm up, still stopping you in your place. Even the expression on his face was overstated. It was kind of... adorable in a strange way.

"You're just saying that because you know the context of the situation."

He shakes his head. "Nothing you say will change my mind."

"I'm not even pretending to be another girl anymore..."

"That's what a temptress would say!"

You held your hands up in defeat, offering him a lopsided smile. "Goddamn, okay, you win the trend. Jeez... you can stop pretending now..."

With that, his usual relaxed expression returns before he wraps you in a suffocating bear hug.

— You cannot post this to the internet... -> SUKUNA

As soon as you began walking towards him, hips swaying at every step—he stood up, towering over you.

His aura filled the atmosphere. You were only playing pretend, but somehow he was radiating intimidation like it was the real thing—like a woman was actually approaching him and disturbing his gym time.

"Hey, big boy, care to be my spotter?"

He scoffed, crossing his arms, clearly flexing them for the added effect. "Come any closer and the last thing you'll be spotting is my fist heading towards your face."

"PAUSE." Your jaw almost fell to the floor. This was all for shits and giggles, but knowing him, he might actually do that. "You know that a girl is approaching you, right?"

"Yes. And?"

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN 'AND'?" Obviously, you weren't pretending anymore at this point. You were expecting him to simply ignore or maybe tell you to, "fuck off," but not downright ASSAULT.

"You asked me what I would do and I did. What else do you want from me, woman?"

He rendered you speechless. "Right... guess you did."

A deep sigh escapes you. This trend wasn't for him. But hey, at least you don't have to worry about him doing anything shady with flirty women at the gym...

©miyukisu do not repost/reupload/translate any of my works on other platforms

╰ author's note I really like this idea like I'm so swag for this, right... pls validate me or I will cry

[siriuslystyle1989]

Im yours, but you're not mine

Azriel x Archeron!reader

Warnings: Angst, fluff

masterlist

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Sitting down at the table, Y/n watched all the happy couples in her family partner off.

Rhysand was running his fingers through Feyre's hair while little Nyx babbled happily in her lap, Nesta and Cassian held each others hands under the table, Amren was quite literally on top of Varian and Mor and Emerie were sat gossiping and drinking wine.

Y/n turned her gaze to her twin sister, Elain. Who had, not only one, but two males trying to get her attention. Her mate, Lucien whom she had recently been trying to get along with more was sat to her left smiling as she spoke.

On her right however, sat the shadow singer, Azriel. Someone Y/n had been practically infatuated with since she arrived in Velaris, yet, he payed her little mind, opting to speak to her sister instead.

Azriel sat listening intently to Elain, adding little comments here and there and paying no mind to anyone else whatsoever.

It struck Y/n suddenly, like a stab to her heart, she was alone.

The only one out of her sisters to not have a mate.

Alone.

The word hung in her mind like itch she couldn't reach, and she felt tears well up in her eyes.

Attempting to push them back down Y/n sucked in a breath and Nesta turned to her looking concerned. She raised a perfectly groomed eyebrow as if to say 'are you alright?'

Y/n meekly swallowed and stood up "I- I'm just going- i'm just going to go to the bathroom"

she quickly walked into the bathroom where she began to sob.

"Y/n? Y/n are you alright?" Elain's voice traveled past the door.

"Yes Elain im okay-"

"Please let me in, I know you aren't"

Y/n reluctantly opened the door revealing her sobbing form.

"Oh Y/n... what happened!" Elain cooed pulling her twin into a hug

"N-nothing I just- I- I was looking at all of you, happily coupled and- I just- I started to feel lonely..."

Elain's face morphs into an empathetic frown as she strokes my hair.

"it's so silly- but- I cant help being jealous of you. W-why d-does nobody want me?" Y/n said quietly, her voice cracking.

Elain abruptly groaned loudly "Honestly why is it always me sorting out relationship issues!"

Y/n's brows furrow, hurt by her sudden discontentment "w-what"

"no! no I didn't mean it like that I meant- wait here"

Elain gets up quickly and leaves.

Y/n sits on the floor of the bathroom wiping her eyes as Elain comes back.

"Here." Elain then shoved Azriel in front of Y/n

"Im so done with your guys' bullshit please just speak and leave me alone." she walked away muttering to herself.

"Azriel?" Y/n questions, confused.

He shuffled from side to side, nervous and completely out of character.

"Y/n... I need to tell you something, can we go- outside?"

Y/n nodded getting up off the floor and following him outside.

"Azriel... what's happening- I-"

"Y/n you're my mate." Azriel blurted out.

"w-what? but- but I thought you and- you and-" Y/n stumbled over her words completely overwhelmed.

"Me and Elain? absolutely not, she and Lucien are serious now- she was just helping me with- well- letting me talk at her about you really..."

Y/n let out a shaky breath "Are- are you pranking me?"

Azriel's brows furrowed "No! gods no y/n not at all!"

he moved to encircle her into a hug "I'm yours if you'll have me sweetheart."

"Ive- ive liked you ever since I first saw you Azriel- I just- I thought you wanted Elain."

"Oh love" he sighed kissing her hair. "I want you- all I want is you- day in day out, I talk Elain's ear off."

Y/n smiled tearily up at him.

"There's that pretty smile hmm?" he cooed looking down at the girl.

"can I- can I kiss you?" Y/n murmured.

"You don't even have to ask" Azriel whispered.

Suddenly, their lips attached in rhythmic perfection, holding each other close.

a chorus of whoops and cheers are heard from inside and the pair start laughing into the kiss.

"mate." Azriel murmured into Y/n's soft lips.

"mate." She replied.

Maybe she wasn't so alone after all.

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

my requests are always open!!

[angelltheninth]

You know how guys have the happy trail? What do you think the MCU men's is like?

Gonna tell you something Anon, I love it when guys have that. It's cute and attractive.

Pairing: Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Clint Barton, Thor, Loki, James “Logan" Howlett, Remy Lebeau, Kurt Wagner, Tony Stark, Peter Parker x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, suggestive, body worship, teasing, muscles, established relationship

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions

A/N: Probably one of the most attractive things on guys. At least to me. Other than strong hands.

Steve keeps himself very neat, not really because of you, not at first, it's just a habit that he still has from his army days. That being said he didn't miss the way you look at him when he does it. He knows you're looking so he takes his time.

Bucky is a bit more clumsy with it since losing his arm. His new one is good but it's cold on his skin when he needs to groom himself and be nice. But... maybe you can give him a hand when he needs it.

Clint doesn't bother with it much because he doesn't have much of a visible happy trail. It is there when you really look or run your hand down his abs. That being said he doesn't quite see why you like it so much, it's just body hair.

Thor never quite cared to keep himself overly well groomed or to cut down on any body hair. When he tried his hair grew back rougher, which you can feel as you touch his stomach. To him it was never something he had to think about, besides you like it.

Loki brags about how good he looks. Every part of him, even the happy trail which he always keeps well maintained. As he gets ready for bed he might take it slower, to give you time to look.

Logan has always been covered in a lot of rough, bushy hair and his happy trail is no different. For him it's like a path that you can follow as you kiss his body. In fact he has referred to it as that numerous time, making you blush at the implications.

Remy often gets asked if his hair is red everywhere, and yes it is. He chuckles when he tells you that you should check for yourself. Despite how he may seem he does keep himself well trimmed, from his belly all the way down.

Kurt does have a bit more hair there and it's quite soft and fluffy. It's one of the rare parts on his body that's not as cold as the rest of him. But it is quite dark, almost black in contrast with his blue skin.

Tony wants you to look at him as he gets changed. He wears his pants a bit lower when he knows he can work from home. Seeing you ready to kiss every inch of him won't make work easier.

Peter has a happy trail but it's a bit sparse. He doesn't have much body hair on his belly and is a bit ticklish when you touch him there. It's one of his weaknesses so he always blushes when you do it.

[xyywrites]

Tips for writing flawed but lovable characters.

Flawed characters are the ones we root for, cry over, and remember long after the story ends. But creating a character who’s both imperfect and likable can feel like a tightrope walk. 

1. Flaws That Stem From Their Strengths

When a character’s greatest strength is also their Achilles' heel, it creates depth.

Strength: Fiercely loyal.

Flaw: Blind to betrayal or willing to go to dangerous extremes for loved ones.

“She’d burn the whole world down to save her sister—even if it killed her.”

2. Let Their Flaws Cause Problems

Flaws should have consequences—messy, believable ones.

Flaw: Impatience.

Result: They rush into action, ruining carefully laid plans.

“I thought I could handle it myself,” he muttered, staring at the smoking wreckage. “Guess not.”

3. Show Self-Awareness—or Lack Thereof

Characters who know they’re flawed (but struggle to change) are relatable. Characters who don’t realize their flaws can create dramatic tension.

A self-aware flaw: “I know I talk too much. It’s just… silence makes me feel like I’m disappearing.” A blind spot: “What do you mean I always have to be right? I’m just better at solving problems than most people!”

4. Give Them Redeeming Traits

A mix of good and bad keeps characters balanced.

Flaw: They’re manipulative.

Redeeming Trait: They use it to protect vulnerable people.

“Yes, I lied to get him to trust me. But he would’ve died otherwise.”

Readers are more forgiving of flaws when they see the bigger picture.

5. Let Them Grow—But Slowly

Instant redemption feels cheap. Characters should stumble, fail, and backslide before they change.

Early in the story: “I don’t need anyone. I’ve got this.”

Midpoint: “Okay, fine. Maybe I could use some help. But don’t get used to it.”

End: “Thank you. For everything.”

The gradual arc makes their growth feel earned.

6. Make Them Relatable, Not Perfect

Readers connect with characters who feel human—messy emotions, bad decisions, and all.

A bad decision: Skipping their best friend’s wedding because they’re jealous of their happiness.

A messy emotion: Feeling guilty afterward but doubling down to justify their actions.

A vulnerable moment: Finally apologizing, unsure if they’ll be forgiven.

7. Use Humor as a Balancing Act

Humor softens even the most prickly characters.

Flaw: Cynicism.

Humorous side: Making snarky, self-deprecating remarks that reveal their softer side.

“Love? No thanks. I’m allergic to heartbreak—and flowers.”

8. Avoid Overdoing the Flaws

Too many flaws can make a character feel unlikable or overburdened.

Instead of: A character who’s selfish, cruel, cowardly, and rude.

Try: A character who’s selfish but occasionally shows surprising generosity.

“Don’t tell anyone I helped you. I have a reputation to maintain.”

9. Let Them Be Vulnerable

Vulnerability adds layers and makes flaws understandable.

Flaw: They’re cold and distant.

Vulnerability: They’ve been hurt before and are terrified of getting close to anyone again.

“It’s easier this way. If I don’t care about you, then you can’t leave me.”

10. Make Their Flaws Integral to the Plot

When flaws directly impact the story, they feel purposeful rather than tacked on.

Flaw: Their arrogance alienates the people they need.

Plot Impact: When their plan fails, they’re left scrambling because no one will help them.

Flawed but lovable characters are the backbone of compelling stories. They remind us that imperfection is human—and that growth is possible.

[jestericulating]

i feel like its my curse to fall in love with side characters but i feel like we dont appreciate mithara’s brilliance enough

like ur gonna look me in my eyes and tell me u willingly miss out on an incredibly written character just bc she doesn’t have as much content and you gotta murk a few twerps to get her. knock her out like the rest of us

like she’s such a fascinating woman. for someone so vindictive and evil she’s so willing to be immediately vulnerable with you and voice her concerns just because you decided to save her and she recognises that most people in their right mind would leave her for dead but You Don’t and she literally doesn’t waste a second expressing her gratitude. who else willingly does that without me having to wrench it out of them huh

and i think it’s so fascinating because she’s literally a commander And Also a noble and yet you can ask her about anything to do with home and her life before and she’ll tell you it all so willingly just because you asked. she doesn’t hide anything from you; everything is out in the open and straightforward from the get go. she’s a no nonsense woman and i deeply respect that

it could also just be a me thing but there’s something i really appreciate about her not really having any specifically romantic greetings. she’s stalwart and alert and ready to run into battle for you until you ask her for a kiss and then her voice softens and she’s sweet and teasing you and it just feels So Much More Natural you know?? i find some of the other romances dialogue to be a little too mushy or on the nose for my liking so minthara is hard Not to romance every time. even on a redemption durge run she doesn’t chastise or get upset with you for not taking the netherbrain for yourselves Even Though it was what she had been dying to do since she joined your party. she doesn’t even really need your apology, she’s just happy to be by your side more than anything and i think thats what makes her so Ride or Die because all that matters to her is you!!!! even at the reunion party that she says she doesn’t particularly care to be at (i dont believe her for a second i KNOW she likes some of the companions deep down) she hangs around and waits just so that you can hang out with your friends because she wants you to be happy. she is a very ambitious and selfish woman and yet as soon as you get with her she pushes all of her selfishness aside Just to account for you. if you dont wanna do it then it won’t happen. end of story. she’s not gonna force you even if it’s literally all that she wants. yeah the compromise is that instead of doing the Massively Evil Thing you just do a Smaller Evil Thing but i dont ever play characters that Aren’t in some way morally dubious so whatever

i fear there is no one so fiercely loyal and supportive of any decision you make than minthara and i’ll die on that hill

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Ideas: Evil Plan

This trope is the reason "villains act, heroes react"; the villain needs to be doing something evil or the hero has no evil to thwart.

Some popular examples of Evil Plans:

Take Over the World: This is the most popular villainous scheme of all. The scale of conquest can vary depending on the setting and (or) the villain—some warlords are content to settle with conquering a city, a kingdom or nation, while Science Fiction or Fantasy overlords will go for nothing less than galactic, universal or even multidimensional domination.

The Evils of Free Will: A popular means to this end: by robbing everyone of their free will, they will have no choice but to serve their rightful ruler.

Assimilation Plot: Let's turn everyone into a single entity, whether they wish it or not.

Earth-Shattering Kaboom: Why take over the world when you can blow it up? Like Take Over the World, the scale of destruction also varies depending on the setting — some villains are content with merely destroying a city or kingdom (particularly if they feel the city or kingdom has somehow wronged them — i.e., revenge), while Omnicidal Maniacs may well wish nothing less than to destroy the entire universe or multiverse.

Kill All Humans. Related tropes: Feeling Oppressed by Their Existence: A character wants to get rid of a particular person or group of people just for existing. Absolute Xenophobe: Wants to destroy all other sentient life (human or otherwise). Omnicidal Maniac: Wants to destroy absolutely all life, sentient or not. Final Solution: The intentional extermination of a species/demographic is the answer to fix a perceived issue. Humanity's Wake: The outcome of this trope should the opposing species succeed in eradicating us.

In Their Own Image: Not happy with the world the way it is? Try tearing it down, and building it back up as something even greater.

The End of the World as We Know It: Not so much destroying the world or humanity as really screwing up civilization; though the former two may be involved in the bargain.

A God Am I: Forcing everyone to acknowledge their godhood (actual godlike powers optional).

Godhood Seeker: Make your character an actual deity.

Immortality Seeker: Pursue the quest for eternal life, no matter what foul deeds are needed to make it happen.

A Plot in Deed: Steal the deed to a plot of land and you'll own it, so why not steal the deed to somewhere good?

MacGuffin: Steal an ancient artifact with untold powers. This is usually done in the pursuit of one of the other Evil Plans.

Sealed Evil in a Can: Release the source of all Evil from its prison. This rarely goes well for the villain attempting it.

Revenge: You know that guy that wronged you in the past? It doesn't matter how petty or misplaced your grievance is, it's payback time. Time to kill him, or make his life a living hell.

Get-Rich-Quick Scheme: If you're already rich, get richer. Any scheme is fair game in the pursuit of the profit margin, be it theft, blackmail, or auctioning the world off to hungry demons. Unfortunately, this lust for wealth falls prey to poor planning.

Utopia Justifies the Means: You know how people keep hurting themselves and each other? Make them stop, by whatever means are necessary. No ill will required! Just like in Take Over the World, The Evils of Free Will often gets put into play here.

Dystopia Justifies the Means: People hurting each other? That's exactly what your society needs. Use all the means at your disposal to create a nightmarish dystopia where the forces of evil run rampant and people live in constant terror and corruption, just the way the villains like it.

Poke the Poodle: Their idea of evil is harmless behavior like cheating at Solitaire, jaywalking on an empty road, chewing gum in Singapore, pulling the "do not remove" tag off of your mattress, hiding your toothpaste, drinking the milk directly from the carton...

Source ⚜ More: References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

[barrenclan]

Honey's story in the epilogue really hit me because it's something that I struggle with, trying to be grateful. To be honest, I started crying because of this.

Your story is so amazing and it's really made me think about life in ways I've never before. Oh, there are so many things I could say but I don't know how, just know you've changed my life (and I'm certain plenty others) and I really, really love this comic

Thank you so much, I'm so glad that it could connect with you like that. Trying to live in the moment and appreciate the small things in life so you don't get too dragged down by your difficulties is something I've been trying to work through, so I thought it was a point I'd like to include in the comic. I'm really happy you've enjoyed the story.

I enjoyed writing all of the epilogues a lot! I've had ideas for a long time about how all of the characters lived would go, so I felt like I needed something to close them up even though Issue 43 provides a solid ending for the comic anyways. This is a story about finding light after darkness.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Try, Try, Try 1

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics including adultery and trying to conceive. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: husband!Andy Barber, friend!Thor

masterlist - to be added

Summary: your husband puts high expectations on you but you don't think you'll ever be enough for him.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

A single line. Negative. You cringe as you hold the plastic stick over the bin in disappointment. There’s a knock at the door. 

“Well,” Andy’s voice rumbles through. 

You drop the test into the garbage and exhale softly, “not this time.” 

You crank on the faucet and rinse off your hands. The door opens from the other side and Andy meets your eye in the mirror. You can see the same disappointment in him. He even looks angry. 

“You been taking your vitamins?” He asks. 

“Yeah,” you nod to the pillow box, each day a separate compartment, filled with the multicolor tablets. “I’m off coffee finally. No drinking. I gave Lisa a bunch of wine.” 

Your husband sighs, “you were ovulating. You said so.” 

“Andy,” you shrug. “It just takes time.” 

“Three years,” he says. “Yeah, a long time.” 

You wince at his disapproval. You shut off the tap and dry your hands. “I know. I’m trying.” 

“We’re both trying,” he insists. “Even on the days I’m tired, from working, when all I wanna do is nothing, I try. All according to your calendar. Are you sure you’re doing it right?” 

“What?” You face him. “Yeah, it’s an app and the tests--” 

“I don’t know. Maybe you aren’t trying as hard as me. Or maybe you’re hiding something.” 

His accusation is like a slap in the face. You blink furiously and shake your head, “what are you saying?” 

“You went to the OBGYN last week. How do I know you didn’t get pills? Or an insert?” 

“Huh?” You grimace. You got your IUD out the month before the wedding; because he asked. It wasn’t fun or easy. “Why--” 

“Cold feet? I mean, you leave dishes in the sink, maybe you’re not ready for a kid.” 

Your lashes flutter as your eyes burn. You leave a glass or two in the sink but the place isn’t a sty. You heave and swallow down the hurt. He’s frustrated. That’s it. 

“I’m ready. I’ve been just as ready as you,” you croak. 

“Hm, well, maybe you should book another appointment. Get a referral and figure out what’s wrong with you.” 

“What’s wrong--” 

“There are options. In vitro. Surrogate,” he crosses his arms and leans on the door frame, “I’m not getting any younger. Neither are you.” 

You want to say that it could be him. That you’re not necessarily the problem but you can’t be entirely sure of that. You sniffle, “Andy, I want it just as bad. I understand that it’s hard but you don’t have to be mean.” 

“Cecilia and Mark started trying last year and she’s about to pop,” he retorts. “And Timothy, he’s older than I am and he’s got twins.” 

“Andy,” you plead. “You’re acting like this is some conspiracy.” 

He looks away as if to suggest that’s possible. You stagger with hurt. His mom always accused you of being a gold digger. Does he believe you? He’s the one who told you to quit your job and stay home. 

He clears his throat and his eyes flick over sharply, “almost forgot. Found a cooking course for you. Down at the Elmwood.” 

“A cooking... what?” 

“Mom suggested it. Said it could help with everything. Make it more manageable if you know what you’re doing.” He drops his hands to his hips. 

“But... you like my cooking.” 

“Honey, you cook out of cans and the freezer. It’s something but if we’re going to have a little one, you need to start making more organic meals. Processed foods are awful, especially if you’re going to be breastfeeding,” he girds. 

Your heart sinks even further. You just can’t do anything right. Not since he put that ring on your finger. You’ve let him down in so many ways. You can’t give him a baby, you can’t cook what he likes, and last night he said you were too dry. Not your fault when he doesn’t offer any foreplay. 

“It will be fun too,” he offers. “I’m sure you’ll make some friends. Maybe some who can give you good advice... moms.” 

You restrain the flinch and nod. “Sure, probably will be. I guess... learning new things is good.” 

“Sure it will be, honey,” he shoves away from the wall and comes closer. “Look, it’s not that bad, alright?” He brushes his hand over your hip and along your lower back. He turns you to face him, “we can try again. Before work?” 

He pulls you against him and you have to resist tearing away. You’re not mad. You’re hurt. Why can’t he ever tell you what you do right? 

“Sure,” you run your hands up his white tee shirt. 

“Mm, when’s the last time we were spontaneous?” He purrs as his attitude shifts entirely. “Come on, get on the counter. Just like old times.” 

Your cheeks sear at the memory. When you were his law clerk, it was so exciting. Your little rendezvous, the under the desk fun. Now it’s so much pressure. Now he really feels like your boss. 

He backs you up and you brace the counter. He helps you up and pushes between your knees. You gasp as he steps between them and pulls down the straps of your nightie. A shiver speckles goosebumps across your chest as he bends to bury his face. 

You clasp the back of his head as he fondles one tit in his hand and latches onto the other. He groans as he teethes at you and sucks as he pulls back, stretching your nipple until it pops free. He looks up at you and purrs. 

“You know, when you’re expecting, those are gonna be bigger,” he stands and you hide your disappointment. No foreplay. Again. “I can’t wait.” 

He spreads your knees and pulls you so your pelvis is curled. He pushes down the elastic of his boxers as he slides you closer to the edge. He grabs your shoulder, pushing you back against the mirror as he guides himself along your cunt. 

He growls as he pushes inside of you, rocking until he finds his way in. He grunts and snaps his hips as you whine. It scrapes dryly as you’re unprepared for his suddenness. You brace his forearm and grit down on the pain. 

“You’re dry again,” he snarls and thrusts. 

You rasp, “sorry, I’m trying.” 

You reach down to your clit and he swats your hand away. He snags your wrists and brings them above your head. He pins them to the mirror and rams in harder. You whimper and curl your legs around him. 

“Ah, Andy--” 

“Yeah, you like it, don’t you? Like how big I am?” He pounds into you without patient. “Want me to fill you up, don’t you?” 

You gulp and gasp around his raw intrusion. He squeezes your wrists until your fingers throb and you notice how he watches himself in the mirror, almost entirely unconcerned with your presence. You turn your head down and bite your lip as he uses you. You just need him to get off and then you can go cook him a breakfast he won’t he even like. 

[byemambo]

Faifa Character Appreciation: Tough Love

I needed to take the time to make an appreciation post for Junior that's playing Faifa in Perfect 10 Liners. I'm sure that those who read the novel may have different opinions on how the source material is being translated on screen, but since I've only been watching the series, I'll just address my perspective from there.

In the beginning of the series airing, I was introduced to many new actors, as main roles or supporting roles. I knew ForceBook, Perth, AouBoom, and other actors such as Pepper, MarcPoon, JJ, etc. I haven't seen Junior or Mark in anything so they hadn't sparked much interest from me at the start. However, that's changed since the airing of episode 13.

We see the differences between the three brothers Newton, Yotha, and Faifa, roughly understanding that their mother and father split while Newton and Yotha grew up with their father and Faifa with their mother abroad until he was sent back to Thailand. Out of all the siblings, Yotha is the most resentful of their mother, which was illustrated in episode 13 when she visits them at their dorm. While watching the series, Faifa is described as this happy go lucky social butterfly who seems to migrate from group to group, connecting with many people with very little effort. He is someone who thrives off of taking care of others, we see this best with Wine and Gun (this scene with Wine is from episode 11).

However, his kindness also comes with a strong sense of justice if it stems from the defense of those he cares about, which becomes Gun after Yotha and Klao get hurt after leaving Newton's bar. I've seen lots of people tearing up Warich, Klao, Yotha, or all three in terms of their problematic behaviors, but that's not my focus nor do I condone how reckless they all become towards one another. I have a deeper appreciation for how Faifa has no hesitation in defending Gun against Yotha, who is truly the victim being caused the most harm from everything happening between those three individuals.

Faifa becomes the first person at Gun's aid and recognizing his state of shock, as we see the stark difference in Yotha's life and Gun's: the difference between someone who denied himself love vs. someone who basked in it. While Newton becomes indifferent to Yotha's behavior, I'm sure due to him also growing up in the same circumstances as Yotha, both of them have their own unstable relationship with emotional regulation and conflict resolution that becomes unhelpful and perpetuates the cycle of self sabotage and stagnation.

Although Faifa has a free spirit that's fairly lighthearted around Yotha, his more gloom and reserved counterpart, Faifa still has the confidence and strength to stand his ground against Yotha in multiple ways. Just because you're able to understand the features of someone's trauma and where their behaviors stem from, does not mean anyone should enable such behavior that creates a domino effect and harms the person they care about most, the person who has worn his heart on his sleeve only for it to get trampled on and wounded over and over.

Whenever Yotha yells at Faifa for treating Gun like an object after Kong and Gun switch rooms, this is the first time we see someone directly addressing Yotha where it hurts most, which Faifa advocates for Gun and his decision to distance himself from Yotha's toxicity where he has no one else to blame but himself. In a different timeline, Faifa could have easily sided with his brother due to familial loyalty, finding himself sympathizing with Yotha's parental neglect growing up as well as his past relationship with Warich that ended in heartbreak to the point of no longer believing in love. However, despite dealing with his own childhood traumas, Faifa chooses to do the right thing and protect Gun, someone who had become a strong friend while changing his brother little by little.

I'm excited to see where they go with Faifa, especially after Wine becomes the next code nong. I really hope Yotha truly takes this time to self reflect and to move past his own toxic behavior and past, knowing that if he doesn't, he will not only lose his love interest, but potentially his newly found friends and the closeness between him and his younger brother. I'm loving this series and if anyone needs to be convinced to watch, I hope this post will do the trick :)

[sainteclectic]

this isn't intended to be a judgment on anyone in particular, but I'm surprised on how few people in the cccc fandom write image descriptions for their art considering the existence of a character who would realistically need to use them {whether you interpret heart as low vision or light sensitive or fully blind} it's just kind of ironic how the characters in the media couldn't even access the content made for it

anyways, if you have the ability to write image descriptions for your work, I highly recommend doing it! it's pretty easy once you get the hang of it :-)

[theswedishpajas]

I've been very busy with a game and might've stumbled into a favorite guy, as you might know from the "hear me out" tag game

[heartepub]

to be your eyes

summary. a not-hero meets a not-monster. pairing. lee seokmin x fem!reader genre/tags. perseus/medusa retelling, fem pronouns and titles but nothing on anatomy (except for snake hair but that’s not an exclusive thing), hurt/comfort, seokmin is a romantic, hinted past s*xual ass*ult (medusa-story compliant), off-screen minor character death, body modification?, HAPPY ENDING!!!, unbeta’d wc. 3.1k suggested listening. carry you, novo amor // dust to dust, the civil wars // opaline, novo amor // keep the rain, searows

notes. full credits to this post for inspiring this retelling; at best I tweaked it to fit perseus' quest better ++ personality changes to match how I regard seokmin personally. might revisit this, but for now I just need it out of my system. feedback is appreciated and come say hi if you're inclined!

“Not a step closer.”

Seokmin would be foolish not to obey, despite not knowing where the voice speaks from. He looks only through the polished shield on his arm, never at anything that is not a reflection. The air is still, save for the faint sound of muffled hissing.

“I must admit I am quite disappointed.” The voice speaks again. “The hero who came into my cave last night, sword ready, could not even finish the deed.” He winces despite himself.

“I do not wish to kill you, Priestess.” The hissing grows ever so slightly louder.

“Lies,” the voice drops to a low growl. “There is only one hero who would dare enter when my sisters are absent. The one I have been warned about.”

Seokmin hesitates, before continuing. “I would just like to talk.” The priestess’ mocking scoff echoes around the rocks.

“Talk? Alliances? Is that how god-touched heroes fatten their pigs for slaughter, nowadays? With platitudes?” Before he can open his mouth, the voice begins to speak once more. “I will do you a favor, Lee Seokmin—” he inhales sharply as his name is called in that haunting lilt, “—I will make your task easy. You have one more chance to kill me. Light one of those candles you see in the corner of this cave and come back when it has burned all the way through. I will be asleep by then, so you will not need your shield,  though you may bring it if you wish.

“Oh, and,” the voice is suddenly much closer now. Despite his earlier spiel, the urge to run itches at his bones. “Make it quick, will you?”

He does as the voice bids; he grabs a candle, lights it with one of the braziers, and exits the temple-cave holding it. The flame is of a strange iridescence, illuminating the grey pebbles outside the entrance into something opal-like. He lets the sight wash over him as he contemplates.

Seokmin never wanted to be a hero.

More accurately, he never wanted to be the reason for any kind of bloodshed.

There was glory in heroism, to be sure. Every figure that boasts of the title is larger than life to the eyes of many; doers of deeds that were only possible for those either god-touched or god-born. He had set out on this quest in a bid to save his mother; even as he could not stand the thought of heroics, the revulsion that crawled in him at the sight of his uncle’s cruel smirk had won out. And so the bargain was born.

He was to bring the head of the gorgon, or suffer through his poor mother’s second wedding, to a man he knew she had no desire to be with.

He made it this far with a mix of dumb luck and godly assistance. Now, not only the fate of his mother rests on his shoulders, but also the expectation of the gods who had come to his aid—one of whom being the very same goddess who made you who you are now.

True to his unfitness as a hero, Seokmin indeed hesitated yesterday, at the last minute. Yet there was something in that sleeping face that made him pause.

Your hair was tightly wrapped in a turban, no snakes in sight. And with eyes closed, it was a face like any other’s. Beautiful, even. It shocked Seokmin to his core. 

This cannot be a creature so hard to kill.

So he ran away.

It was foolishness that made him come back. Foolishness, and a mix of the expectations on his shoulders, the desperation to still save his mother, and a curiosity to understand the sleeping creature that had compelled him so. The second time, his expectations were again unmet. Some of his pride had hurt at the mockery in that haunting voice, even more so because he knew it was only the truth.

Hesitation was un-hero-like. The third chance seemed almost an extension of your taunting, yet Seokmin cannot get it out of his mind that you are telling the truth. That you would let him kill you. He cannot match the serenity of that sleeping face to such a sentiment.

The candle is halfway through when he makes his decision.

He does not bring his sword the third time. 

With one hand, he holds the candle, burned three-fourths through. With the other, his shield, the polished side guiding him as he ventures again into the temple-cave. He has not even reached his destination when the voice speaks.

“You do not know how to follow instructions.”

“Priestess, do you really wish for me to kill you?”

For a moment, there is only the sound of faint hissing. Finally, the voice replies. “I am tired of living a half-life, Lee Seokmin. I would rather a quick death than a slow one, if you please.”

Deliberately, Seokmin sets down both the candle and the shield. He closes his eyes. Fishing for the band of cloth he tore from his robes, he grasps both ends and blindfolds himself.

“I would wish to talk to you, Priestess. Please. I am no hero, only a boy who bit off more than he could chew when he wanted to save his mother.”

For all the kindness that he saw in your face, there is none of that in your voice. Or even if there is, it is not the sort he recognizes. 

“I have no use for a boy who cannot understand neither instructions nor mercy. Leave and do not come back, unless you wish to die. Unlike you, I can make it quick.”

You do not think about the strange not-hero for months, until your sister urges you to the mouth of the cave.

“Please, you must tend to him. He’s god-touched, and somehow came to this temple despite the wounds on him.” You refuse to look until your other sister sighs. “His eyes are closed, for the gods’ sake.”

He’s a beautiful man, all delicate cheekbones and high-bridged nose. Yet pale; very pale. There is barely any rise and fall on his chest. Your sisters haggle and nag until you relent. You enlist their help in grinding the herbs at the mouth of the cave, some for poultices while the other for a brew to coax down his throat.

The two layers of cloth around his eyes are a preventative measure, in case he awakens. There is a reason why you never ventured out of this cave, hiding at any voice that was not your sisters’. There is a reason for why you keep your head tightly wrapped, letting the snakes breathe only when strictly necessary.

No soul, outside of those who did not abandon you, needs to be witness to your shame.

Still, you look after this beautiful man, hyperaware of the blindfolds you keep around his eyes. Your own remain downcast to be sure he will not turn to stone after all your hard work in healing his wounds. Days pass, and you begin to accompany him as he sleeps, watching the way the iridescent flame dances across his delicate features.

On particularly lonely nights, you whisper the secrets he may never remember as he wakes. The humble life that seemed to be many centuries ago. The priestess training. The service at the temple that you wish you could look back on fondly. Of the god that knew only to covet, and the curse brought down from an act that had but an illusion of consent. The curse (or gift, the goddess claimed) that had been brought upon you. An ordinary future lost forever, both from trauma and a notion of healing imposed by some other power.

Weeks pass, and he finally stirs.

“Where am I?” Your blood freezes for a moment. The voice that speaks from that mouth is instantly familiar.

“I told you not to come back unless you wanted to die, and yet here I am, tending to your wounds.” He turns his head in your direction, following your voice. His eyes still tightly sealed by the blindfold.

“Priestess?”

“I am no priestess,” you snap. “Not anymore.”

“Thank you, Priestess,” the blindfolded man persists, still painfully earnest. “I’m sorry, I did not know where else to go.”

“You foolish boy,” you sigh. “You could have gone anywhere else but the monster’s lair. Tell me, then, do you want to die?”

“No, Priestess. I don’t…” he hesitates. “I don’t know what I want outside of being a good son.”

“You are no hero, then. Only a filial boy.” Strangely enough, he chuckles.

“No, I am not,” he agrees.

“Curious,” you murmur despite yourself. Louder, you direct your instructions. “Rest. Once you are well, never come back. I do hope the former at least is not too difficult to follow.” You make to leave him, picking up your basket for a new batch of herbs for his poultice.

“For what it’s worth,” he calls after you, voice carrying across the cave despite its softness, “I was listening to your story. And I cannot and will not wish you any harm. Not after knowing it.”

You walk away without answering him, the basket clenched around your fingers tight enough to distort the weave.

It is three days after he wakes that he finally tells you why he first came.

“Your mother needs rescuing from your uncle, and he asked you to bring him my head in exchange for her freedom?”

“Yes.”

You consider it for a long moment. “I would not mind dying if it meant saving your mother.” A woman who was under the whims of another man…no, it would not be a bad thing at all. At least then, the goddess’ curse that you may only kill a man with your gaze could be put to good use.

Seokmin shakes his head, the ends of the cloth tied to his eyes swaying with the movement. “I would ask you to come with me, instead.”

“Why? So I can kill your uncle for you?”

His response is immediate and vehement. “No! I just—I feel I owe you a debt I do not know how to repay.”

You have grown used to his indecision. The reply that leaves you is as kind as you can make it. “I did not save you so you would be indebted. I saved you because my sisters pleaded your case.”

“But you saved me all the same.”

You sigh. “It is not a debt to be repaid, not-hero. What happens if you come home empty-handed?”

“I do not know. Nothing good.”

Despite his strangeness, you have grown to care for him. There is something achingly compelling about Seokmin’s earnestness, an innate kindness in his gentle smiles that makes you wish you could see the emotions dance in his eyes.

“I do not wish to see you die,” you admit.

“Priestess—” he starts.

“I told you not to call me that. That name holds nothing for me.” Though time soothes all wounds, there is still a foul taste in your mouth at the title, a persistent shiver that cools your bones.

“Er, lady?” Seokmin tries.

“I am no lady, either.” Despite yourself, heat rises to your cheeks at the title.

“I think anyone who is kind enough to tend to a foolish boy should be called lady,” he murmurs. “You could also tell me your name.”

“Oh? Have the stories not preceded me with my name?”

“That name is not yours. I mean your real one. I would not call you a monster, dear lady. No one with a heart as beautiful as yours would be one.” The words strike an unwilling chord. You look down, forcing the tears back from your eyes. Not for the first time, you wish Seokmin were a hero. Brutality would have been hurtful, but unsurprising. Tenderness is a blow no one can ready themselves for. You inhale, shakily.

“I should like to know your name,” he repeats, gentle in his ruining of your heart.

You shake your head, knowing he cannot see it. Without another word, you leave him.

Finally, the day comes when Seokmin regains his full strength. You waste no time in bringing him to the mouth of the cave, though you stop before anyone possibly on the outside can catch your gaze. Your sisters’ teasing has gotten unbearable; their latest stunt involves taking extended “trips” for increasingly implausible reasons. Even now, you are left alone, despite your insistence that all three of you send him off.

There is no use in being attached. A gift, however…

You unwrap your turban. Seokmin’s head swivels at the noise, hearing the hissing suddenly fill the space. You pluck a single snake from the mass. It wriggles in your hold.

“Hold out your hand.” He does. You grasp his wrist, placing the snake in his palm and curling his fingers around it. 

“Present her to your uncle as proof of my death. Tell him my head disintegrated, and left only this.”

Seokmin’s other hand moves, tracing the way your fingers wrap around his. Despite the callouses on his hands, his touch is devastatingly tender. 

In a different world, a lock of hair would be a romantic gift, one between courting lovers. In this one, it is a companion at best, a horror at worst.

Unbidden, tears prick at your eyes. The cave swims in your vision.

You steady your voice. “Do not look back,” you say, and untie his blindfold. “Careful now, let your eyes adjust to the light.” Your gaze is trained to the back of his head, ensuring that he does not move his neck even a little.

“Lady,” he says, his back still to you. “May I ask one final question?”

“You may.”

“This snake…are her eyes the same color as yours?”

“…Yes,” you admit.

“And she will not turn me to stone?”

“Yes.”

“Lady,” he says again, and you wish you could demand that he stop calling you that, as it ruins you a little more every time. “Would you forgive me if I ask to see your face before I go? I would ask you to close your eyes.”

Helplessly, you exhale a wet laugh. There is nothing you would refuse him now. “Very well.” You close your eyes. There is a rustle. Despite not seeing anything, you feel his gaze like a weight.

A hand, warm, touches your face, tracing your jaw, then your temples, even the bridge of your nose. Eventually, Seokmin’s thumb wipes at the tear that falls down your cheek.

“Thank you, dear lady,” he whispers. “I will remember this face, and when I look at your gift, I will imagine how you may look with your eyes open.”

Moons pass, and you try to forget about the not-hero you never really knew.

Until he returns, that is. 

Your sister only says two words. “He’s back.”

“I will not see him.” You do not move from your position, ignoring the treacherous seize of your heart.

Your other sister snorts, pulling you up forcibly. You yelp. She glares at you. “You will not turn him into stone. Trust me. Now go.”

Each step you take to the mouth of the cave feels leaden. You screw your eyes shut, relying on the walls and sheer familiarity to guide you forward. More than once, you contemplate turning around.

“Dear lady,” a voice calls, one you never thought you’d hear again. “Please do not run from me. I have blindfolded myself, so please open your eyes.”

Taking a deep breath, you begin to walk, forcing your heartbeat to remain even. He comes into sight, as heartbreakingly beautiful as he was the last time. His clothes are more tattered than before, and there are fresh scars that litter across his biceps. You ache to heal him.

“Hello,” he smiles, despite not seeing you.

“How is your mother, not-hero?”

“She is well.”

“And your uncle?”

“Dead. A snake called by your gift bit him.”

“I see. Good.”

“Good,” he echoes. You study his face; he seems to mean it. A little more a man than the boy you first tended to. “But that is not why I am here.”

Seokmin holds out a small box.

“I know your tending was no debt, my lady, and this is not meant to repay that. It is only a gift, yours no matter your answer.”

“My answer to what?”

He steps forward. You move to guide him, catching his arm right as he stumbles on a step he does not see. Seokmin breathes in, a little unsteady, before releasing you with a soft thanks. Yet he does not move farther away. He smiles again, his face not quite facing yours, unsure of your exact location. It only endears you to him more.

“I have travelled the world, dear lady, saved my family, regained my throne, made my peace with the gods, yet none have captivated my heart as you have. The voice and hands that guided me in this cave became my strength outside of it. If you are willing, I would have you as my wife.”

“You—” your voice cracks. “What man would take a wife he could not even gaze at? Whose eyes would kill? Whose name he does not know?”

“I would know your name only if you offered it, my lady. As for your other concerns…take off my blindfold,” he says softly. “I could not gaze at you even if I tried.”

It takes a while for his meaning to come to you, but when it does, you shake your head, disbelieving. That cannot be. He could not have possibly gone so far. Shaking, you do as he says.

He opens his eyelids, and you gasp.

Where his eyes should be there is nothingness. The scarring is minimal, which meant it was very intentionally removed. Seokmin fumbles for your hand before placing it very gently on the box.

“If you take my eyes, you will no longer have to worry about turning people to stone. I doubt they are as lovely as your own are, but they are yours, nonetheless. I wish for you to have the choices that they would provide, regardless of whether you accept my proposal or not.”

You carefully take the precious, precious box in one hand, and bring the other to the back of his neck, dragging him into a kiss.

Seokmin gasps, but recovers quickly. He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you flush against him. His mouth is soft just as the weight of his body is solid. It is everything you wished being held would feel.

The kiss ends with him resting his forehead against yours. Tears track down your cheeks, and he brings a hand up to wipe them away.

“Now that is familiar,” he hums, laughing quietly. His other hand traces up your neck, undoing your hair covering. The snakes fall down your back, slithering around his hand. He giggles as they curl playfully around his wrist.

“Is that a yes, then? Though I do hope you would not cry so much once you take my eyes for your own.” 

“Yes,” you say, and kiss him again.

[moontheoretist]

Better yet. I met people who claimed he is not mean, that he actually respects you and that you have I quote "adult consenting relationship with him" and maybe he does after the changes devs made after all those Ascended Astarion girlies complained, but it doesn't change the fact that he is not himself anymore, that he sacrificed himself for the power and that any relationship you have with him is just an illusion of equality. You will never be his equal and he will always see you as his possession rather than the person who is an equal partner to him. If that was removed then maybe I'd believe that you can have an evil x evil ending with him, but otherwise you are just his favourite toy.

And it's not just Astarion.

Gale, Shadowheart, Lae'zel and hell even Wyll. All of them can make a bad choice that they think they need to make until you show them it's not the case. Three first need to reject themselves for the sake of the power and security that is offered to them, while the last (Wyll) needs to lean into his prejudices and misguided notions in order to reject his own values for the sake of fulfilling the contract with his patron and not only gaining power but becoming the fake hero who condemns rather than listens, that he never wanted to be. If not for you Karlach would be dead as Wyll would not question and just assumed Karlach was evil. Same for Shadowheart and Lae'zel. Without you neither of them questions Shar / Vlaakith making them play into their abuser's hands. While Gale without you would just simply blow himself up just as Mystra told him to at first opportunity, or just like Astarion he'd just reject himself in favor of something that will never be him - a God.

Still Bad versus Good ending is not necesarily about morality.

In dating games this is simply a distinction between outcomes. The character in question may even enjoy the outcome despite it being virtually worse than the Good Ending version they would get instead. Still, it doesn't mean that people can simply just say that Bad Ending is actually a Good Ending simply because they say it's a better choice because no matter how happy or fulfilled character may seem, at the end of the day it is a bad outcome for them. The one that often ends with them harming themselves deeply in a way that can't be healed.

And player is often the one who let that happen.

The lack of media literacy in the baldurs gate fandom is astounding. There's a good ending for Astarion and a bad ending for him and people keep picking the bad ending for him and being shocked when he's mean to them LMAO.

[writing-the-stars]

Hiii! You’re fics are amazing i’m in awe of your writing & the tension that you build between characters💞

I was wondering whether you could write an Aaron Hotchner fic which maybe follows on from your most recent fic about him, where Aaron and reader have their first kiss. I feel like it would all be in the little moments, like him being so gentle & reader being so nervous 🥹🥹🥹

Unraveled, Unveiled

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Summary: After finally breaking through Aaron Hotchner’s walls, a quiet, undeniable tension begins to build between you— one that can no longer be ignored. What starts as an evening of uncertainty and vulnerability gradually unravels the emotional barriers between you both, leading to a deeper connection neither of you expected.

Warnings: Angst (But it's not that bad. They're just nervous and awkward), Fluff, No Use of Y/N or Physical Descriptors (Hotch does call reader beautiful though), Smooching. Let Me Know If I Forgot Something

Word Count: 4.3k

A/N: Hi Anon! I was so excited to see your message in my inbox!! Thank you for requesting this!! Honestly, so happy you all loved my previous fic so much and I am so appreciative of the support! This is a continuation of the previous fic, but can be read as a stand alone. Thank you all so much for reading! I hope you enjoy!! Have a wonderful day!

Masterlist | Criminal Minds Masterlist

There’s a familiar tension in the air of the bullpen—the kind that comes with working a case. This one, a series of abductions around McLean, Virginia, has a particular edge to it. While a local case makes it easier for the team to collaborate, it still never sits right when the danger is so close to home. 

A flurry of activity surrounds you—agents moving in and out, phones ringing intermittently, the steady clicking of keyboards and pens. Yet, despite all the motion, your attention is elsewhere.

You sit at your desk, eyes skimming through the case files in front of you. But you’re not really reading. You’d like to blame it on the exhaustion you’re experiencing from the long hours of work, but it is something else entirely— a subtle pull that keeps tugging at you, an energy that hums quietly beneath your skin.

Across the room, you find the source of your distraction, Aaron Hotchner, standing near the whiteboard. His posture is stiff with concentration as he discusses how the latest victim correlates with the other abductees. His usual commanding presence is softened tonight, more by the weariness of the case than anything else. But his jaw remains tight with that familiar, quiet intensity.

The air between you has shifted ever since that quiet night in his office—a soft electric current that pulses in the spaces between your words. It fuels the quiet moments, sitting in the presence of each other, silent exchanges unnoticed by your unwitting team. The stolen glances, charged with something deeper than the usual camaraderie you used to trade. The brief brush of his hand when he passes you by. It’s consuming, this energy growing between you, undeniable.

As if pulled by the same magnetic undercurrent, his eyes meet yours and your heart stutters caught in that spark. His gaze lingers, longer than it normally would, eyes skimming every part of you before quickly snapping his attention back to the board— your shared moment of connection ending just as quickly as it began. 

You lean back in your chair, case files momentarily forgotten as you let the cool air from the ventilation above wash over your face. Everything in the room feels louder now, sharper. Your heart squeezes at the thought of what’s to come. In the week that’s passed, things have been quieter. No grand gestures. No long talks about where things are going. You aren’t trying to rush anything. You know Aaron needs time, but you’d be lying if you said the burgeoning tension wasn’t about to make you snap. You long for a space with him where case files don’t matter, where the professional boundaries of the BAU are nothing more than an illusion. Somewhere far from the constant pressure of work—where you can just be.

Deciding you have spent far too much time ruminating over this, you sit up, ready to return to your case files, and are surprised to find Aaron’s eyes already on you. He doesn’t smile, doesn’t even seem to breathe for a moment, but there is a flicker of understanding there. A soft, unspoken promise. 

And then, the text. 

“How about I pick you up at 7:30 tonight? I’ll take you to dinner— just us. No cases.” 

The words are simple, but the implications hit you all at once. Aaron Hotchner wants to take you on a proper date. The realization makes you feel suddenly vulnerable. Nerves pulse through you, but you can’t help the flutter of excitement that curls in your gut. You’ve been waiting for this.

-*-

As 7:30 draws near, you find yourself standing in front of your hallway mirror, second-guessing every outfit you own. Is it too much? Too little? Will you seem too eager? Or too reserved? You want to look nice, but not like you tried too hard—something that says this didn’t take nearly as much effort as it actually did.

After your fourth change, you finally settle on a simple look: the outfit you wore to your cousin’s wedding a few years back. It’s one of your nicer outfits, but you can’t help the small seed of doubt that lingers. You’ve never worn anything like this in front of Aaron before. Usually, it’s sharp business attire, tailored suits, and the professional look you know best. But tonight? Tonight is special. You want your appearance to match the moment. 

There’s a knock at the door, and your stomach flips. It’s time— no more second-guessing. You take one last glance in the mirror, smoothing a hand over your hair, and open the door.

There he is. 

Aaron Hotchner stands in front of you, and for a moment, your breath catches. His usual impeccable suit has been swapped for a crisp button-down shirt, the sleeves rolled up just a touch, paired with well-tailored slacks. But it’s not the way he looks that steals your breath; it’s the way he’s looking at you. His gaze trails over you, not overtly calculating, but with something more subtle, more intense. There’s awe in his eyes, and for a moment, it’s as if he forgets how to breathe. His lips part slightly, like he’s about to speak, but the words get stuck in his throat.

The sight of you standing there, bathed in the soft light of your hallway, makes his heart stutter in a way he hadn’t anticipated. Your outfit is simple, but somehow, it accentuates everything that makes you... you. Aaron has always admired your professionalism, your sharp mind, and the way you carry yourself. But now, something else hits him— your grace. It’s as though he’s seeing you for the first time— not just as his colleague or close teammate, but as you. And he can’t help but think how stunning you look.

He swallows, forcing himself to regain his composure.

You feel your pulse begin to thrum, a nervous flutter you can’t quite control. You knew he’d be here, but seeing him now— seeing him look at you like this— is a shock to your system.

You swallow and break the silence. “Hi,” you manage, even though it feels like the most inadequate word you could say in this moment.

“You look…” he falters, his voice deeper than usual, a slight rasp. He clears his throat, but there’s no masking the way his gaze softens as he looks at you. “You look beautiful.”

The compliment is simple, but the way he says it— like everything else between you and him— feels loaded with meaning. The words settle into your chest, warm and comforting. No one’s ever made you feel seen quite like this. No one ever looks at you the way he does now, like you’re the only thing that matters in this space.

An uncontrollable smile stretches across your face, warmth pooling in your chest. You try to calm yourself. This is just Aaron. Just Hotch. You’ve worked together for years. You’re friends. But this? This is something different. And everything about tonight feels new.

“Thank you,” you reply shyly, wishing you could say more— something that could convey how much his words mean to you. But you’re not sure how to verbalize it, how to make sense of the nerves suddenly wreaking havoc on you.

He smiles, a small, genuine smile that makes your chest tighten. It’s a rare crack in his professional exterior. His gaze flickers down to your lips for just a moment, a quiet hesitation before he meets your eyes again. The silence stretches between you—almost too long—before he reaches for you with a gentle, almost hesitant gesture. His hand is steady, but you catch the slight tremble in his fingers.

“Shall we?” he asks, the words hanging in the air like a soft invitation, a gentle nudge into the unknown.

With a nod, you slide your hand into his and allow him to lead you to his car. Like a true gentleman, Hotch opens the car door for you, letting you slide inside before he closes it gently and moves to the driver’s seat.

You buckle your seatbelt, your hands trembling slightly as you adjust it, but it’s hard to focus on anything other than the way Aaron sits beside you. He starts the engine, the soft hum of it filling the car, but it’s as if neither of you knows what to say. The conversation between you, usually easy and casual, feels foreign now.

You glance at him— he’s focused on the road, his jaw set, his hands gripping the steering wheel, but there’s a tightness in his posture that wasn’t there before. You’re used to Aaron’s stoic, controlled demeanor, but now, there’s a slight edge to his movements, a quiet nervousness that surprises you.

For once, Aaron doesn’t feel like he’s in control. He doesn’t feel like the Unit Chief of the BAU or the calculating prosecutor he once was. He feels like a man standing on the precipice of something new— and he doesn’t know how to navigate it.

He didn’t expect this. Didn’t expect to feel so much. But this is just like him, always a step behind when it comes to his own emotions.

He steals a glance at you, only to find you already looking at him with that same wide-eyed gaze he has come to adore. A small smile tugs at the corner of his lips. He thinks back to that fateful day, the moment he feared he would lose you— that you would never look at him that way again. A frown tugs at his lips. His grip on the steering wheel tightens. He had come so close to watching one of his greatest fears come to life.  

You feel the drastic shift in Aaron’s demeanor, the subtle change as his tension takes on a darker form, something more than just nerves.

“You okay?” you ask softly, your voice barely above a whisper, but it’s enough to break the quiet bubble between you two.

He glances over at you briefly, his dark eyes catching yours for a moment, and there’s something unspoken in that brief exchange. His expression softens, and his hand— still on the wheel— flexes slightly before he answers.

“I’m fine,” his voice is calm, but there’s an underlying warmth in it now— something unguarded, vulnerable. “Just…” He hesitates, and you can almost see the wheels turning in his head as he tries to find the words. “Just glad to be here with you.”

You blink at the simplicity of his words. It should’ve been obvious, but you hadn’t expected him to be so open— so real— about it. You nod slowly, a smile tugging at your lips.

“I’m glad too,” you reply, and the words feel more truthful than they ever have before.

-*-

The restaurant is quiet, intimate—just the right place for a first date between two people who have spent more time working together than anything else. The low hum of conversation and the clinking of silverware fills the air, but in your small corner booth, it feels like the world has narrowed down to just the two of you. No team, no cases, no distractions. It feels like the first real moment where you can both breathe without the weight of the world on your shoulders.

Aaron is polite, professional, just like usual, but there’s still an edge to him that wasn’t there before. His movements are slightly more careful, his glances lingering just a little too long. It’s subtle, but you can feel it. The air between you feels thick with unspoken words, with things that haven’t yet been said— haven’t even been acknowledged.

An unexpected shyness swells up inside you. The weight of this moment finally settles over you. You had longed for a moment like this. A chance to be with Aaron in a more intimate setting, to step away from the roles you’ve both played for so long, to just be. The chemistry between you, the moments that lingered just a little too long, the small touches that didn’t feel quite so professional anymore— these things have been building to this exact moment. But now that it’s finally here, you’re terrified.

Not of Aaron. Not of the way he looks at you, but of yourself.

What if you ruin it? What if this is just a fleeting moment of warmth and compassion on his end? What if it’s an illusion that will vanish just as quickly as it appeared? And if it does— what will that do to you? To Aaron? To the team?

You realize just how fragile the balance you and Aaron have been maintaining is.

You reach for your napkin, fingers restless as you fiddle with the edges. You haven’t been on a date in years— not since college. Back then, everything seemed so simple. You were so carefree, your heart open and unafraid of the consequences. But now, everything is complicated. With all the history between you and Aaron, the stakes feel higher, the potential for things to go wrong just a little too real.

You shift in your seat feeling the awkwardness of the space between you. The tension between you both builds with every passing minute, the unspoken words sitting between you like a quiet invitation.

Clearing his throat, Aaron breaks the silence.

“Jack really enjoyed that recipe you gave me. Although I’m sure he’d much prefer it if you made it instead of me.”

You laugh, a genuine sound that has Aaron’s chest tightening in a way he isn’t ready to admit. There’s something about it— your laugh that feels more open, more real than the usual quick exchanges you share at work. You seem more... vulnerable tonight. Softer, in a way he wasn’t prepared for.

“Well, you earned Jack’s approval, so it sounds like your version is just as good,” you tease, but the smile you share with him falters for just a second. There’s a certain hesitance in your eyes, an unease that he can see you try to cover up.

But it’s there, unmistakable.

The silence falls again, this time a little heavier, a little more awkward. You take a sip of your wine, the cool liquid offering some comfort as you try to find your footing again. Aaron, ever the profiler, picks up on every shift in your body language. The tightening around your eyes, the slight tension in your shoulders, the way your gaze flits to his face before bouncing anywhere else. This is a reaction he didn’t expect. You’ve always been calm, collected, and self-assured. But tonight, you’re something else— he can sense the uncertainty beneath the surface.

Aaron had been so focused on his own nerves, on maintaining control. He never stopped to consider that you might be feeling just as uncertain as he is. It’s a humbling realization. 

“What are you thinking about?” The question comes out softer than he intended, like an invitation to share something more than just surface thoughts. You realize, in that moment, that Aaron is asking for something deeper than just a simple response. It surprises you, though it really shouldn’t.

You meet his gaze, and it pulls you in, making you feel like you can’t hide behind your usual calm demeanor. “Nothing really... just nervous,” you admit, a shy smile spreading across your face as your eyes flicker down to your wine glass before meeting his again. “I’ve never really done... this before.”

Aaron’s brow furrows at the confession, and for a split second, his mind scrambles to find the right response. “A date?” His voice is soft, unsure if he should push or give you space.

You chuckle, a little self-deprecating, like you’re embarrassed by your own admission. “Well, no. Not since college. It’s been a while,” you confess to him, your fingers absently tracing the rim of your glass.

The revelation hits Aaron with an unexpected weight. He hadn’t anticipated this— hadn’t considered that you might be just as vulnerable as he is in this moment. It stirs something protective within him, an instinct to shield you from the unease you’re clearly feeling, though he doesn’t quite know how to do that yet.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I was the one giving you nervous butterflies.” 

 There’s a playful edge to his voice, but it’s gentle—reassuring in its own way. He’s trying to lighten the mood, trying to ease the tension. He wants you to know it’s okay to be this nervous, that it’s okay for both of you to be feeling your way through this.

You laugh again, the sound more relaxed this time. It feels good to admit it, to share something so personal with him. Something that feels so... human.

“It's not you,” you clarify quickly, shaking your head with a soft smile. “It’s just... been a long time. And this is, well, different.”

Aaron leans in slightly, as if trying to understand the weight of your words. “Different how?” His voice drops, a hint of curiosity threading through the quiet.

You hesitate, searching for the right words. You weren’t expecting this kind of openness from him— this willingness to understand what’s remained unspoken. It makes something in your chest loosen. But you’re not sure how to articulate it. Not entirely. So you start slow, the words coming out haltingly.

“I don’t know,” you say finally, feeling the weight of it as it settles in your chest. “It’s just that... all these years, we’ve always been on the same team, right? Always professional, always focused on the job. And now...” you shrug, a little self-conscious, but there’s a warmth to your smile as your eyes meet his. “There’s a new dynamic here, and I’m not sure how to handle it.”

Aaron watches you for a moment, absorbing what you’ve said. He feels a slight shift inside him, a slow understanding of the weight of what you’re saying. You’ve never hesitated before, never seemed unsure. And now, here you are—open, fragile in a way he’s never seen. It makes something twist inside him, protective and tender in equal measure.

“I get that,” he says quietly, his voice low, steady, “I’ve been feeling it too.”He pauses, then adds with a half-smile, “Though I didn’t think you’d be the one who needed more time to adjust.”

That pulls a soft laugh from you, the tension easing from your shoulders. You shake your head in mock exasperation. “I didn’t realize you were so smooth. But now that I know you’re actually just as nervous as I am...” you raise an eyebrow, teasing him a little, the playful banter easing the air between you.

Aaron chuckles, his eyes warming in response, “Guess we’re both pretending to be less nervous than we really are.”

The way he says it, so openly, makes your heart settle a little. You take a small sip of your wine, considering your next words. “I didn’t think we’d ever get here,” you admit quietly, your voice soft, unsure. “I mean, I had let myself hope, but with everything that’s happened.”

Aaron’s expression softens, and there’s a quiet understanding in his eyes. “Yeah. I’ve thought about that too,” he murmurs, his jaw tightening just a fraction, as if the memories are sharper than he’s willing to admit. “We’ve both been through a lot. And I wasn’t sure what this... us could look like.”

The rawness of his words catches you off guard. There’s an honesty in them that feels almost like a relief. This isn’t just a date. It feels like a kind of truth that has been long overdue— something neither of you has ever fully addressed, but always carried.

“And now that we’re here,” you say softly, your voice tentative but sincere, “What do we do with it?”

Aaron exhales slowly, leaning back just slightly, his gaze flicking to the table before returning to you. There’s something different about the way he looks at you now, as if he’s no longer trying to figure out the next step, just... accepting it.

“I don’t know,” he admits, his voice steady but with a hint of vulnerability. “But maybe... maybe that’s the point. We don’t need to have it all figured out right now.”

The weight of his words lands between you  like a small relief, a shared surrender. The uncertainty, the not-knowing, doesn’t feel heavy anymore. It feels like a mutual acceptance, a quiet understanding that, for tonight, it’s enough to just be here. To let whatever happens next unfold without needing answers.

“I think I can live with that,” you murmur, smiling softly, your heart still beating a little faster than usual.

Aaron gives you a small smile, that familiar flicker of warmth in his eyes. The air between you both shifts again, this time more relaxed, less tense. There’s no more pressure, no need to define everything in this moment. Instead, it’s just the quiet promise of now, and maybe, just maybe, that’s all either of you needs.

The rest of dinner passes in a warm blur. The nervousness from earlier dissipating. You begin to feel more at ease, more sure of yourself in his presence. His presence has always had a grounding effect on you, but tonight is different. There’s no longer any distance. No professional separation. 

He listens intently when you talk, eyes never straying from your face. There’s something about the way he is so present with you— like he’s hanging on to every word, absorbing everything you give him. 

And when he laughs? When he smiles like he truly means it— it’s a rare thing. It makes your heart flutter. It’s the first time you’ve seen him so... unshielded. No armor. No walls. Just Aaron.

As he walks you back to your apartment door, you can’t stop thinking about him. About the way he looked at you all evening, like he was struggling to maintain control. But even through his efforts, you could see the way his gaze kept drifting over you, lingering just a bit longer when he thought you weren’t looking. There was something in it— something that made your heart flutter, a warmth spreading through you.

“I had a really great time tonight, Aaron,” you tell him once you reach your door, your voice soft but sincere.

Aaron smiles at that, his heart inexplicably light. “I did too.”

And then, his hand brushes yours, and suddenly you’re aware of how close you are. The contact is small, but it feels like everything. It sends a jolt through you, and your pulse quickens— nerves, anticipation, excitement all rushing through your veins.

You had wanted this. Wanted him. But now that you’re standing here, so close, it feels different. More real, more tangible than you ever expected. You’re afraid to move forward— afraid of what could come next.

And yet, in the silence, you don’t need to say anything. You feel it— an unspoken invitation in his eyes. The way he steps closer, ever so slightly, until there’s no more space between you. Aaron understands exactly what you want. 

“Can I…” he hesitates, his hand lifting slowly, then pausing for just a moment before it gently cups your cheek. His touch is so soft, so tender, like he’s waiting for permission. Like he’s afraid to rush this. You feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, the scent of his cologne— familiar and comforting— encapsulates you, making your pulse race. His chest rises and falls just as erratically as yours. 

You lean into his touch, your eyes fluttering closed, the warmth of his hand against your skin a silent promise.

The world seems to pause just before his lips touch yours, and for a breathless moment, you’re not sure if it’s the right decision. But then his lips are there— soft, gentle, asking without words, and you know it’s the only choice that matters.

It’s tentative, careful. He’s holding back, as though afraid you might break. But the tenderness of it only makes the ache inside you deepen. You’ve waited for this. Both of you have, in your own ways. And here, now, it’s finally real.

You kiss him back with all the softness you had been holding inside, feeling the months of longing, of unspoken desire, finally spilling out. It’s nothing like you had imagined. No fireworks. No grand, sweeping declarations. It’s tender. It’s soft. But it’s everything. It’s an unspoken conversation between the two of you. An acknowledgment of everything that’s been left unsaid, of the quiet trust between you. Of how, despite everything— despite his professional walls, despite the stakes of your job— he’s letting you in.

The way he holds you so carefully, like you’re something precious. The way his lips move against yours, as though asking for permission, as though he doesn’t want to take anything from you— just offer it.

His hand moves to your cheek, his thumb brushing the curve of your jaw, a touch so intimate, it feels like a promise. The kiss deepens just slightly, but there’s no rush. It’s everything you’ve wanted without either of you saying a word.

You pull away slowly, forehead resting against his absorbing the intimacy of the moment. 

“Wow,” you whisper, the words escaping before you can even think about them.

Aaron chuckles softly, a quiet sound that makes your heart flutter. “Yeah,” he agrees, his voice thick with emotion.

With a final, tender smile, he leans in to kiss your forehead, a gesture so intimate it almost feels like a promise. He steps back slowly, eyes holding yours as if making sure you know he’s leaving, but he’s not really leaving.

“Goodnight,” he says softly, voice hoarse.

“Goodnight, Aaron,” you smile, the dreaminess of the moment filling you up, still feeling the warmth of his kiss lingering on your skin.

As you close the door behind you, you lean back against it, your hand resting for a moment on the handle. Your heart is still racing. You hadn’t expected a kiss like that—gentle, sweet, full of promise. But as you sink back against the door, a soft, satisfied smile tugs at your lips.

It had been worth the wait.

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