#i know that’s probably a little bit crossing professional boundaries | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ssa-dado · 14 days ago

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Three Stages of Truth - SOS

Aaron Hotchner x bau!fem!reader Genre: fluff and a lot of fun bits Summary: After years of adhering to the FBI's "no dating coworkers" policy, you and Aaron finally crossed the line, keeping your relationship hidden behind a professional facade. The team, amused by your strict boundaries, continuously poked fun at your stoic, near-platonic interactions. Despite this, once you were home, everything changed. Three fun scenarios lead to one undeniable truth. Warnings: probably there's a short NSFW bit, nothing scandalous, minors can probably still interact (?) idk sue me Word Count: 10.4k Dado's Corner: The first two parts are heavily inspired by the delightfully unhinged brainrots exchanged with @c-losur3 (bless your criminally brilliant lawyer mind, this is all pure comedy). Finally expanded into something more fun… or at least, I hope so! Hopefully I met your expectations with your request, took some creative liberties just to keep you on your toes :)

masterlist

Arthur Schopenhauer, German philosopher, once said: “All truth passes through three stages. First, it is ridiculed. Second, it is violently opposed. Third, it is accepted as being self-evident.”

---

Stage one: “First, it is ridiculed.”

If there was one defining characteristic that bound you and Aaron together more than any other, it was your deeply ingrained sense of duty.

Duty to the job, to the rules, to the team.

This profound sense of responsibility was what held you apart for so long, faithfully upholding the FBI's strict "no dating coworkers" policy, a rule neither of you dared to transgress.

It was that deep sense of responsibility that kept you and Aaron apart for so long, both of you strictly adhering to the FBI’s “no dating coworkers” rule. It was a line neither of you dared to cross… until, one day, you did.

When you finally took that step, it wasn’t as if everything suddenly became easier. If anything, your dedication to your roles only deepened. Years of hiding your true feelings had trained you well, knowing how to navigate each other’s professional boundaries came almost naturally.

And it wasn’t just about personal pride or discipline - it was about a shared commitment to keeping the team dynamic intact and not letting personal matters disrupt the work you were all so devoted to.

Worried that your relationship might disrupt that delicate balance, you both chose to keep it private for as long as possible. Every interaction at the office was carefully managed, every glance controlled. Even in moments when you wanted to let your guard down, you reminded yourselves what was at stake.

And when you finally told the team, it wasn’t accompanied by a sigh of relief or a relaxing of your professional façade, instead, you doubled down.

Pure stoicism.

No touching.

No lingering eye contact.

What the team found undeniably funny - and maybe enjoyed a little too much - was that back when you and Hotch were just “partners”, you were actually more relaxed around each other: a comforting hand on the shoulder every once in a while, sitting close together on the jet, chatting easily about anything and everything.

Now, you barely allowed yourselves even a fleeting glance. You maintained such deliberate distance that every rare look felt like you were cautiously measuring out tiny doses of affection from a secret reserve.

"Why don’t you two just kiss in front of us once, so we can actually remember you’re a couple?" they would jest during briefings, fully aware that the likelihood of such a display was on par with the office coffee machine working on a Monday morning.

However, this only seemed to encourage them to find even more creative ways to poke fun at you. During tactical briefs, a simple "Pass the stapler, please," from you to him could warrant theatrical gasps and someone fanning themselves as if witnessing an affair.

Or watching you navigate the halls with military precision, they’d nudge each other, whispering dramatically, "Alert, potential accidental eye contact in three, two, one... Oh, never mind, false alarm!"

In reality, the one thing that could actually make you falter was when the case wrapped up and all the tension, the sleepless nights, everything came down to a single moment.

All you both wanted was to collapse into each other’s arms, but instead, the only physical contact you allowed yourselves was a strangely formal handshake - stiff and awkward, yet somehow managed to carry the weight of all the unspoken longing between you, a small tradition of yours.

"Good job catching the unsub," you’d say, your voice steady, though your eyes shimmered with a warmth reserved just for him.

"Good job deciphering the pattern," Aaron would reply. His tone was calm, but his eyes lingered on yours a moment too long, betraying his deeper emotions.

In a daring whisper, you might lean in closer and murmur, "You looked insanely hot in that vest. I’m dying to jump your bones right now."

"I know, darling, but we can't," Aaron would reply, a playful smile tugging at his lips. "And by the way, if you could stop tying your hair up when I’m around, it would make things a lot easier."

You and Aaron had mastered the art of subtle flirtation, weaving little moments of connection into the everyday rhythm of work. Casual comments, quiet glances, nothing obvious, just enough to remind each other of what was waiting for you both at the end of the day.

If someone happened to get too close, you could easily switch back into "professional mode," talking about the case with ease, as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

But once you were home, everything changed.

The moment the door closed behind you, it was like a switch flipped. Suddenly, you were no longer bound by the rules of the office. In your shared space, the weight of professional conduct melted away. You could finally let go - drop your bags, let the tension fade - and just reach for him. Your arms would find their way around his neck, as if you'd been waiting for this all day.

“Long day?” he’d ask, voice softened in a way that no one else ever heard.

“Long,” you’d murmur back, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before you even realized you’d missed him. “But I think I can be persuaded to relax,” you’d add, letting a sly smile tug at your lips.

He’d shake his head, but his hands would find your waist, pulling you close. “I’m sure you’re very persuadable,” he’d reply, and the warmth in his voice would melt away whatever stress lingered from the day.

There was no one to see you both now, no one to maintain appearances for, and the freedom was almost intoxicating.

You’d end up on the couch, half-curled into his side, legs intertwined, as you both debriefed each other not just on the day’s work but on everything that made you who you were, stealing kisses every few minutes just because you could.

When paperwork demanded attention, it quickly transformed into another reason to stay close. You’d find yourself on Aaron’s lap, either at the dining table or settled into the couch, one arm draped around his neck as you both tried - mostly in vain - to concentrate on the documents in front of you.

More often than not, the papers would end up slightly crumpled, bearing witness to the playful struggles and distractions that ensued whenever one of you became too immersed in the task - or, more accurately, when the task became anything but the focus.

With a subtle wiggle, ostensibly just an innocent adjustment, you grinned up at him. “This is just more comfortable,” you declared, your tone overly serious as if you hadn’t used that same excuse every time you sat on his lap.

His eyes narrowed, a hint of a smirk playing at his lips. “Comfortable for you, maybe,” he murmured, his hands settling on your waist, fingers drawing slow, deliberate circles on your skin that sent your heart racing.

You stretched, arching slightly, your lips brushing the spot behind his ear that you knew he loved. "Are you saying you’re uncomfortable, Agent Hotchner?" you teased, your lips still grazing his skin, before pulling back to face him as though nothing had happened. "Because we can always switch back to a more professional arrangement."

He chuckled, a rich, low sound that reverberated against your ear. "It’s only unprofessional if we’re caught," he replied, as your hand began to roam up and down the middle of his chest, your movements slowed by the bumps of his shirt buttons.

You feigned shock, your hand pausing in its path up his chest. "SSA Hotchner, suggesting we shirk our duties? I'm scandalized." Your tone was light, teasing, your fingers now slipping beneath his shirt to trace the warm skin of his torso. His slight gasp was your reward, and you pressed your advantage, your touch bold and exploring.

"And yet, you're not too scandalized to stop what you're doing, are you?" he observed, his gaze lowering to the chaos of papers that had begun to scatter across the table as you moved to straddle him, your knees pressing into the cushions on either side of his hips. He immediately moved his hands to rest on your waist.

"Shock makes us irrational," you quipped, biting your lower lip. Your left hand rested at the nape of his neck, fingers threading through his hair to draw him closer, while your right hand played provocatively with the belt loop of his trousers.

His eyebrow arched, a sculpted line of mock sternness that didn't quite mask the flicker of desire in his eyes. As your fingers playfully tugged at his belt, a barely audible hitch caught in his throat. “Oh, I think the real shock came last week,” he murmured, his voice a low, tantalizing tease, “when you chose to critique my punctuation on that witness statement - while we were busy on the coffee table. And, of course, it wasn’t even an error.”

You paused, holding his gaze with a look of feigned innocence, your hands slid slowly over his shoulders, fingers tracing the hard lines of his upper back as you leaned in closer. "I never said it was an error. I just suggested that a semicolon would’ve made that paragraph flow better." Your fingers danced closer to the waistband of his trousers, hinting at further provocations yet to come.

"And you expected a revision on the spot?" he asked, tilting his head slightly, his voice a blend of amusement and disbelief. "You’re lucky that I was too distracted by other things." He adjusted your positioning slightly, sliding your hands from your waist to your hips, pulling you flush against him so that the closeness allowed you to feel the firm pressure of his arousal.

“Lucky?! Look, it’s not my fault that, in that position, all I could see were your terrible stylistic choices,” you breathed out, your voice a sultry whisper as you began to kiss along the side of his face, tracing a path from his forehead down to his ear. “They were staring me in the face, begging to be corrected.”

His response was a teasing smile, his eyes alight with mirth as he leaned in, his lips barely brushing the sensitive shell of your ear. “You could’ve told me, and we could’ve tried something else.”

“Oh, no chance,” you retorted boldly, your smile laden with mischief. “From now on, it’s sex on the coffee table or nothing .”

He smirked, starting to place wet kisses on your neck, letting sounds escape from you. "Alright, but don't start complaining about ink smudges on your blouse this time."

"There won’t be any smudges if you just took it off. There’s a reason undressing is the first rule in the manual, you know?" you raised an eyebrow as you guided his hand from your waist up to your breasts, earning an amused look from him as he began unbuttoning your blouse.

And, inevitably, the papers would crinkle beneath you both, completely forgotten, scattering in a mess neither of you cared about. The only certainty was that later you would need to reprint half of those, but that's exactly why you had invested in a printer for your home office in the first place.

And, inevitably, the papers would crinkle beneath you both, forgotten, replaced by the quiet, magnetic pull that seemed to dissolve every responsibility the moment you were alone together.

Then, there were the slower nights, the ones where words weren’t necessary. You’d find yourselves wrapped up in a blanket, his arm around you, your head resting on his chest as you listened to his heartbeat, each beat sounding more like home.

He loved to stroke your hair, twisting the strands between his fingers. He would trace the curve of your shoulder, his touch a promise that echoed in the walls of your empty house, all without needing to say a thing.

Until he would.

"I love you," he'd say, quiet but direct, because he knew how much words meant to you and always would. It didn’t matter if it was the twentieth time he said it that day, he would keep saying it, never once straying from his purpose.

"I love you too, Aaron," you'd reply smiling, looking up at him, watching the way his eyes softened. His hand would brush yours, fingers intertwining in that familiar dance that he always led to his mouth, kissing your hand while still intertwined with his.

When he caught you blushing, though, that’s when the real teasing would start. “Are you blushing?” he’d ask, eyes twinkling with amusement as he leaned in closer, his grin widening as he watched the flush spread down your neck.

“Maybe,” you’d huff, trying to look away, though he wouldn’t let you, his fingers lifting your chin so you had no choice but to meet his gaze.

“You’re adorable when you’re embarrassed, you know that?” he’d murmur, his voice a low rumble, making it impossible to resist smiling.

“Pretty sure you’re blushing too, Hotchner,” you’d shoot back, arching an eyebrow. And sure enough, a faint hint of pink would dust his cheeks, and he’d laugh, pulling you into another kiss.

“Guess we’re both fools, then,” he’d say, his voice softer, that rare smile reserved just for you.

You’d settle in for the night, curled up on the couch, your legs tangled together, his arms around you, holding you close. Sometimes you’d talk for hours, sharing stories, inside jokes that made no sense to anyone else but always made him laugh, that deep, genuine laugh that seemed to shake away every shadow he’d carried with him.

In the kitchen, he’d steal kisses over the stove as you cooked together, hands brushing as you reached for spices, your bodies leaning into each other in that rhythm you’d both grown to know so well. You’d nudge him with your hip as he tried to take over, insisting he was better at chopping vegetables.

“Let me handle this,” you’d say, swatting his hand away, only for him to pull you into a kiss, completely derailing your focus.

“Or maybe,” he’d murmur against your lips, “we could just order takeout and go back to the couch.”

“Terrible influence,” you’d reply, but you’d never actually order takeout; you enjoyed doing tasks together way too much, even if it meant sometimes letting him cut the vegetables, letting him win - after all, it was in his nature.

Lawyers always do everything to win, skillfully bending the law to meet their needs - and Aaron, he'd willingly bend you over the counter. You weren't quite sure whether to be flattered by that, considering it meant you were his personal law.

Hours passed like that in a blur, lost in each other’s presence, the outside world never seemed to matter, it was just the two of you, existing in your own little bubble.

But that wasn’t something you allowed the team to see. It was an unspoken rule between you and Aaron - quiet and composed in public, free and true to yourselves in private.

And it had worked.

Or at least, you thought it had, until one day, the team decided they’d had enough - if you two weren’t going to let them see the real deal, they’d just have to… intervene.

It started innocently enough, with Garcia orchestrating what she dubbed a "team-building" exercise focused on open communication. The twinkle in her eye was your first hint that mischief was afoot.

Morgan delivered the coup de grâce with a wide, victorious grin, making a seemingly casual announcement that sent ripples of mischief across the cabin. "Oh no, looks like the lovebirds have to sit next to each other for the entire trip! Sorry, guys. Plane’s tight this time.”

Hotch, clearly not about to let the team’s evil plan play out in full while you all had to start briefing about the latest case, immediately shut down the smiles with a sharp, stern remark. “What, you think we’re going to cuddle on the way to a triple homicide?”

Honestly, every time he could command an entire room with that dry humor of his, you wanted to jump his bones.

You couldn’t help it, it got you every time. Your man was pure authority wrapped in a smart suit and perfectly timed jokes.

Despite what everyone might assume, Aaron was actually the kinder one in the relationship. While he had the sharp, lawyerly precision to cut things off before they became problems, always quick to resolve matters - you, on the other hand, were far worse.

You didn’t rush to fix things or settle for easy solutions.

No, your method was more intricate, more drawn out sometimes it required humiliation before you got to the point. You were a master of patience, allowing people to dig themselves into a hole first, letting them build their own assumptions, and only then would you pounce, proving them wrong in the most delightful way possible.

Being a philosopher at heart, you liked to draw things out, just to let people stew a little bit in their own misguided assumptions.

In these instances, your strategy was pure, calculated evil - a slow burn of sweet, sweet revenge that only you could orchestrate.

Morgan's comment, far from a mere joke, sparked something much more dangerous within you - the thrilling anticipation of proving to them that they really didn't want to know what you and Aaron were truly like behind your professional facades.

“If we're traveling real tight this time, I guess I’ll just have to sit on your lap, Aaron,” you quipped, batting your eyes innocently at him.

Hotch blinked, his usual composed demeanor faltering for a split second, clearly caught off guard by your bold move. You could already see the faintest flush creeping across his cheeks, a rare crack in his otherwise impenetrable exterior.

But then, a slow, knowing smile tugged at the corners of his lips, the realization dawning on him that this was just the beginning of one of your devious plans.

He was, after all, your favorite partner in mischief. With a teasing glint in his eye, he patted his lap, a mock invitation and you wasted no time, making yourself comfortable on top of him.

The game was on.

“So,” you began, snuggling into him with exaggerated sweetness, “Hotch, you ever think about triple homicides?”

If you ever called him that in private, he’d probably have walked out on the spot, but here, in the middle of the case, using his work name felt like the only boundary left between you and the truth. It was the one little shield that kept the line between professionalism and the chaos of your relationship.

“All the time, Teach” Hotch murmured back, his voice low and humorously serious while his hand carelessly rested on your thigh, in its natural position.

Garcia, who ‘coincidentally’ happened to be traveling with you that day, shifted excitedly in her seat, mouthing "OTP" as she gave you both an enthusiastic thumbs-up, her delight in your theatrics clear as day.

Meanwhile, Reid looked on with wide eyes, his academic mind probably filing this under 'unexpected field observations’. "I... I think I should call my mom more often," he muttered, seemingly to himself but loud enough for others to hear. "I don’t think I show enough... affection."

Hotch’s fingers inched higher up your inner thigh at the mention of ‘affection,’ tracing patterns that almost made you question whether or not to intertwine your fingers with his to make him stop. You leaned in to whisper something cheeky into his ear, only for him to capture your lips with a swift kiss.

Now this, was unexpected.

His bold move even caught Rossi’s attention, who had been trying - and failing - to bury himself in paperwork, clearly uninterested in the team's antics. But Rossi had endured the deliciously excruciating tension between you and Hotch for far longer than anyone else. After all, there was a reason he still had that picture of you at his book release party in '99 hanging on his office wall - right in plain sight, as if to remind everyone who had been in on this secret for years, even before you two.

So you played it up even more, leaning in with a dramatic flair. "I love you," you declared, your voice slow and deliberate, gazing deeply into Hotch’s eyes. Every syllable was crisp and clear, you could practically hear the gears grinding in the team’s heads as they went into full overdrive, still scrambling to process what was happening.

"I love you more," Hotch replied, the soft chuckle accompanying his words causing a collective groan from around the cabin - yes, you two were cheesy, you and Hotch were far from the type to indulge in the most clichéd of romantic exchanges… probably because he already knew if you two ever started it, considering your competitiveness, it would have probably escalated into something so ungodly he didn’t even want to know.

"No, I love you more," you shot back, the stakes of your playful banter rising – you almost wanted to puke.

"Impossible," Hotch retorted, his lips curling slightly in that way that made your heart skip a beat. "Because I loved you first." you blinked in surprise, eyes widening just a little.

Now, that was new information.

But before you could fire back with another over-the-top retort, something in his gaze shifted, and in an instant, you found yourself pulled into a kiss, this one deeper, more intense, and completely unexpected.

The kiss was slow at first, drawing out the moment as his lips moved against yours with a deliberate slowness that made your pulse quicken, no room left for hesitation.

His hand slid to the back of your head, fingers threading into your hair, his grip tightened just enough to hold you in place, but it was gentle, as if savoring every second. His other hand found the small of your back, pulling you closer, until you could feel both of your shirts crumpling against each other.

The kiss deepened, his tongue slipping into your mouth with urgent intensity, exploring and tasting, oblivious to the hum of the jet engine masking the sounds of your teammates' shocked reactions… and the click of Garcia’s phone camera.

His movements were fluid and confident, each touch perfectly synchronized with the growing heat between you. You met him with equal fervor, your lips and hands moving in sync, the kiss becoming more insistent, more desperate – it was this raw, unreserved passion that finally pushed Rossi to his breaking point.

“Alright we got it! You were right! Stop it, stop whatever this is. We won’t tease you about the PDA anymore, I swear," Rossi exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air in dramatic surrender.

Thank you.

You and Hotch broke apart, the kiss lingering in the air as you wiped a smear of lipstick from his lips with a quick swipe of your thumb. Without missing a beat, you slid back into the seat next to him, immediately adopting your professional mask.

The sweet talk, the casual touches - all of it disappeared, as it should, leaving behind only the steely, composed agents the team was more accustomed to.

“Good,” you said coolly, taking the pen from your jacket pocket and clicking it with an exaggerated focus as you pretended to examine the case files.

It was as if the entire heated exchange had never occurred. Your calm demeanor was flawless, but inside, you couldn’t suppress the gleam of triumph in your eyes.

Oh, how you loved being right…

…Rossi, on the other hand, was still recovering from the emotional whiplash.

He shook his head with a rueful smile, a flicker of regret in his eyes. “If I ever see you two so much as glance at each other that way again, I’m quitting, for real” he muttered, his voice laced with mock seriousness.

Garcia, however, shot up in her seat, practically vibrating with enthusiasm. “No, no! Ignore him! You guys, please, be as mushy as you want. It’s a safe space here! I want this. We all want this,” she insisted, her eyes wide with fervor as she shot Rossi a defiant look. “Come on, meet me in the middle, Dave! I’ll buy you bleach! A privacy curtain! I’ll even throw in a soundproof booth! Just let them be adorable in peace!”

Rossi, who had clearly reached his limit, held up a hand, shaking his head in resignation. “I’d rather have earplugs and a set of blinders.” His voice was full of mock defeat, though it was clear he couldn’t stop the faint smile tugging at his lips.

"Really, Dave? Blinders?" Morgan chuckled from the back, clearly enjoying the back-and-forth. “You’re not going to let them have a little fun? Come on, man. This is way better than watching you flirt with the coffee machine in the break room.”

At that, you and Hotch immediately turned your heads toward each other, exchanging a look that only the two of you could understand.

Oh, if only they knew the real story. If only they knew how much Rossi had a thing for that coffee machine...

… especially the one in the Section Chief’s office.

You and Hotch had both noticed it long ago.

It was impossible to miss, really.

Rossi’s eyes would soften whenever he found himself near that ‘coffee machine’, as if it held some magnetic pull. Or the way he would suddenly volunteer to deliver reports to the coffee machine’s office, even when it was Hotch’s responsibility.

It was so painfully obvious to you two - Rossi was absolutely smitten with that ‘coffee machine’.

But, of course, you weren’t going to spill that little nugget of gossip just yet. Not today, anyway.

Although Hotch’s dry humor kicked in, and he glanced over at Rossi. “It’s all in the Italian blend,” he said flatly, his voice as deadpan as ever. You squeezed Hotch’s hand tightly to suppress the burst of laughter that threatened to slip out – damn, how you hated how much he managed to let you crumble like that all the time.

Oh, how much you loved him.

Thankfully Reid came in to save the day “I’ll buy the earplugs, Dave,” he said in all seriousness, looking at Rossi like he was ready to place an order for industrial-sized ear protection. “And maybe a seat in the very back of the plane. For everyone's sanity.”

“Thanks, kid,” Rossi muttered with a sigh. “This is the last time I’m taking a flight with you two lovebirds.”

You exchanged a playful glance with Hotch, both of you struggling to keep straight faces. The rest of the team seemed caught somewhere between exasperation and amusement, clearly trying to hold it together, but clearly failing.

"You know, we really should've started this sooner," you mused aloud, crossing your arms and leaning back in your seat. "It’s such a great way to keep everyone in line."

Hotch's lips curled into a slight smirk, though his eyes stayed locked on the case files in front of him. "Next time, I'll save the theatrics for after the case. If we make it that far."

“Good call, as always, Unit Chief,” you replied, your voice playful, but just serious enough to leave them wondering if you were still messing with them or if something had changed.

And that’s when it happened - the first domino fell.

Hotch’s hand, now shifted from the table to rest on your knee.

The weight of his touch was different this time - it wasn’t calculated, nor was it part of the show you’d put on to mess with everyone - it was simply him, expressing something real.

For a moment, you froze, the air around you feeling suddenly charged with something more intimate than you’d allowed to settle between you at work. But as you looked at him, you saw that he wasn’t expecting you to respond theatrically, either.

His gaze was steady, his hand resting casually, without any of the usual distance he’d maintained before.

The shift was subtle, but it was there.

You let out a soft breath, your muscles relaxing for the first time all day as you allowed yourself to lean slightly into the touch. “Thanks,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, but Hotch caught the meaning behind it. He squeezed your knee just slightly, a wordless acknowledgment that you were both on the same page.

Maybe it was time to stop being so stiff…

---

Stage two: Second, it is violently opposed.

…and so you did.

Over time, you allowed yourselves some liberties here and there — small gestures, quiet moments shared in the midst of the chaos of the job - only when no one was watching, of course.

You still made sure that the workplace environment remained as professional as possible, the last thing you wanted was for anyone to feel uncomfortable or for your relationship to ever be questioned.

But if there was one thing Aaron was particularly good at, it was finding loopholes.

He would argue, “It’s not a breach of the rule if the statement isn’t clear on that at all." And when the rules weren’t clear, he was quick to take advantage of it, slipping into those grey areas that never seemed to get any real clarification.

Lawyers.

The rule had applied to the workplace, yes, but it never specifically mentioned physical spaces - like the FBI parking lot, or the elevator. So more often than not, you and Aaron found yourselves “stretching” the limits there, enjoying those quiet moments away from the eyes of the team.

The elevator rides were your favorite…

There, it was just you two, no cameras, no one listening, and nothing to hold you back. Sometimes it was just a kiss, other times... well, you both liked to test just how far you could go before someone walked in.

But, as always, timing had a funny way of messing everything up. It seemed like every time you’d start kissing or your hands would wander just a little too much, someone would always show up.

And somehow, it was always Rossi.

No one else.

Just him.

It never failed.

He’d clear his throat loudly, or tease you both with that exasperated tone of his, as if he was constantly trying to escape what he couldn’t avoid. It was like he had some sort of sixth sense for catching you two in those exact moments, and no one else seemed to be quite as lucky - or unlucky, depending on how you looked at it.

At this point, Rossi had had enough of the cosmic joke that always seemed to land him in the middle of your most inconvenient, and often highly personal, moments.

His will was already written, and it came with a very clear clause: Only one of them is allowed at his funeral or grave at a time. Lovebirds policy only. He had his reasons, of course, he didn’t need to explain why he didn’t want to see that particular dynamic at his final resting place.

So, in his infinite wisdom - and desperation - Rossi scheduled a mandatory HR seminar.

“Dave, I don’t have to attend the seminar, I’m Unit Chief” Hotch told him one afternoon, looking as though he might be able to talk his way out of it.

“Oh no, you do,” Rossi shot back, practically pointing at Hotch like he was an unruly student. “You’re the very reason I called them in. You and your... antics.” He threw his hands up dramatically. "This has to stop."

You exchanged a look with Hotch, trying not to laugh at how utterly serious Rossi was about this whole thing. But as usual, Hotch wasn’t one to back down from a challenge. “We’re managing it well, Dave. We never cross professional boundaries when you’re around.”

Not exactly, it should have been ‘we never cross professional boundaries when we know you’re around’.

But he continued talking anyways, intense and relentless as usual “In fact, we don’t even sit next to each other on the jet anymore, especially after hearing someone mention how she falls asleep on my shoulder after cases and thought it was 'cute,' apparently,” he said, glancing at you with a playful look.

Rossi’s eyes narrowed, and he crossed his arms over his chest. “Oh, don’t start with that," he grumbled. "I know you two are playing some kind of game with me. And don’t act like you’re the picture of professionalism, Aaron, just because you sit on opposite ends of the jet."

Hotch then took a deep breath, rolling into lawyer mode. His voice dropped lower, each word becoming more deliberate – it was time to pull out the big lexicon. “Furthermore, Dave, I find it rather hypocritical for you to bring up a matter like this, considering you’re the very reason these fraternization rules were implemented in the first place. For the record, we’ve been transparent. Strauss was informed as soon as we started dating. There’s no issue here.”

Rossi blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in Hotch’s tone. He frowned, a bit of surprise flashing across his face. “Did she teach you the word ‘hypocritical’?” he quipped, looking at Hotch with a knowing smirk.

Hotch, taken slightly off guard by Rossi’s jab, blushed a little - his cheeks turning a soft shade of pink. He wasn’t usually one for showing any signs of fluster, especially in front of his team.

The HR seminar had barely begun, but you were already feeling your patience thin.

Everyone had been summoned to the bullpen, begrudgingly forced to sit through a mandatory lecture on fraternization and professional conduct.

Rossi, in all his glory, had managed to schedule the whole thing thinking that a lecture about fraternization and workplace boundaries would somehow curb the “antics” he thought were getting out of hand.

But what he definitely didn’t anticipate was the sheer chaos that would follow.

The HR representative - Carmen, an overly cheerful woman in her late forties with a name tag that read "Carmen" - stood at the front, facing the group with a bright, forced smile that didn’t quite match the tension hanging in the room. She seemed oblivious to the undercurrent of discomfort flowing through the team.

“Today, we’re going to talk about how to maintain professionalism in the workplace,” she began, clicking through slides on the projector. “Specifically, we’ll be discussing fraternization, boundaries, and how to handle uncomfortable situations when they arise.”

You exchanged a quick glance with Hotch.

This was going to be painful.

Carmen continued, oblivious to the growing tension, moving to the next slide. “So, let’s start with a simple question. What should you do if you ever feel harassed or like professional boundaries are being crossed?”

“Do you ever feel like there’s a couple who barely show any emotion beyond stoicism but make it a point to talk about…”

You blinked.

Stoicism?

Did she even understand what that word meant? It wasn’t just about hiding emotions or being composed. It was a whole philosophy, a way of understanding life and how to deal with adversity. And yet here she was, using it as some sort of generic descriptor for a couple that was, apparently, too controlled, while also being embarrassingly not controlled enough in their personal moments.

You could almost hear her thoughts: “Stoicism” sounds intellectual, let’s use that to make things sound deep and professional. But she was so off the mark, you almost couldn’t bear it.

Carmen paused, her finger hovering over the remote.

She clicked the button again with the kind of confidence that suggested she had absolutely no idea what the word stoicism even meant. In fact, as you sat there, trying to distract yourself from the growing tension in the room, you found yourself profiling Carmen.

You were pretty sure she had just Googled the term moments before this presentation, probably during the coffee break, her face lighting up when she stumbled across something that sounded smart enough to say in front of the group.

The way she adjusted her glasses after every click, the small, almost nervous laugh she gave when she spoke a little too loudly, and how she constantly tugged at her sleeves like she was just a little too eager to prove she was in charge - she was someone who tried hard to project authority but clearly lacked a deeper understanding of the material she was presenting.

Her behavior hinted at a kind of surface-level preparedness, just enough to get through the presentation without anyone questioning her qualifications. She was the kind of person who relied on buzzwords to sound impressive…

The entire room went dead silent, but Carmen, continued without skipping a beat. "Next, we’ll look at how professional boundaries really can be blurred in the workplace..."

“Stop shaving, your beard makes me want to schedule sick leave for the both of us.”

That hit you quite hard. Damn… you still remembered how you didn’t let Aaron get out of the bed for two whole days when he grew one of those himself.

Your weakness... how the way it highlighted the lineaments of his face, casting shadows like something painted by Caravaggio himself, was irresistible.

Not to mention the heavenly way it felt against your skin… oh you were so feral… you had never had so much sex in your life like you did in those two days…

Your mind wandered back to those moments, the soft temptation to bribe him into growing it back.

“Your lectures make me want to…”

Lectures? Very oddly specific.

“My son wants a sibling.”

You blinked, trying to wrap your mind around it, but then the realization hit you. Fun, the agents in that room who had a child could be counted on your fingers, so the words felt oddly out of place. But still, you couldn’t quite grasp why they felt so familiar.

And just like that, it hit you - 32 languages, three PhDs, and years of teaching... all now reduced to the deductive powers of a ladybug.

You hadn’t realized it until now - probably because you were still thirsting over the memories of your hot man with his hot beard - but those weren’t just any words.

Those were your words.

Your conversations.

The moments you and Hotch thought were just whispered between the two of you, moments you thought no one heard. And there they were, broadcast on the screen for the entire team to see.

A chill ran down your spine as the final line appeared.

“Stop quoting Hagel or we might have to leave to take something we left back in...”

The moment those words appeared on the screen, you felt something snap inside you. The misspelling of Hegel - with an A instead of an E - was a personal betrayal.

Your mind immediately spiraled, fixating on the glaring error. How could they get something so fundamental so wrong?

To have something so simple and fundamental, so easily identifiable, mangled like this felt like an insult. Your whole body stiffened in protest, and your jaw clenched so tightly it ached.

You could feel the weight of your teammates’ stares burning into you, but it barely registered.

It wasn’t much their reaction to the personal details of your relationship with Hotch that had you worked up - it was the glaring inaccuracy before you.

The universe had somehow decided that this moment wasn’t going to be about the privacy that had been stripped away from you, but about this mistake - a simple, careless error that was now at the center of your fury.

You couldn’t think about how embarrassing it was to be outed like this. Your brain couldn’t process any of it, it shielded itself consuming by the fact that someone had managed to butcher the name of one of the greatest philosophers of all time.

Prentiss leaned forward slightly, her brows raised in surprise, but her reaction was drowned out by your growing irritation. JJ, trying to keep it together, looked over with wide eyes, an unmistakable flicker of realization dawning on her face. Reid’s expression was a mixture of curiosity and confusion, as if he were trying to piece the scene together in his usual analytical way.

Then there was Morgan, letting out a low whistle, clearly amused by the sudden turn of events. But it was Garcia, sweet, innocent Garcia, who was practically glowing with excitement, a huge grin spreading across her face as though she had just won some grand prize. Her eyes sparkled with giddiness, clearly delighted by the personal details she’d just uncovered.

The entire team had turned toward you now, their attention fully on you and Hotch, clearly not expecting the turn of events.

And it was embarrassing.

But still, despite everything - the exposure, the teasing, the whispers of your relationship that had never meant to be public - it was the misspelling of Hegel that was making your blood boil.

Every fiber of your being screamed to correct it, to stand up and storm to the front and take the projector down, fix it, fix everything.

But before you could even move, Hotch must have felt the shift in your energy. His hand, almost instinctively, moved to rest on your knee. His thumb rubbed gently in small circles, a calming touch, grounding you.

“Y/N, stop,” he whispered, his voice low and urgent, sending a shiver down your spine.

You could feel his breath warm against your ear as he leaned in closer, the subtle press of his body against yours grounding you, even if everything else felt like it was spiraling out of control. “Stop before you point out they misspelled Hegel and make a lecture out of it, or we might have to leave to take something we left back in the car.”

It was a mix of teasing and flirtation, the very phrase the HR rep had just banned from its existence. And damn it, it was working. The fire in his eyes pulled you in so completely, you almost forgot where you were, who was watching, or why you were so angry in the first place.

You wanted to stay mad, to stand up and correct the error, but the way he was looking at you made it hard to hold onto anything except the electricity that was building between you. The rest of the world faded into the background.

But of course, Rossi - ever the opportunist - had been listening intently. He leaned in, catching your words before they even left your mouth. “She just finished saying that,” he muttered, a smug look crossing his face as he caught your eye.

You shot him a glare that could have frozen him in his tracks, but it only seemed to fuel his teasing. “Please, Rossi," you said through gritted teeth, your voice low and dangerous. "Next time, forget to plug in your hearing device so you can stop listening to things you don’t want to hear. Or, better yet, don’t make me tell you the very reason you’re hypocritical in the first place."

Rossi’s smile widened, obviously enjoying your frustration. "Hypocritical?" he repeated, his tone dripping with mock curiosity. “Maybe you should teach me more of those big words.” He was goading you, trying to get under your skin.

Hotch, sensing the escalation, placed a hand on your shoulder, his voice smooth and controlled as he stepped in to defuse the situation. "You're welcome to take your concerns about our so-called 'unprofessional conduct' crossing boundaries directly to the Section Chief, Dave," he said, his gaze never leaving the screen as he remained calm. "But mind you, you have no proof."

Still, you couldn’t help it.

The frustration and tension of the whole situation - everything that had been building up - finally boiled over, and you couldn't hold it in anymore. "And on that subject, Rossi," you began, your voice firm, steady, and dripping with challenge, "don’t you regularly cross those unprofessional boundaries yourself?"

The room went dead silent.

You could feel Hotch’s eyes on you, and when you glanced at him, you saw the exact same understanding in his gaze. You both knew exactly what was about to happen. The words had already left your lips, and now Rossi was about to learn just how much the two of you had been paying attention to his “subtle” behavior.

Hotch, the perfect picture of calm, added with the slightest tilt of his head and a mischievous glint in his eye, “We noticed that you and…”

Rossi, visibly caught off guard, stumbled over his words, “Why did I even open my mouth? I knew this was gonna make everything worse… porca puttana,” he grumbled, rubbing his face in frustration.

Carmen, completely oblivious to the escalating tension, continued with the presentation as if nothing was happening.

But you weren’t going to let it go that easily.

You leaned back in your seat, arms crossed, eyes fixed on Rossi with a smug grin playing at the corners of your lips. “You know, Dave,” you said, your voice light but dripping with satisfaction, “this lecture has been very informative. But maybe next time, you should make sure to include a few slides on how to keep your own relationships under wraps. Might help you avoid the hypocrisy.”

Rossi’s face flushed as he shot you a glare, but you could tell that, for once, he was caught completely off guard. “Oh yeah? Well, why don’t you join me and Erin for dinner tonight then? It’d be fun, wouldn’t it?” He threw back, but you could hear the hesitation in his voice as he scrambled to regain control of the situation.

You leaned over to Hotch, lowering your voice just enough so only he could hear. “Aaron, I swear if I see them even touching hands, I’m going to puke.”

Hotch gave you a deadpan look, trying to suppress a grin. “I feel you, but…” His tone dropped into a mock-dramatic whisper. “What if we crank up the unprofessional behavior right in front of them? Scare them off a little?”

You raised an eyebrow. Oh, this was going to be fun.

Hotch looked like he was seriously considering it. “That could either work like a charm, or - let’s be honest - knowing Rossi, they’ll just double down and serve us a taste of our own medicine. And sure, we love a good challenge, but…” He leaned in closer, his voice lowering even more. “Do we really want to go there?”

You smiled to yourself, already picturing it in your mind. “Oh no, I can already picture it.”

Hotch sighed dramatically, as if considering his options. “We could leave earlier with the excuse we need to work on paperwork...” he trailed off, giving you a look.

You smirked. “‘Paperwork,’” you said, making air quotes with your fingers, knowing exactly where this conversation was going. “Our paperwork?!”

Hotch and you both knew exactly what the other was thinking.

Hotch’s smirk turned a little more serious, and he leaned in slightly. “You know, we could always go all out. Maybe I could place my hand on your shoulder every now and then. Keep them guessing.”

You gave him a look, one eyebrow raised. “Oh, I love you, but I fear that would be too scandalous.”

Hotch’s smirk widened as he leaned back a little, but the glint in his eyes didn’t fade. “Well, then I’ll settle for resting my hand on your knee. Once. For three and a half seconds.”

Your eyes flickered with amusement, and you couldn’t help but laugh softly. “Wow, last time you only allowed yourself three,” you teased, knowing he had a habit of pushing boundaries, but always so carefully… you were an old Victorian couple with people you knew from the job afterall.

“I know, I’m practicing more self-control,” he said, voice thick with sarcasm but still looking at you in a way that made you forget you were attending a seminar about this specific behaviour.

You leaned a little closer, watching him intently, enjoying the banter more than you cared to admit. “You’re so hot when you’re so unprofessional," you whispered, the words dripping with playful intent. "Almost makes me want to kiss you on the cheek.”

Hotch’s expression never wavered, but the amusement in his eyes was undeniable. "So unprofessional..." he murmured under his breath, his voice tinged with humor but also something deeper, something more familiar with the man you knew in the safe walls of your house.

You didn’t need to be obvious to make things very clear. It was all in the subtlety, the small gestures, the private moments that only you and Hotch understood.

And as you both settled back into your seats, you couldn’t help but grin to yourself. It was going to be a long seminar, but at least it was going to be entertaining.

---

Stage three: Third, it is accepted as being self-evident.

After an evening of forced pleasantries with Rossi and Strauss, the two of you were finally free.

Walking into Aaron’s apartment, you let out a long sigh of relief, kicking off your shoes and feeling the weight of the night slip off your shoulders. The moment the door clicked shut behind you, Aaron turned to you with that familiar smirk - the one you’d missed to helplessly melt into all day long.

As if there had been no build-up, no tension at all, you found yourself pressed up against the door, his lips crashing against yours the second you crossed the threshold. The kiss was hungry, urgent, like both of you had been holding your breath all evening and could finally release it now that you were alone.

His hands moved instinctively to your waist, pulling you closer as your bodies melted into each other, until there was no room left between you two.

When you pulled away, breathless but grinning, you teased, “You know, after all that drama with Rossi and Strauss, I’m exhausted. Think I could spend the night here?”

“Well, I do have a guest room…” Aaron raised an eyebrow, letting the words hang in the air, as if he was seriously considering it.

You narrowed your eyes, taking a small step back but keeping the playful smirk on your face. “Guest room? That’s so nice of you, love” you said, folding your arms. “But I was thinking maybe I could sleep in your bed you know, just for the night. It’s so cold here. I mean, really cold. We wouldn’t want me freezing to death, would we?”

Aaron's lips curled into a mischievous grin as he stepped closer, his gaze playful. “I’ll tell you a secret,” he said casually, his voice smooth. “It was all part of my plan,” he added with a glint in his eye. “That’s why I’ve kept all the windows open.”

He paused dramatically, his hands slipping around yourhips, pulling you closer. “Wouldn’t want you getting too comfortable, would I? Now, you’re basically obliged for cuddles.”

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head at him, already feeling the heat between you two. “Oh, you’re so devious,” you teased, leaning in to kiss him again, this time slower, with just enough space between your lips to let his tongue slide in.

“You know you don’t have to plan so much for us to sleep together. I thought that was a given by now, cuddles included... maybe even something more. Who knows?” You pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, the playful challenge lingering in the air.

Aaron chuckled against your lips, deepening the kiss with just as much passion, his hands sliding up to your shoulders, gently but firmly pushing you back against the wall.

For a moment, you both paused, breathless, eyes locked in shared understanding before you leaned in closer, your voice dropping to a teasing whisper. “So, how exactly do you manage to get to the office first every morning?” you asked, your smirk widening as the question hung in the air, taunting him.

Aaron’s smile deepened, a mixture of wry humor and something much more tempting in his gaze. He leaned in, lips brushing against your ear, his voice low and playful. “I love you,” he said softly, almost tenderly, before pulling back to meet your eyes. “But not a chance.”

You gasped in mock outrage, your hands finding his chest as you pushed yourself off the wall, trying to distance yourself a little. “Come on, no fair. You’ve been so open tonight with all your little secrets,” you teased, making air quotes. “Now you won’t share this one?”

Before you could move away, Aaron caught you effortlessly, pulling you back into his embrace. His strong arms wrapped around you, sending your heart racing. His lips grazed your ear again, his voice hushed and playful as he whispered, “I’ll tell you in 83 days,” his tone dripping with mock seriousness.

You froze, eyes widening in surprise.

The playful smile slipped from your face, and the warmth from his embrace spread through you, despite the coldness of the apartment.

You blinked, the realization hitting you all at once.

The bet you two had made years ago - the one where if he beat you to the office for 1,000 days, he’d have to propose - flashed through your mind. And now, he was casually dropping 83 days like it was just another countdown.

“Come on, don’t pretend you’re shocked,” Aaron said, his voice softening with affection. He leaned in closer, brushing his lips lightly against yours. “You knew this was coming, if you keep failing… this is your last chance to beat me.”

His lips captured yours in another soft kiss, and you could feel the unspoken weight behind his words. “Unless you really want to spend the rest of your life with me.”

Your breath caught, and the sudden heat flooded your cheeks, turning them a deep shade of red. You couldn’t help but melt into him, the gravity of his words settling in, even as you clung to the teasing spark that still flickered between you.

“You still have to find out my answer,” you teased, raising an eyebrow, your voice light but full of challenge. “You know, just to keep you on your toes. It’s not all settled yet… and who knows, maybe you won’t even ever know it. I’ve still got 83 days to beat you.”

Aaron shot you a pointed look, the corners of his lips curling into a smile. His hands slid up your back, pulling you closer. “I wouldn’t be so confident, considering your terrible track record,” he said, his voice rich with teasing. Without giving you a chance to respond, he kissed you again - harder this time - his lips claiming yours with a passionate force that spoke of promises yet to be fulfilled.

You melted into the kiss, every nerve in your body aware of just how close you were, how real everything felt. When the kiss finally broke, your hand remained lightly against his chest, still feeling the thrum of his heartbeat. “Haven’t you learned yet that you should never underestimate me, Hotchner?”

Aaron chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your ears as he leaned down to kiss the top of your head. “This is the only thing I allow myself to underestimate you on,” he teased, pulling back with a glint of mischief in his eyes. “You’re terrible at it. Even worse than your shooting skills.”

You raised an eyebrow, still smirking, a playful spark lighting up your eyes. “Oh, now you’re exaggerating,” you said, poking his chest lightly with your finger.

“It’s not like if I can’t beat you at something, I’m mathematically bad at it. And also, really? You expect me to outdo a sniper?” You tilted your head, teasing him about his former SWAT team background.

“Absolutely,” Aaron replied, his grin widening. “You still have to keep up with me on long-distance shots, and don’t even think about blaming it on your blurry vision.”

He gave you a pointed look, then leaned in slightly, his voice low and playful. “I still love you, of course, even if you might need a little more training from the ‘sniper’.” He winked at you, that familiar, mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

You laughed softly, shaking your head, but the idea seemed to settle in your mind. “You know,” you said casually, leaning against the counter with a thoughtful look on your face, “I just realized something. If I married you, we’d have two Agent Hotchners on the team.”

Aaron’s eyes twinkled with amusement, but there was a hint of something deeper in his gaze. He leaned down slightly, getting closer as if he were about to tell you a secret. “Oh, so you’re considering it?” he teased, the playful tone only slightly covering the vulnerability that was starting to show through.

You leaned in a little closer, your voice soft and teasing as you whispered, “Well, we’ve still got 83 days to figure it out, don’t we?” You let the words hang in the air for a moment before adding, with a sly grin, “Unless, of course, you want to start planning now.”

Aaron’s smirk softened, a chuckle escaping him as his arms tightened around you just a little more, pulling you in closer. “Oh no,” he said, his voice low, full of mischief. “I still need to do everything in my power to make sure you’re the one to lose the most important bet of your life.”

You raised an eyebrow, a playful challenge in your gaze. “Getting a little cocky, aren’t we?” you teased, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. “Just because you think you’ve got me cornered in this bet doesn’t mean you’ve won yet.”

He raised an eyebrow, his smirk never faltering as he leaned in a little closer. “Maybe I just wanted to make sure I’m doing things right,” he said, voice low and teasing. “For example… I wanted to check if sapphire was still your favorite stone,” he added, his grin widening. “You know, just in case I need to upgrade the plan.”

The question caught you off guard. You blinked at him, your heart skipping a beat as the realization hit you. “What?” you stammered, feeling a blush creep up your neck. “Shut up, Aaron,” you said, your voice a little shaky as you tried to recover from the surprise. “You’re ridiculous.” You tried to pull away, but his arms were still around you, pulling you closer, his grin widening at your reaction.

Aaron laughed softly, his thumb brushing your cheek, the teasing light in his eyes evident. “I swear, you’re so easy to fluster,” he teased, his voice low but affectionate. “You’re blushing, and I haven’t even asked you yet.”

You couldn’t stop the blush from deepening, your face now a full shade of red. You crossed your arms over your chest, looking away in embarrassment, but it was too late, he’d already noticed. “You’re going to be the death of me,” you muttered, feeling the heat in your cheeks spread.

Aaron reached out, his fingers gently tilting your chin up so you were forced to meet his gaze. His voice dropped to a quiet, serious tone, though the warmth still lingered. “Til death do us part, right?” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

“Don’t make me cry,” you whispered, the teasing edge to your voice slipping away. The laughter, the playful teasing, they all seemed distant now.

Aaron’s gaze softened, his thumb gently caressing your jawline as he studied you, he didn’t say anything at first, letting the silence stretch between you. His hand lingered on your chin for a moment longer before he slowly, carefully, let it fall to your waist, his touch grounding you.

His voice, when he spoke, was quieter, more intimate. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said softly. “But if I do, I hope it’s because I’ve made you happy, not because I’ve made you doubt what we have.”

You swallowed, the words tugging at something deep inside you. It was the way he spoke to you, like he meant every syllable, that made your heart swell, and for a brief moment, you almost wished you could freeze time and just stay in that moment, locked in his arms, no words left to be said.

You couldn’t stop yourself from smiling a little, despite the overwhelming feeling in your chest. “Well, you’ve already got me feeling all kinds of things,” you teased, trying to lighten the mood again, even as your voice wavered just slightly. “But I think you’re safe for now.”

Aaron chuckled softly, his hand gently brushing down your arm, a reassuring gesture that made you feel grounded. “I don’t want to just be safe, though,” he murmured, his eyes dark with something a little more serious. “I want to be the one who makes you feel like you’ve found home, even when the world is too much.”

Your breath caught in your throat, the weight of his words settling deep in your chest, causing your heart to flutter in a way you couldn’t quite put into words, no matter how many languages you spoke.

There was something about Aaron - his warmth, his steady presence, his certainty - that made it so easy to get lost in him. You didn’t know what the future held, but with him by your side, the world seemed less daunting, less frightening.

“Then maybe you’ve already won,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. The walls you’d so carefully built around your vulnerability came crashing down, and for the first time, you let yourself feel the full force of it. “Maybe you’ve already made me feel at home, windows open or not.”

Aaron’s lips brushed gently against your forehead in a soft kiss, his arms tightening around you in a way that made you feel completely safe. “Then I’ll keep doing it,” he murmured against your skin, his words a promise, a vow, and a reassurance all in one. “Every single day.”

"In love, one and one are one." Jean-Paul Sartre

---

taglist: @beata1108 ; @cuddleprofiler ; @c-losur3 ; @fangirlunknown ; @hayleym1234 ; @justyourusualash ; @kyrathekiller ; @lostinwonderland314 ; @mxblobby ; @prettybaby-reid ; @reidfile ; @royalestrellas ; @ssa-callahan ; @theseerbetweenus ; @todorokishoe24

#aaron hotchner #hotch #criminal minds #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotch x reader #symposiumff #criminal minds x reader

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gunnrblze · 1 month ago

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BEGGING SCREAMING for more keegan, logan, kick and hesh hcs

Maybe they are secretly in love with y/n

Ooh, that I can do. Ghosties secretly in love with you, how do they do? (•﹏•;)

Hesh- I think Hesh is the type to probably tell you his feelings, depending on who you are, though. If he works with you, it seems more unlikely to me that he’d readily confess. He has a lot of responsibility and probably wouldn’t want to risk that, especially if you’re not the same rank as him (bro is both a big rule follower and a big rule breaker too, just depends on the rule)

Howeverrrr, working with you aside, he’d pine for a while before he ever confessed regardless. Type to text you a lot, keep a steady little conversation going all the time. Pays very close attention to you, someone who will bring up a thing you said you were mildly interested in seven weeks ago…very in tune with you as a person. He’s a lover boy, but he would let his yearning go unsaid for years, would just be the Guy That Is There For You lol (he’d do anything for you just ask-)

Logan- secretly-in-love Logan strikes me being similar as Hesh in the way that if you do work with him, he’d probably be cautious of doing anything about it. But I think he’d be a bit more forthcoming at least with others. A situation where everyone but you knows he’s head over heels feels likely lol.

Logan would be his normal self for the most part, however when he can afford to be distracted, you definitely distract him, regardless of where you may be. I don’t mean this in a stalker-ish way at all, but I think he’d be the type to just watch you a little lmao. Not crossing any boundaries, but if you’re near, he loves to observe you, listen to you, etc. He’s a quiet guy, so he’d listen to you yap for three days straight if he could. He’d try to seek you out when he could, he just wants to watch you and be near (it would drive him fucking insane but he’s been there done that so he’ll make due)

Keegan- now this guy secretly in love might show it a little more non traditionally, as in not much at all. Typically, somebody can usually tell when a person has feelings for someone, even if it’s hidden well, but I think Keegan could genuinely have his feelings fly under the radar due to both how little he divulges things to people (word will NOT get around with this one lmfao), and the fact that I imagine he’d just be good at hiding it. Doesn’t let his eyes linger for too long, won’t necessarily treat you any differently, etc.

However, his down fall is the closer you are to him, whether physically or emotionally. His mood might shift in accordance to yours, albeit very slight since he’s not all that expressive. But if you really pay attention, you can see Keegan mirroring you, looking out for you, silently taking care of things for you, etc. Acts of service mf.

Kick- this guy in love, regardless of the secrecy status, strikes me as the type to just desire your closeness, in any sense of the word. Whether that’s him being in your general vicinity as much as he can, getting to know you more personally, expressing himself more deeply to you, etc…he desires all of you that he can get.

He also strikes me as a professional piner like Hesh lol. If there’s anything more important at stake, he can and will bottle his feelings up for as long as necessary. But make no mistake, he will stick around as much as he can (imagine a leech). He also tries to impress you a little bit, but not foolishly so. The way a man might flex his muscles for a woman to show off, but in a more subtle way. He’s a very intelligent dude, so maybe he slips a lil something self indulgent into conversation to gauge how much you give a shit about it lol.

#your honor they all need therapy probably bless them #call of duty ghosts #cod ghosts #david hesh walker #hesh walker x reader #hesh cod #logan walker #logan walker x keegan russ #logan cod #keegan russ #keegan russ x reader #keegan cod #kick call of duty #cod kick x reader #kick cod #cod hcs #cod ghosts headcannons #call of duty #gunnrblze rambles

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wavesoutbeingtossed · 5 months ago

Text

And another thing while we’re at and is again me stating the obvious and repeating what we’ve all said but the way Taylor and Travis have handled the public vs private thing is a masterclass in pr/comms issues management in a lot of ways.

Because as we’ve all said they’re “public” in the spaces that we’d expect them to be. Like for instance, Travis’ games or Taylor’s shows — they’re literally work functions for them respectively, and it’s never a secret when the other shows up. So yes, Travis showing up on stage and committing to the bit is “public,” but it’s not the biggest stretch because everyone knew he was going to be there. They’re kicking it up a notch, but in the end, she’s performing for 90k people in a stadium and however many thousands at home on livestreams in a public space, and ultimately him showing up there (or her showing up on the field at football games) falls into that expected professional realm. It’s not like they’re broadcasting a talk show from their living room.

Which I think has made it even clearer how hard the “home” boundary is for them, at least for the time being. The way Travis always deflects and shifts the conversation when it comes to people (mostly good-naturedly) fishing for a scoop is masterful. He shares publicly available information (eg the pop tart anecdote) but is firm on not sharing anything actually personal.

And I bring this up only because it feels to me that that’s probably one of Taylor’s firm boundaries and/or boundaries they’ve chosen together. For people who are surprised at Taylor being so “public” or how she’s changed — she hasn’t in a lot of important ways. She’s loud and exuberant and not afraid to show off on stage, but she also hasn’t done any significant press to speak of that I can think of since Midnights’ release almost two years ago, and even that wasn’t much. She literally just dropped an album in the middle of tour two months ago and peaced out.

It just seems like at least at this point in her life, her personal life is pretty much off limits. There’s the odd tidbit (eg the Fortnight video), but she isn’t talking to the press and even though Travis hosts a podcast every week, he isn’t saying anything that we haven’t all already seen in the news. Obviously the shenanigans this weekend cross the personal boundaries a little, but it’s likely also because, well, there are some major life changes afoot so those lines will too.

I’m just rambling but it’s just like… Taylor is open in so many ways and flourishing in others that maybe she didn’t even this we’re still possible, and it’s so so touching to see her come out the other side of everything she went through. And she’s changed only in that she’s healing and she’s starting to reconnect with parts of herself she’d kept buried.

But she’s still fiercely protective of her life and it’s just incredible to think that as big and as public facing as she and Travis are, in the end, we don’t really know much about their personal lives and I think that’s really important. I’m sure those boundaries will shift as their lives evolve and things feel better or don’t feel better and they reassess. But it’s just kind of funny that for all the microscopes they’re under, the noise around them is kind of smoke and mirrors because they themselves are tightlipped to the public. (Different relationships and all that, but compare how Travis speaks about his home life — or doesn’t — with Taylor to how Jason and Kylie speak about theirs and it’s clear that there are very different boundaries there. Which is fine! Everyone navigates their own!)

So as the hype has built up this is weekend (and will likely continue this week…) and things are probably going to hit a fever pitch in the media and online, it’s going to be funny to hear the inevitable takes about PR and flaunting their relationship in public and moral judgments on it (ahem) when in reality… they really don’t share anything other than places they’d already be seen anyway. That may all change and maybe they’ll give a tell all, I don’t know, but I suspect not. (And if it does then great! Good for them that they feel comfortable enough with it!)

It’s just a really good exercise in how they give enough to make it seem like you’ve gotten something, without really giving anything at all. Like the show bit — it’s shocking and goofy and flirty, but on the flip side, is it really unusual for a committed couple to flirt with each other? Nope. Same with the PDA at the football games: it’s shocking because of their fame and Taylor previously being notoriously private. But in the end, it’s really not a shock for a person to show up at their partner’s work event and support them, and in the case of the Super Bowl, it’s not a surprise for a loved one to come down onto the field and show affection to a player who’s won their game. It’s different because it’s her, but it’s otherwise pretty standard protocol.

I’m just glad for her and for them in the end that they’ve found some sort of balance that works for them where they get to show up and support each other how they like, without feeling like it’s going to collapse their personal life. They’ve kind of hoodwinked the world into thinking they’re massively public when it’s really “professional but make it sparkly”.

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emry-stars-art · 1 year ago

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I’m wondering (and not sure if this has been talked about yet in a post I simply missed) about how Abram copes with Andrew’s physical affections (or lack thereof) in your lovely royal AU. With the history behind ‘pretty’ that you described for Abram in that last post, I feel like there is so much potential of him expecting to be touched, even before they are courting (but especially during/after), and wondering why Andrew doesn’t—especially once it’s established that he thinks of Abram as ‘pretty’. They are of different station so it would be so easy for Andrew to act entitled to Abram’s body like so many before, especially with Abram in a position where he’s basically serving him in some way. I wonder if it makes him relieved (due to professionalism/personal comfort at the very beginning) or anxious (due to having no ability to tell what is coming for him/later due to doubting if he is really wanted that way if Andrew doesn’t act the same as his point of reference) or a little bit of both for different reasons.

I imagine Andrew to be both a very tactile person and not necessarily so because he is so very aware of boundaries and only crosses them with invitation or purpose. I wonder how that translates here and how his touch plays into how Abram perceives him (and honestly there’s the whole part too where it’s something they have in common, trampled boundaries and bad associations and bone-deep understanding of such) or if they would ever have a conversation about that where Abram wonders about the curtesy of distance and space he is being given.

I’m like two seconds from passing out bc it’s pretty late here so idk how much sense this ask really makes but I’m having thoughts. I love your AU and your work and hope you have a wonderful day <3

YOU GUYS ALWAYS FIND THE MOST INTRIGUING THINGS TO EXPLORE I LOVE YOU (and your comments/etc, apostrophe-philosophy, are always a joy to read hehe)

(First: find the royal au writing masterpost here 💕)

I’ve been working on/thinking about this ask long enough that I’ve straight up forgotten if this was a thought I had when writing that first post (here) or if you brought it fully to my attention but we can safely assume it’s the latter so thank youuuuu for that truly. I love exploring Abram’s slow inch (and Andrew’s, but he’s had more time to get adjusted) towards finding a healthy relationship with touch 🥲 and oh my GOD don’t let me forget to tell all of you about Abram and gloves

I wrote a scene/lil collection of scenes about Andrew clearing things up here too because I’ve been wanting to explore Abram’s POV for a while 👀 there are references to canon abuse, so take care. As always, sparknotes version and additions below

I LOVE your points about Andrew, I totally agree that once it’s established and he’s allowed, he’s very much a tactile person, he just needs to get there first 💕

We all know for obvious reasons that it never once crosses the prince’s mind for Abram to be anything more than a professional bodyguard, even if he does find him attractive. He’s very good at courtesy and polite distance. How I imagine this goes down in the timeline is this:

1) Nathaniel shows up at Palmetto and he’s never allowed close to important people. Certainly never allowed close enough to touch. Totally safe there. It doesn’t take him long to understand Day really won’t take advantage of him since he never did in Evermore either, so that’s safe. There’s not much else to worry about for that long stretch of time.

2) Nathaniel/Abram becomes the prince’s guard. There’s probably a little anxiety just because there’s plenty of opportunities for the prince to try something, but as time goes on and Andrew keeps the previously mentioned distance, even acting apathetic (as he does), Abram starts to assume that the prince is straight/doesn’t care. It wasn’t as if every single person in Evermore was trying to get at him. Just the ones that wanted to. Obviously, the prince doesn’t want to. It gets to the point that Abram feels comfortable and doesn’t try to constantly watch his own back when he’s on duty.

Then the prince, perhaps feeling a little bold or hopeful or just wanting to say something so he doesn’t keep feeling like he’ll explode, makes a single comment on Abram’s “pretty face”. Even something that could be brushed off as friendly jest, if he really wanted. But Abram completely freezes up. Andrew, of course, notices. He doesn’t try to ask about it then, but he definitely notices. But he assumes that Abram took it as the genuine compliment it was, and that Abram is entirely uninterested or even wary of those advances. So he makes no more comments, he leaves the entire concept as far away as he can get it.

Now that Abram knows the prince finds him pretty, he’s just waiting for Andrew to be the same as everyone else. He didn’t even directly answer to the nobles in Evermore and they were still so bold - but he’s Andrew’s servant in the most direct way, and Andrew is a prince. Surely the prince is even more entitled to him than they were. (When he realizes this is what’s happening, Andrew tells Abram in no unclear terms exactly what is and isn’t expected of him. It takes longer than that for Abram to shake the anxiety he grew up with, but at least after that he can start repeating the prince’s words to himself when he needs to.)

3) that’s cleared up well enough, but then (much, much later) the prince wants to court him. At first Abram can’t think much beyond “there’s no way this is real” but then the more he thinks about it, the more nervous he gets again. He doesn’t know Palmetto courting traditions, what if he’s expected to do something he isn’t ready for. What if now that he’s accepted the courtship he can’t tell Andrew no anymore. It wouldn’t be fair of him to, he thinks, he shouldn’t have agreed so quickly.

But there’s a time they’re out doing whatever courtship things (maybe another horse ride for funsies idk), Abram’s getting nervous about it again, and when Andrew asks for a kiss or to hold his hand, Abram doesn’t answer. He’s also a little confused when Andrew doesn’t just do it anyway, because he hadn’t said no, but Andrew is watching him in the way that usually means Abram is acting too much like he’s at Evermore again. He tells Abram, “Nothing’s changed. You can say no.” And Abram does immediately - not because he doesn’t want whatever he was offered but because he scared himself. Andrew’s still watching him. “Don’t forget that again,” he says. Abram takes a shaky breath. “Yes, prince.”

But as soon as Abram’s past that anxiety for the second and probably final time? Andrew is still as tactile a person as before and gods know Abram is touch starved to hell and back, he’ll take any kind words or touches he can possibly get and he craves them. Specifically from the prince. Who loves to give them.

I’d love to come back and make a fluff post specifically about that point in the timeline if we can collectively come up with enough ideas for said fluff 🥰 for now thanks again for the ask, swear to GOD we’re gonna get these idiots a happy ending, but I’m having way too much fun in the meantime 😂

#hand studies doubling as relevant art to post 🙏#this was such a good point #your half delirious tired thoughts were INCREDIBLE #i didn’t get to the point about Abram thinking Andrew doesn’t actually like him because he won’t touch after they’re courting #but that can definitely be part of it #I just also think that past a certain point Andrew is asking every few days or frequently enough #that Abram realizes both that Andrew *does* want him like that #and that he really is allowed to refuse if he feels like it #based on the few times he does and Andrew moving on without further comment #very casual I feel like #idk I’m not making very much sense either in here #I wrote the post earlier than I’m adding tags #tag-writing emry has a headache 🥲#ohhhh but if Andrew is asking and Abram never does….#Andrew doesn’t wanna be pushy #that’ll be fluff that’s later #I need to be done here #fan art #my art #aftg #all for the game #neil josten #andrew minyard #andreil #royal au #my writing #asks

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kasagia · 8 months ago

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Just finished reading your Feyd Rautha fic… HOLY FUCK. I think you’re the writer who truly got Feyd down to a T. Also the way the relationship between him and the reader is explored… 😮‍💨 I really feel like it could be canon (and I’m not even joking). Please, please write part 2, I need to know what will happen next 🫣🥺!

P.S. I hate the harpies, kill them 😂

Aaaaaaa! Thank you so much my dear anonymous! 😊🥰🩵🖤🖤🩵

I'm so happy that I managed to capture Feyd's character! I was afraid that I made him a little... too soft for the reader, but I am happy that it worked out. But somehow it suits me so well that the reader can cross certain boundaries and is probably not at such risk of his... unexpected attack. And that is huge compliment for me that 'it could be canon'. 😅🤭

When it comes to part 2. I have one scene left (or two, I'm not sure yet) to write. So if all goes well, I will publish it on Monday or Tuesday. And get ready for something... long. Sorry. 🙈 (But it will be a bit fluff!! I hope that I didn't go too far and make them too sweet copule ekhem... I mean partners. Friends. Na-baron and his right hand. Clearly professional. No feelings include. xD)

P.S. I don't like harpies either, but I'll see what I can do... maybe not in the second part, but... 😈🤭

He was interrupted so rudely... fortunately (for him, not the reader), he will have a bit more luck in the second part... just a little bit... 🤭😇

Thank you so much! I'm glad you enjoyed it! 😊🥰🖤🩵🖤🩵🖤🩵

#feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha #feyd rautha harkonnen x reader #thanks anon!#anonymous

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animeficsworld · 1 year ago

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Patient

Suiryu x Chubby Reader

Summary: Never in a hundred years did you expect a man like him to like you.

---

Suiryu loved women. Loved to flirt and play.

He went on more dates already than any other man of his age.

But as soon as he saw you, that all changed.

You were one of the nurses who helped him after Saitama saved him. He was at the hospital for a few days. Almost all of his bones were broken, so he couldn't do much.

Of course, other nurses offered to help him, since they all found him handsome. But he didn't care, from the moment he saw you, you were all he wanted to treat him.

How you met him was by pure chance. A colleague of yours called in sick last minute so you had to take over their patients, and one of those was Suiryu. The moment you locked eyes with him, you knew you were going to like him. But you kept your professionalism and delivered what was expected of a nurse. Even if he kept on flirting and joking with you, you never crossed any boundaries.

And even though you were a bit shy around him, your duty was to help.

"I don't know why you insist on me feeding you Suiryu, you are all healed now."

"I know. But I really enjoy your company Y/N." you smiled and feed him another spoonful of his lunch. "And tomorrow, when I'm going to be let off, I will ask you on a date. Think of your answer before please." he said. It didn't really shock you, you knew he was a flirt, but the fact that he chose you out of all the nurses, did.

Tomorrow came quicker than you expected. As Suiryu was let go, you said your goodbyes at the front of the hospital.

"Be safe please."

"Knowing that such an amazing and kind nurse is waiting for me here is very tempting, but I do not plan on getting hurt. I plan on becoming a real hero, and man deserving you." you blushed a little.

"I like your soo Sui."

"So, will you go on a date with me?"

"Yes, I will." he was so happy, his smile lit up the whole entire world.

"I will pick you up tomorrow when you shift ends. See ya'!" he said as he turned to leave. You were a bit disappointed that he left so quickly, but you were looking forward tomorrow.

But before you could turn around Suiryu was right in front of you as he pecked your lips. He gave you a wink and waved goodbye.

You only stood there frozen. And you would probably still stand there if it wasn't for one of your colleagues yelling at you that your break is over.

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hyliareborn · 2 years ago

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Thinking about jealous serirei today. Would love to hear any thoughts you have

listennnn i was actually thinking about that today too!! i might’ve mentioned it in a post a while back but i had a half-formed fic idea where seri kind of accidentally becomes the heartthrob of spirit’s and such. i mean he’s so unwittingly charming; he’s tall and broad and strong and sweet, and once he’s come out of his shell a lot of the clients around their age range start flirting with him.

reigen realizes over time that it’s started to piss him off more than it should.

at first, he thinks it’s because those clients are being unprofessional. which he thinks is fair, because he’s been hit on in the office before and wasn’t usually interested (even though he might admittedly see an opportunity to butter them up a bit and get a good yelp review for the trouble. he isn’t exactly proud of that). serizawa is different, though! if a customer crosses a boundary, he won’t tell them to fuck off! it’s a professional concern.

but then they start hanging out outside of work, and it’s people on the train. waiters and waitresses. a bartender who’s so sickeningly attractive that reigen suggests they try a different place the next time they go out for drinks because he hated watching them talk. he went home that night feeling some kind of blurry drunken mixture of anger and sadness and shame, and that’s when he knows he has a problem.

if we’re talking about jealous seri, i think he’s a little more subtle. he mentioned in the manga that reigen is popular with their lady clients, so he’s noticed, and i think he felt like an AWFUL person when he realized that it was making him jealous. he doesn’t think he has a chance with reigen anyway, that’s his boss!! he has no right to feel that way!! he works very hard to repress it, even when he figures out that he has feelings for reigen, because he thinks reigen deserves to find someone. particularly someone better than serizawa.

when they’re actually together, jealousy doesn’t come from any fear that either of them would cheat or anything like that—they just like for it to be KNOWN that they’re a couple. if someone comes onto one of them reigen will hold onto seri’s arm, lean on him, squeeze his hand, and act VERY passive aggressive to whoever’s talking to HIS bf. when it’s the other way around seri will put his arm around reigen, put a hand on his waist or the small of his back, and he may not be passive aggressive but he’s a little terrifying anyways. like, he’s smiling and being nice but he’s clearly very protective. reigen is so, so into it. he jumps on serizawa the second they’re alone again pretty much every time he acts all possessive like that (in a very trusting a healthy way!!)

you probably didn’t expect me to answer with a whole novel. i’m so sorry chxgsucjxj

#asks #serirei

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autolovecraft · 1 year ago

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Great heavens, Birch, just as I thought!

As he planned, he could not shake clear of the unknown grasp which held his feet in relentless captivity. But it would be well to say as little as could be said, and to let no other doctor treat the wounds. The pile of tools soon reached, and a little later gave a gasp that was more terrible than a cry. The thing must have happened at about three-thirty in the afternoon. For an impersonal doctor, Davis' ominous and awestruck cross-examination became very strange indeed as he sought to drain from the weakened undertaker every least detail of his horrible experience. The pile of tools soon reached, and a little later gave a gasp that was more terrible than a cry. But it would be well to say as little as could be said, and to use it when Asaph Sawyer died of a malignant fever. Never did he knock together flimsier and ungainlier caskets, or disregard more flagrantly the needs of the rusty lock on the tomb door which he slammed open and shut with such nonchalant abandon. The pile of tools soon reached, and a hammer and chisel selected, Birch returned over the coffins to the door. He had, indeed, made that coffin for Matthew Fenner; but had cast it aside at last as too awkward and flimsy, in a fit of curious sentimentality aroused by recalling how kindly and generous the little old man had been to him during his bankruptcy five years before. In this twilight too, he began to realize the truth and to shout loudly as if his horse outside could do more than neigh an unsympathetic reply.

Birch, but you knew what a little man old Fenner was. Most distinctly Birch was lax, insensitive, and professionally undesirable; yet I still think he was not perfectly sober, he subsequently admitted; though he had not then taken to the wholesale drinking by which he later tried to forget certain things. You know what a fiend he was for revenge—how he ruined old Raymond thirty years after their boundary suit, and how he stepped on the puppy that snapped at him a year ago last August … He was the devil incarnate, Birch, but you got what you deserved. Then he fled back to the lodge and broke all the rules of his calling by rousing and shaking his patient, and hurling at him a succession of shuddering whispers that seared into the bewildered ears like the hissing of vitriol. He was a bachelor, wholly without relatives. He was curiously unelated over his impending escape, and almost dreaded the exertion, for his form had the indolent stoutness of early middle age. Clutching the edges of the aperture, he sought to drain from the weakened undertaker every least detail of his horrible experience. Would the firm Fenner casket have caved in so readily? Birch in those days was insensitive, and was concerned only in getting the right coffin for the right grave. Dusk fell and found Birch still toiling. There was nothing like a ladder in the tomb, and the coffin niches on the sides and rear—which Birch seldom took the trouble to use—afforded no ascent to the space above the door. He confided in me because I was his doctor, and because he probably felt the need of confiding in someone else after Davis died. Why did you do it, Birch?

He worked largely by feeling now, since newly gathered clouds hid the moon; and though progress was still slow, he felt heartened at the extent of his encroachments on the top and bottom of the aperture.

In this funereal twilight he rattled the rusty handles, pushed at the iron panels, and wondered why the massive portal had grown so suddenly recalcitrant. He would have given much for a lantern or bit of candle; but lacking these, bungled semi-sightlessly as best he might. The tower at length finished, and his hands shook as he dressed the mangled members; binding them as if he wished to get the wounds out of sight as quickly as possible. In either case it would have been appropriate; for the unexpected tenacity of the easy-looking brickwork was surely a sardonic commentary on the vanity of mortal hopes, and the coffin niches on the sides and rear—which Birch seldom took the trouble to use—afforded no ascent to the space above the door.

The air had begun to be exceedingly unwholesome; but to this detail he paid no attention as he toiled, half by feeling, at the heavy and corroded metal of the latch. Perhaps he screamed. He was merely crass of fiber and function—thoughtless, careless, and liquorish, as his easily avoidable accident proves, and without that modicum of imagination which holds the average citizen within certain limits fixed by taste. The hungry horse was neighing repeatedly and almost uncannily, and he vaguely wished it would stop. He worked largely by feeling now, since newly gathered clouds hid the moon; and though progress was still slow, he felt heartened at the extent of his encroachments on the top and bottom of the aperture.

That was Darius Peck, the nonagenarian, whose grave was not far from the daily paths of men was enough to exasperate him thoroughly. Most distinctly Birch was lax, insensitive, and was concerned only in getting the right coffin for the platform; for no sooner was his full bulk again upon it than the rotting lid gave way, jouncing him two feet down on a surface which even he did not get Asaph Sawyer's coffin by mistake, although it was very similar. He was the devil incarnate, Birch, and I believe his eye-for-an-eye fury could beat old Father Death himself. Why did you do it, Birch? Clutching the edges of the aperture. He changed his business, but something always preyed upon him. The afflicted man was fully conscious, but would say nothing of any consequence; merely muttering such things as Oh, my ankles!

Undisturbed by oppressive reflections on the time, the place, and the company beneath his feet, he philosophically chipped away the stony brickwork; cursing when a fragment hit him in the face, and laughing when one struck the increasingly excited horse that pawed near the cypress tree. Finally he decided to lay a base of three parallel with the wall, to place upon this two layers of two each, and upon these a single box to serve as the platform. In time the hole grew so large that he ventured to try his body in it now and then, shifting about so that the coffins beneath him rocked and creaked. It was just as he had recognized old Matt's coffin that the door slammed to in the wind, leaving him in a dusk even deeper than before. Maddened by the sound, or by the stench which billowed forth even to the open air, the waiting horse gave a scream that was too frantic for a neigh, and plunged madly off through the night, the wagon rattling crazily behind it. You kicked hard, for Asaph's coffin was on the floor.

Then the doctor came with his medicine-case and asked crisp questions, and removed the patient's outer clothing, shoes, and socks. It may have been mocking. He would not, he found, have to pile another on his platform to make the proper height; for the hole was on exactly the right level to use as soon as its size might permit.

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tattoed-and-toothless · 1 year ago

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I was going to make a post of this format, but I definitely couldn't put my point across as well as this. I hope it's okay that I add a bit to it.

After Felicia put out her initial statement, talking about how uncomfortable the comments made them, people continued to defend their behavior?!? People continued to harass them when they were clearly made uncomfortable?!?

It makes me absolutely sick.

Those people need to relearn what consent means.

As said in an article posted by another hockeyblr user (i couldn't find the post, but you should definitely read the whole think) :

"The reality is that Consent, at any time, can be revoked or given. It is a pass you can lose or get from one party to another based on lines the other party draws."

And I think that statement sums this up perfectly. Consent can be given or taken away at any time for any reason.

I don't care what you guys create on the internet, as long as it doesn't come at the expense of other people. Other human beings.

Like Felicia first said,

"you can be sex positive without exploiting others."

She clearly draws a boundary that should be simple to respect.

"What doesnt sit well with me is when your desires come with sexual harassment, inappropriate comments, and the fact that with the internet we can normalize behavior that would never be okay if we flipped the genders around to a guy doing this to a female athlete."

"I mean no hate on the booktok community just a little request for people to think twice about their comments/videos..."

And in some more "mild" responses some people are seriously claiming that booktok is the only reason that Alex or the Seattle Krakens are even popular and they will now lose all their fans? Because their social media page posted a bunch of booktok related Wennberg posts over the past few months (that they have since taken down).

Grow up. Hockey has had a following in that city for over a century. And a man who has made more than $30 million as a Professional Athlete, probably won't be hurting from a loss of tiktok fans.

Some of the worst comments I didn't show but here's some that are close:

And even comments like this...

...are frankly gross to me. Clearly they have an amazing and loving relationship. Especially if she felt comfortable calling such people out in the first place.

And because of those comments/other backlash, it got so bad that they both had to make separate statements.

Alex started by making a statement about the "vile" comments being left on photos of his wife and son. That is a boundary that we should all know not to cross by now.

He finishes with:

"Enough of sexual harassment, and harassment of our character and relationship."

They had a simple request in Felicia's first statement and people couldn't respect it, and it got so much worse.

Why can't people just leave people alone? You made your comments. You made your videos. People were hurt, and made uncomfortable, and victimized. That should be the final straw. It doesn't matter if it was a joke. It's not funny anymore.

If it was a husband making a statement in regards to his wife being harassed. You would have shut that shit down immediately.

Instead, here you get defensive, and aggressive, and you push the boundaries of human decency.

Do better.

The sexualization of hockey players is too normalized.

(TW: Sexual harassment, stalking, victim blaming(?). Reader discretion advised) (Notes: No DNI on this post since I want this to be an open discussion, just don't be an asshole and keep it SFW). To clear any potential confusion, I wanna add some disclaimers. 1. No, this isn't about real person fiction as a whole. The concept of RPF is a more complicated subject that crosses fanfic discourse territory, and that kind of discourse is not something I want to promote on this blog for my own comfort. 2. For the record, there is nothing wrong with having a crush on a player, or finding a player hot or cute. However, trying to sexually harass them is when it becomes a problem. 3. Yes, this is about the Alex Wennberg situation. TL;DR: We as hockey fans need to be more fucking respectful of a hockey player's boundaries and privacy. Again, having a crush on them or fantasizing about them isn't a bad thing, but going to their social media and saying such things crosses the line.

I think we can all safely say that we've all had our moments where we developed a crush on a hockey player. I think we can say that we've all had our moments where we had *certain* fantasies about them too. However, I think we all need to learn that there are times where it can go too far. And that is exactly what's going on with Alex Wennberg. Who's Alex Wennberg and what's going on? Alex Wennberg is an NHL player currently playing for the Seattle Kraken. Recently, his wife has spoken out against some sexual harassment that has been occurring against him, particularly in the form of writing. (Warning: NSFW comment in one screenshot)

However, this ultimately only led to further harassment against not only Alex, but his wife as well.

This ultimately led to Felicia and Alex making further statements shown below. (I've had to take multiple screencaps of the statements since they get pretty long). Felicia's statement:

Alex's statement:

This has been a problem for a while. Unfortunately, this isn't new. You might have seen this video featuring Connor Bedard, who was seventeen at the time. Tbh, this isn't sexualization per se, but it's still very uncomfortable and still an example of how obsessive hockey fans can be. In the video, Connor Bedard is signing jerseys, and a mother and a daughter come up to him, with the daughter asking Bedard to be her valentine, with the mom demanding that Bedard says yes. Bedard does eventually budge and say yes. Though while it might be easily brushed off as a "haha fans having fun" thing, keep in mind that Bedard was only 17 at the time. I have no idea how old the daughter was, but either way.

And it's not just limited to that. It's not uncommon to see really cursed signs. Including *this* one.

There's also something about Tyler Seguin's wife stalking Seguin as well, however I have no clue on the validity of that claim since most sources have been gossip blogs. However, that's not to say that there isn't some creepy stuff towards Seguin either, and the screenshots I've seen are definitely real.

(And no, I'm not posting the one with his address). The Double Standard when it comes to harassment towards players. Until now, this issue wasn't being talked about, let alone called out. However, I believe the reason for that being is a double standard. If the players were female, there would be a lot of discussion around it. The fans that were harassing the players, especially the male fans, would get shunned easily, and would probably be driven off the site. And of course, if the roles were reversed, the players would be called out for sexually harassing the fans as well. So... why is it any different when a male player gets sexually harassed? The answer is simple: It isn't. It's still harassment, regardless of gender. And I think we as hockey fans need to understand that. And I am absolutely astonished that this kind of behavior is normalized and even *encouraged*. Learning when the line is crossed. Again, I get it. We've all had a crush on a player. We've all had fantasies about a player. For example, I've felt similar about multiple players. There are some I do find cute, and I do fantasize about being with them. However, does this mean I'm going to go onto their Twitter or Instagram page and share those fantasies? Absolutely not. This is where the line is. They don't need to know what I think about them outside of how good they played, and they certainly don't need to know about what you think of them outside of how good they played either. It becomes a problem when you go towards that player's social media and comment those things on said social media page, or if you tag the player you're talking about. After that, it's not really a healthy obsession or a healthy crush anymore. It's straight up harassment. And of course, you can write and read fanfic about them all you want. Hell, I'll admit I've read some hockey RPF of my own. However, if you're going to post fanfiction about a player, don't tag the player in question, especially if the fanfic is NSFW. And especially don't fucking send it to them either. After that, the "fiction" in RPF is less fiction and, you guessed it, just straight-up harassment. Fiction is supposed to be just that: Fiction. Final Thoughts. I think we, as hockey fans, need to do better when it comes to how we treat hockey players and athletes overall. Not just in this particular context, but in general. The truth is, hockey players aren't just fictional characters or mythical beings or toys that we get to play with. They're living people. They're living, breathing people. They still have boundaries and they still deserve privacy, and that needs to be respected. (And sidenote: If I see anyone say that "being a celebrity means giving up privacy" or anything among those lines, I'm blocking you). Lastly, I'm thankful that Felicia and Alex Wennberg spoke out about this, even though they honestly didn't have to (and in fact they really shouldn't have to even reach that level, but alas..). And I honestly hope this creates conversation and helps hockey fans reevaluate what they say online. And, to Hockeytok and Booktok in particular, if you're reading this right now, I only have one thing to say: Do better.

(Tags are for reach and filter purposes) Edit: One more thing. if you genuinely think Alex and Felicia are at fault for the harassment they're getting, please block me.

#long post #tw harassment #tw stalking #hockey fandom #hockey culture #double standards #hockeyblr #alex wennberg #i stand with alex and felicia wennberg #seattle kraken #hockey rpf #hockey blog #celebrity culture #serious post #nhl hockey #nhl #felicia wennberg

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stratossphere · 2 years ago

Text

can’t stay apart. | j.k

johnny knoxville x steve-o’s sister!reader

word count: 4.4k

*alludes to reader being a crew member on jackass*

after being broken up for the past 3 weeks, johnny ends up taking reader home from steve-o’s birthday party, where they spend their first night together since their breakup.

warnings: slight angst, reader is crossed, debauchery at steve-o’s apartment, fluff towards the end

— —

"You leaving?" You could see Johnny walking towards the door of Steve-O's apartment, and as much as you would also be leaving if you had the opportunity, you weren't sure that you wanted him gone quite yet. Plus, to make matters worse, you were pretty sure he was trailing after some blonde you'd never seen before. Sure, the last time you'd interacted had been a fight and you'd told him you never wanted to fuck him again, but people lie.

"Going out for a smoke. And leaving, depending on how much I like the fresh air." He waved the pack of cigarettes in his hand up for you to see. "Why? You want one?"

"Yeah. I can't be in here anymore." All nerves on whether or not you were on good terms skipped your thoughts as he offered an escape from your brother's disgusting apartment, and you were out of your seat before he was even finished speaking. You watched his eyes pull on the blonde, who was already disappearing out the front door, before he stuck his place and waited for you to make your way over to him.

You made the quick walk up to the roof of Steve's apartment, and the entire time you were mentally praying that none of his creepy-ass friends were going to be up there. It made you feel a little better that Johnny would be there with you, but you still wanted silence all the same. Steve-O's friends really knew how to party like professionals, but they were clueless in how to respect boundaries and women in general.

"I didn't expect you to be here. I thought you refused to be in Steve-O's place." He muttered as he shoved a cigarette between his lips. To your relief, there was no one on the roof but the two of you, and the fresh air that he had promised was living up to its hype as you sat down in some of the discarded chairs.

"Well, it's his birthday. I'd feel bad if I didn't make an exception." You sighed, frowning a little bit when you watched him slip his pack right back into his pocket without saying anything. He better not want you to share.

"That's sweet." He said it so offhandedly that you almost didn't catch it. But you did, and you couldn't help the hint of a smile that pulled at your lips as he handed over the cigarette he'd just taken a short puff off of. Your eyes stayed on him as you took a longer drag, feet up and resting on the edge of his pool chair. You didn't even want to know where it had come from.

"Not really. He gave me an ounce of green to come." You admitted. You and Steve had always spent all of your birthdays together as kids, and you had tried to continue the tradition into adulthood, but sometimes it needed a little bit of coercion to convince you. Especially with your brother being who he was.

"Attagirl." Ugh. He was making it really hard to stay mad at him. You were trying to constantly replay the fight you'd had that had ended your relationship in the first place as an incentive, but even that wasn't working.

"What about you? Find any interesting blondes to go home with?" It was a pointed question, because you already knew the answer, but to your surprise, he merely brushed it off.

"Everyone at this party looks like they're on meth." He sighed, and then leaned forward to take a drag off the cigarette still between your fingers, a playful smirk on his face as he looked at you while doing it.

"PJ, you kind of look like you've been doing meth." You pointed out. He'd probably been up for a few days with whatever he was doing, and you could see nasty bruises across several inches of his exposed arms. None on his neck, thankfully. He chuckled, running a hand through his wild hair before slowly exhaling smoke.

"Thanks, sweetheart." And there was that hint of Tennessee in his voice as he accepted your observation. It was making it hard for you to stay in your chair instead of moving to share his. "You drunk?"

"Decently." You weren't really up for any of his stunts and games anyway, so you didn't lie. No use in letting him convince you to play a game of football with all of his friends until you were puking in the yard like last weekend.

"High?" A funny question, considering you'd just told him you'd been gifted an ounce, but you took a deep breath and resisted the urge to respond sarcastically before opening your mouth again.

"A little more than decently." He laughed when you said it, and you couldn't help but laugh with him due to the weed. It felt good to be so relaxed with him when for the past two weeks you'd been nothing but venomous towards each other. "I've got less than half of my ounce left, man. I'm fucking blitzed."

"Well, I'm heading out before I get too comfortable with a beer funnel. I'll take you home." He offered, moving to stand up before offering a hand out to you. You smiled softly, because you'd actually been kind of scared of how the hell you were going to manage to get home on your own after your ride had let your brother convince him to do a beer enema.

"Fucking thank you." You let him pull you up before you were following after him, heading towards the steps to make our descent back through the lion's den that was your brother's apartment. You were really hoping that he would get kicked out of this one soon, because the layout prevented you from being able to sneak out without having to talk to him, and it was also starting to get more than uninhabitable inside.

"Oh, don't praise me yet. I've still gotta make it through the buttchugs without getting drawn in." He winked at you as you paused on the balcony for a second, each taking a moment to mentally prepare for going back into the party that was still in full swing. He then extended a hand again, a slightly mischievous look on his face. "Don't want to lose you in there, so you might want to hold on."

If God was testing you in the form of self control, you were definitely failing, because you grabbed that hand before the words were even fully out of his mouth. It felt good to be back in the swing of things, and it also felt good to have his strong presence next to yours. Especially in the setting you were currently in. You slid back into the party where, true to your expectations, there were two beer enemas going on in the middle of the absolutely trashed living room.

Thankfully, Steve-O wasn't one of the recipients, but he was holding one of the funnels. He glanced up when the balcony door slammed back shut, and then did a double take when he realized it was you.

"Y/n/n! I thought you left!" He cheered. You watched as he passed the funnel over to someone else before stepping around the crowd of onlookers to make it over to you and Johnny "Dude. Isn't this party fucking gnarly?"

"Yeah! And I'm leaving!" You responded, having to shout in order for him to hear you over the cheering. You watched his unfocused eyes dart down to where you and Johnny’s fingers were interlaced, but you were relieved to see that he looked too high to even notice.

"Fuck that! You just got here!" He complained, throwing an arm around your shoulders. He was sweaty and he smelled like a bar and a smoking room, which made you attempt and fail to shrug out from under his arm. "Where you goin'?"

"I've been here for like, three hours." You could tell he was having a hard time understanding you, so you grabbed his hand with the hand that wasn't still in Johnny's and dragged him over to the only area of his apartment that wasn't drowning in people, which just happened to be the entrance to the hallway closet. "I'm going home. PJ's gonna drive me."

"It's my birthday." Steve-O whined, throwing a fit that closely resembled tantrums you had seen as a child. You laughed, glancing back at a mostly un-entertained Johnny before looking back at your brother. He was now giving you a 'please don't leave' look, and his grip on your hand was only getting tighter. "I got you an ounce!"

"I promise I will take you out for a post-birthday lunch tomorrow. I have to go home." You sighed, taking your hand out of Johnny's and then using it to pry Steve-O's fingers off of you. He suddenly narrowed his eyes, and then he was looking back and forth between you and Johnny like something had just dawned on him.

"Why, so you can bang Knoxville?" He accused you, jabbing a finger in Johnny’s direction like he was an inanimate object. You opened your mouth to refute that rumor, even if it might've been true, but you heard Johnny chuckle behind you, and then his hand was on Steve-O's shoulder instead of yours.

"Dude. She's bringing down the party. I'm just gonna drop her off at her apartment, and then I'll be back to do beer bongs. And not one that's been up someone's ass." He consoled, and you could tell he was easily convincing Steve-O by the way a grin quickly spread onto your brother's face. You smacked Johnny's arm, shooting him a dirty look, but didn't refute that idea.

"Hey. You better pick me up at one tomorrow, or else I'm telling dad that you're screwing him." Steve-O warned, jabbing a finger first at you and then at Johnny. That was an empty threat, considering the fact that he was blackout drunk and he wouldn't remember your interaction tomorrow anyway, but you pretended to look affected just for his satisfaction.

"Done. But if you puke in my car, I'm making you lick it back up." That was your final warning, which had Johnny genuinely laughing, before you moved to push through the crowd of disgusting adults. You then turned back to your brother momentarily. "I love you! Don't break anything!"

"Yeah, whatever! Love you!" He waved you off but responded regardless, that 'ready-to-party' look quickly falling back onto his face as one of his friends grabbed him by the arm once he was in reaching distance. You struggled to stay close to Johnny as you fought towards the front door, but eventually you made it out, pulling the door shut like it was stopping a tidal wave from spilling into the hallway.

"Jesus. I feel like I just jumped in a bath of sweat." Johnny complained as you started our way down the crusty carpet-covered stairs. You could see the line of sweat that stained the back of his light blue PBR shirt, and his face was covered in a thin sheen when he glanced back at you to check on you. Any party in Steve-O's apartment was basically a sweat bath.

"So, I was bringing down the party, huh?" You said after a while, cigarette still between your lips as you spoke. He barely glanced at you this time, and he shook his head.

"Had to get you out of there somehow. But yeah, you kind of were." At first you thought he was going to be nice, but then of course he had to finish it off by being an asshole. "You've just been smoking in the corner by yourself."

"You'll have to excuse me. I worked 13 hours today going over logistics and planning out the India flight with Tremaine." You complained, passing the cigarette over to him as you stepped outside. "I'm tired."

"You're always tired." He muttered, and you could tell by his expression that his words were filled with hidden meanings. Hidden meanings that you were too crossed and too fed up with to decipher.

"Well, I work. And I don't do cocaine." You said dryly, giving him a taste of his own medicine with your pointed tone. "I'm surprised you offered to take me home. You know, because I said I wouldn't fuck you again."

He almost stopped completely in his tracks, and his critical gaze turned back on you as he slowed his walk so that you were almost side-to-side. Once he was over the initial shock, he took his car keys out of his pocket and turned his gaze away from you once again to focus on finding his car that was parked somewhere along the horribly-lit curb.

"You know, every time we fight, you have a habit of shouting the first thing that comes to mind." He said, sounding semi thoughtful as his ratty converse scratched against the pavement with every step. You stared at the side of his head sourly.

"I meant it. Unless you take me seriously and stop being such an immature douche, you will never see these legs spread again." You might've been a little drunk and a lot high, but that wasn't changing. No matter how many furtive glances and sweet nicknames he gave you.

It was silent for a while after that. The only acknowledgement you gave each other was when he opened your door for you, and when you changed the station on the radio upon his request. Then it was silence. You drove down roads that you'd seen a million times, passed buildings you'd frequented throughout your short time in LA, and listen to music you'd heard before. It was all familiar, but somehow you felt so distant and foreign in your seat. You were so lost in thought it didn't even click that you had passed the exit to get to your house until you were already turning down a different street.

"PJ. You missed the turn." Maybe he had been lying about how sober he really was. You were starting to get irritated, and this was only making it worse. You wondered if he could tell that you were speaking through your teeth.

"Yeah, I know. I don't want you alone in that shitty neighborhood all night when you're like this. I'm just gonna have you stay at my place for the night." He explained like it was no big deal. You stared at him for a second, your brain clearly trying to decide between feeling touched that he cared enough to do so and pissed that he did it without asking. He could clearly sense your unrest, because he sighed. "I will sleep on the couch, for god's sake."

"I didn't say anything."

"You didn't have to. I can feel you burning a hole in the side of my damn head."

And then there was silence again. It was a little easier this time, because he was the one who was annoyed instead of you, but it still made you ache to be back in his house and not cramped up in a car with him. You weren't sure exactly why you were so anxious around him now, as just three weeks ago you'd been playing PlayStation until two in the morning with the back of his head resting between your thighs with your legs resting over his shoulders and on his chest. It probably had something to do with the fact that the great Johnny Knoxville, infamous for his tendency to laugh in even the most inappropriate of situations, was now glaring out the windshield at the road in front of him without a single word.

It felt like hours, but finally you were pulling up to his house, which came as a welcome sight after not seeing it for such a long time. You weren't going to let him get anywhere, but that didn't mean you couldn't take up his nice ass couch and eat something out of his fridge.

He led you to the door before letting you into the completely silent, dark house that always smelled a lot nicer than you anticipated. Johnny was a lot cleaner than you would expect.

One of the reasons you stayed in your two-bedroom apartment in the city was the fact that owning a house just seemed so lonely when you lived by yourself. Sure, you were probably coming close to being able to afford it, but it just seemed excessive when you didn't need it. But, as everyone knew, Knoxville was a different breed. Always had been.

"You just wanna crash, or do you want a drink?" He asked as he threw his keys on the counter, a hint of a grin on his face as he watched you flop directly down on his couch.

"Water won't kill me, I guess." You managed, haphazardly toeing off your brand-new shoes that had probably gotten dirty throughout the night and listening to them each drop down onto the wood floor with a thunk! You heard the sound of his sink running, and you glanced over at the coffee table to see that he had faxes of your logistics outlines and also the flight itineraries for everyone for India in three weeks. It made you feel a little better that he seemed to have actually read through them.

"Looks good. Gotta hand it to ya, you got that done pretty quick." Johnny appeared next to you just as he held out the full glass of water, the scuffed-up toes of his converse coming into view at the bottom of your eye-line.

"Thank you. I almost strangled Jeff several times in the process." You said, sitting up with a slight smile as you took the glass from him. Your hands brushed when you grabbed it, and you tried to ignore the jolt that ran up the back of your neck. Stop. It.

"I don't know how you're still conscious. You're eyes're redder than hell." Johnny commented, crouching down and taking the glass from you to set down when you almost missed the coffee table and dropped it right onto the floor.

"Talent." You said with a smile, suddenly very aware of how close he was to you. He was sweaty, but you could still smell his cologne, and it was taking everything in you not to pull him onto the couch right on top of you. "Thanks for taking me home. Sweet of you."

"I could only watch so much stupidity in one night, doll." He brushed off your thanks easily, standing back up out of his crouch to stand above you with his arms crossed. "Woulda killed me to watch you walking around out there by yourself this late."

"Ugh. I hate it when I'm fucked up and you're not." You sighed, shielding your eyes from the light in the kitchen with your hand. The weed was flaring up to an all time high, and the room felt like it was spinning. And yet, he looked like he hadn't had more than maybe one or two beers.

"You'll be okay in the morning. Just let me take you to bed, and you'll sleep it off fine." He reassured, offering a hand out to you. Your smile only got wider, and you took his hand without much resistance. Plus, he had a king-sized bed. Who would be able to say no to that?

"PJ?" You asked tentatively as he wrapped an arm around your waist to keep you on two feet while you made your way towards the stairs. He let out a sound of acknowledgment, and you gripped his arm a little tighter. "Were you going to go home with that blonde girl earlier?"

There was a pause, and then he sighed. "Yeah."

Wow. It was usually a pain in the ass to get more than a tiny shred of information out of him.

"But I care more about you than I do her." He finished it off more reassuringly, making your weed-laced heart swell stupidly at his admission. God, you were such a pushover for him. “Actually don’t give a fuck about her, so don’t worry your pretty little head.”

"Okay." Was all you could muster, but your contentment with his words flooded through your tone easily as you spoke.

His room was nice and cool when you stepped inside, and he didn't even bother turning on the lights as he let you sit on the edge of the bed.

"You want something more comfortable to wear? I'm pretty sure someone spilled beer on this shirt." Johnny spoke softly as he motioned to a stain on your side, concerned eyes not wavering from yours. You nodded, and then he left you to rifle through his closet.

"I don't think I like being broken up anymore." You don't know what came over you, but the words were out of your mouth before you could let your common sense kick in. Johnny looked back at you with a hint of surprise from where he was searching through his shirts, mouth partially open.

"I uh...really?" He sounded as surprised as you felt with yourself.

"It's getting boring." You said simply, watching him walk back over to you with a shirt that said KISS THE POPE. He handed it over, a lot gentler than how he would've just tossed it in your general direction if you were sober. The two sides of Johnny Knoxville.

"I'm okay with that." His fingers trailed over your knee as he moved away again, looking at you over his shoulder. "You want pants with that?"

"Can I ask you a question?" You shook your head to answer his previous question before you spoke, and watched him stop in the middle of his room as if caught between finding something to do away from you and actually moving to to be in your general vicinity.

"Shoot." He gestured to you to give you the all clear, brushing a hand over his hair and watching you closely. You struggled to find your words, before just giving up and going for the simple route.

"Do you love me?" It felt like someone took 10 tons of pressure and dropped it directly over the room. He looked like a deer caught in headlights, as if he wasn't sure how to approach his answer. But, after a second, he cleared his throat.

"Do you want me to?" You had known he was going to go that route. He always did. He always made you spill your thoughts before you could even graze his. You shrugged.

"I don't know." That was really your honest answer. Of course, you liked him. Really liked him. Probably more than what was healthy. But you knew he wasn't committed. It was the whole reason you'd broken up in the first place. But here he was now, taking care of you and getting you ready for bed. He ran a hand over his mouth before taking a few steps forward, landing in front of you before he crouched down. His arms rested on your knees as brown eyes looked up to meet yours.

"How's this? I think I'm falling in love with you. I don't know how I feel about the rest of it quite yet." He said, eyes darting to where your hand moved to rest on his shoulder. "If you don't know yet, then I don't know yet, okay?"

"Okay. Yeah." Despite the fact that each of your breaths seemed like it was sucking all the air out of the room around you, you still felt breathless. Maybe it was his hands on you, maybe it was the fact that he'd just admitted to falling in love with you. "You can stay, if you like."

"Alright. Let's get you into bed." He mumbled, getting back up and letting you pull your trashed clothes off and slip his new shirt on before he coaxed you against the pillows and under the sleek black comforter. "That ok?"

"Good." You said sleepily, already feeling your eyelids getting heavier as you closely watched him strip out of his shoes, socks, and Dickies. How you were ever able to resist this man, you had no fucking idea. "I missed you."

"You know I missed you too, sweetheart." The bed dipped next to you as he slid into his side, his fingers immediately finding your arm once he had pulled the covers over himself. Soon, he was completely flush up against your back in a spooning position, his lips ghosting across the back of your neck. "Just wake me up if you need anything."

You turned your head with your last ounce of strength, and were met with the familiar sensation of his lips on yours, immediately soothing an ache that had been clawing its way through you for the last three weeks as you tasted his cigarette-tinged skin.

You were able to mutter out one last half-audible thank you as you fell asleep, one of Johnny's arms draped over your side and thigh, and the other one under your pillow with our fingers laced together as you faded into his warmth.

Falling in love and already loving someone was such a thin line, and neither Johnny nor you could really seem to tell the difference. Of course, you weren't ready to admit that to each other, so it would stew for a few more weeks or months, but at least you had a tiny shred of reassurance. His arms around you didn’t hurt, either.

No matter how annoying he was or how snippy you got with each other, somehow it seemed impossible to stay apart. Even when you were as pissed with him as you had possibly ever been, it was hard to stay mad once you saw that trademark Knoxville grin. He just always had that effect on you.

So you fell asleep without a hint of stress crushing your shoulders for the first time in weeks, the only sound in the room Johnny’s soft breathing and occasional mumbling.

#johnny knoxville #johnny knoxville x reader #jackass #jackass movie #steve o #jackass mtv #jackass imagine

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thepenultimateword · 2 years ago

Text

Biggest Fan Part Three

Part One Part Two

Villain plopped down at the kitchen table with a hearty yawn, spooning milk over the dry parts of their cereal and taking no care for the droplets that made their way onto the table. 6 a.m. was an ungodly hour to be up at, but Hero had a morning time interview at 6:30, and they weren't about to watch the afternoon rerun.

They sighed to themself. Things with Hero were...interesting. There was no other word to describe it. They did a lot together and talked about a lot of things, but Villain always sensed a barrier between them, an invisible line that kept them from crossing the boundary into blatant fraternization. Villain wasn't sure which of them it came from, possibly both of them, but it was probably for the best. Villain admired Hero. Liked Hero. But these little conversations and outings, this pretending that they were some minor nobody villain that Hero could sweep off their feet, it was fantasy. They were only biding their time until it all detonated, leaving both them and Hero to struggle bleeding out of the wreckage.

The musical chime of the morning show's intro dragged them back into their hard, stiff-backed kitchen chair, and they quickly swept those worries aside, drowning out the voice of caution with each additional notch on the tv's volume bar.

"Gooood morning, Wayward City," the tv host sang, green eyes gleaming even through the screen. "As always, it's such a pleasure starting off my morning with all you wonderful people. Today, we have a very special guest with us. They're cute, they're brave, they're the city's number one sweetheart, they're our very own Hero!"

The camera panned to Hero hunched awkwardly in the sinking cushion of their chair, but one crooked smile toward the audience and Villain knew they weren't the only one whose heart was doing cartwheels.

They looked good. Soft waves of blond hair swept behind their ears and along their neck while their neat, blue suit hugged the contours of their body, emphasizing their muscles. Someone had covered up the dark circles from two all-night patrols with powder and applied a little natural eye shadow that made the blue of their eyes pop. This wasn't the wind-tossed, tongue-tied Hero that Villain met on rooftops, this was professional Hero, media superstar.

"So, Hero, how does it feel knowing that you're currently the top-grossing hero in the agency? I hear your merchandise has been practically flying—no pun intended—off the shelves all month, and your trading card is becoming harder and harder to come by."

Hero's hand snuck to the back of their neck, but they quickly caught themself, folding their fingers neatly in their lap.

“Oh wow, it’s actually really surreal. I started this job a couple years ago with one goal in mind: to help people. I never expected to receive so much support from the people of this city, and I certainly never expected there to be action figures made of me. Until now, I was a small-time vigilante in a small town, but I'm thankful to everyone, especially my coworkers, who helped me adjust to the hero life in a metropolis. They're the real heroes to me.” They laughed nervously. "Guess I have a bit of imposters syndrome."

The studio erupted into mimicking laughter and a spattering of sappy "awwww"s.

"I think one of the things the people love about you is your honesty," the host said once the audience noise had faded. "You aren't afraid to be real with the public. It humanizes you, wouldn't you say?"

"Oh, I don't know," Hero said with a shrug. "I don't really think about it; I'm just really bad at lying. So I don't."

Another bout of light laughter from the audience.

"Well, we as citizens certainly appreciate that. Me particularly since I'm about to ask you some hard questions."

"Oh," Hero chuckled, leaning back in their seat. "Ok then, I'm ready. Shoot."

"You mentioned being thankful to your co-workers, is there any specific hero at the agency that you admire or get along with best?"

Hero tilted their head to the side a little. "That is a hard question. Wow. I like everyone at the agency for different reasons, so I don't really have one favorite, but I do really admire Caveat. They were there for me during the worst of my adjustment period, and they’re just good with the rookies in general. I’d like to be looked up to by new heroes for the same reasons that I look up to them.”

The hosts green eyes gleamed catlike. “Any other reasons you admire them? Perhaps there are some sparks flying during those training sessions?”

“Oh, no.” Hero waved their hands out in front of themself adamantly. “We’re just friends.”

"Fair enough.” The host pasted on a wide smile that quickly hid her disappointment. “I’m not backing down so easily though. I’m sure everyone has the same question: are you dating anyone?”

This time Hero couldn’t stop themself from ducking their head and rubbing the back of their neck.

Villain’s hand froze halfway to their mouth, torn between their dislike for the host’s pushiness and their mutual interest in Hero’s answer.

"I'm not officially dating,” Hero said, “but I do like someone”

The host’s perfectly plucked eyebrows turned inward and her smile grew wide and hungry. “Ooo who’s this lucky person? A civilian? Or perhaps…a coworker?You’ve been paired off with more heroes by fans than any other super to date. Are you about to make several hundred fans dreams come true?”

“They’re a villain actually.”

Villain’s spoon plonked into the middle of their cereal, spraying milk all across their shirt, the cereal box, and the table top. They leapt out of their seat, gruffly patting the damp from their shirt, but as the words sank in further they froze and gaped at the screen.

Were they insane? What were they saying? And so bluntly! They didn’t even sound apologetic!

From the look on the host’s face, they were obviously also taken aback. It took them a couple seconds to regain their Cheshire Cat grin.

“A villain? Wow…what a turn of events! I guess you really do love who spend most your time with. Anyone we know?”

“They’re new so probably not, but they’re a very sweet and caring person. And if they’re watching, I want them to know… I like you. You’ve completely stolen my heart.”

“Can you give us a name?” the host pressed over the insincere coos of the crowd. Her initial surprise had rapidly changed to excitement. She didn’t really care about Hero, just the amount of views her show was going to get over this.

“They don’t have a villain name yet. I have a name for them, but I prefer to keep that between us.” Hero gave a little shrug. “I guess you’ll just have to wait.”

Everyone murmured in disappointment, but Hero only smiled.

The rest of the interview consisted of the host trying to steer the conversation back toward the topic of romance while Hero tactfully avoided giving any straight answers. Not very interesting, but oh well. Villain couldn’t focus anyway.

They couldn’t believe Hero had done that. They were not only putting their image on the line but their position at the agency! Were they ok? Were they going to be suspended? Had they…really meant what they said?

No!

Villain pounding their fist against the fluttering rising in their chest. This was not a good thing! They didn’t even deserve Hero and now the city’s golden idol was throwing everything away for them!

They paced around their front room for the rest of the morning, unable to settle in one place for more than a few seconds. Their insides were to much of a hot, roiling jumble. It remained that way until 11:30 when a hard, rhythmic knock sounded on their door.

Villain whipped it open.

“Why would you do that?” they shouted immediately.

Hero blinked in their doorway with wide eyes, their proud little smile faltering.

“Y-you watched it?” they said.

“Of course I watched it! You were in it! Are you ok? Are you fired?”

Hero’s smile steadied, and they let out a relieved breath before cheerily replying, “Not at all! I had permission.”

“What?”

“Yeah! I talked about it a lot with the agency’s media manager and he said I could make a statement. He said it’s good that you’re a new villain because you don’t have a reputation to mix with mine yet. It’s all fine.”

But that’s not true!

Villain couldn’t bring themselves to say that though, so all that came out was a second more reproachful, “Why would you do that?”

“So that when I ask you what I’m about to ask you, you don’t have to worry about it being a secret.”

By this point, Villain felt like an army of angry bullfrogs had leapt into their throat. They barely squeezed out the word they half-didn’t want to say. “What…did you want to ask?”

Hero took Villain’s fingers in both hands. “Savant, will you go out with me?”

Villain didn’t expect to kiss them.

They should’ve said no. They should’ve said that they only thought of them as a friend, that they had misread the situation, or at the very least, that they needed time to think about it. But here they were, eyes closed, Hero’s ridiculously chiseled jaw in both hands, pretty sure they were singeing their lips with the amount of heat radiating off them.

Hero pulled back a hairbreadth, face flushed, a honied lock of hair flopped between their eyes, big blue eyes that blinked shyly into Villain’s face. “That was definitely a yes, right?”

Villain dropped their head against their chest in defeat and nodded. They were an idiot.

Hero seized them in a tight hug, rubbing their forehead affectionately against their hair.

“This is so great! We don’t have to hide anymore when we go out! Well, almost, Miller said we should ease into it. But after a few weeks, we don’t need disguises anymore! I can even invite you to company parties!”

“Is this…why you’ve been holding back?” Villain realized, remembering the wall between them that had still been intact only this morning.

Hero grimaced a little, even looked ashamed. “You noticed? I…I wanted to get it all approved first before I said anything to you. I’m sorry.”

A flash of red hot guilt swept up Villain’s body, churning their stomach and setting the hairs on the back of their neck on end.

“No! No, I’m not upset. Obviously, you’d want to check in with your job. I would’ve been worried if you hadn’t.”

“Thanks for understanding,” Hero said, snuggling against them once again.

Villain ran their fingers through the soft waves of their hair and tried to ignore the dark pit forming in their gut, the awful foreboding feeling that no matter how much they hid, this wasn’t going to end well.

Part Four

Master Taglist:

@moss-tombstone @crazytwentythrees @just-1-lonely-person @the-vagabond-nun @yulanlavender @willow-trees-are-beautiful @cocoasprite @insanedreamer7905 @appleejuice @psychiclibrariesquotestoad

#hero x villain #writing snippet #heroes and villains #creative writing #villain #heroes and villains community #fiction #hero #villain x hero #superheroes and villains #writing community

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ashdreams2023 · 2 years ago

Note

I love Little Dove fanfic for Loki c reader! I would love more from Loki’s perspective

Sure!

Here is part One for reference

Loki x autistic reader

Pretty

Loki dealt with a hundred cases similar to yours and different, he’s a professional who knows what to expect and what not to do.

When he first took a look at your file he saw huge potential of improvement, he didn’t see a disabled weak thing.

From the first time he met you he knew you were not as big of an issue as others make you to be, sure you might have sensory issues and not like being touched that often, but you were in your head, you could think and make decisions of your own.

You had talents and he wanted to get to know you, with your own boundaries, he wasn’t in a rush or pushy.

"Tell me what’s your favorite color?" He asked.

"White."

"Your favorite thing to do?"

"…drawing….also legos I like legos."

Those little things were the base of how he wanted to get and know you, he made sure to bring legos and fun little activities you can do while you both talk and always, always made his sessions short so you wouldn’t feel suffocated around him.

"You have a pretty face" you’ve told him one day. He knew he was attractive but he didn’t expect you to point out so bluntly which made him chuckle.

"Why thank you little dove"

"Little dove?"

"Yes you’re as peaceful as a white dove" it was probably the first time he’s seen you smile since you were transferred to him. "I like it…it’s pretty, like you" maybe it was unprofessional of him to think that but at that very moment he really wanted to kiss you.

As your doctor he had his own boundaries and didn’t want to cross any unnecessary line, but it was painfully obvious there was something there, something special.

So when he saw you one day shopping alone, he approached you and decided to shoot his shot.

"I’m going to an Indian food place for lunch…would you like to join me?"

You blinked at him, your curious eyes studied his emerald orbs for a few seconds "I don’t like spicy food" Loki let a sigh out but smiled "they have non spicy things, how about that?"

You bit your bottom lip before nodding slowly.

Lunch was delicious and he took you on a walk until you both ended up under a tree, he thought you looked so cute under the shadows of the tree and his thoughts broke out loud.

"I would like to kiss you" he said.

You opened your mouth then closed before nodding with determination and wrapping your arms around his body and closing your eyes.

You were just so cute for him to resist, and he kissed you.

Gentle and sweet.

Just perfect.

That’s his favorite memory of you two, the second one was when you gifted him the sketch you were working on so hard.

#imagine #mcu #loki laufeyson #loki #loki x reader #loki imagine #fanfic #mcu loki #loki/y/n #loki fluff #loki laufeyson x female reader #loki layfeyson x reader

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yoonpobs · 4 years ago

Text

bodyguard | kth | m

pairing: kim taehyung x oc

genre: enemies to lovers, Bodyguard!AU but oc is the bodyguard, fluff?

warnings: eventual smut, sexual tension, light choking, suggestive content bc oc is a minx and so is tae, i'll add as the story progresses, kim taehyung as a rich kid

words: 2, 138

summary: you protect taehyung from people but forget about the biggest threat. yourself.

“You’re who Namjoon hired?”

You’re used to having bewildered expressions when they find out that you out of all other possible candidates was what your agency decided to provide clients with rather than an objectively more stereotypical option—the big man.

But you were here for a specific reason and you knew that your duty lied in your responsibility to the man in front of you, even if his expression of doubt irritates you.

“Yes, Mr Kim. My name is ____.” You bow your head slightly, hands held together by your pelvis as you stand with your back straight.

The man in front of you glances over at his assistant, who only shoots him a firm nod as if to tell him that he was in fact stuck with you, despite all the uncertainties he may have.

Frankly, when Seokjin first recruited you into the agency, you were merely meant to be in charge of off-field duties and act as intel for field agents, but few of your previous mentors recognised your potential and physical agility when it came to mandatory training and pushed for you to be trained as an official agent rather than a tech lady.

You were lucky that a few of your colleagues had long ditched the misogynistic mindset that women were biologically weaker than men and would serve as a liability to the agency, but there were still a few higher-ups that were traditional in every sense that stuck their noses in your business when Seokjin would assign you to high profile clients.

Kim Taehyung was no different, but you were sure he fell into the latter of the traditional man. He did come from a lineage of old money.

“But you’re a … woman.” He says slowly, eyeing you up and down.

Even the outfit you were in was far off the usual appearance that most bodyguards would take on the first day of work. A long dress with a maxi slit by your leg, which left little to imagine what lies beneath. You bite your tongue to keep the snarky remark down and nod your head tightly to your new boss.

“I best fit the requirements you listed out to my agency.” Is your simple response.

His assistant steps between the two of you before your boss can say anything else, and based on your observations you note that he probably is the rationale behind Kim Taehyung’s mind; the reasonable and objective one.

“I’ll show ____ around headquarters just so she’s aware of the layout.” His assistant says hastily.

You don’t miss the last look your boss gives you, and all you do is bow your head before you turn on your heels, pulling out the gun in your garter and hold it behind your back—ready for duty.

“Jesus fucking Christ, _____.”

You’re used to hearing Taehyung sneer at you. It was something that you needed to get used to when you first were hired for the job because while he was known as an icon, a genius behind his father’s legacy—he was still wholly immature in every sense of a man child.

“Yes, Mr Kim?” You say blandly, flipping through the brochure that was laying idly on his coffee table; clearly ignoring the glare he was shooting you as he wraps the robe tighter around his frame.

Before he can open his mouth to yell at you again, you see the silhouette of the woman that was previously occupying his bed scurry past by the two of you, offering a meek bow of her head towards Taehyung before she’s out the door.

Your eyes follow her uninterestedly until you hear the click of the door, signalling that she was out and gone.

“What is your problem? Is my sex life something you need to protect too?” Taehyung spits.

You skim your eyes over his frame and spot a few marks littered along the expanse of his neck before your eyes rest on his tightened expression; your own one remaining impassive.

“My duty is to ensure you’re safe.” You remind him.

He scoffs, running a hand through his tangled hair—a clear testament to what he was engaging in before you had shamelessly kicked the woman out, mid-progression.

“Hyunbi is harmless.” He sneers at you.

You note that his erratic behaviour was likely a symptom of being cock-blocked, so you hold your tongue and just level him with an unimpressed stare.

“Hyunbi is the heir to the Im group. Need I remind you that her father’s company is the one that threatens your stockholders?”

Frankly, you try to engage with Taehyung on business matters as little as you could because all you were here for was to protect him and ensure that his head wouldn’t be served on the plate of an assassin that was out to get him.

You scoff to yourself because men were truly blinded by their desires and he would’ve risked his family’s fortune because he wanted to get laid.

“Okay, and? She was about to suck my dick not steal intel to the company.” He scoffs.

You don’t say anything but drop the files you found in her purse as you were doing your much-needed background checks on the woman that was visiting on such short notice, especially given the fact that she managed to bypass the system on being on the list before she was sent up.

The moment the beautiful women stepped foot into the apartment, you knew something was off about her. It was intuition from years of training under your belt, but also a womanly instinct. An intuitive sense that told you that she was going to wreak havoc if she could, and it was your duty to prevent that from happening.

“What’s this?” He picks up the documents to skim over the contents.

You don’t say anything but keep your eyes focused on his expression when you see it morph from confusion to realisation and pure mortification.

“She was going to blackmail me?” He asks in a disbelieving tone.

You nod your head.

“And if I hadn’t intervened then she would have probably falsely claimed that she was carrying your child.”

Taehyung shoves the documents aside and rubs his hands across his face, releasing a grunt as he lays back into the expensive leather of his couch.

“I can’t even get laid.” He huffs.

You roll your eyes.

“Taehyung,” You call out to him sternly, and when he opens one eye to look at you, only then do you continue, “You need to be more careful with who you fraternise with. You’re the CEO of the biggest manufacturing company in Korea and that is bound to make you a target to competitors. I can’t be cross-checking every single person you come across because my job is to protect you from physical harm—not be your mother.”

He narrows his eyes at you, and you see the petulance skim the surface of his iris as he leans forward, ensuring that his gaze is kept on your blank expression.

“So, that’s it? I can’t fuck around with anyone? Just because of my position? That’s a load of bullshit ____.” He snaps.

You purse your lips and give him a pointed glare.

“Stop twisting my words. Fuck who you like but be smart about who you stick your dick into.” You tell him lowly.

“Then I might as well fuck you, right? You’re the only person I can trust.” He sneers, leaning closer to you.

Your eyes widen, and your stoic demeanour is interrupted with his blunt words.

While you couldn’t deny that your boss was undeniably attractive, and alluded major sex appeal—he was still your boss and you would never cross professional boundaries no matter how much your body betrayed you. Even the Taehyung’s banter got much more … explicit and flirty, you brushed it off as him being himself. But he’s never explicitly stated anything like that before.

When you realise you’re gaping at him, you quickly try to compose yourself but unfortunately for you, he immediately catches on your surprised expression and bathes in it.

He smirks at you, standing up to walk across to where you were sat and plops next to you, a bit too close for a boss to be to his bodyguard.

“I’m right, aren’t I? You said to be smart and fuck someone who won’t have anything against me.” He whispers into your ear and you try to stop the shivers that travel down your body.

Taehyung notices how tense you are and reaches an arm to trail down your neck, slowly and teasingly until it rests on your hipbone.

You curse yourself for wearing only a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, since it was meant to be your day off until you were made aware of Hyunbi’s visit.

“Watch your mouth, Kim Taehyung.” You grit.

He snorts but nuzzles his nose into the column of your neck, and you feel the hot breath fan across your skin.

“You’re not denying it. Does that mean you want me to fuck you? Nice and deep?” He whispers the words against your skin and you can’t help the involuntary clamp of your thighs.

Taehyung, even as dense as he is, picks up on your movement immediately and reaches his other hand to keep your thighs apart, large hand sprawled across your thigh and you marvel for a moment at how big his hands are.

“Bet I could fuck the uptightness out of you, sweets.”

“Did you forget that I know everything about you?” You hiss, attempting to sound threatening but that only causes Taehyung to grin wider.

“Ooo. I love it when you get bitchy with me.” He teases, rubbing a circle with his thumb on your inner thigh as you feel desire pool in your belly.

“You’re insufferable.” You huff and you hate the way you sound breathless.

“Did I ever tell you how much your bitchiness turns me on? Always dreamed of shutting you up with my cock.” He confesses against your cheek this time and your eyes widen comically, your own hand clamping over his one over your thigh.

As Taehyung momentarily gets distracted with mouthing at your ear, you come to your senses and realise that you’re becoming the pawn in his game.

You quickly flip him over, until he’s settled under you with your knees sprawled next to his thighs, pelvis’ nearly touching as he smirks at you.

“Listen, Kim,” You whisper, leaning down until your noses are touching and you can spot every freckle on his face. He leans up to chase your breath but you don’t allow him the satisfaction of caving in.

“You’d never be able to handle my pussy.” You grin at him.

His eyes darken, and you feel his hands rest tightly on your hip.

You straddle his thighs and lean in until you’re sure his cock feels your pussy against him through the barrier of his robe and your shorts.

“Try me.” He challenges, mirth dancing in his eyes.

“You know why?” You lean into his ear to whisper, and your hands trail down his chest slowly and seductively until they reach the opening of the robe where his pelvis is, touch teasing and suggestive, especially when his breath hitches.

“Why?” He attempts to grind up to you, blinded by his carnal desire.

“Because …” You bite his earlobe and hear the grunt he lets out, cock unmistakably hardening until your core.

“Once you fuck me, you’ll never be able to fuck any other pussy without wishing it was mine.” You say as you pepper kisses down his jaw, right up to his chin until your lips are hovering above his.

But as soon as he attempts to close the distance, you push yourself off of him and return to your stoic and professional stance.

“You have a meeting with your investors in twenty.”

Taehyung gapes at you, the outline of his cock clear against the thin material of his robe as he releases heavy breaths of want as he looks at you in disbelief.

“You can’t be serious.” He snaps.

You shrug your shoulders and cock your head to the clock behind him.

“Good luck getting ready, Kim.” You say with a final smirk, enjoying the fact that you had him frustrated and high.

“This isn’t the end, _____.” He says lowly.

“You better hurry up and hope you finish in less than twenty minutes.” You tease, and you see the tip of his ears burn.

“Maybe I’ll give it five.” You say, flipping your hair over your shoulder and making sure to add a little sway to your hips when you walk away.

You briefly hear a fuck being uttered when you open the door to leave, and you feel triumphant with what you left him with.

#bts fic #bts imagine #bts fics #bts imagines #bts fluff #bts smut #bts taehyung #bts v #taehyung x reader #taehyung fic #taehyung imagine #taehyung fluff #taehyung smut #kim taehyung x reader #Kim taehyung smut #kim taehyung smut #smut #fluff #taehyung enemies to lovers

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