#sigh. maybe I have to be the change I want to see in the world and invent the A-77 AU of my dreams…

[foxy-eva]

Warm Embrace

Summary: Spencer and his wife explore ways to be intimate with each other after a traumatic event

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader 

Category: Hurt/Comfort, Smut

Please read the CW, this story contains potentially triggering topics! 

Content Warnings: (18+, minors DNI) referenced past SA of Reader (non-graphic), implied flashbacks, trauma related sexual problems, conversations about sex and intimacy, nudity, kissing, mutual masturbation, handjob, thigh riding

Word count: 5.4k

Masterlist

“Spencer?” Your voice echoed through the apartment when you stepped through the door and found no sign of your husband. 

A distant sound came from the bathroom. “In here!” 

After a quiet knock on the door and his confirmation that you could step in, you found Spencer sitting in the bathtub. The room was filled with the lavender scent of the bath soap and what you could see of his body was covered in bubbles. It almost looked comical how his knees stuck out of the water, making it obvious that the tub was not big enough to accommodate his long limbs. 

“I was too tired to take a shower,” he explained after discovering your curious expression. 

“I can see that,” you laughed. “I thought you hated taking baths.”

“Honestly, I think I’m starting to understand why you like them so much. This isn't too bad.”

You stood there for a few moments, smiling at the sight in front of you. Then, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, you slowly began shedding your clothes. 

“Mind if I join you?” you wondered. 

Nothing about this situation would be unusual for any other married couple. Just a few months ago neither of you would have questioned your actions. Back then initiating any form of intimacy with each other felt natural and familiar. 

Things were different now, though. 

Spencer cleared his throat and shifted his position. “Are you sure about this?”

There was a reason to ask. For the past months any attempt to get close to each other resulted in you crying for the rest of the night. Something as simple as him placing his hand on your thigh was enough to startle you. 

A sigh rolled over your lips as you dropped your shirt to the floor. “No,” you confessed. “But I miss you.”

“I’m right here,” he reminded you.

That was not what you meant and he knew that. Of course he understood the meaning of your words. Spencer was well aware of the fact that ever since that son of a bitch hurt you, you fought a constant battle between wanting his nearness and pushing him away. 

Your husband gave you the space you needed and was there to hold you whenever you’d let him. It couldn't have been easy for him either but he never once complained about this new reality you had a live. 

A reality where that person took something from you that you’d never get back. It was hard to shake this feeling of being tainted after having your physical integrity stripped away like that. You were distant and closed off when it came to intimacy, despite your best efforts to get back to what once was normal. It had been months since Spencer even saw you unclothed.

That was about to change. 

Slowly, you pulled down your pants before reaching back to undo your bra. Spencer's sight followed the piece of clothing as it dropped to the floor before settling on your face again. 

“Stop profiling me,” you warned him with a playful undertone in your voice. 

“Sorry, I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

By pulling down your panties, you shed your last piece of clothing, leaving you completely bare in front of your husband. It was a strange feeling to reveal yourself to him. It felt new yet familiar to allow him to see you. 

However, he didn't dare to look, even when you approached the tub. It wasn't clear whether he just tried to be respectful or if seeing you like this for the first time after months was too much for him to bear. His reaction reminded you that he never answered your question about you joining him. Maybe he was the one who wasn’t okay with this. 

Spencer’s eyes widened as he noticed the change of your mood before you did. Within a split second your heart started pounding and you stepped back to reach for your bathrobe. 

“Sorry, this was a stupid idea,” you muttered as you turned around to shield your body from his sight and your heart from the rejection. 

“My love,” he cooed from behind you.

The sound of splashing water gave away that he was exiting the tub. From the corner of your eyes you saw how he reached for his own robe. 

You felt his presence behind you. “Can I touch you?”

You nodded as you turned around, finding him wrapped in his robe with water still dripping from his jawline. Spencer reached out his hands to pull you into his arms. 

“What just happened?” He wondered, his voice laced with concern. 

Before you could think about it, you mumbled, “You didn't want to look at me.”

Your husband thought about your words for a moment, replaying the scene that had just unfolded in his mind. What you said wasn’t true. He wanted to look at you, to admire you fully like he had done countless times before. 

“I was afraid it would make you uncomfortable,” he confessed as he pulled back to be able to find your eyes. 

It was hard to read your expression which was not surprising considering you were mostly confused about your current state yourself.

“I miss the way you used to look at my body. I miss being close to you,” you whispered and paused for a moment. “I miss… sex.”

He closed his eyes before placing an innocent kiss on your forehead. “I know,” he breathed. Me too, he thought.

“Do you still think about it?” You wanted to know. 

“Sex?” 

Nodding, you watched his facial features intently. Ever since your attack, there were many occasions when the two of you had tiptoed around this subject. But never before had you been so blunt about it. 

It seemed like he was looking for the right words. “Yes, I do,” was what he settled on.

Raising your eyebrows, you asked, “With me?” 

The insecurity in your question wasn’t lost on Spencer but he still couldn't hold back a breathy laugh. “Of course, silly girl. You're my wife.”

“It’s just been so long that I would understand if you ever thought about doing it with someone else.”

“Stop that right now,” he said with a firm yet loving tone. “I would never cheat on you.” 

A shaky breath escaped your throat before you dared to say what had been bugging you for weeks now. “What if I’ll never be ready? What if things won’t ever be like before?” 

“That would be okay, too,” he reassured you. “There are many ways to create nearness and intimacy. Sex is just one way but it’s not necessary. At least for me it’s not.” 

“So you’d be okay to live without sex?” 

“Before I met you I thought that was my only option,” he quipped. 

You knew there had been a handful of women before you but you appreciated his joke nonetheless. It made you smile. 

Spencer let his fingertips brush over your cheeks. “But to answer your question, yes, I would be okay with that.”

His words were genuine. The way he looked at you with the most loving expression made your heart jump. The amber of his irises radiated a warmth you could get drunk on. You nestled your head against his chest and he held you even closer against his body. He was right. Sex wasn’t necessary to create nearness. However, you were still curious about what else you felt safe enough to try. 

“I want to get into the bathtub with you,” you whispered. “And I want you to look at me.” 

Loosening the embrace, you looked at your husband. With a nod he confirmed that he wanted that, too. 

With shaking fingers you brushed over his robe before gripping the material. “And I want to see you, too.”

Together you helped each other out of your robes until you stood bare in front of each other. You took a moment to admire the man in front of you. It had been a while since you had seen him like that. Unlike you he didn't deliberately hide his body from your sight but there hadn’t been many occasions in the past few months that allowed you to see him unclothed. 

His body looked familiar yet different at the same time. His tummy was a little bit softer than you remembered and you imagined what it would feel like underneath your palm. 

Spencer dared to let his eyes drop down to take in every inch of skin within sight. The way he looked at you made your skin tingle and you noticed how it broke out in goosebumps. 

“You're so beautiful,” he purred as he tentatively brushed over your arms. 

Tilting your head, you placed a soft kiss on his lips before breathing against them, “So are you.”

He took your hand in his to walk you over to the bathtub. Your husband got in first, bending his knees in an attempt to make himself smaller than he was. There was enough space to join him, a relieved sigh falling from your lips when you felt the warm water enveloping your body. 

First you sat a little awkwardly opposite one another for a few moments before you felt confident enough to get closer. Gently, you placed your hands on his knees to part them before moving closer to lean against his body sitting between his legs. Spencer’s heart pounded rapidly against his ribcage as you nestled against his chest. 

“Is that okay?” You wanted to make sure. 

“Yeah, I uh… I’m not sure where to put my hands,” he chuckled and you noticed how they hovered above the edge of the bathtub. 

Taking his hands in yours, you guided them towards the water, placing them underneath your chest. Even though you expected his touch, you still jerked when you felt his palms make contact with your body. 

Instinctively, your husband wanted to retract his hands again but you held them still with your own palms pressed against them. Once the initial shock faded, you were certain that you wanted to be held exactly like that. 

A part of you still wanted to fight this vulnerable situation but a much bigger, much more confident part longed to be close to the love of your life. 

It was as if Spencer sensed your ambiguity. “You okay?” 

“Yes,” you confirmed. Then you thought about the way your body flinched when he touched you. It had happened before each time Spencer had touched you in places that he had touched, too. “I just feel like my body has to relearn a couple of things.”

Spencer nodded before finally being able to relax a bit. He leaned back while holding you against him, relishing the sensation of having you close without any barriers between you. Just for a moment he forgot about what had happened to you and to your own surprise, so did you. 

For the following weeks you made it a new habit to take baths with each other. There was something so sweet about getting clean together, it became a sacred ritual you wanted to repeat over and over. 

Slowly but surely you got more comfortable around Spencer. There was a time when you didn't think it was possible that the two of you would cuddle every night and every morning without constantly having to fear that you’d freak out at any given moment. 

But just like that it happened. Spencer didn't have to think twice about hugging you from behind and leaving a feather-light kiss on your neck. He didn't hesitate to pull you into his arms when he woke up before you. 

He did however wake up in shock and almost jumped out of bed when one morning he realized he had sleepily pressed his erection against your thigh. Having woken up before him, you had noticed it, too. You could have easily moved away but found no reason to do so.

“I’m so sorry,” Spencer murmured as he moved away from you, his voice still sounding raspy from his slumber.

“You don’t have to apologize for that, Spencer. I know basic biology,” you snickered. “Now come back here.”

Hesitantly, he moved back towards your open arms. The warmth you radiated was too hard to resist so it took very little convincing for him to find his place inside your embrace again. 

Gentle fingertips danced along his arms, making him hum in contentment. It had always amazed you how his skin felt so particularly soft and tender in the morning. His curls hung unruly from his head and you couldn't resist intertwining your fingers with them. 

You thought back to the many times you had woken up like this. Back then when it still was normal for your hands to become curious enough to explore every curve and dip of each other’s bodies. 

It was odd to think about before. Sometimes it felt like a lifetime away, other times it felt like nothing had ever changed. It made you feel like the man who hurt you had the power to bring a new time reckoning upon you. You didn't want him to. 

It only spurred you further on to fully reclaim your body again. 

Your fingers found Spencer’s jaw to tilt his head just enough for you to be able to kiss him. His lips felt so soft as he slowly reciprocated your actions. It was sweet and innocent at first but your desire to feel more of him only grew the longer you kissed. Slightly shifting your leg you could feel his hardness again, making him whimper at the sudden pressure against it. 

As your hand found its way under his shirt, you brushed over the softness of his tummy. Shaking fingertips followed the trail of hair leading further down before changing their direction and moving upwards to feel his chest. The beating of his heart was faster than usual, almost erratic. 

With cautious motions he mirrored your eagerness and let his palm wander beneath your shirt as well. You deepened the kiss when you felt his fingers wander over your waist, leaving goosebumps on their path. Spencer became hungry, almost desperate as his tongue brushed over yours, melting into you in a way he hadn’t for too long. 

It was what you longed for too, what you had been hoping to finally be ready for. 

Then he touched your breast and it all came crashing down again. 

“Stop!” 

Healing really wasn’t linear. 

In an instant Spencer retracted his hand and leaned back to give you some space. Widened eyes looked back at him and it took both of you a second to realize what had just happened. Before he could apologize, you did. 

“I’m sorry… I really thought I was okay with that.”

For a moment Spencer closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. Then he looked at you again, a soft expression on his face. “Please don’t ever feel the need to apologize for that,” he cooed. 

Unlike other times, you were able to calm down quickly. Instead of pushing your husband further away, you still yearned for his proximity. He seemed surprised when you moved closer to him again to lay your head down on his chest. Content to still have the privilege to hold you close, he wrapped his arms around you before a relieved sigh fell from his lips. 

There was no need to leave the comfort of your shared bed just yet, so you just lay there together, basking in each other’s warmth. 

Spencer placed a gentle kiss into your hair before breathing, “I love you.” 

“I love you more.”

You tried your best to be kind to yourself in that moment. It was a learning opportunity for you. Just a few weeks ago lying close to your husband like that was unthinkable. Even if they felt like baby steps at the time, it was still progress. 

The images of recent intimate encounters flooded your mind and let a pleasant calmness spread through your body. Spencer’s kisses tasted sweet and made you feel insatiable, always longing for more. Feeling his skin pressed against yours as he held you close in the bathtub enveloped you in a safe feeling unlike anything else. 

You thought back to those rare moments when you considered taking things further lately, just like you had tried just now. There was something you had wondered about. 

“I have noticed that when we cuddle…,” you began your sentence, unsure of how to continue. “Even when we’re naked in the bathtub together, you uhm… never get aroused? That was very different before.” 

Spencer cleared his throat. “Yeah,” he let out an awkward laugh. “I try really hard not to. I think about baseball a lot.” 

His response confused you. Propping yourself up on one elbow, you raised your eyebrows at him. “You think about baseball when we’re taking baths together? You don’t even like sports.” 

Spencer just shrugged and added, “Sometimes I try to solve equations, too.”

“Please don’t do that anymore,” you pleaded as you laid back down beside him. “It makes me feel good to see you’re still interested in me.” 

“Of course I am still interested. I just really do not want to make you uncomfortable or feel pressured in any way.”

Your words were genuine when you said, “I don’t think that will happen. I actually really liked seeing you in all of your morning glory earlier.”

Your husband smiled at you. “Yeah?”

A smirk formed on your face. “It reminded me of the countless times we were both late for work because we couldn’t keep our hands to ourselves after waking up.” 

“That was fun,” Spencer chuckled. “What wasn’t fun though was the conversation I had to have with Hotch after being late four days in a row.” 

His words made you laugh, too. Then, after a few moments of comfortable silence, your husband hesitantly asked, “Can I ask you something?” 

Tilting your head to find his eyes, you responded, “Of course.”

“You don’t have to answer this but I’m wondering… Do you ever get aroused in those moments, too?” 

You were used to talking openly about intimacy with your husband, that had always been a normal part of your relationship. His question didn't feel odd and you wanted to respond to it. 

For a long time after what happened, your longing to feel his nearness wasn’t connected to any sexual desires. At times you even felt like your libido had gotten lost entirely. Recently that had changed. 

More and more you had become aware of the little spark inside you that was ignited when you were with him. It was very different from the burning flame that was there before but your desire grew each time you were together. 

“Lately, yes,” you sincerely answered. Thinking about it some more, you decided to share another detail with him. “I even started uhm… touching myself again.”

Spencer seemed a little surprised by your response. “You did? That's good to hear.” His palm brushed gently over your arm when he added, “I can imagine that's a good way to feel a connection to your body and your needs.” 

For a second you thought he might start one of his ramblings to share all his knowledge about the health benefits of masturbating. He didn't, though. 

“Yeah, it feels nice. Almost normal,” you said instead. “I obviously still have a long way to go when it comes to sex but… I finally feel like I’ll actually get there, eventually.”

“There's no rush,” he reminded you. “We have all the time in the world.” 

Your lips met his in a tender kiss. “Thank you for being so patient with me.” 

After a few more moments of enjoying each other's company, it was time to get up and get ready for the workday. That night you found yourself tangled up in bed with your husband again. 

As you breathed in his scent and felt the heat radiating off his skin, you noticed it again – the little spark inside your chest flared up and spread a tingling sensation through your body. 

Your mouth found Spencer's neck to leave a trail of kisses along it, before it moved over his jawline and found his lips at last. He hummed when you kissed him and you could feel his fingertips twitching against your waist. 

It didn't take long until you deepened the kiss, a quiet moan slipping through your lips when Spencer’s tongue found yours. 

With your body pressed against his you didn't allow any distance between the two of you. It still wasn’t enough for you, though. There was too much fabric in the way of really feeling close to him. 

Your hand moved to the hem of his shirt to grip it and impatiently push it upwards. Spencer moved with you as you pulled it over his head. When your fingers moved to the waistband of his pajama pants next, he interrupted the kiss to find your eyes. 

A smile was painted over your face when you nodded, reassuring him that you were okay. You weren’t sure yet where exactly this was going but you felt safe enough to explore your options.

“We can stop or slow down at any point,” he reminded you.

“I know.”

After kissing him again, you sat up so you could continue undressing him. Slowly you pulled down his pants, an audible breath falling from your lips when you saw he was already half-hard. 

Spencer scanned your face for any sign of discomfort but found none. What he saw instead was excitement and curiosity. It made him smile. 

He sat up and brushed his hands over the fabric of your shirt. By lifting your arms over your head you gave him the sign he needed to remove the piece of fabric. He gently motioned for you to lay back down before he made contact with your hips, carefully brushing over your pajama shorts. 

There was no hesitation to be found when you lifted your hips for him to pull them down, without ever breaking eye contact. You thought about how different this situation was from being naked with him in the bathtub. Some parts of you remained hidden from him even then. 

You wanted him to see you, even when being exposed to him like that still felt a little scary.

After he had dropped the last piece of clothing on the floor, you dared to open your thighs for him to see every part of you. A rosy shade spread over his cheeks as he dared to look at you. It reminded you of when you were with him for the very first time many years ago. 

Just like then, he breathed, “You're so beautiful.” 

You could feel how some arousal had already gathered at your center and wondered if Spencer could see the glistening. By the way his pupils dilated you had a hunch that he did. 

Then, after he had fully taken in your beauty, it was as if he was frozen in place. He used to be so confident in situations like that, knowing your body better than his own and never questioning his next move. Things were very different now and you both sensed it. 

His eyes met yours and it became obvious how unsure he was of how to proceed. 

Opening your arms, you cooed, “Come here, love.” 

He seemed relieved when he lay back down beside you again. You wanted to kiss him but he hesitated. 

After a moment, he suggested, “I think it would be helpful if you talked to me more. I need you to tell me exactly what you want to do.”

“I’m figuring this out as we go, too,” you explained. “Right now I don't know where this is going. I only know that I really want to kiss you.”

His nose brushed against yours. “I would really like that, too.”

Just a split second later you got lost in another kiss. The way your bodies were pressed against one another while your lips were connected let you briefly forget where your body ended and his began. After shifting your position, you became well aware of that again. 

Spencer was fully hard now and his erection was firmly pressed against your thigh. You moved your leg slightly, prompting him to whimper into your mouth. The hand on your waist moved down to your hip and his fingertips pressed into your skin. 

“Hey,” you mumbled against his lips. “Can we slow down for a moment?” 

His grip on your hip lightened immediately before he moved his hand back up to your waist. Spencer placed one last peck on your mouth and pulled back. “Do you want to stop?” 

You shook your head. “No, I just need a little break. To make sure it doesn't get too much.” 

The truth was that you felt really good in that moment. Excited, loved and so, so turned on. It just felt safer to take things slowly. Gently you pushed against his shoulder until he was lying on his back. You found your home inside his arms. 

Your lips grazed over his cheek as you breathed, “How are you feeling, Spencer?” 

He chuckled at your question. “You have no idea how good I’m feeling right now.” 

As you let your head rest on his shoulder, you dared to look down at his body. The extent of his desire laid on his stomach and you noticed how a bead of precum had formed at his tip. Your fingers itched to touch him, to remember how hot and heavy his cock always felt inside your palm. 

A curious hand made its way down his chest, over the side of his stomach, brushing along his thigh. For a second you hesitated but then you let your palm hover over his hardness. 

Then you felt a pit form in your stomach and decided to retract your hand again. It might have just been your nervousness but that didn't change the fact that you couldn't continue in this moment. 

Your husband had watched each of your motions intently. It was obvious that he was burning to find relief. 

Tilting your head to find his eyes, you purred, “I want you to feel good.”

“It’s okay, my love. You don’t have to,” he reminded you.

You knew that, of course. There was still something else you could do together. 

As you began kissing his neck, his throat vibrated under your lips and a moan escaped his mouth. Then, you whispered into his ear, “I want you to touch yourself.”

Spencer’s eyes widened at your request and the rosy color on his cheeks turned a shade darker. It seemed like he needed a little more encouragement, so you lay back down inside his arm and opened your legs to give yourself access. 

“Okay, I’ll start,” you teased as you let your hand wander down your own body. 

Mesmerized by the sight, his eyes followed the path of your fingers. When you parted your folds to access your most sensitive spot, Spencer hissed a curse. 

The honeyed wetness between your legs made it easy for your fingertips to move through your folds. It felt relieving to touch yourself like that. Just like Spencer you were yearning for release. 

When your husband heard your heavy sighs as you pleasured yourself, he couldn't hold back anymore. You watched as his hand found his cock, a view that let your heart pound inside your chest. 

First, he wrapped his fingers around his shaft and squeezed, prompting droplets of his arousal to run down his tip. Then, he swiped his thumb over the leaking head before he slowly began moving up and down. Your mouth hung open as you watched that sinful scene unfold in front of you. 

As Spencer accelerated the pace of his fist, sounds of pleasure filled the room. His eyebrows were scrunched up and desperation was written all over his face. 

He had never looked more beautiful.

Distracted by the mesmerizing view, the hand at your core stopped moving. Instead of continuing, you let it wander away from your body to touch Spencer’s thigh. Before you could overthink it, your hand kept moving to his center. 

A heavy breath fell from his lips as your fingertips cautiously brushed over the velvety skin of his balls, making his body jerk underneath you. Smiling to yourself, you remembered how sensitive he was. 

Spencer stopped moving his hand, waiting to see how you’d proceed. When you touched the soft curls at his base, he whimpered. It was then that you realized that you were not scared anymore and that your nervousness had turned into excitement. 

“Can I continue?”

Spencer audibly gulped before removing his hand. “Yes… please.” 

When you wrapped your fingers around his length, both of you moaned in unison. Holding him in your hand like that felt both familiar and novel at the same time. You started moving your palm and quickly remembered how exactly he liked to be touched. 

“Fuck,” he groaned. “Feels good!” 

With all the built-up tension and those months of abstinence, it only took a few moments until Spencer was getting close to reaching his point of no return. Familiar with all the telltale signs of his impending climax, you continued caressing him. Coming closer to his undoing, his cock twitched inside your palm and his entire body started quivering. 

His release began spilling over your hand and onto his stomach while he kept pulsing against your fingers. You kissed his jaw and his neck before you reached for the tissues on your nightstand to do some damage control of the mess you had created. 

Your husband’s chest was still heaving when you finished cleaning him up. Concern was written all over his face when he found your eyes.

He pulled you back into his embrace as he asked, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah I am. That was really fun,” you snickered. 

Spencer's hand brushed over your back as he placed a soft kiss on your mouth. “Do you want me to touch you?”

The truth was that your entire body was aching for his touch. You could feel the heat burning between your legs and were aware that your arousal had started coating the insides of your thighs. It had been a long time since you’d felt so turned on. 

And yet, the thought of him actually doing something about it made you nervous. 

“I’m not sure,” you admitted. “I would like to kiss you again, though.”

He let out a breathy laugh before finding your mouth once more. Feeling his lips on yours only blazed up the fire burning inside you. You shifted your position until you were hovering over your husband, one of his thighs pressed between yours. 

Tentatively you began rocking your hips against his leg, sighing as you realized how pleasant the friction was. 

“Is that okay?” You breathed against his lips as you kept moving. 

“More than okay,” he reassured you. “Use my body however you like.”

You sat up as you ground against his skin, feeling him tense his thigh underneath you. Taking his hands in yours, you placed them on your hips so he could help you move. Soon you had created a mess on his leg as you spread your wetness along his skin. 

With your entire entire body twitching, your motions became erratic. Looking down at Spencer, you found him staring at you with lust-filled eyes and a wicked grin painted over his face. 

As you danced along the edge of euphoria, you forgot your surroundings. It was only you and him right then. “I love you,” you whimpered and before your husband could respond, you collapsed into his arms as pleasure overcame you. You kept pressing your core against his leg as your whole body shook. 

Spencer held you firmly inside his arms as you came down from your high. He kissed your forehead and whispered, “I love you more.”

After your heart rate had come down to a normal frequency and you weren’t panting anymore, you kissed your husband. 

“How are you feeling?” He wanted to know. 

“Good. And also a little sticky,” you snickered, hinting at the mess you had created between your legs. 

“Yeah, me too,” Spencer chuckled. “How about I run us a bath so we can get cleaned up?” 

The prospect of that made your heart flutter. “That sounds wonderful.”

Author's Note: Writing this story took me two years and I am so relieved I was finally able to get it to paper. I hope reading it felt as cathartic for you as writing it was for me. Thank you for reading! I would really appreciate a reblog and a comment.

Taglist: @adoredfromafar @grumpyy-bearr @frickin-bats @pleasantwitchgarden @cynbx @xserenax-13 @alexxavicry @samuel-de-champagne-problems @evvy96 @reidsbookclub @lover-of-books-and-tea @sebs-oxygen @nomajdetective @kobaltdragon @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @castiels-majestic-wings

[gwens-love]

Forever and Always

Summary: In a cozy cottage near Salem, you and Agatha Harkness revel in a life filled with love and laughter. With each tender moment and playful exchange, you discover that true magic lies in the warmth of your shared connection.

Warnings: pure fluff.

Word count: 1.2k

~Agatha Harkness x fem!reader~

Please don’t copy/steal or translate this work thanks.

~<~>~<~>~<~>~<~>~<~>~<~>~<~>~<~>~<~>~<~>~

The stars are just beginning to peek through the darkening sky as you sit on the porch swing, nestled beside Agatha. The two of you sway gently in the quiet evening air, her head resting against your shoulder, hand laced with yours. Her thumb traces lazy circles over your skin, a touch that feels grounding and timeless.

After a moment of silence, she lets out a soft sigh. “You know, I never thought I’d end up here,” she murmurs, voice barely louder than the evening breeze.

You turn to look at her, curiosity in your gaze. “What do you mean?”

She gives a faint smile, her eyes drifting over the soft landscape around you. “A life that’s… peaceful. Simple. Before I met you, I thought I’d be alone forever, wrapped up in magic and secrets.” She glances at you, the edges of her mouth quirking up slightly. “But then, somehow, you happened.”

A warmth blooms in your chest as you look at her, feeling a familiar thrill at the way her eyes soften for you. Gently, you brush a curl from her face, letting your fingers linger. “I can’t imagine you anywhere else,” you say softly. “This life… it feels right.”

She smirks, “Oh, so now you’re the hopeless romantic?” she teases, but there’s no mistaking the warmth in her eyes.

“Maybe I am,” you admit, meeting her gaze. “Or maybe I’m just enchanted by a certain powerful witch.”

A laugh slips from her lips, and she nudges you with her shoulder. “Is that so?” Her voice drops, her tone playful but sincere. “Well, I may just save my best spells for you so that you can’t break free from them.”

Your heart flutters as she leans closer, and you find yourself whispering, “Then it’s a good thing I don’t want to break free.”

She watches you, her laughter fading as her expression softens. “You really mean that?”

“With every piece of me,” you reply, not even a hint of doubt in your voice. “I love you, Agatha.”

For a heartbeat, she looks almost taken aback, but her surprise fades, replaced by something deeper. “I love you too,” she whispers, her fingers squeezing yours. And then her smirk returns. “Even though you did burn the biscuits yesterday.”

A laugh escapes you, breaking the soft silence. “They weren’t burnt they were rustic!”

“Uh-huh,” she says, shaking her head with a grin. “Lucky for you, I find that sort of thing endearing.”

“Oh, really?” you reply, raising an eyebrow. “And what else do you find endearing?”

She traces a gentle line along the back of your hand, feigning thought. “Let’s see… The way you hum in the garden, even when you don’t know the words. The way you try to read my spell books, even though half of it looks like gibberish to you.” Her voice grows softer, her gaze warm. “And the way you look at me, like I’m the only magic in the world.”

Her words fill you with warmth, and you lift a hand to tuck a stray curl behind her ear. “Maybe you are the only magic in the world.”

Agatha rolls her eyes, but there’s a blush dusting her cheeks. “Hopeless,” she murmurs, leaning her forehead against yours. “But I wouldn’t change a single thing about you.”

You grin, unable to hide the joy her words spark. “Forever and always.”

“Forever and always,” she echoes, and the promise lingers in the space between you as she leans in to press her lips to yours. The kiss is slow and gentle, filled with every unspoken vow, every hope for the life you’ve built together.

When she finally pulls back, her expression turns mischievous. “You know, I might really need to cast a charm on you to make sure you stay.”

You laugh, resting your forehead against hers. “You already have me under your spell, Agatha, you know that. Just like you know that I don’t ever want to break it.”

She smiles, resting her head back against your shoulder, a rare openness in her face. “Good. Because I plan on keeping you forever.”

~<~>~<~>~<~>~

The smell of smoke unfurls from the oven like a warning, filling the kitchen in seconds. You freeze, realizing with dread what’s happened, and rush to open the oven door. A wave of heat greets you, accompanied by the unmistakable sight of biscuits burned to a crisp. You cough, frantically fanning the smoke away with a dish towel.

“Oh, no, no, no…” you mumble to yourself, staring down at the poor, charred biscuits, their tops blackened and brittle.

“Is there a reason it smells like a bonfire in here?” comes Agatha’s amused voice from behind you. You turn to see her standing in the doorway, arms crossed, one eyebrow arched in that signature, half-teasing way of hers.

Your cheeks flush as you try to salvage a bit of dignity. “I… I thought I’d surprise you with some biscuits,” you say, looking sheepishly down at the mess.

“Sweetheart,” she says, stepping closer to peer into the oven with a bemused grin, “you definitely surprised me.” She reaches out, pulling one of the biscuits off the tray. It crumbles instantly in her fingers, falling apart with a soft crunch. “Though I’m not sure ‘biscuits’ is the right word for… whatever these are.”

You groan, pressing a hand to your forehead. “I know! I thought I timed it right, but I got distracted, and… well, here we are.” You give her a helpless shrug. “They’re not that bad, are they?”

She bites back a smile, clearly fighting the urge to laugh, and lifts one burnt biscuit between her fingers. “Well, darling, they look… crispy,” she says diplomatically, but her eyes sparkle with humor.

“Crispy?” you scoff, rolling your eyes. “That’s not the word I would use… they’re just rustic.”

Agatha’s lips quirk up, and she steps close, wrapping her arms around you from behind. “Oh, I don’t know about that but I find it endearing that you tried.” She presses a kiss to your shoulder. “Though maybe next time you can let me help.”

You turn in her arms, looking at her with a mix of exasperation and affection. “So you’re saying you’d be my baking supervisor?”

“Exactly,” she replies, chuckling. ��Clearly, you need some expert guidance.” She gives you a gentle squeeze. “What would you do without me?”

“Probably burn down the cottage at this rate,” you say, laughing despite yourself.

“Mm, and we can’t have that,” she teases, her voice softening. “I rather like this little place… and the person I share it with.”

You smile, touched by her words, and lean into her. “Thank you for not making too much fun of me,” you murmur. “Even if I really deserve it this time.”

“Oh, I’ll still be teasing you about this for days,” she says, her voice warm with affection. “Every time you step into the kitchen, I’ll be there with a timer in hand.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Great. My own personal baking critic.”

She grins, leaning in close. “Consider it my job to keep you in line,” she says, brushing her lips against yours. “And besides… you’re too adorable to stay mad at.”

You blush, smiling against her kiss. “I’m glad you think so. Because I think we’ll need another round of biscuits.”

“Together this time,” she says, taking your hand and guiding you to the counter with a smirk. “Now, let’s make sure these actually turn out edible, shall we?”

With Agatha by your side, the two of you begin again, laughing as you go, her gentle guidance turning a morning mishap into something infinitely sweeter.

~<~>~<~>~<~>~

“Yes, forever and always.” You repeated dreamingly with a dopey smile on your face.

~<~>~<~>~<~>~<~>~<~>~<~>~<~>~<~>~<~>~<~>~

Fin<3

[chocodile]

Some new OCs with cars to complete the set I made in 2019!

Explanations under the cut.

Young Hyden - 1975 Lamborghini Countach

He would want some sort of luxury sports car. I mean, he'd have to have one. What else could he possibly drive but something loud, flashy, expensive, and oozing with ego and sex appeal?

He couldn't decide between "Cocaine Binge" orange or "Satanic Panic" black so he bought one of each. He alternates between them while the other is in the shop due to either the consequences of his own bad driving or general luxury car malaise.

Unfortunately, the Countach is three and a half feet tall while Hyden is just over seven feet tall. Even with custom seats to accommodate his height, it's not a comfortable driving experience. Luckily for him, the choice to give up his stupid sports cars to spare his aching knees is made for him when he totals one of them in a particularly bad accident and gets his license suspended.

Old Hyden - 1994 Bentley Dominator

It's now the mid 90s and Hyden is older, fatter, and more arthritic. Pickings are pretty slim for a rich man who simply does not fit in a small vehicle. I mean, there are options, but not a lot among the luxury brands, which means those options might as well not exist at all. The SUV boom was still in its infancy and the Bentley Bentayga and Rolls-Royce Cullinan, two other cars I considered for him, would not exist for another decade or a few.

In 1994, in the real world, Bentley made six huge gas-guzzling bricks for the Sultan of Brunei. These luxury car-slabs cost £3,000,000 a pop. In my fictional OC world, Hyden has #7. Or at least would have a similar custom luxury SUV with a similar price tag.

He no longer drives, citing his growing list of illnesses as the reason (No mention of his suspended license). Other drivers on the road breathe a sigh of relief. Of course, that's what chauffeurs are for.

Alternate car: This funny little bunny car toy I bought. Isn't it great?

Alex & Ridge - 1996 Ural Tourist

Instead of a car, Alex gets a motorcycle to symbolize her death wish… and also for other reasons, but that's the main reason.

A practical old thing. It's broken down a million times but she and Ridge always manage to revive it. She appreciates its ability to determinedly haul ass through rugged terrain and the fact that she can carry stuff using the sidecar. Ridge appreciates that sometimes he is the thing that gets carried around in the side car. He is also responsible for the shark face on it. :o)

…He drives it too, of course. He's a perfectly good, reasonable driver. Alex is just kind of a control freak about it. She is one of those people who grits her teeth and presses her foot into the passenger seat floor any time she's riding shotgun. It's easier to just let her be the driver.

They bought it together and drive it all over Europe doing whatever odd shady jobs they do in a modern setting. Alex craves one of those snazzy hyper-durable Japanese motorcycles, but cannot afford one. Maybe someday… Ridge isn't so sure about that kind of change. The bike still works as long as you fix it constantly, so what’s the problem? Plus, he'd be sad to see the shark face go.

[ohquail]

SBG as Voltron AU

Friends that wanted to be tagged: @blue-eyed-moon-child @niredsw @random-gamer1942

The roles

Black Lion: Tyler He's very much leadership material and with Ashlyn as Allura, it gives Tyler the perfect opportunity to be leader when she's not around yet give her the ability to run things like she does in the comic and Allura does in the show.

Blue Lion: Taylor She's thoughtful, caring, puts others first, like Lance did with everyone (LANCE STOP GETTING HURT), and Allura did at the end of the show.

Red Lion: Aiden Very loose and fast, likes to live on edge, very much a second hand man and doesn't take leadership even when he could, allowing Tyler and Ashlyn to take over. But also protective of everyone, like Keith is of Shiro and King Alfor was of Allura.

Green Lion: Logan Probably the smartest in the group when it comes to school like things. I think that he would struggle in the same way Pidge did when connecting to nature, in the "I like being inside but if I have to connect to the tree I will"

Yellow Lion: Ben Big guy, smart, compassionate, thoughtful, just like Hunk and Gyrgan.

Ashlyn is Allura Ashlyn is Allura because she fits the role of Red as much as Aiden does. So when/if Aiden gets the Keith running off to galra arc, Ashlyn gets the red lion :D

Alex is Coran

Maverick is Zarkon

Ryan is Thace

Jasmine is Haggar (without the weird, being honerva bit? like no romantic feelings please)

Charlie is Sendak (Maybe I'll draw these later)

Continue for Chapter 1: (This will be a continuing series & I will be splitting episodes into one-two chapters depending on length)

“You come up here to rock out?” Aiden asked, removing Logan’s headphones slightly. Logan jumped, whipping around to see who was behind him. “Oh, Aiden, Ben.” Logan greeted with a sigh of relief, “No, um, just looking at the stars,”

Aiden and Ben exchanged a glance. "Stars?" Aiden echoed, lifting his gaze to the empty canvas of the sky. "It's a little cloudy tonight, don't you think?"

Logan shrugged, “So?” “Where'd you get this stuff? It doesn't look like Garrison tech.” Aiden frowned, giving Logan a confused look. “I built it,” Logan sat up proudly and grinned at Aiden and Ben. “You built all of this?” Aiden asked as Ben bent down to touch one of the pieces of equipment. Logan reached over and gently smacked Ben’s hand away, “Stop it!” He turned his attention back to Aiden, “With this thing, I can scan all the way to the edge of the solar system.” “That right?” Aiden asked, a smug grin on his face, “Would you say, all the way to Kerberos?” Logan froze, slightly glaring at Aiden. “You go ballistic every time the instructors bring it up.”

Logan glared at Aiden. The blonde continued, “What's your deal?”

Ben reached towards Logan’s equipment again. “Second warning Ben!” Logan turned and scolded.

“Look, Logan, if we're going to bond as a team, we can't have any secrets.” Aiden squatted down to Logan’s eye level. Logan sighed, “Fine. The world as you know it is about to change. The Kerberos Mission wasn't lost because of some malfunction or crew mistake.” Ben reached over to touch Logan’s computer. “Stop touching my equipment!” Logan demanded.

Ben made a face of disgust before sitting back and nodding that he’d listen this time. Logan continued, “So, I've been scanning the system and picking up alien radio chatter,” “I’m sorry what?” Aiden asked, blinking in disbelief. “Aliens? Really?” Logan nodded.

“So, you're insane. Got it.” Ben’s phone spoke out for him. “I'm serious.” Logan promised, “They keep repeating one word, ‘Voltron.’ And tonight, it's going crazier than I have ever heard it.”

“What is Voltron?” Aiden asked as if Logan had all the answers.

“I have no clue,” Logan gave a helpless shrug.

Suddenly the PA activated, “Attention, students. This is not a drill. We are on lockdown! Security situation Zulu Niner.” The gentleman on the comms instructed, “Repeat: all students are to remain in barracks until further notice.”

“What's going on?” Aiden asked, a frown as he looked up at the PA system. “Is that a meteor?” Logan asked, squinting through his glasses. “A very, very big meteor?” Aiden asked, in disbelief as he turned back around. Logan grabbed his binoculars from his bag and held them up to his face. “No. It's a ship,” Logan looked slightly panicked. Aiden grabbed the binoculars and pointed them at the sky. “Holy crow! I can't believe what I'm seeing! That's not one of ours.” “No. It’s one of theirs,” Logan shook his head and started packing up his stuff. “Where are you going? We’re under lock down,” Aiden furrowed his brow in confusion and upset.

“I've got to see that ship,” Logan told Aiden, grabbing his binoculars back before dipping over the short edge of the building they were on. Aiden watched for a moment as Logan hit the ground and started running towards the airship that had now crashed into the ground. “Come on Ben,” Ben grabbed Aiden’s arm before the blonde jumped off the building after Logan. “This is the worst team-building exercise ever,” He had typed into his phone. It read the message out loud before Aiden laughed and turned to jump off the building.

The sound of multiple Garrison vehicles departing to the crash site erupted from the building just before Aiden landed with a thud on softened earth, a cloud of dust billowing around him. Ben touched down more gracefully, landing on the balls of his feet. His eyes remained focused on Logan's receding form.

——— As soon as they approached the crash site, Ben and Aiden noticed that Logan had set up his computer behind a rock formation. Aiden and Ben ran over and crouched down with Logan. “What are you doing?” Aiden asked, looking over Logan’s shoulder to see the computer. “Trying to hack into their security cameras,” Logan shushed Aiden with his finger. “You can do that?” Ben’s phone spoke out for him. “Yeah,” Logan answered without anymore explanation. Aiden and Ben glanced at each other with concerned emotions etched onto their faces. “They set up a camera in there and I grabbed its feed.” Logan moved the computer for Ben and Aiden to both see.

“Look!” Aiden pointed at the screen at a teenage boy struggling against restrains. A staticky voice came through the feed, “Hey! What are you doing?” The boy asked, continuing to struggle. The head of cadet training, Iverson, motioned for two people in hazmat suits to hold the boy down. “Calm down, Tyler. We just need to keep you quarantined until we run some tests,” Tyler continued to struggle against the people in hazmat suits, “You have to listen to me! They destroy worlds!” He grunted as one of the people threw his shoulder into the table, “Aliens are coming!” “That's Tyler! The pilot of the Kerberos Mission! That guy was in our class!” Aiden looked completely shocked.

Ben watched the video feed for a moment longer, his fingers quickly tapping on the screen of his phone. “Guess he's not dead in space, after all,” the robotic voice echoed around him.

“But where's the rest of the crew?” Logan asked, his eyebrows furrowing as he scanned the screen for the other crew members.

“Do you know how long you've been gone?” Iverson asked Tyler. Tyler shot Iverson a disgusted look, “I don't know. Months? Years? Look, there's no time. Aliens are coming here for a weapon.” Tyler continued to ramble, “They're probably on their way. They'll destroy us. We have to find Voltron!” “Voltron?” Logan asked, staring at the screen in disbelief.

“Put him under,” Iverson instructed, “Until we figure out more,” Tyler freaked out, “Don't put me under! No! There's no time!” He assured them but one of the hazmat suited people stuck a needle into his arm.

The trio outside the tent watched as Tyler drifted off to sleep. “They didn't ask about the rest of the crew.” Logan frowned. “Why didn’t they ask about the rest of the crew?” “What are they doing? He's a legend. They're not even gonna listen to him?” Aiden exclaimed, throwing his hands up in exasperation.

“We have to get him out.” Logan decided, shutting his computer and stashing it into his backpack. Before Aiden and Logan could jump the gun and rush into the tent to save Tyler, Ben held up a hand as he tried to quickly type out his thoughts. “I hate to be the voice of reason, always, but weren't we watching on Logan’s computer because there was no way to get past the guards?” “That was before we were properly motivated,” Logan assured Ben with a pat on the shoulder before a large explosion rang out on the opposite side of the canyon.

“Is that the aliens? Are they here? They got here so quick!” Ben’s phone rang out after a moment. “No, those explosions were a distraction, for him.” Aiden pointed at a hooded figure parking a hover bike before they rushed into the tent where the Garrison was keeping Tyler.

“The Garrison's headed toward the blast, and he's sneaking in from the other side.” Aiden frowned.

“Who is that?” Ben’s phone asked before Logan and Aiden both jumped over the wall. “Only one way to find out!” Logan called up to the tall boy before the blonde and brunette started to sprint towards the tent.

Ben hesitated, glanced toward the distant explosion once more, then sprinted after them, his phone clutched tight in one hand.

Inside the tent, Tyler was still unconscious, his face pale against the cold metal table. Two people in hazmat suit were examining the unconscious boy as the hooded person walked into the tent. “These readings are off the chart,” One man said before the other noticed the hooded figure. “HEY!” The man shouted, pointing a gloved finger at the intruder.

But the hooded figure moved with a speed that didn’t seem quite possible. They knocked the two men unconscious swiftly and efficiently before rushing over to the table and yanking off their hood. “Tyler?” Taylor asked, her eyes seemingly playing a trick on her. She unbuckled her twin brother from the table before wrapping his arm around her shoulder. “Nope.” Aiden walked in with Logan right on his tail. “No, you— No, no, no. No, you don't. I'm saving Tyler,” “Who are you?” Taylor asked, before looking at Logan. “Logan?” “Hi Taylor,” Logan waved before looking around the tent. “Where’s the rest of the crew?” “No time for that! We need to get out of here before the Garrison grumps come back,” Aiden insisted.

Text from Logan’s phone rang out in the silence. “They’re on their way back. Now.” Logan pointed at the entrance where they had left Ben on look out.

Taylor glared at them, her eyes flitting between Aiden and Logan. But she could feel Tyler sagging against her, his breaths ragged. “Come on,” Taylor sighed, motioning with her free hand for Aiden to walk with her.

Logan followed after them, casting a nervous glance over his shoulder. "We're coming out," Logan sent a message to Ben, who was still outside the tent. As soon as they got outside, all 5 of them loaded onto Taylor’s hover bike, “Can we catch a ride with you? Thanks!” Aiden smiled at the hispanic girl as he climbed up on the bike after her.

“Is this thing going to be big enough for all of us?” Logan asked, as Aiden handed him Tyler. “No,” Taylor started the bike and took off as the Garrison professors and admin started to approach the tent. “Why am I holding this guy?” Logan asked, adjusting Tyler’s weight on him but careful not to let the boy fall off the bike.

“Can't this thing go any faster?” Aiden questioned, with a judgmental tone.

“We could toss out some non-essential weight,” Taylor shot back with a smirk on her face.

“Oh, right!” Aiden looked around for something to toss off the bike, “Okay, so that was an insult.” “Big guy! Lean left!” Taylor instructed to Ben. Ben leaned as instructed. His silent compliance added a much-needed stability to their chaotic escape. Tyler groaned softly in Logan's arms, stirring but not waking.

“Aw, man! Mr. Harris just wiped out Professor Montgomery! No, no. He's fine,” Logan assured the rest of the group. Taylor rolled her eyes.

“Big guy, lean right!” Taylor instructed Ben again and he did as he was told. “Guys? Is that a cliff up ahead?” Logan asked with stammer in his voice.

“Oh, no, no, no!” Aiden protested. “Yup,” Taylor smirked and pressed on the gas pedal. “No, no, no!” Logan and Aiden screamed as the bike approached the edge of the cliff.

“What are you doing? You're going to kill us all!” Logan asked, regret of this adventure seeping into his voice. “Shut up and trust me!” Taylor commanded, her grip tightening on the handlebars. As their speed increased, the ground beneath them dropped away and for a moment they were suspended in air.

————— In the morning, Taylor walked out to where Tyler had been admiring the sunset. “Hey Ty,” She greeted her brother.

"Hey Tay," Tyler responded, not taking his eyes off the horizon. He was sitting on a rock, legs folded beneath him in criss cross applesauce.

“It's good to have you back,” Taylor moved and sat down next to Tyler.

Tyler turned and looked at her with a faint smile on his face. “It's good to be back,” Taylor smiled back before laying into the questions, “So, what happened out there? Where were you?”

“I wish I could tell you, Tay. My head is still pretty scrambled from the whole experience,” Tyler shook his head softly. “I was on an alien ship, but somehow I escaped. It's all a blur. But, how did you know to come save me when I crashed?” “You should come see this,” Taylor stood up and offered Tyler her hand.

——— “What have you been working on, Taylor?” Tyler asked as Taylor yanked a cloth off the cork board on the wall. Logan, Aiden and Ben paused what they were doing and looked over at the twins.

“I can't explain it, really,” Taylor looked at the bulletin board, “After getting booted from the Garrison, I was kind of lost and found myself drawn out to this place. It's like something some energy, was telling me to search,” “Search for what?” Aiden asked.

“Well, I didn't really know at the time until I stumbled across this area,” Taylor pointed at a picture that was almost out of her reach, “It's an outcropping of giant boulders with caves covered in these ancient markings. Each tells a slightly different story about a blue lion, but they all share clues leading to some event, some arrival happening last night,” She turned to Tyler, “Then, you showed up.” A thought dawned on Tyler, “I probably should thank you all for helping Tay get me out of there,” He extended his hand towards Aiden. “Aiden, right?”

Aiden nodded and took Tyler’s hand in his. After a firm handshake, Tyler moved to Logan and Ben. “The quiet guy is Ben. I’m Logan. So, did anyone else from your crew make it out?” “Uh, I’m not sure. Everything is a bit of a daze still,” Tyler frowned, “Sorry,” “It’s okay, don’t worry about it,” Logan assured Tyler.

Ben typed up something on his phone, “Yeah, sorry to interrupt, but back to the aliens. Where are they now? Are they coming? Are they coming for us? Where are they at this very moment?” Everyone chuckled at the automated voice messing up a few words at the general repetitiveness of the message. “I can't really put it together. I remember the word ‘Voltron.’ It's some kind of weapon they're looking for, but I don't know why,” Tyler paused, “Whatever it is, I think we need to find it before they do.” Ben quickly typed up another message, “Well, last night, I was rummaging through Logan’s stuff, and-” “Why were you going through my stuff?” Logan asked, cutting off the automated voice. Ben rolled his eyes softly before typing out a new message and letting it play. “I watched a lady bug crawl in. But, then, I started reading his diary.” “What?” Logan asked, grabbing the book Ben pulled out of his pocket away from the taller boy. Ben’s message kept playing out of the phone, “I noticed the repeating series of numbers the aliens are searching for -looks a lot like a Fraunhofer line.” “Frown who?” Taylor asked with a frown on her face.

Ben typed a reply quickly, “It's a number describing the emission spectrum of an element, only, this element doesn't exist on Earth. I thought it might be this Voltron. I think can build a machine to look for it, like a Voltron finder,” Aiden stared at his cousin in shock as the tall boy pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket. Ben typed up one more message before opening the paper up. “The wavelength looks like this.” “Give me that!” Taylor demanded before holding it up to the picture she had pointed to earlier. The two pictures, the graph and photograph, matched up perfectly.

———

“Okay, I admit it. This is super freaky.” Aiden mumbled under his breath as the group traversed the desert plateaus. “I'm getting a reading.” Taylor looked at the small device that Ben had put together and given her to read. “This way,” She pulled Logan, who’s bag was filled with the rest of the equipment and attached to the device in Taylor’s hand, in the direction of the reading.

After a while of walking, they came across a cave. Adorning the walls was several carvings, no, hundreds of carvings of a female lion.

“Whoa.” The group looked around and gasped simultaneously. Tyler turned towards Taylor, “What are these?” “These are the lion carvings I was telling you about,” Taylor assured Tyler, before dragging her hand over the dust on the wall. Immediately the carving lit up bright blue and shined in Taylor’s face. Taylor jumped back into Tyler’s arms as the ground crumbled beneath the small group. Everyone screamed as the floor collapsed and shot them down a slide like earth fixture. “TAYLOR!” Aiden complained as soon they landed. “Why do you and Ben feel the need to touch everything?” Ben turned and glared at Aiden, but remained quiet as usual. “I didn’t know that touching the wall would make the floor collapse,” Taylor told Aiden, everyone turned toward a large giant Lion with a force field. “Is this it? Is this the Voltron?” Tyler asked. “It must be,” Logan took the tracker device out of Taylor’s hand. “This is what's been causing all of this crazy energy out here.” “Looks like there's a force field around it.” Aiden point out as Taylor and he started to walk up to it.

“Does anyone else get the feeling this is staring at them?” Taylor asked, moving slightly. “No,” Tyler followed his sister and the blonde up to the lion. “Hm, yeah no. It’s definitely following me,” Taylor decided. Aiden walked up and gently put his hands on the force field. “I wonder how we get through this,” Taylor smirked as a idea popped into her head, “Maybe you just have to knock,” She rapped her fingers against the cool energy field, it immediately fell away. “AH!” Taylor jumped back slightly. A vision of a large robotic man appeared in all five kids minds. “Woah,” Logan looked up at the lion.

“Uh, did everyone just see that?” Tyler asked, rubbing his head slightly. “Voltron is a robot.” Aiden muttered as if in a trance, “Voltron is a huge, huge, awesome robot.” “And this thing is only one part of it! I wonder where the rest of them are.” Taylor mused as she walked up to the lion. “This is what they're looking for,” Tyler whispered, mostly to himself. “Incredible.” The lion stood up as Taylor approached, and Ben and Logan screamed. “Come on babies! Let’s check it out!” “Hate to be a voice of reason, like ever, but Taylor stop touching things!” Aiden ran after the girl as she darted into the Lion.

Tyler motioned for Ben and Logan to follow him after the other two. Ben typed something up on his phone quickly, “Isn’t this a bad idea?” “Yeah but it’s a fun idea, live a little,” Tyler smirked before walking up into the lion as well. Ben and Logan glanced at each other once before following Tyler into the ship. As soon as they entered the lion, Aiden turned to them. “Okay, guys, I feel the need to point out, just so that we're all aware. We are in some kind of futuristic alien cat head right now.” “Yup,” Taylor smirked, moving to sit down. She put her hands on the controls.

As soon as she did, a deep purring spoke through her head. “Woah,” She turned to the rest of the group, “Did you guys just hear that?” “Hear what?” Logan asked, looking at Taylor. Taylor looked around the small cockpit, “I think it's talking to me.” She mumbled, before moving the controls around. The lion immediately took off, and the lion shot out of the cave.

Aiden, Logan and Ben grabbed each other and screamed. Tyler started at them in disbelief for a moment before turning his attention to Taylor. “Careful Tay,” He pointed out a rock formation. Taylor responded immediately, moving the controls around to avoid the obstacle. “You are the worst pilot ever!” Logan screamed as Taylor sent the Lion into a spiral.

With an eager grin, Taylor turned to the others and exclaimed, “Isn't this awesome?” Taylor asked. “Make it stop.” Logan begged, “Make it stop,” “I’m not doing anything.” Taylor promised, “It's like it's on autopilot.” The Lion steered itself towards the atmosphere, “Where are you going?” Aiden asked, stumbling as the lion rocked violently.

“I just said it's on autopilot!” Taylor insisted, “It says there's an alien ship approaching Earth. I think we're supposed to stop it.” “What did it say, exactly?” Tyler asked, leaning forward to look out the window.

“It's not like it's saying words.” Taylor felt the eyes of all 4 boys fall onto her in disgust and disbelief, “It's more like feeding ideas into my brain, kind of.”

“If this thing is the weapon they're coming for, why don't we just, I don't know, give it to them? Maybe they'll leave us alone.” Ben’s phone read out for him. Tyler turned, offended, “You don't understand,” He assured Ben, “These monsters spread like a plague throughout the galaxy, destroying everything in their path.” Ben gulped, clearly distressed but Tyler continued, “There's no bargaining with them. They won't stop until everything is dead.” “Okay, he gets it,” Aiden defending, “Don’t lay into him like that,” They all turned to see an alien ship entering the space around Earth’s atmosphere. Taylor interrupted the boys before a huge argument could erupt, “Okay, I think I know what to do.” She pushed the controls forward and the lion shot forward into the sky.

“Hey! This isn't a simulator,” Logan reminded Taylor as the Lion reached the exosphere. “That’s good. I always crashed the simulation when I was in school,” She smirked at Logan who gave her a panicked look. “That’s not calming!” Logan told Taylor as the girl moved the controls around. “Let’s try this!” She exclaimed as she pushed the controls forward. The jaw of the lion open and a beam of energy shot out towards the alien ship. The energy beam hit the side of the alien ship, causing a series of bright, violent explosions to ripple across its metallic hull. “Nice job, Tay,” “I think it's time to get these guys away from our planet.” Taylor said, piloting the lion away from Earth. They got a good distance before the alien ship started to follow them. “Oh no,” Tyler mumbled under his breath. “They're gaining on us!” Logan panicked, pushing the back of Taylor’s seat. “It's weird. They're not trying to shoot us. They're just chasing.” Taylor observed, her fingers nimbly adjusting the controls as she kept a steady eye on the pursuing ship.

Aiden put his hands up to get everyone’s attention, “Okay, seriously, now we think having aliens follow us is good? I am not on board with this new direction, guys.” “Where are we?” Ben’s phone read out, the digital voice cutting through the noise in the cockpit.

“Edge of the solar system. There's Kerberos,” Logan pointed at the moon of Pluto. “That’s impossible, it took us months to get out here,” Tyler gasped in disbelief, “We got out here in five seconds.” A spherical opening, a distorted sphere with a glowing center opened up in front of the lion. It was a good distance away but the Lion seemed to be dead set on going through.

“A wormhole of sorts, where does it go?” Logan asked Taylor, who struggled and said she didn’t know.

“Tyler, you're the senior officer here. What should we do?” Taylor looked up at her brother.

Tyler looked at the other kids, “Whatever is happening, the lion knows more than we do.” Tyler looked at Aiden, who nodded, “I say we trust it, but we're a team now. We should decide together.” Taylor glanced around, all for boys nodded at her. “Alright, guess you’re all skipping class tomorrow,” She pushed the controls forward and the Lion shot into the wormhole.

———— As they exited the wormhole, an entirely new vista unfolded before their eyes. Kaleidoscopic patterns of nebulae painted the alien sky, with twinkling stars that seemed to breathe and pulse with life. “Where are we?” Ben’s phone read out again, its digital voice sounding even more surreal amidst this cosmic seascape.

“I have no clue,” Logan answered, “I don’t recognize any of these star patterns,” “Me neither,” Tyler looked out the window at the sky. “We must be a long, long way from Earth.” The lion approached a earth like planet, “The lion seems to want to go to this planet.” Taylor told the boys, “I think I think it's going home.” The lion soared into the planet’s atmosphere, plunging through plumes of vibrant, iridescent clouds. As they broke through the final layer, a sprawling cityscape came into view, nestled amidst a lush expanse of emerald-green forests and crystalline rivers.

"Doesn't look like anything from our textbooks," Aiden remarked, his eyes wide with awe.

“Um, is it just me or is anyone else having second thoughts about flying through a mysterious wormhole? Why are we listening to a robotic lion anyway?” Logan asked as the Lion approached a castle like building. “It got us away from that alien warship, didn't it?” Taylor shot back. “I don't know if you noticed, but we're in an alien warship.” Tyler pointed out, patting Taylor on the head.

“Oh, are you scared?” Taylor teased. “With you at the helm? Terrified,” Tyler poked the side of her face before turning his attention to the castle they were approaching.

The castle was enormous, a towering structure of gleaming spires and arching buttresses that seemed to shimmer with an ethereal light. As they landed, Tyler pulled everyone’s attention to him. “No one's happy to be in this situation, but we're here now. If we want to get through this, we've got to do it together.” “Yes sir,” Aiden gave a teasing salute.

“Don’t do that,” Tyler crossed his arms.

“Look at that castle though,” Taylor got out of the pilot seat and tried to book it out of the lion. Tyler grabbed her arm and stopped her, “Keep your guard up.” “Is something wrong Tyler?” Logan asked, cautiously prodding for information. Tyler turned to him, “My crew was captured by aliens once. I'm not going to let it happen again,” As soon as the kids were out of the lion and walking up to the castle, the lion moved. “No! I knew it was going to eat us! No!” Logan screeched, covering his head with his hands. The lion roared and the entrance to the castle opened. “No, it’s just opening the door for us,” Aiden pointed out, touching Logan’s shoulder. The slightly taller boy looked up and sighed in relief. Taylor ran into the castle, “Hello?” She called out into the pitch black foyer. “Taylor! Be careful!” Tyler scolded his sister as the boys walked in after her.

“I am!” Taylor promised, “Hello? Is anyone there?” “Please hold for identity scan,” A voice called out before a beam of light scanned over the five kids.

“What? Why are we here? What do you want with us?” Logan asked as the beam stopped scanning them. Lights leading down the hall flickered on, “Guess we’re going that way,” Aiden started walking down the hall. As they all walked down the hall, the lights continued to flick on, lighting and leading their way. Eventually, they were lead to a room with two cryo-pods. Ben typed up a quick message on his phone and played it out for everyone, “Where are we?” “It's some kind of control room,” Logan observed, scanning the unfamiliar technology around them with a hit of curiosity. “Are these guys dead?” Aiden asked, tapping onto one of the cryo-pods. The pod opened with a hiss of air and a red headed girl fell out, her knees buckling as she called out, “Dad!” Aiden leaped forward and caught her, “Hello there,”

“Who are you? Where am I?” The girl asked, looking up into Aiden’s eyes. Aiden smirked, “I’m Aiden, and you’re right here in my arms,”

"Quit the flirt, Aiden. We're not in a rom-com," Tyler grumbled, stepping forward and offering a hand to the girl. “Who are you people?” The girl asked, pushing Aiden to the ground as she took Tyler’s hand. Tyler helped her up. “Where is King Mike? What are you doing in my castle? “A blue lion brought us here,” Taylor butted in. “How do you have the Blue Lion? What happened to its paladin? What are you all doing here? Unless,” She paused, “How long has it been?” “We don’t know what your talking about,” Logan said as the girl pushed away from Tyler and walked over to a small panel sticking out of the floor and started typing on it. “Why don't you tell us who you are? Maybe we can help.” Tyler suggested, sticking his hands in his shorts pockets. “I am Princess Ashlyn of Planet Altea,” Ashlyn informed the earthlings, “I've got to find out where we are and how long we've been asleep.” Logan looked over her shoulder, “Okay, that's how that works. What is that language though?” A man groaned before Ashlyn could answer. He fell out of his pod before jumping up, “Enemy combatants!” “Nope! Nope!” Taylor assured him otherwise, “We’re friendly, I promise,” The man looked skeptical but stood at ease. “It can't be.” Ashlyn gasped, covering her mouth. “What is it?” The man asked, suddenly very worried for the princess. “We've been asleep for 10,000 years.” Ashlyn stared forward, “Planet Altea and all of the planets in our solar system have been destroyed. Alex, Father is gone. Our entire civilization,”

“Maverick,” Alex shook his head is disbelief. “Maverick?” Logan asked in confusion.

“He was the King of the Galra. A vile creature and enemy to all free people.” Ashlyn started to sink onto the floor. “I remember now, I was his prisoner,” Tyler crossed his arms over his chest. “He's still alive? Impossible!” Alex stared at Tyler in disbelief and distrust. “I can't explain it, but it's true,” Tyler nodded, “He's searching for a super weapon called Voltron.” Ashlyn stood back up, “He's searching for it because he knows it's the only thing that can defeat him, and that's exactly why we must find it before he does,” “We?” Aiden interrupted, “Why us?

Word Count: 5,074

[vir-tanadahl]

The Wolf's Atonement

Summary: What happens after the events of Veilguard! Occurs after The Burden of the Dread Wolf

Find on Ao3!

If Solas were honest with himself, he would admit he still doesn’t fully understand why Lavellan chose to walk this path of atonement beside him. He hadn’t dared to ask it of her, nor even suggest it; the place he’s heading is dark and terrible, a burden he never wished to share. Yet, voluntarily, she offered to walk it with him, and he found himself unable—perhaps unwilling—to deny her.

And if he allowed himself a deeper honesty, he would acknowledge a quiet, profound gratitude. Her presence steadies him, a warmth against the chill of what lies ahead. He is grateful, more than he ever thought he would be, that she is here.

It’s as if Lavellan can sense the turmoil in his thoughts. “We’ve been on this journey together since the day we met in Haven,” she says softly as they step forward into the Fade, leaving behind the chaos he caused.

Her voice is gentle, yet resolute. “You forbade me to join you at the Exalted Council…” She pauses, her gaze steady and unwavering, before continuing, “…did you truly believe I wouldn’t follow you even now? That I wouldn’t try to show you another path?”

Her words settle around him like a balm, a reminder that, despite everything, she still believes there’s something worth saving—both in him and the world he had sought to mend.

“You left clues for us on purpose…” She laughs softly, the sound warm with fondness laced with sadness. “You wanted us to find you.” Her fingers intertwine with his, grounding him in a moment that still feels dreamlike, as if she is a memory from a life, he thought he would never have because he did not deserve her.

He struggles to absorb everything that has happened: Mythal’s release, her willingness to share in the burden of their ancient mistakes, and the moment he bound his very life force to the Veil. And here—his Vhenan, by his side. She, of all people, had the freedom to stay in her world, to no longer be burden by him.

And yet, she chose to join him. She chose this path of atonement, stepping willingly into the Fade at his side. With her hand entwined in his, for the first time in ages, he feels almost… whole. Her presence easing the weight of solitude he’s carried so long.

But the guilt and shame still cling to him, a heaviness pressing against this fleeting sense of peace. Her touch offers comfort, yet he wonders if he deserves it, if he can ever be redeemed in the face of everything he’s done.

He bows his head, shame settling over him like a heavy shroud. “I didn’t…” he falters, the words catching in his throat, “I didn’t want you to see what I would become…” His voice is low, laced with a deep, aching regret.

Lavellan chuckles softly, though a sadness colors her gaze. “That’s not entirely the truth, is it, vhenan?” She searches his face, but he only shakes his head, unable to meet her eyes.

“I—” His voice breaks, and he swallows hard, unable to find the words.

She sighs, studying him, her expression gentle but knowing. “You didn’t want me to change your mind…” Her voice softens, her words a quiet revelation. “You thought you couldn’t change it yourself, but you still hoped—maybe even needed—someone else to help you.”

His head remains lowered, his eyes fixed on the ground, shadows of pride and regret crossing his face. She watches him, a gentle pause settling between them before she tilts her head, a faint, bittersweet smile touching her lips. “Perhaps you took your name too literally, Solas,” she murmurs.

Solas lets out a quiet, almost self-deprecating chuckle. “Perhaps,” he murmurs. Slowly, he lifts his eyes to meet hers, searching for understanding in her gaze.

Lavellan holds his gaze, her expression softening as a flicker of contemplation crosses her face. After a moment, she looks away, lost in thought. “Or maybe I’m the prideful one,” she says, her voice laced with quiet sorrow. A sad, half-smile curves her lips as she meets his gaze once more, and he catches a glint of something he doesn’t quite understand—uncertainty mingled with affection.

He frowns slightly, confusion flashing in his eyes.

“That I love someone who has made such grave mistakes…” she trails off, the words hanging between them, fragile yet unyielding, her own vulnerability laid bare.

Solas shakes his head, a pained look in his eyes. “Vhenan—” he begins, voice low and unsteady. He wants to reach out, to hold her hand again, to find solace in her touch. But he hesitates, raw and vulnerable, fear threading through him after everything that has happened.

But she doesn’t wait. Gently, she reaches forward, her fingers wrapping around his hands, warm and steady, grounding him as he struggles with the weight of his shame.

“What happened, Solas?” she asks, her voice soft yet firm. “With Varric?”

His gaze drops, shoulders curling inward as he withdraws into himself, searching for words he knows will never fully explain. Silence hangs between them for a moment before he speaks, voice laced with regret. “He… he tried to stop the ritual,” he finally says, a faint defensive edge in his tone that sounds almost pitiful in the stillness. “There’s no excuse,” he finishes quietly, the truth of it settling heavily on his shoulders.

“No, there isn’t,” she replies, her voice neither harsh nor forgiving, rather was in search of understanding. She squeezes his hands gently, pulling him closer, her eyes searching his face. “But tell me… what happened?”

She waits, patient and steady, giving him space to confront the memories and the weight of what he’s done.

Solas sighs, his eyes slipping shut as he gathers the words, bracing himself against the memory. “He attempted to reason with me in the midst of the ritual,” he begins, voice barely above a whisper. “When I didn’t respond, he raised his crossbow…” He hesitates, pain flickering across his face. But he forces himself to go on. “I disabled it, and then Rook and her companions toppled one of the ritual statues.”

He pauses, the weight of what comes next settling heavily over him.

“I…I sought to see the ritual through to completion,” he continues, his voice thick with sorrow. “But Varric… he intervened again.” The image of Varric rushing forward flashes in his mind—the desperate determination, the betrayal etched on his friend’s face. “He attempted to hold me back.”

Solas falls silent, his shoulders slumping further as he remembers the struggle.

Lavellan’s voice is soft, pulling him gently back to the present. “And then?”

A tremor runs through him. “A struggle ensued, but I broke free from his grasp,” he says, his voice barely audible. He doesn’t say more, the words too heavy, the finality of that encounter too painful. He feels her hand squeeze his, steady and waiting, giving him a moment to bear the weight of what he has confessed.

He sighs once more, unable to meet her gaze as he confesses, “I stabbed him with the ritual dagger,” he confesses, the words sharp and bitter on his tongue.

A flicker of defensiveness rises instinctively within him, his mind grasping for reasons, for any justification. But he pushes it away, determined to face the truth without excuse. He knows that this path—this journey of atonement—demands he confront the full weight of his actions and the pain he has caused, unshielded by pride or denial.

He takes a deep, unsteady breath, wrestling with the storm of conflicting emotions that churn within him. Summoning his resolve, he lifts his gaze to meet Lavellan’s. The pain etched into her features is like a blow to his chest, stealing the breath from his lungs. Her eyes, darkened by grief and sadness, mirror his own anguish, and her frown holds the weight of all the words left unspoken.

Every instinct urges him to look away, to turn from the hurt he’s inflicted. But he forces himself to stay, anchored in her gaze, refusing the temptation to escape from the pain he has caused. This is part of his penance, he reminds himself—the need to truly witness the consequences of his actions, reflected back in the eyes of the one who still chooses to stand beside him.

“Oh, Solas…” Lavellan sighs, her voice filled with sorrow as she shakes her head, a mix of disappointment and understanding in her eyes.

“I can no longer offer any justification for what I did.” Solas says quickly, his voice raw, as if the words themselves are tearing free from him. “All I can offer now is that I… am sorry.” His gaze doesn’t waver, holding hers, though the weight of his regret presses heavily on him.

“And I know,” he continues softly, his voice barely above a whisper, “that an apology cannot undo the pain or correct the mistakes I have made.” He remains silent then, allowing the inadequacy of his words to settle between them, acknowledging, for the first time, the depth of his own failings in the light of her unwavering gaze.

Lavellan nods slowly, her gaze steady. “You’re right,” she says softly. “An apology isn’t enough.” Yet her hands remain wrapped around his, warm and unwavering.

He tilts his head, a subtle slump in his shoulders, and though his gaze doesn’t waver, a feeling of quiet defeat spreads through him, settling heavily in his chest.

“But,” she continues, a glimmer of hope in her voice, “you’re on a path toward atonement. And that… may, in time…” She pauses, choosing her words carefully, her eyes searching his face. “Be enough.”

Her words linger in the air, offering him a fragile thread to hold onto, a possibility that perhaps, one day, he might begin to mend the damage he’s caused.

A faint, almost fragile glimmer of hope stirs within him, like a lone sailor glimpsing the faint glow of a lighthouse, its beam filtering softly through the heavy mist of a darkened night. “Perhaps…” he whispers, the word filled with tentative wonder, as though he’s still grappling with the possibility of a future he does not know if he deserves. “You may be right.”

Lavellan smiles softly, finally taking in their surroundings with a touch of curiosity. “So, this is the prison you created for Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain?” she asks, her gaze drifting over the gray, fractured landscape of the Fade around them.

Solas releases a hollow, self-deprecating chuckle. “It is,” he admits, glancing around at the desolate expanse. “A prison of regrets…” His voice trails off as he takes in the bleak creation he crafted—strong enough, he thought, to hold the very Gods themselves. “Strong enough to keep the Gods locked away,” he mutters, then looks down at her with a weary sigh. “I did warn you… this place would be terrible.” Guilt floods his expression, his voice catching as he tries to suppress the tears welling in his eyes.

Lavellan hums thoughtfully, her eyes lingering on him before breaking into a wry smile. “Well, it’s clearly not that strong,” she replies with a playful glint. “Rook managed to escape, and last I checked…” She pauses, her smile growing as she meets his gaze. “She wasn’t a god.”

She steps closer, wrapping her hand around his arm, grounding him with her presence. “And you, Solas—you’re not a god either. Which means this prison cannot hold you,” she says, her voice warm and unwavering, a quiet confidence in her words as though she believes in his strength more than he does himself.

Solas gasps softly, as if the very breath has been stolen from him. The fragile glimmer of hope from before brightens, growing steadier as he gazes down into her eyes, almost losing himself in their depth. In her gaze, he sees love and compassion, unwavering and profound. It’s as if, without him even noticing, she’s been quietly chipping away at the walls of his own inner prison, easing the weight he has carried alone for so long.

With her presence, he feels something shift—a slow, dawning realization that perhaps, just perhaps, he might begin to unburden himself, to find a path not only to atonement but to acceptance. While still small, there is a newfound hope within him—a quiet, steady belief that perhaps he can truly achieve his goal of atonement.

A flood of emotions surges through Solas, emotions he has tried so desperately to bury over the last ten years since he last saw her. The dam he’d so carefully constructed—a trickle when he first glimpsed her at the Archon’s Palace—finally shatters, releasing a torrent of feeling that crashes over him. Each emotion is as intense, as overwhelming, as it was the day he left her at the Exalted Council, undiminished by time.

At last, Solas reaches for her, pulling her close, his touch both tender and urgent. He cups her face, bringing her gently toward him, and presses his lips to hers. The kiss begins slowly, a tentative connection, but it deepens quickly, becoming something raw and desperate, as though he’s been drowning for years and has only now come up for air. Each moment feels like a gasp of life, a long-awaited release, as he finally allows himself to feel what he’s kept locked away.

His hands find their way to her waist, drawing her closer, and their tongues meet in a sweet, tender dance. Isera's fingers find their way to the leather of his armor, holding on tight, as if she's holding on to his heart, only drawing him closer.

Solas pulls back for a brief moment, his gaze fixed on her. Lavellan smiles up at him, warmth and understanding in her eyes, as she watches the hardened mask of the Dread Wolf begin to dissolve. In its place, the Solas she once knew—the one from their days in the Inquisition—begins to emerge, free, if only for a moment, from the weight of his burdens.

She can see traces of the gentle spirit he once was breaking through, no longer hidden beneath layers of regret and duty. Before she can fully take in the moment, Solas’s lips find hers again, with a hunger born of years of longing, as though he’s a man starved, and she is the sustenance he’s been denied.

[fictionalcharactersaremypassion]

Unexpected Encounters

Here you go @zutaralesbian!! I hope it's what you're looking for!

///

“I found a love, for me....” 

Under the dimmed lights, standing nearby the open bar, Fiona Gallagher let out a soft sigh as she took a drink from her beer. On the dance floor, Ian encircled his arms around Mickey to hold him tight, swaying to the song. As if no one else existed, the rest of the world fading away, there they were; it was only them, eyes closed to take in this moment, reveling in the start of a new chapter in their life. 

And it was fucking beautiful. 

For so long, she’d been searching for that kind of love and each time she thought she just might, it was viciously taken from her in some way. Bitter memories of Jimmy-Steve and Sean came to the surface, to which she drowned them out with a large gulp of beer. 

Nothing seemed to be going for her. Not with her love life, not with her life in general. 

Moving out to Florida was supposed to be a fresh start for her. She’d envisioned so much, only for it all to fall short. The felony on her record made it difficult to find a good paying job, let alone her lack of college diploma. She’d found a decent apartment to live in, the first night giving her this sudden feeling of loneliness that hit her. 

Little had changed in her life other than not not taking care of a house full of kids. 

And the thing is, she assumed she’d be happier that way. In some was, she was; it was easier to live, easier to breathe when she didn’t have five kids dependent on her, worryin’ about how she’ll pay the bills or if they’ll have enough food to eat. But in other ways, she didn’t know what to do with herself. It wasn’t like she wanted all of that responsibility again. It was just really fuckin’ complicated. 

Now here she was, back in her childhood home, crashing on the couch until she could find a place for herself. All while her younger siblings had moved on with their lives, coming out more successful than she was capable of being. 

She blew out a breath, eyes shifting to see Vee and Kev at one of the tables, laughing with some other guests. She’d been meanin’ to to tell her that they needed to catch up soon. Fiona missed her best friend a lot in the time that she’d been away. Down in Florida, Fiona had some acquaintances, maybe even a couple people she’d call friends. But nothing ever compared to what she and Vee had. 

Fiona shook off the nostalgia that came over her. There was no use in dwelling on it, especially today. This was about Ian and Mickey, and she’d be damned if she let herself ruin this occasion for her brother and brother-in-law. 

Brother-in-law. It was hard to comprehend that, to think that the very same boy who used to terrorize the Southside was now married into the family. 

Her lips tugged up into a smile as the song came to an end. Ian and Mickey were holding onto each other’s faces as they had been earlier, leaning in for a kiss. 

She was happy for them. There’d been times she was unsure about Mickey, hell, even times she thought he wasn’t good enough for her little brother. But Mickey had proved himself and shown just how much he cared for Ian, going above and beyond what she’d expect from anybody when they dealt with Ian’s bipolar diagnosis together. 

As a new song came on, one of the tables closest to her was empty, so she took a seat, leaning back with her legs crossed. Her eyes flittered around the room, catching sight of her other siblings. In some ways, it was kind of sad to see them so grown up, engrossed in their own issues and having their own lives when she still remembered their bright eyes, chubby cheeks and sweet smiles. 

And where did that leave Fiona? They didn’t need her like they used to. Hell, she couldn’t even find herself needed elsewhere. To some extent, it felt like they all moved on while she was stuck behind, trying to claw her way out and make it in the world. 

Out of her peripheral, a figured moved closer to her but there were lots of people around so she didn’t think too much of it until the person was right there, his hand on the back of one of the chairs. 

“Ay, you mind if I sit here?” Iggy Milkovich asked her, and it was the very last person she expected to see there - at the wedding and asking to sit at the same table as her - so she did a double take. 

Fiona knew very little of Iggy Milkovich. At one point in time, they were in the same grade, dropping out for different reasons. She’d seen him around the Southside here and there but it’s not like they’ve ever really had a conversation. 

It came as a pretty big fucking surprise to Fiona that he was here. She certainly didn’t expect any Milkovich, well maybe besides Mandy, to attend a gay wedding. But here and there were scattered relatives of Mickey’s around the venue; Colin was doing his best to sweet talk a girl on the other side of the dance floor, Joey and Jamie were swiping frosting off the back of the cake with their fingers - and by now Mickey had noticed, reaching into his pocket for a knife that Ian swiftly plucked out of his hand - while Mandy was dancing with Sandy and Debbie. 

What’s more, though, was that Fiona was struck by how roguishly handsome he looked. He was dressed nice with the tie in disarray, hair that was neatly combed and for once, didn’t give off the impression that he was high. 

“Iggy,” she said, surprised. 

“Hey, Fiona,” he was grinning, holding onto his own beer. “Thought I saw you around here earlier.” 

“Yeah,” she pushed back some hair off her shoulder, suddenly remembering what he’d asked. “Have a seat,” she gestured towards the chair. 

He plopped down in it, one arm hanging off the back. “Thought you moved outta here,” he said, taking a swig of his drink. 

“I did,” she nodded, trying not to feel too disappointed when she thought of it, “it just didn’t work out.” 

“So you’re back now?” 

“Yeah,” she said. “I’m crashing at the house for now until I can get my own place.” 

“Ain’t Mick and Red stayin’ there too?” 

“Yeah,” she grimaced at the amount of times, too damn often, when she’d overhear them fucking. 

 Iggy was looking past her, right at Ian and Mickey. “I feel sorry for anyone that's gotta hear them two bastards going at it. Had to listen them fucking for a while when we lived together.” 

“Shit, I’m sorry,” she laughed. She understood his pain. The Gallagher house had thin walls, too fucking thin if she could hear the damn names her brother and Mickey called each other in bed. God, just the thought made her want to shudder. 

Iggy was grinning some more. That could’ve been from the situation or he was just drunk. “Walked in on them once too. Thought Mickey was gonna flip his shit.” 

“Oh, God,” Fiona could just imagine that. She drank some more beer to rid herself of any images that might be conjured up. 

“Wasn’t my fault, though. Mick left the door unlocked,” Iggy shrugged. “Course, he didn’t care. Probably woulda tried to knock my teeth in if Gallagher hadn’t stopped him.” 

“Can’t be any worse than when Lip walked in on them,” Fiona remembered that one. Mickey had been murderous. Lip had been pinned under him with his throat covered by Mickey’s hands. 

Lip hadn’t been pleased with the casual tone in which Ian spoke in when he’d called his husband off of him. 

Iggy snorted. He was watching them again. “Can you believe those fuckers made it here?” 

“No,” she said honestly. She let out a breath. “But I’m happy for them. They deserve it.” 

“Yeah,” Iggy said. “I remember when Gallagher was living with us. Mick was so protective of him.” 

“Same way at our house,” Fiona remembered those days. He would’ve broken somebody’s kneecaps if they uttered a single word against her brother. Even now, now that she’s back and seen their love first hand again, he would do anything for Ian and vice versa. 

Silence came over them both. Fiona repositioned herself, crossing the opposite leg this time.  Strangely, though, she didn’t have this urge to get away like she would have assumed from being near a Milkovich. 

“I’m kind of surprised you’re here,” she admitted. 

He turned to her, blinking. “Why?” 

She raised a brow. “Do you really have to ask?” 

For a couple of seconds, he stared at her with this dumb expression. Then it dawned on him. “Oh, his gay thing. I don’t give a shit where he sticks his dick. Kinda suspected ‘bout him anyway.” 

“Really?” Fiona couldn’t help but ask.

“Yeah. Never used to talk about tits and shit with us and was all secretive about his porn,” Iggy replied. “Figured it out pretty quickly when I saw ‘em kiss.” 

“You saw them kiss?” 

“Yeah, the day Mick got shot in the ass. Don’t think he ever found out I saw ‘em.” 

“And you never told anybody?” Fiona said, blown away. 

“Course not,” Iggy said with a shrug. “I ain’t stupid. Terry woulda killed him. Mick woulda definitely flipped his shit. I just had to pretend I didn't see anything. Course, then the dumbass decides to say something in front of the whole damn bar. Nearly did get himself killed.” 

He sounded fondly exasperated, a feeling she’d felt from time to time for sure, not anything she’d expect from a Milkovich, especially concerning his brother’s sexuality. 

Maybe she was wrong about him, about the family- some of them, anyway. 

Iggy kept Mickey’s secret when he didn’t have to, not to mention willingly lived with them for a while. Plus, his siblings and a couple of his cousins made it here today. Would they really have done it if they were anything like Terry? 

Iggy was oblivious to what she was thinking, just drinking the rest of his beer without a care in the world. 

“So,” she said, to which he looked back at her, “what are you doing these days?” 

Jesus, that was lame as fuck. 

Iggy didn’t seem to think so. “Not much,” he shrugged. “Gotta find me a new job. My PO’s gettin’ pissy about it.” 

“I have to find one too,” Fiona sighed. “I was working in a hotel down in Florida but I can’t see myself doin’ it again. Too many bitchy customers.” 

Iggy snorted. “Fuck that. Would’ve quit the first time that happened.” 

“I considered it some days,” she said truthfully. There was only so much she could take of being screamed at and unfairly blamed for things that weren’t her fault. “But I have to take what I can get. There’s not a ton of places that want to hire felons.” 

She used to feel bitter over it. Used to feel consumed by such anger towards herself for how she’d so carelessly endangered her little brother and ruined her life in a blink of an eye. 

It wasn’t something easy to share either. Unsurprisingly, the one guy she decided to be upfront about it and explain to him, he thought it was better if they went their separate ways.

Iggy didn’t blink an eye. “Ain’t that the truth,” he said, unfazed. “You know, I had to work at a fuckin’ flower shop once cuz my PO couldn’t find me anything else. Should’ve heard this bitch telling me I couldn’t bring any fucking weapons inside. This is the fuckin’ Southside. I’m supposed to walk around without my glock?” 

“You mean the one you’re not supposed to have while on parole?” She smirked. 

“Ay, what my PO don’t know won’t hurt him,” Iggy said dismissively.  

She snorted. “Good point.” 

Flashes of multi-colored shadows fell over their faces, bouncing away the next second. Iggy’s eyes strayed away from where they’d been glancing to look at her, keeping her under a watchful gaze. 

“You want another beer?” He said unexpectedly. 

“Sure,” she said. 

When he brought it back, he said, “Ay, let’s go outside. It’s getting too damn noisy in here.” 

This was where under any other circumstances she would’ve declined, but Fiona found herself not completely put off by the suggestion. “I would,” she said, “but I don’t know where my jacket’s gone...” 

She wasn’t lying. Fiona had taken it off when she arrived and now it was nowhere to be found. 

“I got you,” Iggy said. Fiona wondered how he was going to manage that when he hollered at the top of his lungs - though the music was still loud enough that it drowned him out somewhat. “Ay, fuckwads! Get her-” He pointed straight at Fiona, who muttered out, “Oh, Jesus,” under her breath, “a jacket before I start cracking skulls.” 

“That’s really not necessary- oh,” Fiona was thrown a black suit jacket by someone she didn’t recognize. 

“You’re welcome,” Iggy said, chugging one of the beers in his hands. 

“You couldn't have just given me yours?” Fiona said mildly, a teasing smile on her lips. 

“Fuck no. I’m not freezing my ass off,” Iggy scoffed. He smirked, though. 

Abandoning the reception, they went past the doors and out into the cold. Fiona shivered, folding her arms across her chest. They stayed within the parking lot and there was just something about that reminded her of when she used to sneak off with a couple of friends she had many years ago, just hanging around and feeling carefree before everything went to shit. 

For now, neither one of them said anything. It wasn’t that Fiona was feeling shy or anything, that wasn’t like her, but it was just different that's all. 

So she spoke up first. 

And it just so happened to be her going down memory lane. 

“Do you remember that fucking awful English teacher we had freshman year?” She said suddenly. “Mrs- fuck, what was her name? Mrs. Melvin or whatever. God, I hated her.” 

“Wasn’t she the bitch that quit halfway through class?” Iggy said with a grin. 

Fiona laughed. “Oh my God, I remember that. Nobody was listening to her and she threatened to send us all to the office if we didn’t shut up.”

“Ay, yeah. Had a fuckin’ fit when that one guy, Rubin, shot a spit ball at her,” Iggy said, paused and added, “The fuck kinda name is Rubin anyway? S’fuckin’ stupid.” 

They both laughed, and when it died down, Fiona was marveling over the fact once again that here she was, socializing with a Milkovich and she was having a pretty nice time. 

“Do you-” Fiona thought about what she was asking, deciding to go on with it, “do you ever think about what you would’ve done if you graduated?” 

She had no idea why she chose to bring this up here right now. The question had been on her mind lately, not just this second, wondering just how different her life would be if Frank and Monica were decent parents, if she didn’t have to be the one to step up for her siblings. 

“No.” 

“No?” Fiona repeated, surprised. 

“Nah. Wouldn’t have mattered. Terry woulda screwed it up anyway.”

He was honest about it, resigned, and didn’t sound upset. It made Fiona stop and think, making way for an ache in her chest, about how none of them were ever given a chance to be something, to make something of themselves. They were constantly held back by their shitty parents, shitty situations that they shouldn’t have had to deal with at their age. 

“What about you?” Iggy’s voice brought her back to the present. 

“What?” 

“You ever think about it?” He sounded curious, not just him asking out of polite obligation. Than again, she couldn’t really picture him or any of the Milkovich’s acting out of politeness. 

“Sometimes,” she smiled slightly. Dropping out of school was the hardest decision she had to make for herself, even though it was ultimately what saved them. Though, she couldn’t deny that for weeks after, she’d been plagued with a bone deep sense of sadness. She’d used to dream, used to hope of getting out of the Southside someday with a degree tucked under her belt and a decent job. Those dreams never looked unrealistic until she finally realized the depth of Frank and Monica’s bullshit. 

While other people her age were out partying, rebelling against their parents or figuring out what they wanted to do in life, Fiona was preoccupied in other ways; whether they’d have enough for the bills this month, how they’d get food on the table for all of them, whether Frank or Monica were going to come home when they left for long stretches of time. 

Iggy lit a cigarette, offering it to her. She took it, her smile still intact. 

“You know, I thought I had everything going for me at one time; grades were good, I was doing track. And then it was just gone,” she sighed. “I thought if I got out of here, things would be different. Seems like the bullshit just followed me.” As Fiona was passing back the cigarette, she had an oh shit moment. Was she really spilling her guts to him? “Shit. Forget I said all that.” 

He shrugged. “Where’d you run off to anyway?” 

“Florida.” 

“Ay, at least you got out. S’more than most can say.” 

She supposed that was true. “That’s surprisingly insightful,” she was teasing, only gently. 

He puffed up his chest. “I can be that way if I wanna.” All kidding aside, he knocked into her shoulder with his own. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong with comin’ back.” 

“Even with no job and I’m sleepin’ on the couch?” She deadpanned. 

“Been there,” he said, then considered, “Course, I usually find some chick to shack up with.” She let out a laugh, shaking her head. “I slept out on those streets one night and it ain’t all it’s cracked up to be.” 

“Haven’t been there yet, thank God.” 

“Like all those Gallaghers would toss you out,” Iggy piffed. She had to agree. “Course if they do, left side my bed could use some warmin’.” 

He winked at her. 

Fiona turned her body to face him, plucking the cigarette from him. “Is that right? Who says I wanna be the one to warm it?” 

“Don’t play dumb, Gallagher,” Iggy was closer now, having invaded her personal space. “Saw the way you were looking at me earlier.” 

The cigarette was dropped to the ground, put out by the bottom of her shoe. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Fiona said slyly. 

Just a second later, her arms around his neck and his on her waist, Fiona was engaged in a fucking hot makeout with Iggy Milkovich. 

It was needy, full of fire she’d been searching for. God, even Iggy’s touch was making her weak. 

“Holy shit,” she muttered. He grinned cockily. 

“You seein’ anyone right now?” 

“And I’m if I’m not?” She said instead of answering his question. 

“How ‘bout you come to my place tonight?”

Fiona grinned. "Better be a damn good bed. My back's been killing me on that shitty couch."

She didn’t come here expecting to find herself in a Milkovich. 

But Fiona was damn glad she did. 

[theminecraftbee]

you know I swear the hermitcraft fandom doesn’t do enough with area 77 these days. it’s an entire arc where doc and scar worked together to run what is basically canonically the scp foundation. one of the scps is keralis. another one of them is technically grian if you count time travel and villager grian or whatever. also this is when the whole alien that scar kept as a pet and is implied to have at least eaten etho, if not the rest of the nho, showed up. also there’s a whole convex divorce arc. also, like, okay, listen, aesthetically, “scar and doc run a secret military organization designed to secure, contain, and study unexplained and dangerous phenomena” FUCKS as a premise okay like listen why aren’t we doing more with this anymore we need to be doing more with this—

[not-another-robin]

WHERE are the people who self ship with alfred. NOT the live action versions I mean MY BELOVED OLD MAN !! especially the caped crusader version.

[arolesbianism]

Yet another beautiful day to have the Maxwel tag blocked (can't see half of the posts in the Wendy tags)

[im-smart-i-swear]

being a kur*n fan in the year of our lord 2024 sucks ass bc every few months i get a deep urge to read a kur*n centric fic. so i go to ao3 and scour all the kur*n related tags. most of it is pwp or ship and i KNOW that going in every time and thats FINE but thats NOT WHAT I PERSONALLY WANT and also all of the fics are like 4 years old and the ones i DO like i have read at least three times each. existance is pain i hate it here

[gothamcityneedsme]

gonna do the true neutral (or whatever tf you want to call it) smtv ending next. really annoyed that you only unlock special miracles if your alignment matches the ending you get. PLUS also very annoyed that if you do newborn ng+ you lose all the best miracles. its so maddening.

[sttoru]

‘and if i only could, i’d make a deal with god, and i’d get him to swap our places. .’ — kate bush

 𝝑𝑒 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒. gojo satoru x wife!reader. fluff to angst (no comfort). spoilers chapter 261. reader’s pregnant. major character death. mentions of blood, death. nicknames ‘pretty, sweets’. not proofread bcs i couldn't through the tears. i cried nine times writing this so.. good luck! wc: 3.6k

“he’s kicking again,” satoru chuckles excitedly. he’s been clinging onto you ever since you got back from your doctor’s appointment. your baby boy is growing up healthy and there don’t seem to be any complications.

you smile and rest back against the velvety pillows. you’re enjoying the affection you’re receiving, the kisses and nuzzles against your swollen tummy makes every bit of suffering worth it. your husband is going to be an amazing dad, that you can tell.

“hey, little guy—don’t give ya mommy a tough time,” satoru huffs and gently taps the side of your stomach that was last kicked by the unborn baby, “that’s my wife, y’know?” you giggle at the scene in front of you and close your eyes, relaxing your body.

a comfortable silence hangs in the room. satoru’s warm hands cupping and rubbing your round stomach add to the tranquil atmosphere. the weight of your husband’s head presses onto the front of your plump belly—ear pressed against the stretched skin as if expecting to hear your baby boy talk.

after a while, you open your eyes. you hear a sniff and then the usual silence follows. you look down at satoru settled between your legs, hugging your waist and resting his cheek on your tummy. he’s awfully quiet and you’re unable to see his eyes because of his bangs.

“toru, everything okay?” you carefully ask. your voice comforts him for the next couple seconds, before his muscles tense up once more. satoru tries his best to seem unaffected by the many thoughts scurrying through his head.

“mhm,” your husband nods and forces a small smile. though, he can’t keep the facade up any longer. the longer you’re pregnant, the more worried he gets about a certain something; something that’s been bothering him ever since.

it’s the reason why he doubted even having kids in the first place.

“i—well. i don’t know, sweets,” satoru sighs. a deep sigh that shatters the mask he’s had on for so long. his brows furrow and his eyes dart from one place to the other. his fingers stop their movements on your stomach. they curl around the material of your shirt instead; showing a clear sense of vulnerability.

satoru seems. . . afraid, yet also angry. perhaps at himself, perhaps at the world. you don’t utter a single word. if there’s anything you want, it’s for your husband to speak about his inner turmoil freely. you’re the only person who he can have such emotional conversations with—the only person he can be himself with.

the real gojo satoru.

not the strongest.

that’s why you’re not surprised when satoru opens his mouth to confess the inevitable to you. “i’m scared,” his voice cracks. it’s a faint change in tone, but it is noticeable to you. you’ve been his lover for long enough to notice every minuscule thing.

the white-haired man lets out another sigh. you brush his soft bangs out of his eyes and instantly notice the sudden weariness in them. normally, those beautiful blue eyes shine brightly, yet that light has now dimmed.

you pat his head and satoru immediately leans into your touch. you allow him to process his own emotions and words before speaking up.

“scared?” you ask quietly and carefully, giving your husband space to explain.

satoru nods. there are a thousand thoughts running through his mind. all those thoughts he’s tried to suppress since the day you’ve announced your pregnancy. maybe even before that—at the day of your wedding.

he’s sat down with you a few months into the marriage, to have the talk about kids. he seemed to be delighted to have children with you, however there have always been some dark and hidden thoughts lingering in the back of his mind.

the sorcerer has chosen to ignore them for the longest time. he’s been trying to convince himself that he has nothing to worry about. you’re going to be fantastic parents and your children are going to be extremely loved.

the day you surprised him with your pregnancy, was like a dream. satoru cried - which he rarely does - so it was an emotional night for both of you. neither of you could wait to meet your child—happy with whatever gender.

despite all of the optimism and enthusiasm, satoru’s struggles with his inner thoughts have not yet ended. he doesn’t want to bother you with it. you seem so content and he does not want to ruin that at all.

but even the strongest without limits has to reach a breaking point.

“yeah,” satoru speaks up, his voice hoarse. he kisses your belly button, hoping his child doesn’t pick up on his distress somehow. your husband closes his eyes as he places his forehead against your tummy, praying that the heavens above hear his pleas, “i don’t want our kid to inherit my cursed techniques. at all.”

your hand doesn’t stop stroking satoru’s hair. you don’t flinch at his words, nor do you immediately discard his worries. in all honestly, you’ve shared the same feelings before getting pregnant.

you know how satoru’s treated by the jujutsu society. it’s dehumanising how he’s seen as a weapon of some sorts. a weapon that could solve all problems—one that cannot rest until its duty is done.

you despise it. you’ve told satoru about your hatred for the toxic society, even going as far as asking him to move to a different country without telling anyone. you’re sick and tired. you can’t recall the amount of times that you’ve cried alone, in the bathroom, after you’ve seen the state your lover comes back home in.

the white-haired man always seems so tired. his eyes and head hurt because of them overusing his cursed techniques. there are even days where satoru doesn’t put his blindfold or sunglasses off at home.

and when you try to talk to him about it, satoru simply assures you that ‘he’ll be fine’. you believe him in the moment, but you don’t know for how long you’ll be able to keep that trust.

you’re letting him break, slowly yet surely, right in front of you. he’s working himself to his demise. it’s nothing out of the ordinary to not want the same for your child.

though, you’re sure that it’ll be fine even if your baby boy inherits satoru’s techniques. that’s because you two are going to protect him with all you have. no one is going to treat your child like a weapon—not while the both of you are still alive.

“i don’t want our child to take over the burden i carry,” satoru continues. his brows are furrowed and his lips are pressed into a thin line. he’s already thinking about all the possibilities that can follow with the birth of your son.

he can hide his child from the world, but wouldn’t that be too restrictive? he can keep an eye on him every second of the day, but wouldn’t that be overprotective?

you notice satoru’s internal state of panic increasing, so you quickly cup his face. you lean down and press a firm kiss against his lips, to which he instantly responds. his breath hitches and he sits up on the mattress, deepening the kiss as his hands hold you by the back of your head.

he needs this—you—more than anything else in the world. if it wasn’t for you, he’d have lost his sanity long ago.

you pull back after a good minute and pant. you chuckle as you notice the slight pout on satoru’s lips. he never seems satisfied with just one kiss, which is adorable. you coo and pepper his face with small pecks, “aww.”

it’s comforting to the sorcerer. he closes his eyes and his mouth forms a small smile. you’re doing an amazing job at calming him down. satoru’s muscles relax and he finds himself nestled between your legs soon enough.

you realise that he’s still somewhat afraid for the future of his child by the way he’s playing with your shirt. his head lays on your chest and his long fingers trace shapes on your exposed skin.

“i know, honey, i know,” you murmur against the top of his head. you massage satoru’s scalp gently, nearly making him purr because of how incredible that feels. you stare at the ceiling and continue your little talk.

“i’ve thought about all of it too,” your fingers find his undercut, playing with the little hairs. all you can hope for is that your partner stresses less about the outcome of your pregnancy.

if you can do one thing for him, it’d be that. reassuring him that you’ll both do your best for your child will surely put him at ease. your husband has enough to worry about anyway.

you want to share that burden. you don’t want him to carry the world on his shoulders alone—he’s got you for that now.

“but i think that our son will be fine. why? because he’s got you,” you smile and kiss satoru’s forehead. it’s his favorite type of kiss and it works wonders when you comfort him. his ocean eyes regain their sparkle, both because of your unconditional love and trust in his parenting skills, “our boy will grow up fine and protected because he’s got you as his amazing dad, yeah?”

satoru takes some time to let your words sink in. your trust in him is a beautiful thing. of course, he’ll protect his kid no matter what. both you and his kid will be safe for as long as he’s alive. you’re going to be a happy family—one that he’s always dreamed of having.

he isn’t going to raise his child to be the strongest. he isn’t going to raise his child as an heir to the throne. he isn’t going to raise his child as his legacy. he isn’t going to raise his child as a tool.

his son will have a normal childhood and he will guarantee that. satoru will give his kid what he didn’t have as a child himself;

unconditional love and support for whatever his son wishes to become.

satoru raises his head and leans in to kiss you, hugging you to himself. he adores you so much, you’re all he needs to feel like he can do anything and everything all at once.

carrying the world on his shoulders so you can live peacefully in it is all satoru does it for.

“heh, damn right. i’ll be the best husband and dad ever.”

. . .

but in the end, your dreams are just dreams, right?

an escape from reality, that’s all dreams really are. all those times you’ve sat together to pick the furniture you want to place in the nursery, to paint the room a baby blue, to buy clothes and toys, diapers and carriers, to giggle about the places you would love to visit as a family, to think about possible baby names, to joke about whether your son will say ‘dada’ or ‘mama’ first — all of it were naive, hopeful dreams.

perhaps you were too caught up in them to realise that reality will hit when least expected.

satoru and you have lived in your own bubble—your own little fantasy world where tragic fates does not exist. no one in this planet would suffer if life worked that way.

no one on this planet would have to pick up the phone and have their world shatter, their dream bubble pop. to have all hope lost in the span of a second.

grief is a scary thing. it’s devastating and it will consume you whole. you don’t realise that until you experience it firsthand. losing someone close to you will break you in half. it’s a punch to the gut.

especially if it’s your husband. someone you considered your partner—who’s promised you to be together forever. maybe those promises were also a part of your fantasy.

maybe they were also but a beautiful lie.

your footsteps feel heavy. you don’t have any energy left in you. every drop has been drained from you the moment you heard the news over the phone. your eyes and head hurt, both feeling like they’re going to burst. you don’t want to accept any of this.

the faces of the people around you are a blur. they’re all holding their head low, their hands gathered in front of them to show respect. no one speaks—all the room is filled with are your sobs. the loud cries you let out in hopes that they wake you up from this absolute nightmare.

you drag your feet to the examination table in the middle of the room. tears continue to blur your vision, though surely, you can confirm the outline of the body laying underneath the blanket.

how could you not recognise the person you thought you’d spend eternity with?

it’s unfair. it’s unfair. it’s unfair. it’s unfair. it’s unfair. it’s unfair. it’s unfair. it’s unfair. it’s unfair. it’s unfair. . .

“satoru.” your voice is barely audible. your hands are shaking and your face is stained with endless streams of tears. you stand at the side of the table and you instantly curl your fingers around the edge.

seeing that face from up close hits different. usually, it’d have your stomach fill with a feeling of delight, yet now all you feel when looking at it is unimaginable dread.

the blood on the corners of his mouth. the blanket that’s hiding whatever is left of him from below the waist. the dull eyes that once stared at you with hope and love. those dried lips that normally shone with a layer of gloss.

god, it’s awful. you don’t want this to be true. you’re still waiting to be woken up by your husband. so he can hold you close and hug you, whisper sweet nothings and reassure you that he’d never leave you alone in a savage world like this.

your shaky fingers reach out to his right hand. his skin feels cold and his hand doesn’t hold yours back. your breath hitches and you let out a long, devastating cry. it sounds like a scream for help as your body crumbles—falling to your knees whilst you tightly grip your lover’s limp hand.

“no, god no, please!” you cover your mouth with your free hand, nearly hyperventilating from pure pain. you feel like your heart is going to give up on you. it’s breaking into a million pieces, as does your future. you can’t live without him—you can't do it.

satoru is the sole reason you’ve held out for so long. you were each other’s support system. you can’t do any of this on your own. you can’t breathe properly—your body doesn’t let you.

not until you feel a hand on your back, rubbing it gently. you can guess that it’s shoko, but you’re too distraught to even pay attention to her. you lift yourself up by holding onto the edge of the table, your legs shaking. you sniffle and sob uncontrollably.

you reach out to touch satoru’s lifeless face, as gentle as you always do. you flinch when you feel just how cold his body is—the usual warmth that would comfort you gone, nowhere to be found. you don’t get a reaction from him when you touch his cheeks.

it only serves to remind you of the tragic events that unveiled. you’re still in denial, but the moment feels real. your brain is slowly yet surely processing the information. though, you don’t want it to. you want to live in a world where you grow old with your husband.

where your child is going to grow up with a father figure at home.

“satoru, come back to me.. to us, please,” you beg and beg, hoping he smiles and sits up, telling you that it’s just one of his silly pranks again. when none of that happens, you feel yourself become more hopeless. you hunch over him and cup his face. the same face that would light up whenever you’d touch it.

you hiccup and wail, unable to breathe. you rub his cheekbones with your thumbs, settling your forehead against his. your tears fall underneath his eyes and slide down his temples, making it seem like he’s crying with you.

you wait for satoru to respond, but he doesn’t. there’s an eerie silence on his part and you’re panicking. you need him to comfort you, but he isn’t there to do that anymore. you’re left alone, all alone.

“i can’t do this without you—we can’t do this without you,” you stammer between sobs. you can’t go through life, knowing satoru isn’t going to be there for you. he isn’t going to come home anymore. he isn’t going to cuddle you to sleep anymore. he isn’t going to experience what it’s like to have a family of his own. he isn't going to be able to hold his child and to play with him.

you blame life for being unfair—always taking away the people who don’t deserve it. satoru hasn’t done anything to deserve this. he just.. existed. his fate of becoming the strongest, decided at his birth, is what has lead to his death.

you continue to sob to yourself. you refuse to acknowledge anything or anyone else in the room. you’re solely focused on your husband. or rather, what’s left of him.

remembering how excited satoru was to spend the rest of his life with you and your future children pains you all the more. he’s been stripped from a normal life. you’ve tried your hardest to give him that said normal life, yet your hopeful dreams have gotten you nowhere.

you wipe your tears away for the first time in a while. your grief is making you delusional—disoriented to the point you try to make yourself feel better. you force a smile and hold tightly onto satoru’s limp hand, trying to speak through your quiet sniffles.

“o-our boy is gonna be born soon,” you chuckle bitterly and place satoru���s hand on your belly. it’s gotten bigger over the months and you’re already eight months along. he was so close to meeting your child—so close. yet his tragic destiny did not allow him to.

you hope he’s been happy with you for as long as he lived. you hope you’ve somewhat relieved him from his misery for as long as he lived. that burden he carried, the world he carried on his shoulders. . . it doesn’t seem to want to detach from him. even after death.

you press a deep kiss against his forehead. satoru’s favorite spot to be kissed at, you remember. you wish he feels it in the afterlife; wherever he may he. as long as he’s in a better place now, one that treats him well. this current world has been too cruel on him. it doesn’t deserve to home someone like your husband.

“i wish you were here to see your son. to see our baby grow up, you'd be so proud, honey,” you kiss satoru’s forehead again. it’s all you can do stop yourself from losing it completely. you know satoru would tell you to be strong, for his sake. for your unborn son.

“i’m going to tell him all about you, ‘kay? i'm going to tell him about how awesome his dad was,” your voice breaks for the nth time. you’re still in the first stage of grief, though you try to seem strong in case satoru is watching from somewhere.

that’s what he did when he was the one going through a tough time. he’d act brave and fine, putting on a mask to make you worry less, telling you all kinds of reassuring words while he was suffering internally.

now it’s your turn to safely send his soul off to the afterlife. to let satoru pass away in peace, with him knowing that you’re going to live on for him and for your child. it’s the least you can do at the moment.

you put on a brave face, staring into his lifeless eyes, smiling through the unbearable pain. you’re sure he’s still listening to you from somewhere. satoru’s always told you that your voice is soothing, so you do your best to calm his soul and reassure him that it’s fine for him to rest.

“i’ll do my best to raise him, yeah? so you.. you just rest.”

rest was a foreign word to the sorcerer. this world didn’t give him an ounce of peace. he’d either be overworked by his family or the jujutsu society, and if it isn’t work, his inherited techniques were slowly killing his brain and body.

you’re praying that satoru has none of that in the afterlife. you’re praying that he can live a normal life, eternally. so that when you join him one day, you both won’t have to suffer nor share the burden. you can live out your dreams without anyone interrupting.

not even fate.

“you deserve to rest. you really do,” you sigh.

soon enough, you feel yourself crumble again. you burst out in tears once you realise that he’s actually never coming back to you in this life. you bury your face in the crook of his neck and sob loudly, not holding back your emotions anymore. you just can’t—you can’t act brave when your second half has been taken away from you so suddenly.

you hope that you succeeded into sending him off without any worries. you can’t help but continue rambling to yourself, “i’m going to miss you s’much. oh, my baby.”

you lift your head back and stare into satoru’s eyes once more. did he think about you when he was on his deathbed? did he see his life flash before his eyes, including his many memories with you? did he see what could have been?

it’s unfair.

you give him one last bright smile and gently close his eyelids for him, hoping his lost soul saw your face before you did so. with one last kiss on his lips, you whisper your final words;

“please wait for me on the other side, my love.”

[loveandpeaceanddoughnuts]

To be perceived: Husband!Nanami x Reader

“I don’t feel good in anything!” Your clothes are strewn around the room, victims of your self-image. Nanami holds up a dress, raising an eyebrow in a silent offer. You shake your head. “That hasn’t fit in years!”

He sits down heavily on the bed, surveying the emptied drawers and your increasingly desperate face. He tries discreetly to check his watch. He’ll call and move the reservations back, no problem.

You take off the latest rejected outfit and sit down helplessly in the middle of the room. “Kento, I’m an ugly slug.” Your husband joins you on the floor, wrapping both arms around you.

“You’re a beautiful slug, dear.”

You laugh and lean your head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, I know we’re running late…”

He kisses the top of your head. “Don’t worry about it. I just want you to feel good. I wish you could see yourself the way I see you, my love.”

“Sometimes I wish I didn’t have to be perceived, you know?”

Nanami nods thoughtfully. “I can’t make that happen, but maybe I could help distract people. Make it so you’re not the one they’re staring at.”

You turn to look up at him. “What do you mean? You’re wearing your scheming face…”

“Don’t worry, angel. You just finish getting ready and leave it to me, okay?” He disappears into the bathroom.

In a few minutes, you’re feeling a bit better. You’ve put on a comfortable outfit and done your makeup. Nanami’s voice is muffled from behind the door. “Are you ready, darling?”

“Yes, ready when you are!” You call back.

Your husband emerges from the bathroom, a confident smile on his chiseled face. Your mind short-circuits for a moment, not sure what to focus on first- the shock of blonde hair slipping over one eye, the expertly applied black eyeliner, or the skirt swaying around his muscled thighs. He looks beautiful.

“Kento, what is this?” You squint. “Is that my eyeliner?”

“No, it’s mine,” he says easily. “I’ve had it since high school.”

“And the hair? I’ve never seen you without it gelled up…”

He blushes a little at that. “Also high school.”

You shake your head in disbelief, your heart racing at the unexpected transformation. “Well I know that’s my skirt,” you giggle.

“Ah, yes. That’s correct. I found one with an elastic waist, so I could fit- but I’ll change if you mind me using it.”

“No, not at all!” You reassure quickly. He has a good eye for fashion, despite his usual insistence on a leopard-print tie. He’s paired the skirt with one of his own button-downs, sleeves rolled up over his ropy forearms. You step forward, cupping his cheek in your hand.

“You like it, then?” He asks softly.

“You’re beautiful,” you sigh. “But what’s this all about?”

He chuckles. “I figured that although you look stunning as ever, I might get a little more attention than you tonight. Help with the whole ‘being perceived’ bit.”

You laugh and lean up on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek, careful not to muss his hair. “You’re an angel. A sexy, stylish angel.”

“As long as I’m yours,” he murmurs. “Now. I’ve moved our reservations once, let’s not be late for them again, hm?”

Nanami’s theory was correct. Every eye in the fancy restaurant is on him as the two of you are escorted to your table. Some stares are admiring, some judgmental, but he’s completely unbothered. He looks at you from across the table as if you’re the only other person in the world.

You clink your wine glasses together. “To my beautiful wife,” he smiles.

“To my beautiful husband,” you smile back.

[cuddleprofiler]

FAINTING & FEVER - When you confess your deep buried feelings to your boss in your fever.

Summary: Hiding a fever? Check. Passing out? Check. Confessing your feelings to your boss? Wait woah?

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x reader, BAU x platonic!reader

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: fever, fainting, rest is good I guess.

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N: This was supposed to be platonic but I didn't feel like it is romantic :) This is my first time writing any non-platonic work. All the pics I have inserted are more clear when clicked if you want to see (Tumblr did something). Positive Criticism is welcomed.

"So, what are you ladies up to tonight?" Morgan asked while driving, his focus on the road. You'd just finished a case, and as usual, Morgan was eager to make plans before another case thrust you back into the world's horrors.

"Well," JJ began with a sigh, eyebrows raised, "I'm going to spend the whole day resting with my boys." She finished with her radiant smile.

"What about you, Prentiss?" Morgan glanced at Emily in the passenger seat.

"No plans yet, but who knows? I might have something by the time we land."

"L/N?" Derek called out when he realized you hadn't answered, lost in your own world.

You sat beside Spencer, staring out the window, oblivious to your surroundings. The heat you felt was consuming every coherent thought.

"L/N?"

"Huh? What did you say?" you asked, turning your head so quickly that JJ and Spencer wondered how you didn't get whiplash. Your voice remained calm and soft.

"You okay?" Spencer asked, his hazel eyes filled with concern.

"Why wouldn't I be, Spencer?" you replied, mustering a small smile to maintain your façade.

"You just seem...down," he commented, studying you intently. You gave him another small smile, shook your head, and winced. Your head felt as if it had been struck by an invisible hammer. Spencer either didn't notice your wince or chose not to comment.

"You up for some fun tonight?" Morgan asked again, though you were barely aware.

"What fun?" you frowned. The way he said "fun" made you think it might not be the kind you'd enjoy.

"Seriously, sweet girl? You're spending way too much time with Reid. I'm talking about bars, drinks, and if you get lucky, then maybe—" Morgan started with a Cheshire grin, while your eyes widened.

"No," you said in a high-pitched tone, embarrassed at the thought of hooking up with a random guy when you already loved someone.

"What do you mean, 'no'? Come on. We don't get many days off, L/N. You should enjoy them when you can."

"Morgan, I can't," you said, shifting uncomfortably.

"And why is that, sweet girl?"

"Hey! Garcia will take offense if you call someone else 'sweet girl,'" you said with a smile, appreciating his use of a nickname for you.

"Nah. My baby girl will never be offended by this, and you're not just someone else," he replied confidently.

"But answer the question, sweet girl," he prompted, aware you were avoiding it. He assumed your hesitation was due to your reluctance to go out, knowing how you and Reid felt about drinking and socializing.

"I've got some work to do, Morgan. Also, I'm tired," you said, leaning your head back.

Morgan's expression changed instantly.

"Go straight home when we land, Y/N, not to Hotch's office. Whatever files you have to work on can wait. If I didn't know him better, I'd say he's making you do overtime."

"Exactly. Hotch will understand, and there's no need to tire yourself out," Spencer added softly.

Their concern warmed your heart. "Of course, gentlemen," you replied, amusing the others.

The conversation drifted back to their plans while you gazed out the window, watching amoeba-shaped clouds float slowly across the sky. The view was therapeutic, but you didn't tell them how awful you were feeling.

When you woke up that morning, it felt as if hell had descended upon Earth just for you. Your muscles ached, protesting and begging you to return to bed, but you couldn't. Lives were at stake, a case needed solving. Now, the muscle pain had given way to a headache and constant zoning out.

You longed to get home as soon as possible, yearning for your fluffy blankets to engulf you completely, save for your head. You hoped your phone might end up in a ditch for the day, allowing you to remain in your cozy cocoon until you felt well enough to face the world—and potential case calls—again.

Soon, you arrived at the airstrip, where Emily and JJ surrounded you.

"So, where's your mind wandering today?" Emily asked with a mischievous grin. Before you could answer, JJ chimed in.

"In dreams of Hotch, of course. Right, Y/N?" You quickly shushed her, glancing around to ensure no one had overheard.

"JJ, Emily, we're at the airstrip," you whispered urgently. "Someone might hear you. It's supposed to be a secret. Sometimes I think you and Garcia are determined to let Hotch find out." You began trudging toward the plane, feeling drained.

They both laughed and high-fived.

"We do want you two together," Emily said.

"You should tell him yourself," JJ added. "Besides, if he overhears by accident, it'll only speed up your love life."

"By the way, Y/N, will you only go out with us if Hotch is there too?" Emily teased.

"Guys!" you groaned as they laughed.

Your crush on Hotch had started early in your tenure, initially based on his looks. But it deepened into something more profound, to the point where his well-being affected you deeply. You felt terrified when he faced dangerous situations. That's when you knew you were in trouble.

There was no way he'd fall for someone who could barely speak to him. You had your reasons for avoiding him. The days leading up to this decision were hellish. Never had you stumbled over your words as much as you did then. And what did he do?

He always gave you a patient look and nodded softly, encouraging you to speak your mind. It was manageable until you started losing yourself in his eyes or staring at his face constantly. After that, you ensured you were never alone with him except when working on case files. You began doing this so he could go home early and rest, reasoning that a few extra files wouldn't impact your time.

You were startled from your reverie by the memory of Garcia suggesting that Hotch might like you too. You still don't believe her, but a girl could hope.

"If it gets too much, I want you to pull out."

"Sir?" you asked, confused, looking up from your gun at your boss, who was surveying the team preparing to ambush the unsub's house.

"Everyone has off cases, L/N, but with time, most of us have learned to deal with it. Still, we pull ourselves out when needed. You're still new. So, pull out if necessary. Do you understand me?" he said, now looking at you, his gaze sweeping over your shorter form. You looked up at him intently, lost in his eyes until he raised an eyebrow. You could have sworn you saw his eyes soften slightly.

"Yes, sir."

"Call me Hotch, Y/N." With that, he walked towards the rest of the team as you hurried to catch up.

Back at the FBI building, you dashed to Garcia's lair. She was your first friend, and you both had a tendency to ramble about various topics. Sometimes Reid joined in. As soon as you saw her, you hugged her. Hugging Garcia was like therapy—you could feel your worries, guilt, and other negative emotions leaving your body. You felt yourself relax, your body lighter. You called it "Garcia magic”! It was an added bonus that Garcia was fond of physical affection.

When you told her about Hotch's words and your feeling that he was worried and all other incidents where he acted the same—though you thought that was impossible—she flashed her beaming smile, all her white teeth showing. Her eyes, however, held the amusement of knowing something you didn't.

"I didn't know sweet cheeks, he cares for you this much." Garcia mused, clearly pleased by what you'd shared.

This much? And what do you mean?" you asked, your curiosity evident.

"Hmm hmm. He looks at you the same way Will looks at JJ. He's so soft with you and he isn't like this with anybody. Maybe except Jack of course."

“Garcia there’s no way in hell he likes me. Maybe he was trying to be sweet.” you asked her trying not to get your hopes up.

This is a paradox. You are sure. Damn sure! Garcia began laughing while you gave her an incredulous look. She didn’t stop until you threw a teddy at her. “My sweet sweet girl, Hotch is never sweet with anyone. Ask Emily about it if you are unsure but nope nada in my so many years of being at BAU, he’s never sweet with anyone.”

"Maybe you are overthinking this Garcia. Hotch and I don't even know each other.”, you mumbled looking at your hands in your lap.

“That is an argument I will have with you on another day but what I'm saying is that Hotch likes you.", she says with a small almost sad smile.

"If you want you can observe him. You're a profiler baby. Yow will know.", she added gleefully.

Henceforth, you observed Hotch as profiling team members was off-limit. He had a tendency to smile at you softly and he didn’t offer others the same amount of options that he did to you , but you attributed this to being new. You were certain he'd show his more authoritative side once you were no longer considered the newest member. Definitely!

Lost in these thoughts, you suddenly felt your vision blur and your surroundings distort.

"Whoa! You okay?" Emily asked as she grabbed your forearm, while JJ held the other. They exchanged concerned looks when you didn't answer immediately. You shook your head slightly and replied,

"Yeah, yeah. Just slipped."

They didn't seem convinced but didn't press further.

"Be careful," JJ said, patting your shoulder.

"Yeah, of course," you mumbled, trying to regain your composure.

Hotch and Rossi chatted as they walked, their conversation drifting from Jack's football to other topics. Before they knew it, they'd arrived at the airstrip. As Hotch boarded the plane, he froze in surprise. You were seated next to his usual spot—an unexpected sight, given your habit of avoiding him outside of group settings or work situations. Your presence there felt nothing short of miraculous.

Not wanting to give Rossi a chance to tease him, Hotch quickly sat beside you. He was certain you hadn't noticed his arrival, as you were deeply engrossed in the case report—something you rarely worked on during flights.

His attention shifted back to Rossi when the older agent began discussing plans for a pasta dinner. From the corner of his eye, Hotch caught you glancing up, offering both him and Rossi a small smile before burying yourself in the file again. It was odd, considering the report wasn't due for days.

He didn't want to finish it quickly, knowing an empty home awaited him. No one would be there to greet him—just silent walls. Jack was on vacation with Jessica's family for the next few days, leaving Hotch alone in the city. He stole another quick glance at you, resisting the urge to look more often.

Hotch was sure he would never fall in love again after Hayley. He loved her from such a young age and so much that loving someone else felt betraying the love he had bestowed upon Hayley all those years. Even after getting a divorce, he didn't stop loving her completely. Sometimes, he liked to believe they separated not because they fell out of love, but because their love was so intense that their arguments became too painful. However, he knew this wasn't the reality. He sighed and pulled out his file.

His thoughts soon drifted to you. Lately, contemplating love inevitably led him to think of you. Sometimes you don't know what hit you until it does. Falling in love with you was the same. He was falling in and never realised until the day he got a letter. From you.

Hotch had slowly fallen in love with you. That was the truth of his life, he stayed away from for a long time. How could he stay away when your every action seemed to win his heart anew? Each time he learned something new about you, he fell a little deeper.

You were a sweet addition to the team. It didn't mean you were all the time sunshine. Everyone learnt that the hard way. He mentally chuckled at the fight you and Morgan had over dark chocolate to the extent you were ready to beat him black and blue. However, your sweet gestures towards everyone on the team always warmed his heart.

He reminded himself to remain professional. After all, he was on a plane with a group of profilers who could decipher his feelings in minutes if given the chance.

"L/N, can you tell me about the—"

"L/N?" Hotch called out again, surprised you didn't hear him the first time. Still, you didn't reply. Rossi also looked up.

"Y/N? Y/N!" He said, touching your shoulder.

"Yeah, yeah. What happened?" You looked like a deer caught in headlights, making both Hotch and Rossi confused.

"Nothing happened. I was just asking you about the case," he replied, looking at you. You were looking...different. It was as if every laugh and joy had been drained from your life.

"I'll be right back," you said, standing up and moving before Hotch had a chance to stop you.

The moment you stood up, you knew you shouldn't have done that. You were far better sitting down. Now the pounding in your head intensified, along with the feeling of being shaken up to the point where you could see everything oscillating. You tried to keep yourself still, hoping your surroundings would become normal.

The next thing you knew, everything went black.

Hotch saw you swaying and moved instinctively. He caught you, one hand on your waist, the other on your shoulder, trying to keep you up while you were dead weight. However, it wasn't as easy as it seemed in the movies.

"Y/N? Y/N. Hey, wake up!"

"Y/N!" He squeezed your body against him.

However, his yelling got him nowhere. You didn't respond, lying still in his arms as if you were taking a nap. Hotch would have believed it if he hadn't seen you go down in front of his eyes.

"Y/N," he called out again, softly this time, yet the response was the same. He swept your hair back from your face.

Unable to keep you up, he gently lowered both of you onto the aisle. He moved his hands to your shoulders, gently shaking you, but you showed no sign of waking up.

He didn't notice anyone else until he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up and saw Rossi sitting beside him, looking alarmed by the happenings. Morgan was above your head. The rest of the team was also hovering.

"What happened, man?" Morgan asked while taking the sweater Reid offered and putting it under your head.

Hotch didn't answer. He himself didn't know what was wrong with you. One minute, you were standing and the next plummeting down like the apple which led to the discovery of gravity. His hand went to your cheeks, where he felt the heat radiating. His frown appeared and deepened as he touched your forehead.

"She's burning up!" Hotch said worriedly, still keeping his tone full of calmness while his heart was trying to beat out of his chest. Having a fever is one thing but passing out from it is entirely another. He couldn't help but feel the small burning sensation in his chest at the thought of being ill, even if it was a fever.

You could hear people talking, but why would there be people at your home? You scrunched your face and blinked your eyes multiple times before fully opening them. Everything was blurry at first, but soon it became clear, along with the horrible pounding in your head. You tried to sit up, but a firm pair of arms pushed you back.

"Hey Bella, don't try to get up. Stay still."

"Wha-what happened?"

"You fainted," Hotch said. The rest of them had dispersed, knowing Hotch would take great care of you and that a crowd wouldn't help much.

"I don't feel good," you groaned, your hand massaging your head.

"Yeah, I gathered that much. Tell me what's exactly wrong, L/N?" Hotch had your hand in his, rubbing it softly to ease the pain in any way he could.

"I don't feel good," you mumbled again with half-closed eyes. You were mostly disoriented from what Hotch could figure out.

"You have a fever."

"I do?"

It was taking you time to gather what was happening. He blamed the fainting and fever. It took you time, but you slowly opened your eyes fully when you noticed Hotch still sitting at the edge of the sofa. He still held your hand, and your legs were on his lap. Being in touch with him felt like second nature; you didn't even notice until you opened your eyes. You quickly tried to pull back your legs and hand, but Hotch stopped you with his hold.

"Don't move so much, Y/N. Relax," his voice soft and calming, as always.

You sat in silence for the rest of the journey, which wasn't very long. You were clutching onto his forearm as he helped you sit up to go home. When you came outside the plane,

"Hotch, I can go home by myself," you began, your voice small, hoping to regain some of the dignity you lost after fainting in front of your entire team.

"Y/N, you can't stand straight, and you want to drive home by yourself?" Hotch asked with a raised eyebrow.

"There are other ways to be suicidal than this, sweet girl," Morgan quipped, walking beside you, not that you noticed. You looked up at him and then at Hotch, concern shining in both of their eyes.

"I'm not joking," you huffed.

"Neither are we," Morgan said.

"Y/N, it's final. I'm taking you home," Hotch ordered. That's what it felt like to you.

Hotch had an arm around your waist, supporting you as your body threatened to collapse. He hurried towards your apartment, aware of your rising fever. He couldn't give you medicine without food, but he was grateful for your unfiltered speech—it revealed the extent of your discomfort.

"You know, Hotch?" you began as he fumbled with the door. You leaned against the wall for support.

"Dahlias are my favourite flowers. They symbolize change, dignity, and elegance."

"They're native to Mexico, right?" he replied as you entered the apartment.

"Yeah! You know about them?" you asked, turning your face abruptly.

"Easy, honey. No sudden moves," he cautioned. "And yes, I've picked up a few facts over the years."

"I've always loved them. So colourful, bright, and beautiful," you laughed softly.

Hotch had never heard you speak so freely. He found himself enchanted by your voice, certain you could rival Reid in flower trivia.

After settling you on the sofa, Hotch fetched water, fruit, and medicine. You tossed your shoes aside and reluctantly took the pills, groaning as you slumped back.

"You should change into something more comfortable," Hotch suggested, removing his own shoes.

You looked at him, startled. Realizing his phrasing, he quickly clarified, "I mean, you should put on some comfy clothes."

At his insistence, you changed. When you returned, Hotch had shed his coat and tie, his shirt partially unbuttoned.

"Aren't you going home?" you asked, confused.

"I'll stay tonight, in case you need anything."

"There's no need, Hotch. You must be exhausted from the case. Go home and rest. I'll be fine."

"Y/N, it's better if someone's with you tonight. You fainted on the plane. I wouldn't be able to relax not knowing how you're doing," he admitted, his voice soft.

You smiled at his thoughtfulness and curled up on the sofa with a blanket and pillow. You both decided to watch Star Wars.

Partway through the movie, you turned to Hotch, staring intently.

"You know, Hotch?"

"Yes?"

"I love you. Like, really, really love you," you said with a lopsided smile.

Hotch froze, completely still. He hadn't been this motionless since he first held Jack, afraid of hurting his newborn son. He never imagined you reciprocated his feelings, but he knew if he didn't get the conversation going right now, he not going to know about your feelings when you are not loopy due to medicine.

“Yea?”

"Mm-hmm. You're so wonderful and adorable and just... so cute. Yeah, you're intimidating at work, but the rest of the time? Totally cute."

"Oh, am I?"

Though your tongue was loosened by the medicine, you were more lucid than you let on. Having suppressed these feelings for so long, you couldn't stop now that you'd started. You wanted to tell him everything—him about all those feelings that you shouldn't have about him but you do, how couldn't help but fall for him slowly and every day seeing him made your day.

He was so handsome! His pretty dark brown chocolate-coloured eyes are swoon-worthy. Whenever you look into them, you feel hypnotized, unable to look away from them but not being present in the time; you often find yourself lost in them, forgetting his words as you gaze at him. Right now, he was looking directly at you, and you were drowning in his gaze.

How does he not realize the effect he has when he looks at someone like this?

Hotch's smile grew with each word you spoke.

"You're so handsome, ridiculously handsome. Have you seen yourself under that table lamp? You look like some movie hero poring over case files."

He blushed and glanced away at your flood of compliments. You cupped his face, turning it back to you, your eyes wide and intent. His smile made your frown melt into the biggest grin he'd ever seen on you. You looked beautiful.

"I just really like you, but I know you don't like me," you said, your voice small.

He frowned at your words.

"I love you too, honey, but I'll give you the full answer when you're well enough to remember it. Word for word," he replied softly.

You squealed with delight.

"You aren't just saying this to spare my feelings, right?" you mumbled a few moments later.

He cradled your face in his hands. "I would never say such a thing just to spare someone's feelings, Y/N. I love you. More than you can imagine."

Your questioning continued throughout the movie, but you refused to turn it off.

"You must have had many admirers in college. How many girlfriends did you have?" you asked, your head resting on his shoulder while his hand on your waist pulled you closer. Both of you kept your eyes on the TV.

"I only had one."

"No, you're lying. You're far too handsome to have had only one girlfriend your entire life."

'You can become the second.'

"What did you say?"

"I didn't say anything, sweetheart."

"Did you just call me sweetheart?"

"You're imagining things, L/N. It's a common symptom of high fever. Of course, I didn't call you sweetheart, honey."

"Oh, but I—you just called me—"

"What?"

"Never mind. I must be imagining it."

"Yes, you're definitely imagining things."

[babyleostuff]

─ PINK RIBBONS

𝜗𝜚 THEME: fluff, domesticity, you being jeonghan's whole world (mention of the military) 𝜗𝜚 PAIRING: idol!jeonghan x fem!reader 𝜗𝜚 WORD COUNT: 792

natalia's note: idc if this is too dramatic, i don't want jeonghan to go

⦗💌 ⦘your favourite past time? playing with your boyfriend's hair, duh. sadly, it's the last time you get to do it for the next two years.

“here,” jeonghan drops a bunch of… somethings in your lap and sits down on the fluffy rug you bought last month, his back facing you. 

your boyfriend’s randomness is nothing new; even before you began dating, you quickly found out that yoon jeonghan was an unpredictable man. but no matter how much time has passed since you agreed to be his girlfriend, you are still taken aback each and every time he decides to do something out of the blue in his jeonghan fashion. 

you quickly grew to love his randomness, though. it’s like being surprised in the best ways possible.

“what,” you pick up a packet of colourful hair ties and hair pins, “what do you want me to do with those?”.  

jeonghan turns around and looks up to meet your eyes, his own holding nothing but fondness and warmth. “my hair,” he says and shakes his head of messy brown hair he died a couple of days ago. “we haven’t done this in a while, so i thought it’d be nice.” 

your stomach churned. how many times have you sat like this - you on the edge of the sofa and jeonghan in front of you, resting comfortably against a cushion you placed so as not to strain his back. a drama or a cooking show would be playing quietly in the background, neither of you watching it, too busy with basking in the domesticity. 

looking back, it was a no-brainer that you got addicted to your boyfriend’s hair so quickly. playing with it became a little habit of yours - before bed, in the morning, at a game night with the boys, during parties - whenever jeonghan was in your arm’s reach, you’d play with his hair, no matter if they were short or long (though you always mourned his long hair whenever he cut them). it always managed to calm you down and ground you when life got a bit too much. 

you’ve never experienced deja vu before, but if this was how it felt then you’d rather be hit with a sledge hammer. it’d hurt less. 

and now… despite that you could feel your heart breaking, you couldn’t tell him no. it’s probably the last time you’ll be able to do this before the enlistment anyway, so maybe… maybe it’ll be a nice way to celebrate his last days at home? 

“it’s hair. it’s just hair,” your mind seems to scream into the void as you grab a couple of the purple-ish hair bands and slide them on your wrist. but your heart is even louder and it feels like you’re being ripped apart. 

were you being dramatic? definitely. did you care? not at all. your whole life would change in the next day or so and despite preparing for this for such a long time now, it didn’t make it any less painful. with jeonghan leaving you’d be losing a part of yourself.

“hey,” he raises his hand and grabs your chin, “get that scowl off your face.”

“i know,” you sigh. “it’s just that-,”.

“i don’t want to hear any of that. we’re having fun tonight, honey,” jeonghan says and runs his thumb over your cheek. affection and pure love, which are always there whenever he looks at you (coups makes sure to point that out on every possible occasion), seemed to slow your racing heartbeat, because the longer you stared into his brown, gentle eyes the more your mind seemed to quiet down. oh, how you are going to miss that lovesick stare. “no more sad faces, yeah?” 

you swallow and nod, your heart heavy from all the emotions. the pink ribbons and blue pins look like the opposite of what you are feeling, but… you have to be strong. if not for yourself, then for jeonghan. 

“any specific requests?” you ask and comb your fingers gently through his silky hair.

“nope. whatever you do,” he says and turns his back to you, “it’ll look perfect.” you couldn't see jeonghan’s face, but you could hear the smile in his voice. 

placing a peck on your exposed leg, he makes himself comfortable against the cushions and lets out his grandpa-esque sigh. 

what the next days are going to bring - you aren’t sure. you don’t even want to think about it. but for now… for now, you are as content as you can be. enveloped by your love’s affection like a security blanket, his warm hands sliding up and down your calves, as if reminding you that he’s still there, it is enough for you. enough to swallow your tears and put a brave smile on your face for the man sitting in front of you. 

for now it is only you and him and all the pink ribbons.

taglist (if you want to be added, check my masterlist): @jeonghansshitester @weird-bookworm @sea-moon-star @hanniehaee @wonwooz1 @byprettymar @edgaralienpoe @staranghae @itza-meee @eightlightstar @immabecreepin @whatsgyud @hyneyedfiz @honestlydopetree @vicehectic @dkswife @uniq-tastic @marisblogg @aaniag @daegutowns @carlesscat-thinklogic23 @embrace-themagic @ohmyhuenings @nidda13 @hrts4hanniehae @k-drama-adict @isabellah29 @f4iryjjosh @bangantokchy @mrswonwooo @bangtancultsposts @lllucere @athanasiasakura @onlyyjeonghan @haecien @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @hannahhbahng @valgracia @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @mirxzii @hhusbuds @wonranghaeee @rosiesauriostuff @gyuguys @tomodachiii @veryfabday @lilmochiandsuga @asasilentreader @mrsnervous @bewoyewo @sharonxdevi @wondipity @gyuguys @raginghellfire @treehouse-mouse @waldau @wonootnoot @hellodefthings @dokyeomkyeom @sourkimchi @bbysnw @hoichi02 @aaa-sia @haneulparadx @minvrsev @zozojella @wonootnoot @kimingyuslover @wntrei @honglynights @jihoonsbbygirl @uhdrienne @bloodcanbehot  @iamawkwardandshy  @icyminghao @heeseungthel0ml @goyangiiwonu @bath1lda @ruurooozz @ny0sang @luuxian @onerubii  @hurrican3-insert-nam3 @mekuiikore @luvseungcheol @thenotoriousegg @yuuyeonie @soffiyuhh @svtficsarchive @hyperdramas @huen1ngk41 @lesuneczka @oc3anfloor @gyuguys @fr-freak @bewoyewo

[frankotalk]

squidward voice i have GOT to make a reki/nemu doujin