#quirky but with a big warm heart

[yandere-writer-momo]

Yandere Head Canons:

The Hands That Hold You

Yandere Assasin Harem x Oblivious Fem Reader

TW: Somniaphilia, uncomfortable themes, yandere, stalking, mention of size difference, potential of being held captive, cunninglingus, smut, etc

The town of Rellikhold, a peaceful town filled with quirky citizens. Each with a mysterious past and lack of warmth. And you had received a special invitation by the government to live in this new town! Aren’t you lucky?

Poor little you had no clue that this town was filled with ex-contract killers who’ve never felt warmth nor kindness in their life… they were all a moth to your flame. Each one wanting to stake a claim on you, even if it was at the expense of another’s life. You belonged to them.

Callum: Scotland (Florist)

Callum is a massive man with a soft yet muscular build. He has a thick red beard that he keeps trimmed and a mustache he keeps curled up. Callum also has red chest hair and arm hair (the curtains definitely match the drapes). He is 35 years old and a retired sniper. Callum has a heavy Scottish accent and he’s the warmest of the villagers.

This big, muscular red head was shocked when you waltzed into his shop. You were so small and your steps were so clumsy like a newborn fawn. Yet it was your eyes that caught his attention. He’s never seen someone’s eyes filled with such innocence. It intrigued him.

Callum is easily flustered with from your bright smile and warm personality. Yet he can’t help the intrigue he felt from your arrival. From one glance, he knew you were just a regular civilian… what on earth were you doing here? This place was so dangerous.

Yet you’re oblivious to everyone’s past and treat him no differently from a regular man! Your interest in his flowers warm his heart… Callum is immediately taken to you. You’re so cute and you’d fit so perfectly in his arms… he’s never felt this way before.

Callum often looks forward to your visits to his shop. The red head often reorganizes the flowers just to make sure they’re to your liking! Callum always makes sure his beard is well trimmed and his long curls are pulled up into a bun. He has to look presentable for his little lady!

Often lingers around you like a shadow when you’re in the shop. Callum would lose his marbles if you ever came into his shop with a visible wound or bruise. He’s extremely obsessed with your well being.

Callum often offers you his jacket and holds doors open for you, he’s a total gentleman. A gentleman who believes you’re his. He sees no other logical explanation on why you visit him so often. You have to have a crush on him, right?! Don’t worry… he doesn’t mind that you’re shy. He has no trouble taking the lead.

It will take a total of four months until he’s trying to be more physically affectionate towards you. Callum believes the two of you are dating. His large, calloused hands often brush against yours or he’ll grab your waist to steer you in another direction. He cannot get over the size difference.

You’ll often have free bouquets delivered to your house with cute hand written notes. Which are often accompanied by Gaelic terms of endearment. “M’eudail. Mo chridhe. Etc.”

And if Callum ever spots you with one of ten other villagers? His stabs at affection take a turn to be more bold. In his mind, you’re trying to make him jealous… not to worry! Callum will give you more of his time! Whatever you want, he will give you! Even the heads of your enemies neatly arranged in a bouquet.

Callum I willing to do anything to keep you happy and satisfied. He’s the least selfish of the others. If you want to have a sexual relationship with him, he’d be more than happy to oblige!

Callum will have you bent over every surface and even his shop (with the curtains pulled down of course). Just so he can stuff you with his thick fingers and fat cock. He’s extremely giving and he’s more than happy to perform cunninglingus on you.

One day, you went into his shop and were filled with such fright, it made his heart ache!

“What are you so scared for, m’eudail?” Callum husky voice asked. The large man made his way over to your disheveled form. “Has someone frightened you?”

Callum bent down to your level and held your cheeks in his palms. His thumbs brushed a few tears from your cheeks as he shushed you.

“It’s okay, mo chridhe. I’ll keep you safe.”

Günter: Germany (Police Officer)

A tall, muscular blonde riddled in scars from head to toe. His blonde hair is always cut in a military cut and he’s extremely stoic. No one can ever tell what he’s thinking and he hardly speaks. Günter is Char’s identical twin brother and also an ex bounty hunter. The pair are both 29 years old and very feared members in the community from their reputation.

Günter was extremely wary of you at first. He isn’t used to people taking notice of someone like him or being warm to him.

Günter is extremely stiff when you interact with him. He often glances the other way if you stare at him with your pretty eyes for too long. He’s unsure of why his heart flutters whenever you’re around. Günter has never been in a relationship in his entire life. He’s so awkward and quiet around you, but his stoic expression never shows it.

You once grabbed his hand when you tripped and Günter swore he was electrocuted. He was quick to help you up onto your feet as he silently checked you over. His heart thrummed in his chest when you gave him such a sweet, grateful smile. It’s how Günter realized he’s smitten with you.

Günter often offered to walk you home to keep you safe. He’s the least delusional of the others and a rather lucid yandere. He is aware of the difference of reality and his fantasies. Which is why he will never act upon them on you. Everyone else is free game.

If someone upsets you even the slightest bit, they are instantly on his shit list. And if they make you cry or try to harm you? They’re as good as dead. He’s the town’s cop and the most prolific killer of them, so what can they do to stop him?

Günter is very aware of the others’ twisted feelings towards you, especially Char’s. He often hides around the corner as he watches his sister wash your hair. He’s a bit jealous of the intimacy, but he knows better than to be greedy. He’s a cop, not a hairdresser.

He’s usually quite silent but he often shows you his soft side. Soft smiles and tender touches. Günter is incredibly gentle despite his massive height.

Günter would be over the moon if you wanted a relationship of any kind with him! If it’s sexual, you sadly won’t be doing much walking. Günter tries his best to be gentle, but he soon finds himself blowing your back out while he whispers German pet names in your ears.

Günter also secretly has a breeding kink so keep an eye on him. If he’s in the heat of the moment, he will whisper his darkest desires in your ear. Of how he wants you round and fat with his kids with a ring on your finger.

And Günter will not share. So don’t even think about sleeping with anyone other than him or he will make several attempts to baby trap you.

“Meine Liebe, why do you cry?” Günter asked you softly with a frown. The police officer sat beside you on the park bench, his muscular arms now wrapped around you in a hug. “You know you can tell me anything… did someone make you upset?”

You just rest your head on his chest which made Günter melt into a puddle. He’s quick to scoop you up into his arms. “Do you want to head to my home, meine liebes Mädchen? It’s getting dark out and it can get dangerous at night.”

And the instant you nod your head, you’re swept off your feet in a bridal carry. His normally stoic face now had a small smile on it.

Finally… you were finally coming home where you belonged.

Wan: China (Photographer)

Wan is an average height man of Chinese descent. He’s quite feminine appearance wise, but don’t like that fool you. He’s one of the most dominant of the villagers.

Wan typically keeps to himself. Hes not as massive or intimidating as the other men. His long black hair is typically pulled back into a braid and he usually roams the village’s park or beach.

Wan is a bit shocked when he first met you since he can tell off the bat that you’re a regular civilian. Did the government send you as some sort of social experiment to see if their retirement was successful? To see if a group of ex- bounty hunters can integrate into society without a hitch? How peculiar.

Wan often trailed you home to see if you had any attachments to any governments. He didn’t want a government spy ruining his idyllic life and he was not afraid to eliminate you if that were the case… but you were clean! Annoyingly so.

You had simple hobbies and a permanent smile on your face. You were friendly and warm like a dog… like a pet. It made Wan’s mind wander to more promiscuous thoughts. Would you enjoy a collar and a leash while he dominated every aspect of your life? Perhaps you would since you always greeted him with such a warm smile and baked goods. You must have some sort of attraction to him, right? Why else would you bake for an acquaintance so often? (Wan had no clue you did for all of your friends).

Wan often invited you out for walks with him on the beach while he snaps photographs. It’s when you accidentally enter one of his shots that turn his whole world upside down. How could someone be so beautiful?

Wan started to snap photos of you smiling and dancing when in his company but it wasn’t enough. These simple photographs simply wouldn’t do for him anymore.

What started off as innocent photography took a quick, dark turn into obsession.

Wan began to slip behind you in the shadows to follow you everywhere. Whether you were simply enjoying a meal or beverage, or even sleeping, Wan captured it all behind his lens. Wan wanted more! More. More. More. More!!

His photography room was now covered in photos of you. There was not a single empty space left of the wall or ceiling that wasn’t adorned with your being. His darkroom still had thousands of photos developing as well. Wan simply couldn’t get enough.

When Wan found out there were others, he was extremely upset. What on earth did you see in Callum or Günter? They weren’t nearly as impressive as him! Wan was slim and far more flexible. Wan could bend your body in ways it’s never been before.

Wan often snuck into your room to lay beside you. To inhale your scent and to caress your soft, pliable body. Would you freak out if you woke up to see him or would you submit to his desires? This risqué game of his never grew tiring…

If you begin a sexual relationship with Wan, he’s incredibly rough. He has incredibly sadistic tendencies such as pulling hair, choking, licking up your tears, and harsh spankings… but he will talk you through it.

Slender fingers stroked your cheeks as you slept soundly. Wan smiled at how unaware of your surroundings you were. How could someone be so cute?

“Lǎopó, you’re so precious…” Wan bent forward and tenderly pressed his lips against yours. In his eyes, you were his lover. His and no one else’s. “I just want you to be my beloved pet, bǎobèi.”

Wan pulled your covers over your shoulders and over his body while he spooned you. This was the only time you were all his and no one else’s… and that’s the way he preferred it to be.

Amari: Thailand (Musician)

Amari is an amab individual but prefers to go by they/them. The twenty four year old often enchant others with their ethereal beauty. They have sun kissed skin and long black hair that frames a symmetrical face, one would think they were carved by the gods themselves. Yet Amari is partially blind due to their final assignment so they were forced into an early retirement compared to the others. Yet they pretend they’re fully blind to appear weaker to the others. They’re one of the most dangerous of the villagers due to their unpredictable mannerisms.

Amari can often be found in Belladonna’s restaurant playing the khene. Their mystic melody is as intriguing as they are which often captivates their audience.

Amari is incredibly shy and will be startled at first if you talk to them. Yet they’re eager for the companionship. Amari is the easiest to get close to compared to the others due to their young age. If you compliment them, they’re completely enraptured by you. You think they’re beautiful?! You love their music? Amari cannot get enough of praise.

Amari often trails after you like a lost puppy. They will often play the ‘helpless blind’ card just so they can hold your hand. They can’t get enough of how soft you are. Oh what they wouldn’t give to be able to see you… there was not a doubt in their mind that you were lovely.

Amari will play their khene for you and sometimes they’ll even sing. They’re your own personal song bird! They’re willing to perform any song for you so long as you eagerly listen to them just like they eagerly wait for your praise!

Amari will want to spend every breathing moment by your side. They’re stuck to you like velcro and unmovable. Suffocatingly clingy due to them never receiving warmth, Amari cannot get enough of your sweetness. They want you all to themselves.

They cannot stand you giving your attention and affection to the others. Look at them! Listen to their music, you said it was lovely! Just be theirs! Please. Please. Please. Please.

Amari will pathetically beg for your love on their hands and knees. They will use every card in their deck to manipulate you into their hands. They will not share and they will not surrender you.

No matter how puppy like they are to you, they’re a monster the others will not go near. Being involved with them is like being trapped in a spider’s web. You were doomed from the first interaction.

They’re one of the only ones who will stoop low enough to take advantage of you in your sleep (besides Wan). Their mouth is always buried between your legs as you sleep completely unaware of their efforts to get you used to them. They can’t get enough of how sweet you taste. Of how your body contorts and your toes curl in pleasure. Sometimes if the moonlight hits your face just right, they can see your face. And they make sure to burn that image in their memory forever. Oh what they would give for you to know it was them.

Amari pressed kisses up and down your thighs as your back arches in pleasure. So beautiful… so unaware. You’re just like a butterfly caught in a spider’s web.

“I love you…” Amari whispered against your skin, the assassin ran a tanned hand through their long locks in an attempt to reel themselves in. It was easy for them to get lost in the moment, but they needed to be patient. “And I know you love me too.”

Amari pulls themselves away from in between your legs and rests their head on your stomach. A soft hum escaped their thin lips in thought. It was such a beautiful night and they were happy to spend it with you.

Char: Germany (Hair Dresser)

Char is Günter’s identical twin and they couldn’t be more similar if they try. It’s easy to confuse one for the other since Char looks incredibly masculine. The only difference is their placements of scars and her blonde hair is just a little bit longer.

It takes awhile to earn Char’s friendship. She’s quite self conscious of herself since she looks so much like a man. Compliments will win her over and make her blush. She’s quite fond of being called handsome or beautiful.

She enjoys washing and trimming your hair for you. She cannot get over how soft your hair feels between her fingers…

It doesn’t take long for her to fall for you compared to her brother. She’s another sucker for praise, but she gives praise even more. Char is the queen of pet names.

Char is incredibly protective of you, just like Günter. The difference between them is that Char collects little keepsakes from you. Oh yes, she has a shrine dedicated completely to you.

Char is obsessed with you. She collects the trimmings of your hair and any utensils you had used in her salon. She tells herself it’s to keep herself from acting on her impulses, but that’s a lie. She’s simply obsessed with you.

If you ever vent to her about any one in the village, especially new comers, she will get rid of them for you personally. Typically in a rather brutal fashion. Anyone who upsets you simply doesn’t deserve to live.

If you’re ever curious about her past, she will tell you. She’s the least secretive and the most honest. Char will even admit about her shrine of you if you ask. She wants to be an open book that you can read at anytime. Trust her.

Char will often flee to the back room of her salon if she gets a bit too riled up from her interactions with you. If you follow her to the back because you’re worried, there’s no guarantee she won’t have you bent over the break room table with her lips eagerly pressed against yours and her fingers yanking at the waist band of your pants.

Out of everyone, Char is the most obsessed with your pleasure. She’s incredibly giving. It doesn’t matter the time or the location, if you’re a bit moody she will pull you into the nearest room and go to town. Be as loud as you want as she pushes your body to the point of overstimulation, she wants the others to know you’re hers.

“Meine Liebe…” Char whispered as she presses kisses all across your fear stricken face. An expression you always wore due to how passionate of a lover Char was. “I’m sorry I got carried away again.”

You nuzzled into your lover, who only peppered you with more kisses. “Mein liebes Haustier, I love you so much… how about you just stay in mein arms forever?”

Belladonna: French (Chef)

Belladonna was once a renowned poison specialist, hence her name. She’s a tall, slender twenty nine year old woman with fawn brown hair and sharp, feline like features. Belladonna is heartless and cold, just like the deadly poisons she once used. She’s a closeted lesbian and a very open misandrist.

Belladonna is the owner and head chef at Le Jarden. She’s quite prideful of her cooking and she only prepares the best cuisine. Belladonna has a tendency to be quite pretentious and she’s very rude if your French isn’t adequate.

Belladonna does not like Ignacia, to others it looks like she singles out Ignacia a lot, but they have a very complicated past. Belladonna is incredibly critical of others and holds herself at the highest standard. She’s also quite the bully.

Belladonna will chase out male customers from her establishment. They are not allowed in Le Jarden, no matter who they are. (She often gets into arguments with Callum over his floral choices).

If you catch her attention, it’s because you stood up for Ignacia when Belladonna gave the poor woman a verbal beat down. Belladonna immediately takes your defiance as a challenge.

Belladonna will often pick verbal fights with you, but she’s intrigued by you. You were a regular civilian and yet you stood up to her of all people? You had some guts. Plus, you still tried to be kind to her. It frustrated the chef to no end. Belladonna always feels conflicted when it comes to you.

Belladonna’s words often cut like a knife but you’re surprisingly quick witted with your comebacks. She enjoys the back and forth. To her, it’s like a game. And Belladonna wanted to win.

Her hostility increases the more she interacts with you since Belladonna has never experienced feelings of this magnitude before. Belladonna could not differentiate between love and hate. You confused her and made her mind in constant disarray…

You’re sweet to the point you make her teeth rot and she hates it… or at least she tells herself that.

Belladonna hates when you interact with the others! Especially the men (and Amari). She’s much better than them- wait… why did she care so much about what you did?

Your once pleasant words soon become sour whenever she enters your peripheral. You no longer try to smile or wave at her, only scowl. It confused her even more. Why did she care whether you liked her or not? You were just a civilian… right?

You eventually snap sense into her when you tell her you despise her. You… hate her? No… she didn’t want to be hated! No. No. No.

Belladonna loses her mind when you constantly reject her. You won’t come to her restaurant and you won’t accept the many, many bouquets she leaves on your doorstep. Why won’t you forgive her? She never apologizes, so she truly means she’s sorry. Please forgive her, she can be soft. She can be soft.

She will kiss you until your lips are swollen and bruised. Until your lungs are nearly out of air and you’re breathless. Belladonna could be your oxygen! Your reason for being! She can do everything the others do, if not more! She has access to various poisons and other plants, some that could take you to pleasures of immeasurable heights! Just let her worship you…

Belladonna will go to extreme measures if you continue to ignore her desperate attempts at reconciliation. And that includes poisoning you so that you’re briefly paralyzed.

Belladonna’s slender hands hold your cheeks as she quietly sobs from above your still form. She knows you’re afraid, but this was your fault! You pushed her to do this!

“All you had to do was forgive me… Je t'adore. Je ne voulais pas te faire de mal…” Belladonna slipped into her first language while the waterworks began. She was so conflicted and confused. Her new feelings were overwhelming and concerning. Belladonna was usually level headed, but when it came to you? She was a dumpster fire.

Belladonna pressed her forehead against yours, her tears now mixed with yours into a long stream down your face.

“Je n'ai jamais ressenti ça auparavant, mais je suis sûr que je t'aime. Je t'aime tellement, ça me rend fou.”

Ignacia: Nicaragua (Writer)

Ignacia always wears a steel mask over her face and completely covers her body. No one knows what she looks like under there and she prefers to keep it that way… she was a twenty seven year old bomb specialist. At least until the accident. Her entire body is now covered in third degree burns. She is no longer beautiful so she hides herself away in order not to scare anyone. Her accident landed her in an early retirement as well.

Ignacia is biromantic and asexual. She’s always been more interested in books than people. Fictional characters comfort her more than real people.

A few years ago, she had a mission to take down a French politician and ended up destroying Belladonna’s secret hide out. Which is why Belladonna despises her. Ignacia isn’t too bothered by it though since she’s the one who received the worse end of it,

Her English isn’t the best so she rarely speaks. She often observes others from the corner of every room. Through the various interactions she observes, Ignacia created a fictional world for her characters in her stories. It was an escape from her harsh reality in the real world…

She’s so shy when you come up to her. Don’t you know she’s a beast under this mask? That she’s not as picturesque as the others?

Yet your kindness makes her knees turn to jelly and her heart leap in her chest in hopes it will escape its prison made of bones. Perhaps you were her chance at real life romance rather than the comforts of the printed texts in her books?

Ignacia is delusional. She overthinks every interaction you have with her. If you touch her hand on accident, she believes it’s because you’re shy! She’s shy too! If you compliment her eyes, she will try to wear masks that show off her eyes more. She’s so ecstatic that she shakes whenever she receives words of praise from you. It’s so exciting! Ignacia is living out a fairy tale romance!!

Ignacia began to build a perfect image of you in her head. To her, you were the perfect princess in a fairy tale book and she was the knight that would save you from the monsters (the other villagers). You were kind and sweet, the kind that needed to be locked away so nothing could harm you.

Ignacia begins to decorate your future home with her! She will ask more questions and bout your hobbies and interests so she can make it all perfect for you! She will incorporate your favorite colors and themes just to make it into your dream space! A pretty cage for her pretty princess!

Ignacia simply wants to keep you safe from harm. She doesn’t want you to ever injure or harm yourself. Her carelessness had landed her in her own predicament and she wouldn’t dare let you suffer the same fate. Ignacia was your knight in shining armor!

“Buenos díaz, mi amor!” Ignacia beamed at you while she handed you some breakfast. You were confused on your whereabouts, but Ignacia simply crinkled her eyes up from under her mask (she smiled). “Did you sleep well, mi princesa?”

“Ignacia? Where am I-“

“¡Estás en casa! !Donde perteneces!” Ignacia giggled as she affectionately pressed her mask into your cheek. Home? What did she mean by home? “Estás a salvo aquí, mi princesa. Para siempre.”

[4linos]

stray kids as your boyfriend

maknae line x gn!reader ૮꒰⸝⸝> ̫ <⸝⸝꒱ა

wc: 412

han as your boyfriend

thoughtful messages - sending sweet texts or voice notes during the day to brighten his partner's mood.

sharing hobbies - introducing his partner to his interests, like songwriting or gaming, and inviting them to join in.

comforting presence - being a calming force during tough times, offering support and understanding without pressure.

celebrating milestones - making a big deal out of anniversaries or achievements, showing he values their relationship.

secret notes - leave hidden notes for each other in unexpected places, like in bags or around the house, for fun surprises.

felix as your boyfriend

thoughtful gestures - felix might surprise his partner with small gifts or reminders, showing that he pays attention to their likes and needs.

adventurous dates - planning fun activities, like going to amusement parks or trying out new restaurants, would be his way of keeping things exciting.

expressive affection - he’d be affectionate, showing his love through words and actions, making his partner feel cherished.

heartfelt conversations - open up about his feelings and encourage you to share yours, fostering a deep emotional connection.

lighthearted humor - use his sense of humor to lighten any stressful moments, making you laugh even when times are tough.

seungmin as your boyfriend

gentle affection - he might express his feelings through gentle gestures, like holding hands or giving hugs, creating a warm atmosphere.

quirky humor - his sense of humor would include playful jokes and light-hearted teasing, making daily moments enjoyable.

reliable - you could count on him to be there when you need support, making him a trustworthy partner.

supportive encouragement - attend events that are important to you, like performances or presentations, showing his support in tangible ways.

photo adventures - take candid photos together during outings or create a scrapbook of your memories, capturing special moments.

I.N as your boyfriend

personalized gifts - jeongin would put thought into gifts, like a playlist of songs that remind him of his partner or a scrapbook of memories they’ve shared.

cooking together - he might love cooking or baking together, experimenting with new recipes and enjoying the process as a bonding experience.

supportive in challenges - when his partner faces challenges, jeongin would be there to provide encouragement, helping them find solutions or just being a comforting presence.

being playful and flirty - he’d use playful flirting to keep the romance alive, making everyday moments feel special and fun.

deepening connection - he would prioritize building a deep emotional connection, often checking in to see how his partner is feeling and what’s on their mind.

—

nini’s notes 110224

how is everyone’s weekend? 😊

asks are always open if you have a question, concern, or request!

-🎀

[ssa-dado]

15 - Epistulae ad Lucilium

Aaron Hotchner x fem!professor!reader Genre: fluff... I think? Summary: Late at night, Aaron struggles to comfort his inconsolable son, Jack. Desperate, he turns to a book and a plush, gifts from you, which momentarily soothe Jack. However, work interrupts as another case calls him away, deepening the rift with his family. At the FBI, the team investigates a series of murders rooted in something up your alley. Warnings: DAD HOTCH DAD HOTCH DAD HOTCH, Haley being mad at him, CM case in detail. Word Count: 9.8k Dado's Corner: Not only did the brilliant mind of @c-losur3 inspired the "dad Hotch" part, but she also gave birth to Aaron "You sound exactly like her" Hotchner. Show her some love! This entire chapter is written from Aaron's POV. Fun fact: when he's with Jack, he’s simply Aaron. But the moment the phone rings, he shifts back into being Hotch. fun, right?

masterlist

It was late into the night, and the house was quiet... save for the soft hum of the baby monitor and Jack’s persistent cries echoing through the walls.

Aaron paced back and forth, cradling his crying son against his chest, his heart sinking a little more with each sob. He had tried everything - rocking Jack, singing lullabies in a low, soothing voice, even walking him in circles around the room. But nothing worked. Jack's cries, relentless and heartbreaking, filled the quiet house.

Jack was inconsolable.

Hotch was no stranger to pressure. He had faced down killers, stared into the eyes of danger, but this? This was different. This was Jack, and the stakes felt infinitely higher.

He had held off on trying this one last thing, but now, he had no choice. He paused, glancing at the small bookshelf in the corner of the room.  There, among the rows of children’s books, sat one that he hadn’t reached for yet tonight. His eyes settled on the small brown plushie sitting nearby that had arrived months ago in a giant cardboard box - your gift.

It had been an unexpected surprise, that day. A package too big for the porch had appeared, and if it hadn’t been for the Croatian postage stamp, Hotch might’ve thought it was a mistake. But no, he knew it was from you. You had mentioned in one of your letters that you were off to Croatia for a teaching stint, and he'd expected maybe a postcard or a quick note, but instead, there was this - a large package filled with something quirky, something that was so... you.

When Haley had seen it sitting by the door, she’d raised her eyebrows, eyeing the box with suspicion. “What on earth is that?”

Hotch had smiled faintly, already guessing. “It’s from her.”

Opening the package had been an experience in itself. Nestled inside was the plushie - a strange-looking creature Haley hadn’t immediately recognized. Her brow had furrowed as she picked it up, holding it at arm's length. "Is this... a brown skunk?" she had asked, her tone teetering between amusement and confusion.

But Aaron had found it endearing, charming in that odd, thoughtful way. Attached to the plushie's tag was one of your signature sticky notes, written in your unmistakable blue ink. It read:

"Hi Jack, meet your new friend, the pine marten. I read that humans are the greatest threat to the European pine marten, hope you can prove them wrong. He's a cool guy! He is also the national animal of Croatia (a privilege reserved for a select few). P.S. Here's your first word in Croatian: Kuna. It means marten."

Aaron had smiled at the note, his heart warming as he imagined you carefully writing out those words, taking the time to craft something special for his son. The gift was thoughtful, filled with meaning, as all your gestures were.

But that wasn’t all. Beneath the plush toy lay a small book, its cover adorned with a cartoonish pine marten embarking on what looked like an adventure. There was another sticky note stuck to the front:

"To Jack's parents: Here’s a complimentary book with the pine marten’s adventures. You’ll find translations in English, but I encourage you to try reading it in Croatian. Aaron, if you ever actually attempt it, give me a call. I’m always up for a comedy show."

Haley had chuckled at that, shaking her head. “I always wonder how she comes up with these ideas…”

Aaron, flipping through the book, hadn’t replied, too caught up in your careful handiwork. Each page was thoughtfully illustrated, with colorful hand-lettering in the margins. You had even drawn little pine martens on the sticky notes, making it seem as if they were the ones doing the translating. You’d put so much thought into it that he could feel it in every page he turned.

And somehow, since the day Jack was born, that pine marten plushie had become his favorite - maybe he could feel the love and care that came with it, the way only children could.

Now, as he grabbed the toy and the book, a small glimmer of hope sparked in his chest. Jack’s cries had softened just a bit when he saw the plush marten.

Maybe this would work. It had to.

Aaron sat down in the creaking rocking chair, gently cradling Jack against his chest as he carefully opened the familiar book. The title, "Male Pustolovine Kune Borove", made him smirk as soon as he saw it, the memory of his first attempt at reading it aloud bringing an amused warmth to his chest. The way he had butchered the pronunciation was miserably laughable, even to him. He was certain you had picked it just for that reason, knowing full well he’d struggle, probably just to get a good laugh out of him.

And, knowing you, he was probably right.

"Alright, buddy," He murmured softly, his voice a low and soothing balm as he turned the first page. "Let’s see what Kuna is up to tonight."

Jack’s tiny fingers instinctively reached out for the plush pine marten, gripping it tightly as he nestled deeper into his father’s arms. The gentle rocking and familiar sound of Aaron’s voice seemed to finally calm the little boy, his sobs quieting, his body softening against Hotch’s steady frame. As he read, Aaron’s hand gently brushed through Jack’s soft hair, soothing him further with each tender stroke.

“You know, buddy,” He murmured, more to himself than anyone, his heart swelling with affection, “the person who gave you this book is very special to me, she’s one of the most amazing people I know. Of course," he added with a soft chuckle, “you come first. But she’s right up there.”

Jack, too young to understand the words, let out a soft sigh, comforted by the warmth of his father’s embrace and the gentle rhythm of the story. As Aaron continued to read, his thoughts inevitably drifted back to you. They always did, especially in quiet moments like this. It felt natural, comforting even, to talk to Jack about you - someone who meant so much to him, yet had been far away for so long. Aaron had always wanted you to meet Jack, and speaking about you made it feel as if, somehow, it brought you closer to him, closer to them.

“Did you know,” he whispered in a conspiratorial tone, “she’s accepted a teaching position in Quantico? She could’ve gone anywhere, but she’s coming here. Closer to us. You’ll get to meet her soon.”

A small smile crept across his face as he thought about the letters you’d sent over the years. “Don't look at me like this, buddy, I liked getting her letters, even if she does like to make things difficult for me sometimes,” he said, glancing at the Croatian text in front of him with an amused sigh. “But I don't think I'm going to miss them, not at all. Not when she’ll be close enough to just… be here. And trust me, Jack, you’re going to love her, just like I do.”

Jack stirred slightly, his little hands gripping the pine marten even tighter, as if he already knew who his father was talking about.

He chuckled softly, glancing down at the beloved plush toy in his son’s arms. “You know, you’re inseparable from that pine marten all because of her,” Aaron said, his voice filled with warmth. “And here I am, reading you this story in Croatian... because of her too.”

He paused for a moment, watching as Jack’s eyelids began to droop, his tiny body relaxed against him. He couldn’t help the swell of love that filled him as he kissed his son’s forehead, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“You’ll meet her soon, Jack,” He whispered, his voice soft and full of affection. “And when she holds you for the first time, I need you to do me a favor, alright buddy? You have to avenge me,” he said with a playful glint in his eye. “Because she’s never going to miss a chance to mess with me. So, when you’re in her arms, you give her a look - like this,” Aaron made his best serious ‘Hotch’ face, one of his famous stoic expressions. “Make her think you’re onto her.”

Aaron chuckled softly, the sound barely above a whisper in the quiet nursery, but then he leaned in closer to Jack, his voice dropping to a playful, conspiratorial tone. “And listen, buddy,” he whispered, “if she ever starts saying words that sound like ‘Hegel’ or ‘Plato,’ you go ahead and start crying, just like you did earlier. Alright?” He smiled, brushing a gentle hand over Jack’s soft hair. “In the Hotchner household, we’re lawyers, little man. We don’t have time for all that abstract philosophy,” he teased, his grin widening. “You just make it clear to her, no funny business, okay?”

Jack sighed contentedly in his arms, his tiny fingers clutching the pine marten as he drifted off to sleep. He kissed his forehead once more, the weight of the day finally beginning to melt away as he continued to read, the warmth of the moment enveloping them both.

Just then, Haley appeared in the doorway, her hair tousled from sleep and her eyes filled with frustration. "Aaron, is he still crying?" she asked, though her tone softened when she saw Aaron  sitting with Jack and the plush marten in his lap. "Are you reading him the brown skunk story again?" she asked, her voice a mix of exasperation and disbelief.

Aaron, too tired to defend himself, simply nodded. “It’s the only thing that works.”

Haley leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching them with a half-smile. “Does it put Jack to sleep, or you, Aaron?”

Before he could respond, his phone buzzed on the side table. The noise cut through the soft moment like a knife, pulling him back into reality. He knew what it meant before he even looked at the screen.

Another case.

Haley’s smile faded instantly, replaced by a familiar frustration that he’d seen in her eyes too many times before. She straightened up, her voice rising just a bit. “Are you serious? It’s the middle of the night, Aaron. You’ve barely been home, and now you’re leaving again?”

Hotch rubbed his forehead, the weight of the moment pressing down on him. He didn’t want to go, not tonight. But he had no choice. “I’m sorry,” he said softly, already reaching for his phone. “It’s a new case.”

Haley let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head as she turned to leave the room. "Of course it is," she muttered, her words fading into the stillness as her footsteps echoed down the hall, each step a progressively quieter reminder of the growing distance between them.

Hotch's heart clenched, a sharp ache spreading through him as he stood frozen, watching her retreat.

The nursery felt unnaturally heavier now, the excessive silence thick and oppressive.

He looked down toward Jack, who was still nested peacefully in his arms, his tiny chest rising and falling in the soft, rhythmic cadence of sleep. The gentle glow of the nightlight bathed his son’s face in warmth, casting a tender light over the innocence of his slumber.

The small pine marten, nestled against Jack's cheek, stared back at Hotch with its beady, lifeless eyes, but it seemed to carry a weight of its own, its presence a reminder of the thoughtfulness and care that had come with it, a symbol of the love that lingered even in absence. Jack's fingers clutched the toy tightly, as if it were the one constant in a world where his father’s presence was becoming less and less frequent.

Haley's words, bitter and sharp, lingered in the air like a distant storm, a shadow that refused to leave. And as Hotch stood there, caught between the quiet of his son’s peaceful sleep and the echo of Haley’s retreat, he couldn’t help but feel the vastness of everything slipping through his fingers.

He wanted nothing more than to stay here, to hold his son and be present. But the buzzing of his phone on the side table pulled him back to reality. With a heavy sigh, he glanced down at the screen. His heart sank even further.

“Hotchner,” he answered, his voice clipped with resignation.

As JJ's voice filled his ear with grim details of the new case, the weight of Haley’s words pressed even harder against his chest. It was the same cycle, always the same. Each time he left, Jack would wake up alone, Haley would grow more distant, and the gap between his family and his job would widen. His guilt gnawed at him, a relentless ache that never truly subsided.

But he couldn’t ignore the call.

He never could.

---

Hotch arrived at the FBI building late, his mind still replaying the scene at home, the way Haley had looked at him with a mix of frustration and defeat. The team was already gathered in the briefing room, the fluorescent lights too harsh for the late hour.

He still felt the pull from the nursery, the warmth of Jack’s small body against his chest. But now, here, the weight of duty replaced it. He had to push it aside, at least for now.

“We’ve got six confirmed victims so far,” JJ began, her voice level but laced with tension. “But the local police didn’t connect the dots until the sixth victim. The MO keeps changing with each murder, which is why it slipped through the cracks for so long.”

Hotch’s jaw tightened, his mind snapping to the present. “The unsub might be experimenting. They could be evolving, trying to find their signature. Or…” he paused, considering the alternative, “we could be dealing with someone who’s familiar with different methods, someone who knows how to disguise their work.”

Gideon crossed his arms, his expression unreadable but intense, his eyes narrowing as he processed the information. “What’s the timeline?”

JJ scanned her notes, her brow furrowed. “The first victim was found three months ago. Then the second and third within two weeks of each other. But the real concern is the escalation. Victims four through six were found in the past ten days.”

Hotch's mind raced through the details.

Three months.

Three months of missed opportunities. Every minute wasted in connecting the dots could’ve been a life saved. The guilt returned in a wave, a reminder of every moment he hadn’t been there, both at work and at home. He shook the thought off, burying it as deep as he could for now.

He had to focus.

“There’s no clear pattern in terms of location or victim profile,” JJ added, her voice quieter now.

“That suggests escalation,” Morgan said, stepping forward and leaning against the desk, his arms folded across his chest. “The unsub’s confidence is growing. They’re moving faster.”

Reid, who had been staring at the evidence board in silence, finally spoke up, his voice thoughtful and measured. “Changing MOs could mean we’re dealing with someone new to killing - experimenting with different methods. But,” he hesitated, “it could also mean there’s a purpose behind each change. The way the kills are evolving might have a deeper meaning.”

Hotch took a breath, grounding himself in the task at hand. “Gideon, Prentiss, Morgan,” he said, his voice taking on its usual command, though there was a subtle edge of weariness to it. “Head to the latest crime scene, we need fresh eyes on it. JJ, Reid, and I will meet with the local authorities and review their files. Reid, I want you to start working on the geographical profile, see if there’s any consistency in the locations.”

The team moved with purpose, their steps quick and deliberate as they gathered their bags and made for the door. But Hotch lingered, just for a heartbeat longer, rooted in place as a familiar heaviness settled in his chest. The guilt wrapped itself around him like a tightening vine, threading through his thoughts with every passing second.

It wasn’t just the weight of the case that pressed down on him - it was the aching truth that once again, he had chosen this, chosen the relentless pursuit of justice over the quiet, fleeting moments with his son.

He pushed the thought away as best as he could, but the ache remained, a constant reminder of everything he was losing while trying to save others.

---

There was nothing quite like the hollow hum of a six-hour flight to clear his mind, though the thoughts clung to him stubbornly at first, like shadows he couldn't shake.

As the plane crossed the first timezone, the weight of realization settled in: he would never be the husband Haley deserved, not in the way she needed.

By the time they passed the second timezone, another truth pressed against him like a bruise: he would never be the father he wished to be, not enough to erase the empty spaces he left behind.

But it was during the third stretch, as the world below darkened and the hum of the plane grew louder, that he understood the final piece of the puzzle. If he let these thoughts consume him, if he lingered too long in the ache of what he couldn’t be, he would lose the only thing left to him: his ability to be good at this, at the one thing that demanded his whole being.

As the plane descended, Hotch leaned back in his seat, exhaling slowly. He couldn’t afford to dwell on the cracks forming in his personal life, not now, not with a case like this waiting for him. The moment the wheels hit the tarmac, the emotional turbulence he’d been wrestling with needed to be packed away, stored in a corner of his mind that he could no longer afford to visit.

He was good at compartmentalizing, too good.

By the time he, JJ, and Reid stepped into the stifling heat of the local precinct, Hotch had already shifted fully into his role, his mind sharpening, refocusing on the case that had now become his only priority. The quiet turmoil of his personal life faded, replaced by the pressure of a killer they were struggling to catch.

The exhausted police chief approached them, his face haggard from sleepless nights and the mounting pressure of a case that had spiraled out of control. "We’ve been spinning our wheels on this one," the chief admitted, his voice weary.

He motioned to the evidence board, where the victims' photos were tacked haphazardly, a mess of lives lost without a clear thread linking them. “It wasn’t until the sixth victim that we started connecting the dots, and by then, we were already behind. These murders don’t make sense together.”

Hotch approached the board, his eyes moving methodically from one image to the next. The crime scene photos were brutal: faces frozen in death, bodies contorted, each one telling a different story. He took a deep breath and gestured toward the chief. “What have you got so far?”

The chief’s sigh was heavy. “Every victim is different. Male, female, different ethnicities, different ages. The methods vary too: strangulation, stabbing, blunt force trauma. It’s like we’re dealing with multiple killers, but we know that’s not the case. There’s something linking them, but we can’t find it.”

Reid was already pacing, his eyes flicking from the board to the map on the wall. His mind churned as he analyzed and reanalyzed the positions of the bodies and the evidence scattered before him. His hands traced invisible connections between the dots as he muttered to himself, sorting through the details that still felt elusive.

Hotch turned to Reid, his tone even but commanding. “Reid, what are you thinking?”

Reid didn’t tear his eyes from the board, his voice steady but quick as he processed the flood of information. “At first glance, it seems chaotic. The changing MOs, the lack of a clear victim profile - it all suggests disorganization. But…” He paused, picking up the file of the third victim, and his brow furrowed. “There’s hesitation here. The killer hesitated during the third murder. This wasn’t just random. This murder feels… intentional. Like the unsub was evolving or refining something.”

JJ moved closer, her gaze scanning the file Reid held up. “Intentional how?” she asked, her voice edged with the need to understand.

Reid pointed to the victim’s wounds. “Look at the pattern of injuries. The cuts are precise, controlled. The unsub took their time with this one. This isn’t just about killing, it’s about making a statement. It’s as if there’s a theme here.”

Hotch, his instincts alert, zeroed in on Reid’s theory. “A theme?”

Reid nodded, grabbing the other files and spreading them across the table like pieces of a fractured puzzle. “The first victim,” Reid began, pointing to the photo of a middle-aged man found in an alley, his body aged prematurely, his face drained of life. “Time. He was killed slowly, methodically.”

Hotch continued, understanding that the young doctor was onto something, “His watch was broken, and the time stopped at exactly midnight. He was forced to watch it happen, minute by minute. The unsub was playing with the concept of time, as if controlling it.”

Reid nodded and swiftly moved to the second victim, a young woman found posed in front of a mirror, her body displayed almost like a work of art. “The second victim represents virtue. She was strangled, but the way she was posed afterward - like a Madonna figure - suggests the unsub was making a comment on purity or morality. The unsub didn’t just kill her, they transformed her into a symbol.”

JJ glanced at the photo, her brows knitting together. “So, the killer’s trying to send a message?”

Reid’s voice picked up momentum, his eyes gleaming as he continued to unravel the pattern. “Exactly. The third victim, it’s the theme of friendship. He was stabbed multiple times, but the placement of the wounds shows care. Almost like the unsub was reluctant at first, then deliberately chose each strike. This murder represents betrayal, the wounds symbolizing a broken bond.”

Hotch’s gaze darkened as he took in the significance of each murder. “What about the fourth victim?”

Reid flipped through the files, landing on a young man found at a cemetery, his body arranged as if in sleep, with his hands folded over his chest like a corpse in a casket. “The fourth victim represents death itself. He was already dressed in funeral attire when he was killed. The unsub buried him halfway in a grave that had already been dug, leaving him in a liminal state, neither fully alive nor fully dead.”

JJ’s breath hitched slightly at the thought. “The unsub’s not just killing. They’re staging these murders to symbolize something deeper.”

Hotch’s jaw clenched as he processed the unfolding realization. “And the fifth victim? Religion?”

Reid nodded, pulling up the photo of a woman found in a church, her body draped across the altar, surrounded by religious symbols. “She was killed in the church, posed like a martyr. The unsub’s making a statement about faith, morality, and sacrifice. It’s almost ritualistic.”

Hotch’s gaze sharpened. “And the sixth? Freedom?”

Reid picked up the most recent file, the image of a man found in a wide, open field, his body scattered with wounds, as if he had been tortured for hours. “He was bound at first, kept restrained for days, but when he was finally killed, it was in an open field. The unsub let him go, only to take that freedom away in the end. It’s the ultimate act of control - giving the victim a taste of freedom, then ripping it away.”

JJ stared at the crime scene photos, her expression shifting from confusion to horror. “So, the unsub isn’t just experimenting with methods. They’re following some kind of philosophical framework, each murder connected to a larger theme.”

The word ‘philosophical’ hit Hotch like a trigger, and instantly, his mind began to drift. It was as if that word had become synonymous with you.

He barely registered the rest of JJ's sentence because the moment she mentioned philosophy, his thoughts were no longer in the room.

They were with you.

Over the years, it had become an automatic reflex. Any time the conversation veered toward deep concepts, philosophical debates, or ancient texts, his mind would latch onto memories of your voice, your insights. You were the one who could crack these kinds of cases almost effortlessly. The way you connected with these abstract ideas, how you always found the hidden thread - he could practically hear your voice explaining it, guiding him.

He missed you in moments like this, missed working by your side.

The cases felt heavier without your presence.

Especially now, with you back in Quantico, just within reach but not close enough. It made his itch for your partnership even more acute, more frustrating. You were always the one who could decode the intricacies of a mind like this. He craved your insight, your steady presence, the way you challenged him and calmed him all at once.

He could almost picture you now, sitting at your desk, flipping through files with that slight furrow in your brow as you connected the dots others couldn’t. This case felt like it was made for you, and the itch to call you, to have your insight cut through the confusion like a knife, gnawed at him.

It was more than just missing your professional brilliance, it was the familiar rhythm the two of you had shared, the way you could pick up on each other’s unspoken thoughts with a glance. You had always been in sync, a partnership that felt more like second nature than work.

His gaze stayed fixed on the board, but his mind was far from the room. "Focus on the first victim," he said, his voice low but more urgent than before. "The first kill is usually the most significant. What can you tell us about the theme of time?"

Even as the words left his lips, the thought tugged at him - he needed to call you. You would see what they were missing. And, truthfully, he just wanted to hear your voice again.

But he couldn't.

Not yet.

You were likely teaching, and the last thing he wanted to do was disturb you in the middle of class. Even though it was morning in D.C. and he knew your lessons wouldn’t start until the early afternoon, he could picture exactly what you were doing.

If he knew you well - and he did - you’d be hunched over your desk right now, a double espresso halfway emptied beside you, scribbling down notes for your upcoming lesson. Schemes, summaries, diagrams, anything that would help your students grasp the material. Every scribble was made with the same care and thought you always gave, just like the book you had gifted Jack.

He could see you clearly, writing as fast as you could, racing to keep up with the faster pace of your mind. On topics that especially interested you, your hand would move so quickly that the gel blue ink of your pen would smudge across the page. That was the only imperfection in your otherwise meticulous notes. But to him, even that smudge was a detail he cherished. It was another way you showed your heart and passion, pouring yourself into every word.

He couldn't interrupt that.

Not now. But the urge still lingered, and the longing to share this case with you, to hear your insight, gnawed at him with every passing second.

His attention snapped back to the present as Reid’s voice filled the room, his philosophical lecture flowing uninterrupted. Hotch hadn’t even noticed that Prentiss, Morgan, and Gideon had returned from the crime scene, now quietly listening to Reid’s ideas.

“Time, philosophically speaking, is a concept that has been debated for centuries,” Reid began, his voice steady and thoughtful. “Kant believed time was a construct of the mind, a way for humans to make sense of their experiences. Augustine argued that time is divided into past, present, and future, but none truly exist in the same moment-”

Before Reid could continue, Morgan cut in, shaking his head with a half-smile. “Slow down there, professor. Not all of us are ready for a PhD lecture on time.”

The brief moment of levity brought a faint smile to Hotch’s lips - barely there, just a twitch - but enough for Gideon to catch. It wasn’t the first time Hotch had heard this kind of deep dive into philosophical musings, and the memory was enough to stir something inside him.

You, again.

He could almost hear your voice over Reid’s, see you pacing, effortlessly turning philosophical debates into a practical narrative. There had always been an energy between the two of you, a mental chess game where each new idea or concept clicked together in a way that made even the most abstract notions understandable,at least to those who could keep up.

Across the room, Gideon noticed the change in Hotch's expression, the subtle flicker of something unspoken. He raised an eyebrow knowingly, understanding exactly where Hotch’s thoughts had wandered. He had seen this look before way too often now.

Hotch quickly noticed Gideon’s silent observation, his smile fading as his face hardened back into its usual stoic mask. He stepped toward Reid, signaling him to wrap it up, the professionalism sliding effortlessly back into place. As he passed Reid, he muttered just low enough for him to hear, “You sound just like her.”

Reid paused mid-thought, blinking in confusion. “Her who?”

Hotch didn’t answer.

The room seemed to still for a moment, the tension subtly thickening as the rest of the team exchanged glances. It wasn’t hard to guess who Hotch was referring to. Even though you were never part of the team, your presence lingered in moments like this, your intellect, your connection to him.

Everyone in the room knew it.

Before Reid could press the question any further, Hotch’s phone buzzed again, the sound cutting sharply through the quiet. The vibration echoed ominously against the table, pulling everyone’s attention. Hotch glanced down at the screen, his expression immediately hardening as he read the message.

“Another body,” he said, the grimness in his voice pulling the room back to the brutal reality of their work. His earlier thoughts of you were now pushed to the background, swallowed by the urgency of the case.

The unsub wasn’t slowing down. If anything, the kills were escalating, the pace quickening, leaving them scrambling to piece together the next part of the puzzle. Hotch could feel the pressure mounting, time was slipping through their fingers, and they still hadn’t cracked the philosophical code that would lead them to the killer.

But even as Hotch mentally prepared for the next step, a thought lingered at the edges of his mind: You would have seen it already. You would know what they were missing. It gnawed at him, the need to reach out, to hear your voice offering clarity. But there was no time for that now.

---

At the crime scene, something had shifted. This time, it wasn’t just the brutality of the kill that had the team on edge, it was the new element, a disturbing and cryptic message left behind.

Beside the body, stark against the wet pavement, was a large "X," crudely drawn, yet deliberate in its placement. The symbol, bold and unmistakable, seemed to pulse with meaning, as if it were taunting them, daring the team to uncover its secret.

The victim’s body told a different story: this murder was tied to the theme of lust. Everything about the scene - the suggestive placement of the victim, the meticulous positioning of the clothes, and the intimate nature of the wounds - hinted at the unsub's twisted interpretation of lust. But it was the "X" that radiated significance, a signature of sorts, demanding their attention and indicating a deeper layer to the crime.

Back at the police station, the air buzzed with tension as the team tried to decipher the meaning behind the mysterious mark. Hotch stood silently at the head of the room, his mind swirling with the ideas being tossed around by the team.

Morgan leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, and scowled at the photo of the "X" on the evidence board. "What if this unsub’s just messing with us? Like on a treasure map. 'X marks the spot,' right? Could be their way of saying, 'Hey, look here, you're getting warmer.' Could be a taunt."

Reid, pacing near the board, rubbed his chin in thought. "Historically, an 'X' can represent a crossroads, a point of decision. In medieval times, it symbolized judgment - both in religion and law. It could indicate the unsub sees themselves as a judge, perhaps someone deciding the fate of their victims."

Prentiss chimed in, her voice thoughtful, eyes scanning the crime scene reports. "It might even be a form of signature. In some cases, killers leave marks, symbols to claim their work. Maybe it's less about us and more about the unsub marking their territory. This ‘X’ could be their way of saying, ‘This is mine.’"

As the ideas bounced around the room, Hotch remained unnervingly still, his eyes locked on the photograph of the bold "X" scrawled beside the body. The image seemed to pulse with meaning, but the answer eluded him, hovering just beyond reach like a word on the tip of his tongue.

Each theory felt plausible but incomplete, like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle that didn’t quite fit together. Hotch’s mind churned through the ideas, but something - something vital - was missing.

Gideon, who had been silently observing from the sidelines, finally stepped forward. He watched Hotch closely, noting the tension in his posture, the way his brow furrowed with concentration. Gideon knew Hotch well enough to see when he was wrestling with something more than just the case.

“You should give her a call,” Gideon said quietly, his voice cutting through the murmur of ideas.

Hotch blinked, pulled from his thoughts by the unexpected suggestion. “Why?” he asked, his tone guarded, though deep down, he knew exactly what Gideon was implying.

Gideon’s eyes held a knowing glint, his expression calm but certain. “She’s already a step ahead of us, Aaron. You know how she is. She can see the bigger picture, the themes, the patterns that might be slipping through our fingers. These murders, this complexity... she’ll catch what we’re missing. She always does.”

Hotch hesitated, the weight of your name hanging between them. You were the first person who came to his mind - philosophy had always been your language, and you had a way of translating the abstract into something that made sense, even in the darkest of cases.

But calling you felt so complicated.

“She’s got a lecture at the academy this morning,” Hotch said quietly, his gaze drifting away. “And even if she could help, it would take her hours to go through the files.” His voice softened, as if he were reasoning with himself as much as he was explaining to Gideon.

Gideon raised an eyebrow, his faint smile betraying how far ahead he had already planned. “That’s why I had Garcia send her the files yesterday,” he said smoothly. “She’s been going over them ever since Reid made the connection with the themes.”

He had anticipated this. Of course, he had.

Hotch straightened, the hesitation still tugging at him as he pulled out his phone. The urge to hear your voice, to let you guide them through the confusion, gnawed at him. He dialed your number, his thumb hovering over the call button for a second longer than necessary. The phone rang, and anticipation built with every ring until finally, you answered.

“I was waiting for your call, partner,” you said, your tone familiar and easy, as though no time had passed since you had last worked side by side. Your voice alone brought a sense of comfort, one that Hotch hadn’t realized he needed in that moment.

Before Hotch could respond, he picked up on the faint sounds of a classroom in the background - soft murmurs, the scrape of chairs, and the faint shuffle of papers. Then your voice came through, a bit more formal than usual, though laced with the familiar hint of humor. “Now you’re on speaker. Everyone, this is SSA Aaron Hotchner, Unit Chief of the BAU.”

Hotch’s smile faded slightly, the weight of the situation settling in. “It’s an active case,” he cautioned, his tone firm but gentle, a reminder of the need for discretion. “The details are confidential.”

You laughed, the sound rich and unburdened by the darkness that often filled his days. “I know, I know. But Gideon told me I could bend the rules just this once, and you know that I’m the first one who always wants to play by the book. But sometimes you have to bend the law, because ethics are more important… just don’t write that down in your notes.”

Hotch shook his head, though the faint tug of amusement softened his otherwise stern expression. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he murmured.

Then your tone shifted, growing more serious, more focused. “That ‘X’ isn’t just a letter. The way it’s drawn, the graphics - it’s too condensed. It’s too deliberate to be a regular ‘X.’ What if it’s not a letter at all? What if it’s the Roman numeral for ten?”

Reid, who had been silently pouring over the files, immediately perked up at your suggestion. His face lit up with recognition, as if a light had been switched on in his mind. “Yes! Roman numerals, that makes perfect sense. But why ten? What’s the significance?”

Hotch’s mind whirled as he stared at the photograph again, the symbol suddenly taking on new meaning. “In Roman numerals, ten doesn’t just represent the number, it signifies sequence. It could mean ‘tenth,’ like this is part of a larger series. The unsub could be following some kind of plan or pattern.”

Prentiss, still studying the details, looked up sharply. “What if this is the tenth victim? The police didn’t connect the earlier cases until recently. There could be other victims we don’t know about.”

Gideon nodded, his face unreadable but thoughtful. “That’s possible. The pace of the killings has picked up recently, but that doesn’t mean the earlier victims weren’t just as important. We might be missing the full picture.”

Your voice cut through the air again, focused and clear. “If that ‘X’ is the Roman numeral for ten, then Penelope should start pulling data from unsolved homicides in nearby areas, cases that might have slipped through the cracks. If there are other victims, they’ll be there.”

Hotch didn’t hesitate as he patched the call through to Garcia, his fingers moving swiftly. The line clicked over, and Garcia’s familiar, playful voice came through with her usual flair. “Spank me, teacher. I’ve been a bad, bad girl.”

Laughter erupted in the background on your end - the unmistakable sound of your students, likely stunned at hearing such an exchange from an actual FBI technical analyst. Hotch’s face remained serious, though he could picture the small smile tugging at your lips. You were probably trying your best to let it slide, convincing your students that it never happened and brushing it off as a figment of their imagination.

Or so he thought.

You didn’t let it slide, not at all.

You chuckled softly, your voice warm but teasing. “Penelope, I think we need to keep it professional this time. But if I weren’t engaged, I might just ask you to show me your Python. What do you think? Was that good enough?”

Of course, once again, you proved him wrong.

The laughter from your classroom grew louder, borderline hysterical now, clearly not expecting such a quip from someone like you. Hotch, despite his best efforts, couldn’t entirely suppress the smile tugging at his own lips. There was something about the way you matched Garcia’s banter, unexpected but effortlessly fitting. Still, the reality of the case loomed, pulling him back to focus.

“I knew it! Deep down, you’re a naughty girl just like me!” Garcia shot back, her voice full of mischief before quickly shifting gears. “All right, all right. Let’s get serious. Let’s see what I can dig up.”

As Garcia’s voice faded and the team fell back into their analysis, Hotch leaned back slightly, his thoughts racing. Despite the levity, a sense of weight pressed down on him. The murders weren’t just random - there was a deeper thread running through them, something that tied everything together, but it remained elusive.

“There’s something we’re still missing,” Hotch muttered, half to himself but loud enough for the others to hear. “Something that ties these murders together in a way we haven’t seen yet.”

Your voice came through the speaker again, this time with an edge of intensity. “What if the X isn’t marking the number of victims? What if it’s connected to something literary, related to the theme of that murder - lust?”

Reid, always quick to piece together intellectual puzzles, murmured, “It could be connected to a text, a framework. The killings are following themes, and they might be related to a specific work of literature.”

You continued, your voice growing more thoughtful, “The theme of lust makes me immediately think of Dante’s Inferno - the second circle of Hell, where the lustful are punished.”

Reid’s mind raced, picking up on your line of thought. “Yes! In Dante’s Inferno, the lustful are driven by uncontrollable winds, symbolizing the way they’re tossed by their desires. But… wait…” He paused, pacing in front of the crime scene photos pinned to the wall. “In the fifth canticle of The Divine Comedy, the second circle represents the punishment of lust. Multiply the fifth canticle by the second circle, and you get the number ten.”

Gideon's gaze intensified as he considered the details of the case. "This isn't just a random act. It’s carefully and mathematically calculated," he observed, his tone thoughtful yet troubled. "But something still feels off. The message should be clearer—it’s already masked beneath a Roman numeral. It shouldn’t involve any additional complexity like a multiplication."

Hotch's eyes brightened as the realization hit him, the missing piece finally clicking into place. “What if this isn’t just about the sin of lust?” he said, his voice sharper now with clarity. “What if it’s about the negation of lust? Maybe the unsub isn’t punishing the victims for acting on lust, but for failing to avoid it. It’s not about the act itself, but about their choice not to resist. You live a life of indulgence, and you die for it. But the real question is - how could they have saved themselves? What did they fail to do?”

Suddenly, your voice broke through again, sharp and full of clarity. “Living a life through reason: that’s the real theme of the murder. Epistulae ad Lucilium. Seneca the Younger. In the 10th letter to Lucilium – he talked about the importance of living a life through the stoic ideals, the key is self-control, avoiding indulgences like lust”

The room went silent for a moment as everyone absorbed what you had just said. Reid’s face lit up as he immediately followed your line of thinking. “Exactly! In the 10th letter he mentioned ‘Sed ut more meo cum aliquo munusculo epistulam mittam, verum est quod apud Athenodorum inveni: 'tunc scito esse te omnibus cupiditatibus solutum, cum eo perveneris ut nihil deum roges nisi quod rogare possis palam'.”

It felt like you could see the confused look on each agents’ face, even if you were in Quantico: “That translates to ‘But as is my custom with sending a letter with some small gift, it is true what I found in Athenodes: 'then know that you are freed from all desires, and with it you will come to ask nothing of God except what you can openly ask.'”

You further explained the meaning “For us mortals, it means that when you free yourself from wanting things for yourself, you reach a peaceful state. In this state, you will only ask for things that are good and honest, with nothing selfish or hidden behind your requests. To find inner peace by we need to let go of desires and living with clear intentions.” You paused “Wow Spencer how did you know the entire passage in latin?”

Hotch unintentionally cut off Reid’s response - who had been beaming from your recognition, his boyish grin spreading across his face as he began, “Eidetic memory, I read the entire book when I was only twe-.” But Hotch, ever focused, quickly steered the conversation back to the matter at hand. “Are you saying the unsub is following Stoic philosophy?” he asked, his tone sharp with urgency, seeking clarity in your analysis.

“Yes,” you replied, your voice steady and thoughtful. “The killings are modeled after the teachings in Epistulae ad Lucilium - also known as Letters from a Stoic.” Hotch swore he could hear the hint of a suppressed giggle on the other side of the phone, but you quickly returned to the matter at hand.

“These letters weren’t just philosophical musings; they were moral teachings. Seneca was writing to his student, Lucilium, urging him to live a life governed by reason, virtue, and restraint. Each letter deals with a specific theme - like friendship, time, death, religion, virtue, and freedom. Seneca believed that by controlling our desires and passions, we could free ourselves from the things that enslave us - namely, emotions like lust, greed, and fear. Sound familiar, Unit Chief?”

Before Hotch could respond to your unexpected jab, your tone shifted back to focus on the case. “In these killings, the unsub is punishing people for failing to live up to Stoic ideals. The crime scenes aren’t random at all: they’re deliberate, calculated representations of the failures Seneca warned about. The victim of lust was killed because they lacked control over their desires, which is a fundamental tenet in Stoic philosophy. It’s not the first letter Seneca wrote, and it certainly won’t be the last.”

Reid jumped in, clearly excited by your insight. “Exactly! Each murder is a representation of one of Seneca’s letters. The victim of lust was killed because they didn’t live a life of restraint, but the other murders also follow this pattern. Virtue, time, friendship, freedom, religion, death - they all correspond to themes Seneca explored in his letters. The unsub is picking people who fail to live up to these ideals and killing them as if it’s a lesson.”

Morgan, still crouched beside the latest crime scene photo, looked up, his expression darkening as he tried to connect the philosophical themes with the brutality of the murders. “So we know why the unsub is killing—to punish people for failing these ancient ideals. But how does this help us catch them?”

You spoke again, the gears in your mind turning quickly. “There’s something else you need to consider. If these murders are following Seneca’s teachings, then we know there’s a deeper message behind each kill. Seneca’s letters were instructional, they were lessons written for his student, Lucilium. So if we think of these killings as lessons, then it’s possible the unsub isn’t just acting alone. They’re teaching someone.”

JJ frowned as she processed your theory. “A message... to who? Who’s the student in this scenario?”

Gideon, who had been silently contemplating the unfolding theory, stepped forward, his voice grave. “The unsub is taking on the role of Seneca, but every Seneca has a Lucilium. They’re not just killing; they’re teaching someone. These murders are lessons, each one showing their ‘student’ how to live, or rather, how not to live.”

Hotch, his mind racing with the implications, pieced it together quickly. “So there’s a ‘Lucilium’ out there, someone the unsub is guiding. Someone they’re grooming, possibly teaching how to kill.”

Prentiss straightened, her face hardening as the realization sank in. “Which means we’re not just dealing with one unsub. There’s a mentor and a student. Seneca is teaching Lucilium to follow this twisted moral code.”

Hotch stepped back from the evidence board, his brow furrowed as the weight of the case began to fully reveal itself. “We’re looking at two unsubs. The one we’ve been calling ‘Seneca,’ who’s leading these murders, and a second unsub, ‘Lucilium,’ who is learning from them. The second person is still in training, which means we have a chance to stop them before the lessons are complete.”

There was a heavy silence in the room as the team absorbed the gravity of the situation. The realization that they were up against not just a killer, but a teacher guiding an apprentice, added an entirely new layer of urgency to the case.

You broke the silence again, your voice more serious than before. “If you find ‘Lucilium,’ you’ll find Seneca. But there's more. In Epistulae ad Lucilium, Seneca also discusses two more themes that haven’t yet appeared in the murders: slavery and the crowd. If the unsub is following the structure of Seneca’s letters, then we know what to expect next.”

Gideon, always focused on the broader picture, spoke with quiet authority. “If Seneca is teaching Lucilium how to kill, it means Seneca has a criminal record. No one just starts teaching murder out of the blue. Garcia, start running a search for known offenders with a background in philosophy, particularly Roman and Stoic philosophy. Look for connections between any of these offenders and known students or proteges.”

Garcia’s voice crackled through the speaker, her usual lightheartedness replaced with focus. “Already on it, boss. Cross-referencing every offender who’s mentioned Seneca, Stoicism, or anything close. I’ll narrow it down as quickly as I can.”  

---

Back in his office, Hotch sat slumped in his chair, exhaustion pulling at his every muscle. The scattered papers in front of him were neatly organized, but his mind was a tangled mess, caught in the lingering grip of the case.

This one weighed heavier than most, the usual closure that came with catching an unsub evading him. They had barely stopped him in time, so close to another life being stolen under the theme of slavery. The image of what could have been haunted him, the brutal calculation of the murders, the way each victim had been a lesson, twisted and final.

Hotch's weary eyes drifted toward the window, where the darkness of the night had now just settled in, casting heavy shadows across his office. The weight of the case pressed down on him - how close they'd come to failing, the lives that had hung in the balance. It wasn’t just the exhaustion in his bones, but something deeper, a quiet, lingering ache that refused to let go.

The near miss with the last victim, the theme of slavery still fresh in his mind, gnawed at him in a way most cases didn’t. Just as the silence became suffocating, a soft knock at the door broke through, pulling him from his spiraling thoughts. Without looking up, his voice low, he said, “Come in.”

He assumed it would be Gideon. They still had loose ends to discuss, details of the case to tie up before the night slipped any further away. He braced himself for another long conversation, expecting Gideon’s familiar, steady presence to fill the room.

The door creaked open, and someone stepped inside. Hotch didn’t glance up at first, still scribbling notes on the corner of a file. But the sound that followed wasn’t the shuffle of Gideon’s footsteps. Instead, there was a lightness, a familiar cadence, and Hotch frowned in confusion.

“Jason?” he asked, looking up, only to freeze as his gaze met yours.

You stood there, leaning casually against the doorframe, a smirk playing at the corner of your lips. “You really thought I was Gideon? You’re slipping, partner.”

For a second, he was caught off guard. He offered you a soft smile, one that came more easily than expected. “I wasn’t expecting you.” he said, his voice quieter than he meant it to be.

You sauntered in and sat down across from him, the easy confidence in your posture disarming him further. “Well, you should always expect the unexpected from me, right?” you teased, your smile growing.

Hotch chuckled softly, the sound surprising even himself. He hadn’t realized how much he missed this, missed you. He’d been so focused on the case, on the mission, that he hadn’t let himself dwell on it. But now, sitting across from you, the memories of all those years working together rushed back, hitting him harder than he anticipated.

Hotch’s gaze softened, but there was a heaviness behind it. “Your help was crucial. We never would’ve figured it out without you. The connections, the philosophy, it was all you.”

You waved him off, shaking your head as if brushing aside his praise. “Reid deserves the real credit,” you insisted. “He’s the one who picked up on the themes firsthand. I just... connected the dots. Besides, I was only on the phone. You and the team did the real work.”

But Hotch wasn’t about to let you downplay your role. “You did more than connect the dots,” he said firmly, his eyes holding yours. “You always see things others don’t.”

For a moment, your teasing demeanor faltered, replaced by something softer, more sincere. You held his gaze, and for the first time since you’d walked in, the banter between you faded into something deeper.

You broke the silence first, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Careful, partner. Compliments like that might go to my head.” The dynamic between you two had always been one of mutual respect, even if it was sometimes hidden behind teasing and banter. Now, after all these years, it felt even more significant.

His expression softened even more, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as well. It was in moments like this that he realized how much he missed you being a constant in his life. Even though you were closer now, taking a teaching position at Quantico, it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t enough. The case had stirred something in him, made him realize that the distance between you wasn’t just physical.

“So,” He asked after a moment, his curiosity piqued, “what brings you here? Shouldn’t you be celebrating, considering we finally cracked the case?”

You raised your eyebrow, giving him a look as if the answer should’ve been obvious. “I’m here for the paperwork, of course.”

He blinked, taken aback. “Paperwork? You helped us close the case; there’s no need for you to be bogged down with reports. I won’t let you do that.”

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head as you leaned forward. “Oh no, partner. I deserve to fill out each one of those reports, especially since I might’ve bent a rule or two helping you out under the pretense of ‘teaching material.’” You gave him a cheeky grin, but he could hear the seriousness beneath your words. You weren’t just here to wrap things up, you wanted to take accountability.

“I already told you,” He said, his voice firm but warm. “It’s my team, my case, and I’ll take full responsibility. I’m not going to let you do the paperwork for bending a few rules.” He was firm in his stance, not wanting to drag you into the mess of administrative fallout.

But of course you didn’t back down. “Arguing with me is a waste of time, partner. Let me do the paperwork. We both know if you let me handle it, you’ll get out of here sooner.”

Before he could protest, you leaned in with a grin that hinted at something more. “And if you get out of here at a decent time, you, Haley, and Jack can come over for dinner. Pete’s been looking forward to meeting you two after all this time, and I’ve been dying to meet Jack.”

He froze for a moment, surprised by the invitation.

Dinner?

With you and Peter?

The thought had never crossed his mind, and yet, hearing you suggest it now sent a strange warmth through him. “Dinner? You never mentioned this.” he echoed, his eyebrows raising in surprise.

You smirked, crossing your arms. “Yes, Aaron. Dinner. Pete’s already planned it, and I figured using food was the best way to bribe you into giving me those reports.”

He chuckled, a warmth spreading through him at the thought of the invitation. “Dinner, huh? What’s on the menu?”

You gave him a smug look. “A few Mediterranean recipes I’ve been perfecting. Trust me, you’ll love it.”

He raised an eyebrow, amusement dancing in his eyes. “You’re not going to poison me, are you?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You’ll never know unless you hurry up and let me help with those files.” The tension between you broke, and he shook his head, smiling. But before he could respond, you added, “Want to bet I can finish the paperwork faster than you?”

He leaned forward, his voice playful now, catching onto the game. “And what happens if I win? You’ve never beaten me in a bet before.”

You leaned in just a little closer as well, close enough for him to catch the soft, fading notes of your rose perfume, lingering faintly after a long day. There was a glint of mischief in your eyes as you matched his tone, voice low and teasing. “You tell me.”

Without missing a beat, Hotch's playful expression shifted, his eyes growing more serious, though there was a flicker of anticipation that softened the weight of what he was about to say. The words came out before he could second-guess himself, as if they'd been lying in wait, building with every shared glance, every passing moment between the two of you.

“If I win,” he said, his voice steady but laced with something deeper, something vulnerable, “you come back to the BAU. You work with me again, together.”

His heart thudded in his chest, each beat a reminder of the space you had left behind when you had gone, a void he had tried to fill but couldn’t.

He hadn't expected the words to feel so heavy once they were out in the open, hadn't realized how much he wanted you back, not just for the casework, but for the way you steadied him, the way you saw through the layers he kept so tightly wrapped around himself.

He watched your grin slowly fade, your eyes searching his as if you were weighing everything, and for a moment, he wondered if he'd pushed too far, revealed too much. But then he remembered the years you had spent together, the unspoken trust, the way you could read him just as easily as he could read you.

The silence stretched between you, thick with shared history and unspoken feelings, until finally, you broke it.

 “We’ll see, Aaron,” you said quietly, your eyes holding his. “We’ll see.”

---

taglist: @beata1108 ; @cuddleprofiler ; @c-losur3 ; @fangirlunknown ; @kyrathekiller ; @lorereid ; @lostinwonderland314 ; @prettybaby-reid

Dado's Corner pt.2: Here's a pic of Kuna the pine marten - aka Jack Hotchner's fav plush toy

[kayewrite]

Swear it again

(bsn ending #6)

Bang chan x reader !! Christopher Bang x reader !! word count: 2.8k

bsn alternative ending #4 wherein; chan.. is what your heart wants

an: any team chan here? coz babe! i wasnt in any team but i can say that.. i love chan here!! (and seungmin */sobs)

part 1 and part 2 first

Bang Chan was the most mature person in your circle.

He was the one who would scold everyone for their wrongdoings, always making sure they understood the consequences of their actions..

He gave advice like a big brother, offering guidance that was both thoughtful and practical, always with your best interests at heart..

He provided help whenever he could, going out of his way to make sure no one felt left behind, even when it meant sacrificing his own time or energy..

And he protected your friendship in the best way he could, often stepping in to mediate conflicts, always striving to keep the group united and strong.

He wrote songs, pouring his heart and soul into every lyric and melody, creating music that resonated with everyone who listened..

He wanted to become a singer ever since he was a kid, because he loved making people happy..

He sang well..

He produced beats..

He got his driver's license at an early age..

He was gentle, his kindness evident in the way he treated everyone around him, always with a smile and a reassuring word..

He was a good cook..

He liked sunny days more than rainy ones..

His hobby was playing sports..

He thought his charming point was his dimples when he smiled, a feature that made everyone around him smile too, his happiness infectious..

He could rotate his hand 360 degrees, a quirky talent that never failed to amuse you, just another thing that made him unique..

He was handsome..

And cute at the same time.

—Wait. Were we still talking about how mature he is?

Well, no! You were talking about how much you knew him.

And why did you know him that much? Because, yes indeed, you liked him.

But—

"I swear to God! I would never fall in love with someone like Chan!" It was just a teasing moment as you lifted your right hand, as if pledging an oath.

You were playing truth or dare with your friends one time. And then you picked truth, and they teased you, asking if you liked Chan—where you immediately denied it by swearing.

And you thought you would never.

But then there was him, always taking care of you, asking How are you after your major exams.

Asking what your cravings were for the day so he could buy them for you.

Asking what you were eating in your apartment. If are you just eating cup noodles again.

Patting your back and giving you a hug when you cried after failing your physics subject, holding you close as you let the tears fall.

The first one to greet you on your birthday, warm and cheerful as he wished you all the happiness in the world.

You felt like… you didn’t understand.

Yes, others cared about you, but Chan… there was something about him you couldn’t quite pinpoint.

And when the way he slowly placed a pair of headphones on you and then played a song he had written and composed by himself, his eyes watching your reaction…

You finally admitted it to yourself—yes… you liked him.

"I swear to God…" Now, you couldn’t continue your words as the others looked at you, waiting for your answer.

"I'm tired of playing. Let's sleep." Then you stood up, leaving them with confused faces.

Well, don’t overthink it. They were just wondering if you really knew how to play truth or dare.

When he wrote that blue sticky note song… you thought he was the one who sneakily slipped it into your binder.

"We helped in making that song," he said as you faced him, "but Changbin wrote the title and most of the lyrics."

That answered your question—it was Changbin who really did put it there.

Not gonna lie, you really hoped it was him. But knowing that another friend did it, you felt anxious. If you were to tell everyone you liked this man standing in front of you… what would their reaction be?

After that night at the party, when you got home and cried, you knew now that Bang Chan liked you. But you didn’t know what to do.

It was because of your stupid swear to yourself!

Why did you pledge something when you couldn’t even handle the consequences?

You continued your life after that, but things felt different. You started putting up barriers between yourself and your friends, especially Seungmin and Changbin, who you always saw in class.

Thankfully, they seemed to understand, giving you the space you thought you needed.

But deep down, you hoped that everything would go back to normal. In just a few days, you already missed the closeness, the easy laughter, the sense of belonging that came with your friendship. And so, you made a promise to yourself that you would fix this—no matter how difficult it might be.

You were about to take a different path home when you spotted Seungmin walking in your direction. He caught your eye, and for a moment, you considered slipping away before he could reach you. But before you could decide, he stopped you.

"Wait. Let's talk."

Even though you weren't ready to face him, there was a pull, a longing to reconnect. You missed Seungmin—your best friend, the one who always understood you without needing many words.

As you both sat down, sipping on your favorite coffee, an awkward silence hung between you, thick with unsaid words.

"I know this is hard for you," Seungmin began, his voice gentle and steady, as if he had rehearsed what to say a hundred times before. "But I hope you won't go through with your plan of distancing yourself from us. We don’t want to lose you."

You bit your lip, feeling the weight of his words sink in. That wasn’t what you wanted either. They were all precious to you. You were just trying to give yourself some space, to sort out your feelings before they got even more complicated. "It’s not that I want to leave…" you mumbled, struggling to find the right words. "I just… I don’t know how to handle all of this right now."

Seungmin nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. "But we’ll give you the time you need," he said softly, taking a small step closer, as if he wanted to bridge the gap that had formed between you. "Just know that we're here for you. We're friends, and we should be with each other, especially when things get tough."

It was as if he could read your mind—he knew exactly what you were thinking, even though you hadn’t said a word. The unspoken understanding between you was comforting, but it also made you feel guilty for even considering pulling away.

"I’m sorry," you finally spoke, your voice trembling with emotion. You weren’t entirely sure why you were apologizing, but you felt it deep in your heart. Maybe it was because you were about to break his heart, to put a crack in the foundation of your friendship. "I… I just…"

You wanted to tell him everything, but the words were stuck, lodged in your throat, as if admitting them out loud would make everything too real to bear.

Seungmin looked at you, his expression softening with concern. "Hey," he said gently, reaching out to place a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "It’s okay. You don’t have to say it all at once."

You swallowed hard, trying to steady your breathing. "I just don’t want to hurt anyone," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

"You like someone, but you're afraid to choose because you don’t want to hurt the others, right?" Seungmin’s words hit the mark, once again proving how well he knew you.

You didn’t nod, but you didn’t deny it either. Instead, you lowered your head, unable to meet his gaze. How did he always know what you were thinking? How did he always manage to say exactly what you needed to hear?

"Don’t be sorry, you silly," Seungmin chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. His laughter was warm, like a blanket on a cold day, wrapping around you and making you feel safe. It was as if he wasn’t hurt at all, like this was just another one of your usual conversations. "Why would you be sorry? It’s not like this is all your fault."

"But it is," you insisted, your voice cracking as you finally met his eyes. "It feels like it is. I never meant for this to happen, but now… now everything’s so messed up."

"Well it was your fault to be pretty.." He mumbled something under his breath, something you couldn’t quite catch—But then before you could ask what, he spoke up again, louder this time, "Don’t be sorry!"

You were thankful for his words, but the anxiety gnawing at you only grew worse. What if Seungmin was just saying this to comfort you while he was hurting inside? What if he was pretending everything was fine just for your sake?

"Who is it, by the way?" he asked casually, as if he were asking about the answer to a quiz question. His tone was light, but there was a hint of curiosity in his eyes,

"It’s--" your heart starting to race,

"It’s Chan, right?" He slapped the table, a triumphant smile on his face as if he’d just solved a puzzle. "I knew it! Ever since we played that game years ago, I had a feeling. You swore you’d never fall for him, and you think I’m a fool to believe that?"

You blinked at him, startled. "How… how did you--"

Seungmin grinned, leaning back in his chair with an air of confidence. "Come on, it’s not that hard to figure out. You’re not as good at hiding your feelings as you think." He paused, his smile softening. "And honestly? I’m glad it’s Chan. He’s a good guy. Just… I didn’t expect it to happen so soon."

Seungmin’s laughter was infectious, and despite the situation, you found yourself smiling. "I mean… I didn’t want this to happen, but--"

"But you—"

"Wait, let me finish talking," you interrupted 'cause he was always cutting you off, laughing at his eagerness Seungmin joined in, the tension between you easing with every shared laugh.

As you continued to talk, the comfort and ease you always felt with Seungmin returned. He had a way of making everything feel right, even when it wasn’t.

"What I want to say is… go for it! Go get that Chan!" He grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "But if he ever hurts you, I swear to God, he won’t be able to walk again."

You laughed at Seungmin’s playful threat, feeling a warmth in your chest that only a friend like him could bring. In the end, you sent him a grateful smile, and Seungmin returned it, understanding exactly what you meant without needing to say it out loud.

You hesitated for a moment before knocking on Chan's studio door. The silence that followed felt like an eternity. You knocked again, the sound echoing in the quiet hallway. Still, there was no response. With a deep breath, you knocked a third time, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Chan, are you mad at me? Please… let's talk." Your voice wavered as you spoke to the door in front of you, desperation seeping into your words.

But there was still no answer. The lump in your throat grew as you fought back the tears that threatened to spill over. Just as you were about to give up, a voice behind you made you freeze.

"Why are you here?" Chan's voice was laced with surprise, as if he couldn’t believe you were standing there. He must have come back from somewhere, holding a cup of coffee in his hand. "I mean… I’m glad you’re here!" He quickly added, realizing how he might have sounded. "I’m sorry, I just went to get some coffee. Come on, let’s go inside."

You blinked away the tears that had gathered in your eyes and followed him as he unlocked the door and pushed it open for you. The familiar warmth of his studio washed over you as you stepped inside, the soft hum of equipment and the faint scent of coffee mingling in the air.

You took a seat in the extra chair beside his workstation, and Chan set his coffee down on the table. "Wait here for a second," he said, heading toward the small kitchenette. "I’ll get another cup so we can share this."

You nodded silently, watching him as he moved around. When he returned, he poured more than half of his coffee into your cup, leaving himself with only a small portion.

"Here," he said, handing the cup to you before sitting down beside you. "How are you?" he asked, his eyes searching your face for any sign of how you were really feeling.

You tried to maintain eye contact, but the weight of everything that had happened over the past week made it impossible. You looked down, your hands trembling slightly as you held the cup. "I’m… fine," you mumbled, knowing full well that Chan could see through the lie.

He didn’t push you, though. He knew you well enough to understand that you weren’t ready to talk about what was really going on. "I really wanted to come to your apartment," Chan said softly, his voice filled with concern. "But then I realized you might need some time alone."

His understanding, much like Seungmin’s, was both comforting and heartbreaking. You appreciated how well he knew you, but it also made you feel even guiltier for pulling away from him.

Chan hesitated for a moment before speaking again. "Uhm, since you’re here… Can you listen to the song I’m working on?" His voice was tentative, almost as if he was afraid you’d say no.

A small smile tugged at your lips, and you nodded. "Yes, I’d love to."

Chan’s face lit up at your response, and he quickly grabbed a pair of headphones. Even though you were perfectly capable of putting them on yourself, he carefully placed them over your ears, making sure they were adjusted just right. His touch was gentle, almost reverent, and it made your heart ache in ways you couldn’t describe.

He pressed play, and the music flowed into your ears. The first few notes were soft, an acoustic intro that was both unexpected and captivating. Then the piano joined in, followed by the steady beat of drums. It was unlike anything you had heard from Chan before—new, refreshing, and undeniably beautiful.

"Are you the one singing?" you asked, your voice full of awe as the song continued to play.

"Yeah," Chan replied, his voice barely audible over the music. He smiled at your reaction, a mix of pride and nervousness in his eyes.

You focused on the lyrics, trying to piece together the story they told. The words were tender, vulnerable, and they struck a chord deep within you. As the song came to an end, you slowly removed the headphones, letting the silence settle around you.

"What’s the title?" you asked, as you always did after listening to one of Chan’s songs.

Chan chuckled, shaking his head. "I’ll tell you later," he said with a playful grin.

"It was amazing, Chan," you said sincerely, your voice thick with emotion. You could tell he felt the depth of your words, his smile softening into something more genuine.

For a moment, you simply looked at him, taking in every detail of his expression. The way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled, the warmth in his gaze, the slight flush on his cheeks—it all made your heart race. Before you knew what you were doing, you leaned in, closing the distance between you, and kissed him.

Chan froze for a split second, caught off guard, but then he responded, his lips moving against yours in a way that felt both hesitant and eager. The taste of coffee lingered between you, warm and comforting, but it was the intensity of the emotions that overwhelmed you. Your tears, which you had been holding back for so long, finally spilled over.

You realized what the lyrics were really about. They were about you. Every word, every note—he had written them for you.

I swear I would never fall in love with you that was what I always told myself too, but every time I saw you, I couldn’t help but fall harder

Swear that you will like me too, just like how I liked you. I hoped you know it… Please swear again

and that was the title.

---

an: help

[kujakumai]

On the subject of being good with children, which characters do you think WOULD be good babysitters?

YUGIOH CHARACTERS AS BABYSITTERS, RANKED

TOP PICKS:

Seto Kaiba runs an entire company dedicated exclusively to safely entertaining children, and unless his parks are getting continually sued I believe he knows how. Your kindergartner is not only safe with him but will probably leave knowing how to play chess and write in C++. He may allow them to play with knives, but only if they're 9 or over, plus he has all the emergency numbers on speed-dial.

Hiroto Honda babysits his niblings on the regular. Can warm a bottle and change a diaper. A level-headed and practical guy. He’ll be fine as long as his friends don't drag him into a horrible game-themed deathtrap. Don't ask why that caveat exists.

Rishid Ishtar is safe, experienced, has dad energy, however he will crumple like wet paper at the first sign of conflict re: ice cream for dinner / no bedtime / blood-soaked cross-country quest for revenge / an extra episode of cartoons over the screentime limit.

Ishizu Ishtar would make a great babysitter. I don't really have a quirky joke here she just would.

"MAYBE"S

Jonouchi used to watch his little sister and I think he'll do about as well as any other teenager you're paying minimum wage, and with a lot of earnest enthusiasm. Your child will be fine at the end of the night, though they will probably have eaten some junk food and played a T rated videogame.

I do not think Atem would know what to do with a baby, and may panic about it, though if you have an older child he will be happy to offer a rousing speech and some deep-voiced mentorlike advice while teaching them to play board games. Not a bad choice, just try not to leave him with anyone under seven.

Yugi knows zilch about kids and often appears a little annoyed by them. Same general rules as Atem--do not leave him with a baby, but he'll probably just teach an older kid to play shogi or something.

Mai Kujaku will put the kid in front of the television and order pizza while she paints her nails. Honestly, though, what more are you paying her for?

Listen, I love Anzu. I do. She’s smart, driven, and big-hearted, but she is also sort of short-tempered and impatient, and patience is like 90% of child-rearing. Please do not ask Anzu Mazaki to watch your children. She WILL say yes because she needs the money, and she WILL go into it with optimism and gumption, and yes, both she and your child will both be in one piece at the end of the night, but it will be clear from both of their frazzled expressions that she lost most of her sanity an hour in after the fifth "Why?"

DEFINITELY NOT

Ryou Bakura would in theory be a perfectly good, if kind of spacey, babysitter, but you cannot trust him to remain Ryou Bakura, and the other guy is definitely not someone you want anywhere near your children.

I don't think Marik Ishtar has ever interacted with a child for very long and the number of people he talks to that are even his own age is in the single digits. And he is definitely not getting spat on or dealing with any bathroom stuff. I'm not saying he can't figure it out but the learning curve is going to be steep.

I have to put Yami Bakura here in principle and yet for some reason I think it wouldn't go that bad? I mean he definitely doesn't care about the safety of your child. And he may enlist them to the armies of darkness. And he's not cleaning anything up. But he's like, a weird socially awkward over-the-top guy? And children love those? Honestly I think they would both have fun. For at least an hour until everything goes horribly wrong.

Please do not summon Zork Necrophades to babysit your child.

[the-roo-too]

karina fluff alphabet when? 😭😭

now? 🥲

candy -> yu jimin ver

aka the fluff alphabet

admiration (what does she absolutely adore about you)- i can’t say you whole because that would be too cliche, but it’s kinda true. she looks at you with those heart eyes like you build her world brick by brick

body (what’s her favourite body part of yours)- karina the typa girl who’d poke your lip a little lol. running her thumb over it—she loves that shit. you have so many lip balms because she says they remind her of you

cuddling (how she likes to cuddle)- i think she likes looking at you when you’re cuddling. just because you look so cute up close, yk? (with rizz 🫦) so she loves you laying your head on her lap, or you cuddling up to her chest <3

dates (what’s her ideal date)- cat cafe typa person. you’re eating yummy pancakes AND a cute little cat is purring on your lap? alternatively she’d love to hear some classical music for a late night outing, like going to an opera just for the sake of it. she’s a sucker for classical music i’m telling you 😔

emotions (how does she express her emotions around you)- with that, she doesn’t really hide. you’re her girlfriend, you both should communicate your emotions to ensure a happy relationship:)

family (does she want one)- maybeee..? she’d like kids at home but not maybe all of the time. i think you two would be the rich gay aunties who spoil their little nieces if anything

gifts (what about gift giving)- she’s not to big on that tbh. in the love language section i get more into the details, but karina prefers acts of service over gifts, she’ll also love if you do it back!

holding hands (does she like to hold hands)- not in public!!! but at home? she has to hold your hand while you’re watching movies or she’ll just spend the whole time looking at you with a pitiful pout on her face

injuries (what would she do if you got hurt)- hurt=papercut: kisses it better and runs to get you a bandaid. “wounds heal better when you kiss them”; hurt=broken leg: when you get the cast, she carries you around everywhere 😭 you’re like a backpack now, glued to her back. now imagine the muscles she’ll build with that workout…

jokes (does she like to joke around)- dry ass dad jokes and you can’t convince me otherwise. karina would use bad pick up lines on you, the ones you’d find on tiktok or smth. she’d be so proud too 😭😭😭

kisses (how does she like to kiss you)- i’m thinking hand on your cheek, caressing your skin gently when she leans in to peck your lips <:)

love (what’s her love language)- acts of service. brings you coffee in the morning, offers to give you a massage when you come to her tired after a long and busy day. she thinks gifts are nice, but not personal enough. karina wants you to feel how much she adores you

memory (what’s her favourite memory together)- seeing you on the street one day 😭 first time you two met it was raining heavily and she won you over by running to you with her umbrella, mustering up all of her rizzing nature 😔 the memory still makes her stomach flutter

nighttime (how does sleeping with her look like)- big on being the big spoon, then cuddles up to you like a cat in the middle of the night. she just needs to be warm ok. you think you’re in a relationship? you’re her personal heat pad

oddity (what’s one quirky thing about her)- karina is a massive loser i am telling you

pet names (what does she like to call you)- ‘babie’, ‘my cutie’, ‘dearest’. maybe also variations of your name like ‘y/nnie’, ‘y/nny’ etc

quality time (how does she like to spend time with you)- imagine for a second that you play some instrument, like piano. now stay with me, she absolutely adores it. wants you to play her silly pieces, like parts of their songs or chopin’s waltz’s.

rush (does she rush into things)- after that previous relationship? no thank you 💖

secrets (how open is she with you)- tells you about how she stole a pencil from her best friend in third grade, a secret she promised to take to grave with her, but refuses to tell you her parent’s names until you’re together like a year. silly things > personal info

time (how long did it take her to confess)- you tricked her into confessing ☝️ girlie wasn’t picking up on your ‘subtle’ signs (visiting her every two days for a month straight) so you talked about hot idols you’d have a crush on until she admitted to hating when you spoke about others because she wanted you to be hers 🤙

upset (what’s her reaction when you’re upset)- karina needs help then lol. she won’t know by herself what to do. maybe if you’re upset over something minor, like her forgetting to give you a kiss when she was leaving in the morning, she’s just kiss you to apologise when she’s back? otherwise the whole aespa is recruited as a rescue squad lol

visibility (is she afraid of the public opinion)- terrified 👍 we all know how fans reacted to her last public relationship so… idk if she would wanna come out with you until you’re like getting married 🥲

warrior (how often do you fight)- i think she’s a little scared to fight honestly. she thinks fighting would make you see her weak sides and she’s just scared to loose you :(((

x-ray (is she able to read you)- yes but also, karina is a loser trapped in a hot body let’s be honest. she just doesn’t pick up some clues :( poor baby thinks you’re coming to their dorm just because and it takes a lot of convincing for her to understand your one on one late night hangouts are in fact dates

yes (how would she propose to you)- in the most corny ass way you can think of. sappy love confession under the moonlight OR maybe she’d propose if dispatch somehow caught whiff of your relationship lol. then it would be rushed tho

zen (what makes her feel calm)- hear me out, driving around. especially, driving around a motorcycle. i don’t think she has a motorcycle license lol karina just gives me the vibes of someone who, when she’s stressed, would ask you to get with her on her bike. also, wrapping your arms around her waist ☝️🤓

part of [the fluff series]

[joeys-babe]

Joey B Imagines: Birthday Boy

————————————————————————-

Summary: December 10th, Joe’s 27th birthday spent with you and your twin boys.

Warnings: Fluff, *he's not injured!!*

Pairing: Joe Burrow x reader

Imagine universe: Into The Mystic

————————————————————————-

December 10th, 2023

Joe had awoken in bed by himself this morning to his surprise. He had expected you, his wife, to be waking him with smooches all over his face but your side of the bed was empty.

He rolled over to grab his phone off his nightstand when the setup sitting on it made him smile. Every year since you and Joe got together in high school when you guys were 16 and 17, on Joe’s birthday you'd get him white roses. The number of them would be the age he was turning that day. There they were, 27 white roses in a vase.

Realizing there was a card and a gift bag propped up next to it, Joe leaned up in bed and picked up the card first.

Happy Birthday, Joey!

Gosh, how are you 27?! You're getting old babe. JKJK. I just wanted to tell you that I’m so happy to share another birthday with you, this is the 11th one that we've celebrated together and I hope I've made every year better than the last. 26 was such a year for you, and I'm proud to say I was by your side for all of it. Cheers to another year of getting to show you how much I love you. You're my husband, my rock, my happiness, my high school sweetheart, and most importantly my best friend. I love you more than words can explain, Joey Shiesty.

To my nerdy, quirky, antisocial, video game, Kid Cudi-obsessed boy, Happy 27th birthday.

Love, your y/n.

Joe didn't realize tears were streaming down his cheeks till he put the card down and saw a wet spot on the blanket on his lap. He quickly composed himself and grabbed the gift bag.

Pulling the contents out of the bag, he felt his eyes well up again when he realized it was a photo album.

It was white leather and on the front in gold font, it simply read “Us.”

Joe flipped to the first page and it had a song lyric quoted.

“When they wanna see how true love should be, they'll just look at us.”

Flipping the page again, it was a collage of pictures of you and him as high school lovebirds. A picture of him picking you up after a win while you were in your cheer uniform, one of you two sitting next to each other at lunch just smiling from ear to ear, you and him sitting in the back of one of his friend's truck while at a drive-in movie, a pic of you two at senior prom, and finally one of you guys graduating.

Joe flipped the page and wasn't at all surprised to see it was the Ohio State era of his life. Since Joe was a year older than you, you were stuck in Athens still when Joe was a freshman at OSU. Long distance sucked, but you guys made it work, and multiple pictures were showcasing that. You took screenshots of you and Joe's face timing that he had never seen before. There was a lovesick look in his eye that made Joe giggle knowing he's still just as infatuated with you. His favorite picture was the one of him lying on top of you in his dorm bed, you were running your fingers through his mullet as you cuddled him.

The LSU page made Joe’s heart warm, so many pictures of you standing to the side and smiling at him just so proud of everything he had accomplished during his time there. There was one slightly spicy photo that made Joe do a double take. That was the first photo you had ever sent him with the intention of turning him on. While Joe was out doing something with the team after winning the national championship you put nothing on but his letterman jacket and the “Big Dick Joe” that he had.

The next few pages only made Joe smile get bigger.

In order it was him getting drafted, the 2022 AFC Championship win + engagement, the wedding, finding out I was pregnant, the gender reveal, the boy's arrival, and everything in between.

When the last few pages were empty for more memories Joe shut the book and put it off to the side. He again had to compose himself and wipe his eyes after the emotional walk through memory lane, you guys had been through so much together and Joe couldn't a picture his life without you.

Joe was about to text you but as soon as he went to grab his phone you were walking into the bedroom. Truthfully you had been downstairs listening to him secretly through the baby monitor you had put up in the bedroom. You had heard him wrestle around in the sheets before sniffles were heard. After it went quiet for a bit you went upstairs and watched him through the cracked bedroom door as he wiped his eyes.

You walked towards the bed with a stack of pumpkin-flavored pancakes topped with candles singing Happy Birthday as Joe wore a huge grin.

After you were finished singing, Joe blew out the candles and you placed the plate on his lap.

“G’morning, Joey. Happy Birthday, my love. - you

He pulled you into a hug and squeezed you so tight.

“I love you so much, y/n.” - Joe

You rubbed his back and kissed him after you pulled away, his arms still around your waist.

“What did you wish for when you blew out your candles?” - you

“Can't tell you, you know it wouldn't come true if I did.” - Joe

“You're no fun.” - you

“I'm just kidding, baby. I actually didn't make a wish.” - joe

“What why? Did I not give you enough time to? I'm sor-” - you

“No. You gave me plenty of time. I just don't have anything to wish for. I have everything I could ever want or need so there's no need for me to wish for something. I have a beautiful amazing wife, perfect twin boys, a good career…” - Joe

You stared at him dumbfounded, wondering how you were ever able to bag this sweet man.

“You’re gonna make me cry.” - you sniffled

“C’mere.” - Joe opened his arms to you

Immediately in his embrace, Joe held the back of your head and kissed your temple.

“I've already cried twice.” - Joe giggled

“Awe Joey. Okay enough sappy stuff, you eat your birthday breakfast while I go clean the kitchen up.” - you pulled away from him and headed for the door when he stopped you

“Wait don't go! I'll help you clean later, can you stay with me right now?” - Joe

You smiled sweetly at him before waking back over to the bed and getting under the covers with him.

Joe turned on Spongebob and ate his pancakes, a few minutes in you heard little feet in the hallway before knocks on the door could be heard.

“Mommy? Daddy?” - Tyson

“You can come in, Ty!” - Joe

The twins happily opened the door and toddled over to the bed. You lifted them onto the bed and they sat with their backs against the footboard.

Tyson giggled as he jokingly got his hand under the covers and tickled Joe’s foot. Joe played along with it for a little bit, loving the sound of his son’s laugh before he started fighting back.

“Do you boys remember what today is?” - you

“Uhm… no momma.” - Miles

“It's someone's birthday!” - you

Tyson and Miles looked at each other for a second before they gasped at the same time and yelled out the answer in unison.

“Daddy’s!” - The twins yelled

“Mhm! Remember what you guys made yesterday?” - you

The boys nodded and you instructed them to go retrieve what they made from their room.

Joe gave you a skeptical raised eyebrow look, but you just leaned in and kissed him while you still had the chance.

It wasn't long till you could hear those little feet again and Tyson and Miles were running back into the bedroom. They handed Joe a few pieces of paper after he put his empty plate on his nightstand.

Tyson drew a picture of him, his daddy, and his uncles passing football at the practice fields.

Miles drew a picture of him and Joe playing with Hot Wheels tracks.

The drawings had Joe feeling a different form of bliss, his heart warmed to an insane level as he looked at the little details in his boys’ drawings.

“I love them, boys. Thank you.” - Joe croaked

“You welcome!” - Tyson beamed

“Dada? You sad?” - Miles

“No, Daddy’s really happy.” - Joe

“But you cryin'…” - Miles

“He’s crying happy tears buddy, really happy tears.” - Joe

“Oh… okay!” - Miles

“You guys should go play. Mommy and Daddy are gonna clean up before Gramps and Grammy come.” - you

When the boys left the room you turned to Joe who was still crying. You softly kissed his cheek and wiped his tears off of his cheeks.

“You okay, baby?” - you

“Never been better. This is the best feeling.” - Joe

“Good. They worked hard on those. Come follow me downstairs. I have something cool to show you.” - you

“You gonna give me my 27 birthday spankings? Or is that later?” - joe

You laughed as you pulled him out of bed and shoved him into the closet, asking without words for him to put clothes on since he was only in boxers.

He returned in sweatpants and a T-shirt and followed you downstairs.

“Is the cool thing you have to show me a sink full of dishes? Or do I have to unload the dishwasher?” - Joe

“You’re exempt from those chores today since you are the birthday boy. But no, I’m giving you one of your gifts now.” - you

Joe smiled and I told him to close his eyes as we started walking into the kitchen. He did as you said and you took his hands in yours to guide him to where the setup on the counter was. You smiled at the secret camera you had recording and dropped Joe’s hands.

Telling him to open his eyes, Joe looked around rather confused but when he looked down at the counter his eyes went as wide as saucers.

There was a positive Clearblue test next to the same onesie you showed Joe when you found out you were pregnant with the twins.

You watched Joe’s eyes start to water as his chin started quivering, causing your own eyes to get misty as you smiled at him.

“You’re pregnant?” - Joe grinned

“Mhm.” - you smiled as tears dripped down your face

Immediately his arms were around you, lifting you and spinning you around as he cried into your neck.

“We’re having another baby!” - Joe cried

When he put you down, Joe picked up the pregnancy test with shaky hands and fell against the counter with his head buried in his arms. He was so overcome with emotion.

“Are you happy?” - you rubbed his back

Joe stood up abruptly and nodded vigorously.

“I've never been so happy. What if we have a girl, y/n? I could be a girl dad.” - Joe cried again

“Oh baby.” - you pulled him into your arms

Joe hugged you so tight but was now trying not to put pressure on your stomach now that he was aware his baby was in there.

“I love you so much, y/n. You and our family are the best things to have ever happened to me. I can't believe we're having another baby.” - Joe

“I love you and our babies so much. I can't believe it either, I'm so excited.” - you

“How long have you known? Well about the baby?” - Joe

“Not too long, found out a couple of days ago and thought I'd wait till today.” - you

Joe nodded and leaned down to be level with your stomach. It hasn't gotten bigger yet but Joe didn't care, his baby was still in there.

“Hey, baby. It's your daddy. Me and your momma already love you so much. We can't wait to meet you.” - Joe

“I have an ultrasound next week. Think you can go?” - you

“For sure. I'll make it happen.” - Joe

The rest of the day Joe couldn't keep his hands off of you, always making sure you weren't farther than arm's length away from him.

Robin asked what was up later at dinner when you rejected your usual favorite wine that she and Jimmy had brought.

You and Joe were ecstatic to tell his parents about Baby Burrow #3 coming next fall and they were just as happy finding out about their next grandkid.

That night after dinner, dessert (pumpkin pie of course), and putting the boys to sleep, Joe and I were lying in bed talking about everything baby.

“y/n, you know, I've only been 27 for a day but I feel like it's going to be the best year yet.” - Joe

“You think so?” - you

“I know so because I’m gonna spend it with you, our boys, and baby Burrow.” - Joe

You had a strange feeling that Joe was right, but also an overwhelming feeling of love washed over you. How'd you get so lucky with Joe?

————————————————————————-

Authors note: happy bday Joey B!

there was a birthday imagine request in my messages so here you go!

hope you enjoyed! 💕

[nephalem-da]

Morbid Musings

(Bill Cipher x OC)

Synopsis: Bill Cipher shares his dark and quirky thoughts with his wife, Maeloraelis, during a quiet moment together.

The Nightmare Realm was as chaotic as ever, a swirl of colors and energies that defied logic and reason. Yet amidst the cacophony, a small pocket of calm existed—a quiet moment between two beings who had long since made this world their own.

Bill Cipher was in one of his chatty moods. His triangular form bobbed with excitement as he rambled on, his single eye wide and animated, with his lid curving upward in an upside-down U, mimicking a smile. He gestured wildly with his free hand, while his other hand was firmly clasped in Maeloraelis’s, their fingers intertwined. Despite his chaotic nature, there was a certain rhythm to his ramblings, a cadence that hinted at the intelligence lurking beneath his manic exterior.

“You know, Mae, did you ever hear about the human who tried to invent an indestructible material?” Bill began, his eye widening with a mischievous glint. “Poor guy didn’t account for human greed—his invention got locked away in some vault because, get this, it was too perfect! Can’t have something that lasts forever, right? Where’s the profit in that?”

Maeloraelis’s eye softened, her eye half-lidded in a look of pure adoration. She’d heard this story before—probably more than once—but she never tired of hearing it in Bill’s unique style. She gave his hand a gentle squeeze, encouraging him to continue.

“And get this,” Bill continued, his eye narrowing slightly, the corners of his lid curling downward in a playful smirk, “Did you know that there’s a species of jellyfish that’s basically immortal? Like, when it’s done with life, it just reverts to its younger self and starts over. Crazy, right? Imagine if we could do that! We’d never have to worry about wrinkles or gray hairs—oh wait, we don’t have hair!” His lid curved into a wide arc, mimicking a grin as he cackled, his laughter echoing through the void.

Mae’s expression brightened, her eye gleaming with affection. “Sounds like they’ve got the ultimate do-over, huh? Must be nice to hit the reset button whenever you feel like it.”

“Exactly! But here’s the thing—” Bill’s eye narrowed into a sly squint, the corners of his lid forming a knowing smile. “They can’t remember their past lives. It’s like starting with a blank slate every time. No memories, no regrets, just endless loops of the same old thing. Makes you wonder, though... what’s the point of living forever if you can’t remember any of it?”

Mae tilted her head thoughtfully, her eye’s lid arching slightly as she considered his words. “Maybe it’s about the journey rather than the memories. Each life a new adventure, even if it’s the same.”

Bill paused, his lid relaxing into a thoughtful expression. After a moment, he shrugged, his eye brightening again. “Yeah, but where’s the fun in that? I’d rather keep all the memories, even the messy ones. They’re what make us... well, us!” His lid curled into a softer U-shape as he looked at her, the chaotic energy in his eye softening. “Like us, Mae. I remember everything from the day we met, even though we were just little shapes in a big, scary world. And look at us now—ruling the Nightmare Realm together! How’s that for memories?”

Mae’s soft pink hue seemed to glow brighter at his words, her eye locking with his. “Every moment with you, Bill, is a memory worth keeping. Even your random facts and... unusual observations.” Her eye’s lid curved into a warm, loving smile, her affection for him clear in the way she held his hand and listened to every word he said.

Bill’s expression softened, his eye narrowing slightly in a tender gaze—a rare look for the chaotic being. He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a murmur. “You’re the best part of this crazy existence, Mae. I don’t need immortality or do-overs as long as I have you by my side.”

Mae’s heart swelled at his words, and she lifted their intertwined hands, brushing the back of his hand with her lid in a gesture akin to a kiss. “And I’ll be here, always, to listen to every story, every fact, and every wild idea you come up with.”

Bill chuckled softly, leaning his triangular head against hers, their auras mingling in a soft, shimmering display. “Good, because I’ve got plenty more where that came from. Now, did you know about the island where bones just—”

Mae smiled, settling in for another one of Bill’s endless rants, her love for him unwavering. The Nightmare Realm may have been chaotic, but in this moment, everything felt perfectly right.

[roosterforme]

A Love You Don't Find Everyday Part 17 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You talk to Bradley, and he assures you that he'll be home in time for the wedding in one piece, with Jake in tow. When Bradley is back on land, you let him in on your little secret, and he has a whole new mission in mind: getting his fill of you, while keeping you filled with him.

Warnings: Smut, angst, fluff, and swearing

Length: 3900 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Check out my masterlist for more!

Bradley sat up in the infirmary all night. He was bruised and sore all over, and it had taken him hours to get warmed up again. But he was still doing a bit better than Jake at the moment. 

It was pretty clear that Jake had a concussion and lacerations on his forehead, most likely from the canopy hitting him while Bradley tried to help him open it. But the medical staff had assured Bradley that he would be fine once he rested. And perhaps the best part was that he was going to be allowed to facetime with you in a few hours. Turns out that when you save someone's life, the Admirals will let you do pretty much anything you want. 

"Bradshaw," Jake mumbled, and Bradley couldn't help but smile from the chair next to the bed.

"How you feeling, Bagman?" Bradley asked, his voice still raw from the punishment he'd put his lungs through a few hours ago.

"I feel great," Jake replied, pushing himself up on his elbows. "Other than the fact that I want to throw up every time I move. What the hell happened?"

Bradley shrugged. "I was going to ask you the same thing."

"Lost both engines," Jake drawled with his eyes closed. "And then skipped the damn runway." He opened his eyes and looked at Bradley. "Thank you."

"Don't." Bradley shook his head. "Do not thank me. If anything, I owed you one. Besides, I was firmly instructed to make sure I bring you back home with me."

Jake tried to laugh, but it must have caused him pain by the way he winced. Then he reached up to his forehead which now had a neat row of stitches. "I'm going to have a fucking scar across my face. Do you have any idea how pretty I am?"

"Were," Bradley replied with an eye roll. "You should try to rest." 

"Wake me up when you facetime Angel. I want to ask her a few questions about her bachelorette party."

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

You had just finished hanging up the photo collage you made out of your parents' wedding photos as well as some of Goose and Carole on their big day. You had left some spots open in the middle, ready for your own photos to be added once you had them back. It was quirky and fun, and it looked perfect hanging above the piano.

Your phone vibrated in your pocket and you almost screamed. It was unlikely your parents were calling you back since you just talked to them, so you were praying it was Bradley. Restricted Facetime Caller.

You answered it, and your screen was immediately filled with Bradley's face.

"Roo!" you gushed dropping into one of the dining room chairs. "I miss you!"

"Baby Girl." His voice was raspier than usual, and it almost sounded like he was sick. You were about to ask him what was wrong when he started talking again. "I'm just going to cut to the chase here. Jake got injured."

"What?" you gasped. "What happened? How bad?" 

"He's fine, promise. He's actually right here. Mind if he joins us?"

Your heart was absolutely pounding. Initially, your mind went to teasing Bradley over facetime, maybe letting him see your tattoo.

"Put him on!" you said, and a second later, Bradley was joined in the frame by Jake who had stitches on his forehead. "What is going on?"

Both men shared a look before turning back to you. "Happened during the mission. Just a little cut, Angel. Nothing to worry about," Jake promised.

You sighed and ran your hands along your face. 

"There's something a lot more pressing we need to discuss," he added, and you noticed Bradley's eyes got a little wide. "Do you want strippers for your bachelorette party?"

You were suddenly so confused now, you thought maybe you were the one with the head injury. "Bachelorette party? Roo...did you tell him?" you gasped. If Bradley let it slip that you were getting married this month, you were going to scream.

He cleared his throat loudly. "Yes, Jake knows we are eloping in Mexico next month."

You just stared at both of them. "Are we?" you asked cautiously. 

"We are," Bradley replied with a firm nod. You wanted to start laughing, but Jake was already rattling off plans for a party for you and one for Bradley. He was either severely concussed, and you were supposed to be playing along, or Bradley lied to him about your wedding plans. Either way, you nodded and agreed with everything he was saying while Bradley just looked exasperated. 

"So, a stripper?" Jake asked. "I know a guy." You just gave a vague answer, not sure about how you were supposed to be responding. Bradley was cradling his forehead in his hand now. "Rooster said he doesn't want a stripper. But I kind of want him to have a stripper so at least everyone else can enjoy their night."

"I don't want a stripper," Bradley said firmly to Jake. Then he turned to you and said, "I really don't."

You just shrugged and smirked. "You can get me one Jake, sounds fun."

Bradley rolled his eyes as Jake asked, "Male or female?"

"Mmm, surprise me," you replied. "Jake, you mind if I talk to Bradley for a sec? I'm glad you're okay, but you look like you could use some rest."

"Sure, Angel," he said as you told him you missed him too and couldn't wait to see him.

Bradley watched him walk away, and when he looked back at the screen with a wary expression, you waited for him to speak first.

"Sweetheart. Listen. I kind of fucked up, but he kept bugging me about a wedding date, so I lied and made up some story about Mexico."

You were smiling, and then you started laughing, and then Bradley joined in as well. "So he's really on this bachelor party weekend? And strippers? Not just because it looks like he hit his head?"

Bradley shook his head. "He's determined to plan the party of your dreams. So you might as well just tell him what you want, Baby Girl."

You rolled your eyes. "Sounds like I'm getting a stripper," you muttered. "How did he get hurt anyway? Wait- you're okay, right?" you asked, suddenly wondering why Bradley looked so nervous. 

"I'm perfectly fine. Promise. Can we talk more about this when I'm back home?"

You perked up right away. "When will that be, Roo?" 

"I'll send you the flight information as soon as I have it."

"Just make sure it's before the 28th."

"Most important day of my life. Wouldn't miss it."

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

When you got to work on the Thursday before Thanksgiving, Bickel called you to his office. You were practically vibrating with excitement. You hadn't actually spoken to Bradley or Jake again, but both of them had emailed you information about their return flight. In twelve hours, you'd be picking them up from the airport. 

"Yes, sir?" you asked, knocking on your boss's open office door. 

He motioned for you to close the door and then offered you a donut. You took a seat with a chocolate glazed in one hand and waited until he selected one from the box as well. When he took a few bites before he said anything, you started to get a little nervous. 

"You have all those vacation days coming up," he said before popping the last of his strawberry donut into his mouth.

"Yes, sir," you replied. "December first through ninth." 

Your heart was pounding. He had already signed off on your honeymoon dates without any questions asked. Was he going to try to give you a hard time about it now? Bradley had had no issues with getting his vacation approved, because Maverick already knew what it was for.

Bickel cleared his throat and opened his desk drawer. "I know you didn't explicitly say, and I'm not going to explicitly ask, but I am going to assume that you are taking the time off to get married. Maybe elope like Evelyn and I did."

Your lips parted, wanting to deny your plans. But you couldn't. You just watched him pull an envelope out of his desk before closing the drawer softly. "This is for you. A wedding gift." He handed you the envelope and asked, "Am I completely off base here?"

You just shook your head and smiled at him. "No, sir."

"Well, congratulations. I'm away next week, so I won't see you until you get back from wherever you're going. Enjoy your time off, Lieutenant."

"Thank you, sir." You stood to leave and he stood too, shaking your hand. 

"Also, Cat Coleman accepted that open position with us. Her first day of work will be your first day back," he informed you. "Take a donut for the road. You're dismissed."

You nibbled on a cream filled donut as you made your way back to your office. Cat Coleman would be starting next month. If she was as good as she claimed to be, that should free up some more time in your schedule to work on research projects with your boss. Sonya was great, but now you were always going to be a little wary of transfers from Annapolis.

By the time you met Phoenix for lunch, you were on a sugar and caffeine high, so you got a salad and some water. 

"Please don't tell me you're on some wedding diet?" she commented. "Your dress already fits you perfectly."

"Listen, I've been subsiding on donuts and coffee. My body wanted me to eat something green." 

When you started eating your salad, Phoenix grinned at you from across the table. "I got an email from Jake, and he told me that he knows when and where you're getting married, because apparently he weasled it out of Rooster. And that your bachelorette party is on Saturday."

"I'm sorry, what? My bachelorette party is in two days?"

"Yeah," she added with a smirk. "And Bradley's bachelor party is tomorrow night."

"Jake is a nightmare," you muttered. "Listen, I don't even need a party."

"Yes, you do. And I'm going to make sure you get drunk, and then we can really have a heart to heart about exactly what it means to marry my best friend." Nat gave you a hard look and pointed at you with her fork. "No give backs. No exchanges. No breaking his heart in any way. He's going to moon over you for the rest of his life, so I better see some mutual pining, even when he's old and fat. Got it?" she asked with a laugh, unable to keep a straight face.

You thought about Bradley's cute tummy he acquired after he was injured and watching reality TV for weeks on end. "Got it," you told her. "Sounds like a breeze."

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

When their flight touched down in San Diego, Bradley was practically shoving Jake off the airplane to get to you as quickly as possible. There was barely a week until the wedding, and he missed you so much. 

"Take it easy," Jake grumbled, and Bradley took a deep breath. He knew Jake had been getting continuous headaches since he skidded off the aircraft carrier and into the ocean. And he also knew that you and Jake were for some reason good friends, so he slowed his pace down and clenched his jaw.

"She said she would be waiting by our baggage claim carousel," Bradley said, winding through the crowd. Their flight had been delayed, and it was after nine in the evening, and Bradley wanted to get you home, because you had to work in the morning. He had the day off tomorrow, and Jake was insisting on throwing him a bachelor party that he didn't even want tomorrow night. But Bradley wasn't going to fight him on it; it wasn't worth the effort on his part.

"There she is," Bradley and Jake said in unison, and Bradley took off in your direction. You hadn't spotted them yet as you were looking up at the flight arrivals screen. God, you were beautiful, and in a week you'd be wearing an additional ring and calling him your husband.

"Baby Girl," he called out, and you spun to face him, your dress kind of swirling around your thighs. Without a word, you launched yourself into his arms, and Bradley held you tight. 

"You were gone more than two weeks," you said against his neck with a laugh. "It was fifteen days. I'm going to complain to Mav."

Bradley kissed your lips and then pressed his forehead to yours. "But I'm back. In time for our wedding."

You giggled and kissed him again, but a second after that, you were abandoning him to hug Jake and make a fuss over his stitches. Bradley rolled his eyes and started looking for the duffles on the carousel. He and Jake had decided to spare you the details of his crash landing and the subsequent spur of the moment rescue mission. It didn't matter. They were both home now. 

"No, I'm fine, Angel. Just need to get the stitches removed next week. You ready for your bachelorette party?" Jake asked you, and Bradley watched you shake your head. 

"If you insist."

A few minutes later, Bradley was carrying both duffle bags out to his Bronco, hot on your heels as you guided Jake along. It was obvious that he desperately needed to get home and get some rest. After you helped Jake get in the backseat, Bradley buckled you in the passenger seat and kissed you one time, running his fingers up your thigh and making you laugh. 

"Take me home," you whispered, and soon Bradley was zipping down the highway and dropping Jake off. 

Bradley jumped out to help him with his bag, and you climbed out to give Jake a hug. But as soon as Jake was inside, Bradley scooped you up again and hauled you back to the Bronco.

"I'm going to take you home and do unspeakable things to you," he whispered, and you started laughing. 

"Like what? I want details," you told him as he buckled you in once more. 

Bradley shook his head and sighed. "I'm going to kiss you and love you forever. You're not gonna know what to do with yourself."

"Sounds filthy," you told him before he closed the door and ran around to the driver's side. 

"It will be," he said, pulling away from the curb. And after he merged back onto the highway, Bradley let his hand rest on your bare knee while he drove. "We could make it a little filthy now if you want."

You very subtly spread your legs a bit wider for him, and Bradley groaned softly. He ran his fingers up and down the inside of your left thigh for a minute, listening to your breathing grow deeper. 

"Your skin is so soft," he whispered over the playlist you had selected on his phone. "Everywhere." He eased his middle finger inside your underwear and stroked you along your slit. "Especially here."

"Bradley," you gasped when he slipped his long finger down to your opening and started to fuck you with it while he drove. After a few steady strokes, Bradley added his index finger and let you ride him. 

Your head was tipped back against the headrest, and when your lips parted, whining his name, Bradley thought you were about to unleash the dirty talk. But it was a different kind of dirty talk than he was used to. 

"How would you feel if I told you I stopped taking my birth control?" 

Bradley's hand froze, his fingers buried deep inside your pussy. He felt you clench softly around him once, and he stroked you slowly in response. Finally, your words and their meaning really took root in his mind.

"I...wait. Is that hypothetical?" he asked, trying to keep control of the steering wheel while his heart pounded. 

You pulled his hand out of your panties and raised his fingers to your lips. And just before you started sucking on them, you said, "Not hypothetical. I've been off the pill for a few days."

Bradley groaned, his cock going from semi erect to painfully hard in an instant. And then his fingers were in your mouth. He slowed down and exited the highway, turning right off the ramp and heading toward the beaches. 

"Where are we going?" you managed to ask, licking between his fingers before he pulled his hand away to park at a quiet overlook. Bradley was unbuckling his seatbelt and then yours and reaching for you. 

"Showing you how much I love the idea of having unprotected sex with you." 

You giggled. "I thought you might like that." He pulled you against him as you crawled across the seat toward him, and then Bradley was gone. Just fully gone in the fantasy of getting you pregnant.

Bradley eased you back along the seat, gently pulling your dress up to expose your tummy. He kissed you there, running his lips along the top of your underwear and licking your tattoo. "We only have a week to work with, Baby Girl, but maybe I can get you pregnant before our wedding?"

You moaned softly, and his hands were unzipping his jeans immediately. He watched you scramble to get your underwear off and toss them on the floor. 

"Oh, you like that idea, too?" he asked, palming his length and pushing himself inside you with one fluid stroke. He fucked you hard and slow, your body cradling his. He kissed your lips and your jaw and your chest, nipping and sucking so you would remember this tomorrow and the next day. "You want me to fuck you until I get you pregnant?"

"Yes," you hissed, tugging on his hair.

He made a noise so deep and needy it had you gaping at him. "I'm going to keep you full all the time now. Full of my cock and my cum. Until you've got a baby growing. Then I'm still going to fuck you so good, Sweetheart. You'll never have to worry about that."

Your words were incomprehensible as Bradley rammed into you over and over again, his lips and tongue sucking along the tops of your breasts. He'd get you all big and swollen, fuck you until you were pregnant with his baby. Make love to you until you once again exceeded all expectations he had for his life. 

"Daddy," you whispered, and Bradley looked at your perfect face. "Come on, Daddy. You can do it," you whispered, licking those pretty lips and whining. "You'll be the best Daddy."

"I'm your Daddy, Baby Girl," he growled, fucking you hard until your nipples were peeking out the top of your dress. Railing you until the slap of his body against yours was as loud as your whining. Your fingers were all wrapped up in his hair, and you guided his lips down to yours. 

The kisses were filthy now, all tongue and dirty talk, and then Bradley was spilling his hot cum inside you, fucking it deeper. He was still softly stroking and pinching your clit, making your body milk every drop out of him as you came too. You squeezed his cock until the sensation had him dizzy. 

His sweaty forehead was pressed to yours as your lips danced along his every time you whispered Daddy. 

Bradley finally glanced up, relieved to find the area where he had parked was still empty. You were underneath him, chewing on your lip and coming down from your high. As his cock grew soft inside you, Bradley could feel his cum start to drip down your ass, and you lifted your head a little bit.

"Roo. We're going to mess up the upholstery."

Bradley laughed and kissed the beautiful curve of your cheek. "I fucking love you so much." Then he used your discarded underwear to carefully collect your joint cum before it could make too much of a mess. "You always take care of everything. Me, Tramp, the Bronco. Can't wait to make you a mommy."

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

When you got home, Bradley paused in front of the collage you made and hung over his piano. "What's this?"

"Your wedding gift. Or one of them."

He pulled you close to his side. "I thought maybe the birth control announcement was my wedding gift?"

"It was one of them," you said with a shrug.

"Are there any more?" he asked, running his fingers along the frame and looking at the selection of happy wedding photos you had chosen. 

"Yes. Two more wedding gifts. And you'll like both of them." 

"I didn't get you anything," he told you with a furrowed brow. 

You looked up into his brown eyes and at his hair, all mussed from your fingers running through it. 

"Yes, you did," you insisted, leading him to the bedroom. You helped Bradley unpack his bag while he played with Tramp. The dog was absolutely obsessed with him; you were sure he didn't miss you this much when you had been away in Annapolis. 

"Good boy," Bradley said, playfully wrestling with him on the floor. "I'll take you for a nice long walk tomorrow when Mommy's at work."

You should have known he'd be like this now, but as soon as Bradley called you Mommy, he was on you again. 

"I missed you," he whispered, pushing your cum streaked dress up over your butt and running his fingers along your back. 

When you bent over the bed for him and felt him tease his fingers along your slit, you muttered, "I should have known. Now I'll never get anything done, because you're going to be on me day and night."

"You got that right."

But this time, he was slow and methodical, getting you off with his fingers on your clit and his lips on your neck. "I'm going to fill you up again and again. And you'll take every bit of me deep in that sweet pussy until I knock you up."

Those words delivered in that raspy voice were going to make you wild every single time. 

"Bradley?" you mumbled as he pressed himself down against your back, spent but still inside you.

"Yes, my love?" he asked, his mustache brushing your ear and making you smile. 

"What's the plan for your bachelor party tomorrow night?"

Bradley groaned and withdrew his cock, using his fingers to halt his cum from dripping out of you. It was like he was pampering your body in a brand new way, massaging you to keep it inside your pussy. 

"I have no idea. I don't even want to do anything except get a few drinks at the Hard Deck and then come back home. But there will probably be strippers or hot air balloons or clowns or some shit."

He finally eased his hand away from your body, and now you were beyond exhausted. "Listen," you said with a laugh, "that all sounds fine, as long as it's not a clown stripper in a hot air balloon."

"Please don't give Jake any ideas."

"I won't. As long as you let me change into your shirt and fall asleep on you," you said, digging around in your nightstand for your new charm. Bradley helped you add it to your necklace chain, and then he was helping you get ready for bed.

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

The man wants to be a Daddy in every sense of the word. And letting Jake plan the parties seems like a terrible mistake.

PART 18

@mak-32

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[sirenedeslily]

https://www.tumblr.com/sirenedeslily/763271788553748480/skaterchris-1000-has-a-jason-dill-skateboard

Chris getting readers face on his board in honor of this god sent ask :c

- 💟

as the night sky blanketed the city, chris waited outside the campus building where you just finished your last class, his new jason dill board propped against his leg. it was a sight to behold—not just because of its sleek design, but because of the quirky twist he’d given it. the board was adorned with a picture of you as a little girl, your cherubic face framed by a massive, toothy grin that could brighten anyone’s day.

with a snack in hand, he bounced on the balls of his feet, excitement thrumming through him as he spotted you emerging from the building. you were tired, but that familiar warmth ignited in your chest when you saw him. “hey, pretty girl!” he called out, a playful grin stretching across his face. he handed you a warm pastry from the cafe down the street, and you could practically see the heart in his eyes as you took a big bite, the sweet filling making you smile.

as you walked side by side, chris expertly skated alongside you, weaving between the flickering streetlights that lit your path to the apartment. he chatted animatedly about his day, the joy in his voice blending with the gentle rustle of leaves above. suddenly, he decided to show off, launching into a trick that sent him soaring into the air. as he flipped his board, the world seemed to pause for a moment, and that was when you caught a glimpse of the picture—the picture of your younger self, grinning like you’d just been handed the best news ever.

you burst into laughter, delighted and slightly embarrassed. “is that me?” you exclaimed, and chris landed smoothly, a proud smile on his face. “only the best version of you,” he teased, and in that moment, with laughter echoing in the cool night air, you knew you’d never let that goofy boy go.

[koolaidoverliving]

a little ficlet i posted on ao3, but decided i might as well post it here as well! :)

THE COAT IS BETTER ON HER

✦ Ticci Toby / Nina the Killer ✦

CW: Light Angst, Ticciwork Mentioned

Words: I don't remember... 400~?

Nina and Toby are waiting outside of a concert venue. It's cold. And it's easy to reminisce.

"This is so unfair, Toby!" Nina whines. "It's so, so unfair! Why does the line have to be this long?"

Toby chuckles. "They really want to see Iron Maiden."

"It's stuuupid, Tobes. I bet they can't even name five songs..."

"Oh... Yeah... Stupid fake fans!" He can't name five songs either.

While he isn't a metalhead like his girlfriend, Toby listened to Iron Maiden's entire discography before the concert. He knows how much music means to Nina, and he wants to mean just as much. If Toby could, he would rent the concert venue for him and her only. But Toby can't, so he just pulls her closer, the warmth of his coat making up for what she lacks.

"Why aren't you wearing a coat, babe?" Toby asks.

"It would ruin my cute outfit," Nina replies, leaning into Toby's warm body. "Plus, I know it's gonna be, like, a total oven inside the venue."

"Wha—alright then! Just promise you won't get frost-bite?"

"Mhm, yeah. Frost-bite's got nothing on me."

"Gooood." He rests his head on-top of Nina's. Her outfit is cute, but very impractical for the winter.

Toby remembers when he still dated Natalie and how cold she'd get in the winter-time. She hated to admit she was freezing, but Toby could tell by the chatter of her teeth and the frost on her shivering hands. Natalie never did wear enough layers to survive Toronto's harsh winters. And whether she asked for it or not, Toby always gave her his coat.

While deep in thought, Toby feels a hand tug on his sleeve. "Toby! Th–The line's moving!" Nina exclaims through grinded teeth.

"It is?" Toby snaps back into focus. Slowly but surely, the line moves. "It is... That means we'll be at the concert in no time, babe!" He grins, ear to ear.

Nina makes an attempt to grin back at him. Her face is so clearly reddened and wet from condensation. For a split second, Toby sees a different person.

"Awh, you're cold," Toby says.

"I'm not cold," Nina retaliates. "I c–can totally last until we make it inside!"

"Oh, come on, silly." Toby starts unzipping his coat. "Let me give you my coat, okay? You can take it off when we get inside. You'll still have your cute outfit, you'll just be a 'lil warmer."

"Hmmm..." Nina presses her lips into a small, coy smile. "Okaaay! Fine, I'll take your coat."

Toby puts his coat over Nina. It's big on her and makes her look smaller than she is.

"Warmer now?" Toby asks.

Nina nods. "So much warmer." She puts her arms into the sleeves.

Toby admires his girlfriend, enjoying the way the pale fur makes her dark hair stand out. He loves her with all his heart, and he'll never be afraid to admit that. He loves her smile, her quirky humor, the sound of her voice, her green eyes...

"It looks good on you, Natalie," he says softly.

. . .

The line moves. But the two of them are still.

"I didn't mean—"

"Did you just..."

"I'm so sorry—"

"It's whatever, Toby! Don't ruin my concert night!" Nina retorts. "I don't want to do this right now." Nina turns around and moves with the line, her hands in the coat pockets.

"Wait, babe—Nina!" He follows her. "It was a mistake."

"I told you I don't care! We can talk about it later!" She continues to walk away, ignoring the fact she's now moving faster than the line is.

"But—Wait—..."

Toby doesn't say anything else, but his hands twitch, and he swears he can feel his stomach twisting. He follows her in silence. He painted himself as an idiot, but it's fine. Nina said they'll talk about it later—later.

So it's fine.

He'll listen to the concert with her and everything will be fine.

[livelovecaliforniadreams]

I Am All In Rewatch - Episode 3x22

Inappropriate? But that's Lorelai right, you mean she's well, well, of course that's what she does. That's who she is. That's her character...So she's gonna ask those questions because nobody does that, and she's gonna do it, and that's why we love her, right, we expect the unexpected...I think he's biding his time, right, and  he's giving he's giving it a chance. But it's like, you know, maybe it's maybe it's fun and relaxed and it's good for him, and he knows it's good for his life, and she's having a good time and all that, but maybe he doesn't feel it's the end all be all right. But again, how would he know. It's definitely not the same feeling he has for Lorelai So I think that's why.  But I think he probably feels he's never gonna get Lorelai and he's got to grow up and try something else and maybe carve out a life for himself. And I just think he's being trying to be you know, emotionally mature about it...I think I think he likes being with her. I don't know that it's it's long term, and I think he still probably has a glimmer of hope for Lorelai coming around somehow because that feeling. I think that feeling that tension is always there it's always there. That doesn't go away with somebody when you feel it to that degree for somebody...Look, man he's dreaming about her right? Have you ever had some guy come up to you and say I had a dream about you last night based on the fact that I've never met you. Do tell...only one Lorelai. There's only one of those...from Luke's point of view that there's one of her. You know, they didn't make another one of her. She's she's one in a billion, and he knows it. And however quirky or inappropriate she is, she's very special, and she's very funny and warm and loving and and what a fun life. And I think, you know, she brings out a side in him that he buries, so I think I think he sees himself, he projects himself into a future with her where he feels like he could open up a little bit and start loosening up and and having some fun and having some laughs ..It would be more fun. He knows his life isn't tremendously fun. He's a you know, he's a guy that gets up and works and he works all day and he works...And why do people do that? Why are people like that? Because you know they haven't found the one. They find the one. He's not working so much...Why do you always assume that I carry pens with me everywhere I go. That was so good. That was good...He didn't really have a close relationship with Rory, right, I mean he was dad at a distance. He was a protector at a distance. I mean, he's been there since she was a baby. This she's she's been bringing her bringing a little baby Rory into the diner since she was born. Right, So Luke's been there, you know, playing with her and Couci Couci and the whole thing. And you know, it's been seventeen years...Was he asking was she asking Lorelai's permission to go on the cruise? Was it a heat check?  Because that's reality. The fantasy was... He wanted his dream to become reality, and when it didn't, he said screw it I'm going on the trip...He doesn't want to get his heart all smashed into bits if he makes his move and it ultimately doesn't work...Look, at a certain point, he's got to put his big boy pants on and take a step up. -Scott

[thelarriefics]

NEW YEARS FIC REC: Below you will find fics that take place during the New Year, or have scenes that center around it.

📖 Mistletoe's For Two by @ireallysawanangel (90k)

After an encounter in a coffee shop with the rudest man he's ever met, Louis hopes the city is just big enough that he'll never bump into him again. When he spots that man at a bar the following evening, a plan begins to form. They both need dates for their respective Christmas parties and decide to use each other for their own benefit. They'll help one another through the holidays and then 'break it off' on New Year's, then agree to never see each other again. Developing feelings was not part of the plan. Or, an enemies to lovers fake dating advent fic.

📖 Home For The Holiday by @larrysmomfics (86k)

A "The Holiday" inspired AU where Harry meets Louis after agreeing to swap houses with a stranger on the internet for three weeks over the holidays.

📖 like cranberries on a winter evening by @evilovesyou (57k)

Louis hates Christmas. With good reason, too. And no, he doesn’t want to talk about it. When research for his next novel leads Louis to the website of a quirky little hotel in Northumberland, there is exactly one room available for the two weeks that Louis really wants to get away from his family. Will the fairy lights, kind smiles, homemade pastries, and genuine friendships awaiting him in Harry Styles’ hotel be enough to cause Louis a change of heart?

📖 Baby, Won't You Look My Way? by @peachbootylouis (50k)

Or the where Louis’ routine centered life runs like clockwork until a chance hook up throws a wrench named Harry into it all. But as it may turn out a change in plans could be what Louis has needed all along.

📖 Cabin Fever by @germericangirl (46k)

One cabin, one bed, two ex-boyfriends. What could possibly go wrong?

📖 silver lining, perfect timing by @stylesthebrave (22k)

For as long as they've been friends, the whole world has been saying Louis and Harry should get over themselves and date already. It takes an impromptu winter holiday for Louis to admit that everyone else might have been right all along.

📖 as in olden days by @scrunchyharry (18k)

Château Frontenac hotel, Christmas 1925   When his father insisted the entire family spend Christmas abroad in one of his new investments, Harry dreaded the prospect of being trapped for weeks in the biting Canadian cold, so far away from the roaring excitement of his London life. As he crossed half of the world to be buried under a thick blanket of snow, he never imagined he would meet a charming bellhop who would do his best to keep him warm.

📖 I Can Build Your Heart A Home by @loveislarryislove (10k)

Or, Harry and Louis kind of secretly sort of dated in high school. Now it's two years later and they're both back in town for Christmas and it's awkward. Until it isn't.

📖 promise not to fade away by @nobodymoves (10k)

Louis is an A&R rep, and Harry is a singer/songwriter. They meet on New Years Eve.

📖 It's Thursday. Let's Get (un)Dressed. by @bananaheathen (9k)

When Louis is peer-pressured into downloading TikTok over the holidays, he fully expects to hate it. And he does hate it. All of it. Well... except for aspiring OOTD influencer, @harrystyles.

📖 I want your midnights by @guccistrawberries (8k)

or It all starts with a harmless round of the name game

📖 Happy New Life's! by @outofmycistem (5k)

If everything would work out perfectly, in case it didn't already happen until this point, they would be out in exactly 10 years. With a simple tweet of a picture and a 3 sentence text. Because it's as easy as that and even if they would forget about it, which they swore they wouldn't, it wouldn't be that much of a deal anyways, right? Or, the one where Harry and Louis (more or less) accidently come out with a tweet they planned 10 years ago.

📖 Know What You Need by @absoloutenonsense (4k)

Harry always thinks he knows what he needs, but Louis knows better.

📖 Rapture by @allwaswell16 (3k)

It was New Year's Eve in Victorian London, and a lonely vampire could no longer resist the stunning lamplighter he watched night after night. Or, a vampire Harry fic because what says the holidays like Victorian vampires?

📖 this far from mediocre by @louisandtheaquarian & @zaynmaliksmiddlefinger (2k)

In this scene, Louis meets Zayn for the first time at an industry party on New Year's Eve that Liam is DJ-ing. Oh, and Harry shows up too.

📖 Stroke of Twelve by @larry-hiatus (2k)

Or the one where Louis wants Harry to hold off his orgasm so they can come together at the stroke of twelve on New Year's Eve.

📖 anything for you, gorgeous by @track-five (1k)

after a long night of new years celebrations, louis somehow manages to get his boyfriend home in one giggly, clingy piece.

📖 a taste of bliss by @beckydoesthings (1k)

It's New Year's Eve, and Louis is working. As much as he hates it, there's a few benefits to working a holiday. One is the free champagne. The second may or may not come in the form of a curly haired sous chef named Harry.

[bleedingoptimism]

When Eddie is given the order to infiltrate the castle and kill the heir to the throne he doesn't even blink.

It’s just another job. He couldn’t care less if it’s the prince or a tavern keeper, he’s never failed before and he’s not planning on starting now.

Finding work at the castle is easy enough, but getting close to the prince takes longer. Only the most trusted people in the palace are allowed to interact with him. So he only gets to see him, to appreciate him from afar. 

The heir to the throne, Prince Steve, is the most beautiful person he’s ever seen in his life. Handsome and fit but with delicate features, big brown eyes, and a myriad of beauty marks.

He’s keeping a close eye on him so he notices every little thing about him. How kind he is with everyone.

How afraid he is of the king, his father. How he still stands up to him, even if he’s terrified when he is being unfair to the people.

He also notices Steve is a really good fighter, which worries him. He is going to need to get real close to him, enough that the prince could never suspect him, enough to make him keep his guard down.

But as time passes he gets more and more enthralled by the prince. When he hears him laugh as he play-fights with the younger knights he took under his wing it makes his heart stutter.

And when he catches him sneaking into the library with the quirky royal scribe to read late at night it fills him with wonder and curiosity.

And the more he watches Steve, the more he hates his assignment.

He starts having dangerous thoughts. Why would his master send him to kill this wonderful boy? He is so generous, so fair, so brave. He would be a wonderful king. Wouldn’t the people from the kingdom benefit from someone like Steve?

Is he really serving the greater good? Is this really for the good of the kingdom?

But he casts those thoughts away. They serve him no good. It’s not like he has a choice anyway. It’s his head or Steve’s. And he’s rather attached to his head.

So by the time he’s trusted enough to be allowed in the private areas of the palace, by the time he actually gets to talk to the prince, he’s already halfway in love with him and incredibly conflicted.

And Steve, beautiful, wonderful, soft Steve. He warms up to Eddie right away, and he asks about him, his thoughts, and his feelings. And he’s so cute and funny, he laughs at Eddie and with Eddie. He stands up to him in front of the king and lets Eddie sit quietly with him, holding his hand when his father tears him down with harsh words.

They get close, and Eddie starts his mornings dreading this is going to be the last day he gets to spend with Steve, the day he gets the order to end it all. But he ends his nights with a smile on his face because every day with the prince is a delight and he just can’t help but be endeared by everything he does.

And then the day comes. Eddie wakes up to the sight of an ugly, disfigured bat, perched on his window, the thing screeches loudly at him and Eddie yells back, dread and sorrow already invading him because he knows what its presence means. It means it's time.

The bat cocks his ugly head at him and then flies out the same way it came in and leaves Eddie holding his head in his hands, rocking back and forth in the bed. He reminds himself it’s his life or Steve’s and he repeats it as a mantra all day. It’s me or him. It’s me or him. It’s me or him. It’s me or him. It’s me or him.

The night finds them lounging in the library with Robin, the scribe. She’s reading to them from a book of obscure stories from kingdoms past. It’s Steve’s favorite. It’s getting close to midnight when Robin yawns and calls it a night, leaving them alone in the enormous library.

Steve is sitting by the window, one leg bent at the knee and resting his head on it, the other swaying on the edge. Eddie takes a deep breath and thinks, ‘this is it’ 

He slowly makes his way toward Steve and takes a hidden knife out of his belt.

He’s so close now, hand raised, knife shining in the moonlight. And Steve doesn’t move, he just lets him get close. He trusts Eddie. 

It's him.

He can’t do it. He just can’t. He’d rather die than hurt him and it’s that a thought? He’s never felt this way. He would die for him. He should die for him. 

He stops, intending to put the weapon away but it’s too late now. The knife glints and it catches Steve’s eye in the reflection of the window. He turns shocked and hurt fills his eyes before he launches at Eddie.

They fight, and Eddie just tries to defend himself as Steve throws blow after blow at him. But he can tell Steve is not giving it his all.

He’s confused and heartbroken, he fights as tears fall from his big doe eyes and he screams at him and Eddie takes it. He takes everything Steve has to give.

He disarms Eddie at one point because the prince really is that good at fighting and the combat comes to a stall with Steve sitting on his lap and him flat on the floor, a knife at his throat. 

Both of them are panting heavily as Eddie looks at Steve, tears falling from his gorgeous brown eyes and wetting Eddie’s cheek and he knows he’s going to die.

He’ll die, either by Steve’s hand or by his master’s evil creatures so he has nothing to lose when he says,

“Gods, you are so beautiful” and he surges forward, letting the knife scrape his neck and kisses Steve deeply.

Eyes closed he waits for the knife to be buried in his neck but then he hears the distinct sound of the weapon hitting the floor. And suddenly Steve is kissing him back, one hand on his cheek and the other on the cut on his neck. 

But Steve is still crying so Eddie cups his cheeks and wipes the tears away,

“Please stop crying your highness, my love”

And Steve shakes his head and bites Eddie’s lip hard enough to make him bleed. “Why?” he whispers into his mouth.

And Eddie tells him everything, he tells him all about the unbreakable contract with the dark wizard who ordered his death. How he was down on his luck and almost dead and didn't have any other choice.

He tells Steve about watching him from afar before their official meeting, about falling in love with him, and that he was ready to die before hurting him.

“I never wanted to hurt you, I’m so sorry my beloved prince,” he tells him, “But I must leave now, I need to kill my master, I have to save you.”

“I’ll go with you, I’ll help” his love replies.

“Steve, no-” 

“You don’t get to tell me what to do” Steve cuts him off, voice firm and it makes Eddie smile. His prince looks so handsome when he gives him orders.

“Eddie, you make me feel…Alive, I love you. I’m not letting you go alone.”

Eddie implores him to stay, “It’ll be dangerous my adored one, what if I can’t protect you? What if I can’t save you?”

Steve leans forward and touches their foreheads together, “We’ll save each other.” He simply says. 

They run away together the next night.

[edutainer2022]

Sending hugs and strength as always.

I’d love to know any thoughts you have about the Tracys as kids in the happy times. What do you think they got up to? Do you headcanon the farm / ranch / some other Kansas home? Or did Jeff and Lucy live somewhere more built up / accessible to NASA? What were the kids’ hobbies? What would a family day out have looked like?

Oh, @idontknowreallywhy, thank you for the ask! I actually tend to go hazy on the boys' childhood, because the way kids work is not my forte. In my heart of hearts, I see them as latchkey kids of nondescript rural/smalltown US. A meadow outside the backyard, long bus commutes to school. A kind of chaotic but tight and warm, fun, quirky world, reigned supreme by their mother. Think Gilmore Girls, but a single mother of three boys, initially. With Jeff space-cowboying it would be just her and the back to back eldest three for quite some time.

Also think The Sound of Music - she's the one with piano and art. And the horses. There were sing alongs and movie marathons, and board games, and junk snacks, and bake offs, and magic in that household. That's why I also think, much as Scott worships and seeks approval of a (always away) father, he was Mom's right hand and White Knight. Mom's champion and deputy in wrangling the younger brothers. There would, of course, be SHENANIGANS. Sometimes Mom Tracy would just discover zen of a boys mom and have a glass of red on hand.

Since we have Gran Roca, I also sometimes think Yellowstone. She's the one from old(er) Manifest Destiny ranching money. She knows how to get her hands dirty, but it's removed from Jeff's first generation off the farm experiences. She sees the help, but she's also used to having them around - hence the five kids without batting an eye, given Jeff's military/space career. That would quite organically convert into the boy's we know - humble, generous, approachable, but somewhat sheltered.

I also think that Jeff's soaring wealth, Mom's untimely demise and grief buried in work, would spell something like a Warton Academy. Maybe not a full on boarding school, but a posh prep school with Ivy League pipeline and uniform blazers with embroidered crests. At least for the elder three's high school stretch. That would also, probably, mean shifting base to a bigger city and a dramatic change of pace in the boys' routine.

The boys hobbies? Scott is obviously a Rescue Scout extraordinaire. He's never met a sport he wasn't good at. But I also think School Parliament, Speech and Debate, maybe ROTC (to fit a military stint with my understanding of the timeline). Scott is earmarked for leadership and high pressure operations early on. National Honors Society, hands down. Dad would never tolerate anything less than excellent and Scott intended to be EVERYTHING Dad was - including space track. Calculus may actually be his "nerdy guilty pleasure". I also absolutely don't see how Mom didn't teach him the piano first. It likely didn't go far, but he gets by at the keyboard.

Virgil is the music and arts kid, obviously. He probably followed Scott into many hobbies and clubs, originally, but his strengths and disposition are just so obviously different.

John loves school. The more school - the merrier. Coding, and astronomy, and physics. Languages on the side. Gifted program. The Big Bang Theory worthy combo of Supreme nerd-dom. I'd say music too - comes with the territory of good ear for languages. Sports by necessity - to keep up with the original Turbo Twosome, and to get space rated. He came to actually enjoy sports, on his own terms.

Come to think of it, the Elder Trio are a token comical display of the Prom King always flanked by two sidekicks, who embody the very definition of "geeky uncool". In hindsight, John is sometimes amazed that Scott actually ENJOYED hanging out with them and did so by choice. Still does so.

[kohakurin8]

~ Dissecting Kimetsu no Yaiba ~

Kyōjurō Rengoku, Dragonball, & The Tale of The Monkey King

I'm sure you can already tell where this is going based on the title, but this is actually a post that I've wanted to make for a while now and just... couldn't find the words to put it in. Eventually, I just realized that the words probably won't come to me until I start writing them, so here I am!

Let's talk about a relatively obvious reference made within Kimetsu no Yaiba that a surprising amount of people completely missed. That is, the fact that the Hashira Rengoku is an uncanny, undeniable reference to the Monkey King, or Sun Wukong, from a very famous Chinese folktale -- Journey to the West!

Fun Fact: Dragonball was originally a loveletter to Journey to the West, with Goku originally being a direct reference to Sun Wukong as well!

Haha, that fun fact may seem random but it actually plays a big role in what I'm about to say.

See, I'm no expert on Journey to the West, but thanks to the widespread popularity of Dragonball and the Shounen genre, you really don't need to be in order to understand the relevance and significance of Sun Wukong!

It's pretty well known that Dragonball was essentially the progenitor of the Shounen genre, and before it got into Dragonball Z with all of the aliens and galactic drama, the series actually focused on Martial Arts and its relationship with the mystical forces of the world. Of course, this means it's not at all surprising for Goku to be a reference to Sun Wukong since Journey to the West essentially defined the Martial Arts Movie genre of Eastern Asia.

You see where I'm going with this yet? 😏

Yes, Sun Wukong defined the Martial Arts Movie protagonist, and through him Goku defined the Shounen protagonist.

Sure, not every Shounen protagonist rides through the sky on a cloud like our beloved Saiyan Hero or the Monkey King, but there are still plenty of other shared character traits that became staples. An astounding, almost insatiable appetite; unyielding willpower; enough love for friends and family to move mountains; almost inhuman courage and heroics; supernatural power to rival even the gods -- basically anything that makes you think of a Shounen protagonist is a trait originally beheld by Sun Wukong.

So now that we've done the background knowledge, let's shift our focus to Rengoku specifically.

I know what you're going to say. "But Rin, if Sun Wukong is in every Shounen protagonist we've ever drooled and cried over, what makes Rengoku so special?"

And to that I say sit down and have some patience, I'm getting to that!

Rengoku is special because he somehow masterfully represents all of the things that Sun Wukong was known for while avoiding the bland and boring tropes yet somehow simultaneously expressed everything you love about classic Shounen.

He has a razor-sharp wit and instinct, smoothly hidden beneath playful, charming, and almost clown-like behavior. His bright personality, warm kindness, and furious power remind one of the sun itself -- something that Sun Wukong was widely representative of.

Delightfully eccentric and quirky. A blazing glory that touches and warms hearts until he's etched into their very soul, shaping viewers into brave warriors the same way he shapes Tanjiro Kamado into one himself.

Kyōjurō Rengoku is a flawless loveletter to everything that ever was, and ever will be, The Monkey King.