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iamred-iamyellow · 5 months ago

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⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ Strawberry Shortcake

♥ masterlist | request rules

♥ pairing: oscar piastri x fem!baker!reader

♥ synopsis: your mother owned a bakery in australia and oscar, your childhood best friend was your favorite regular until he had to move away for his racing career. you've since become head chef and people are beginning to wonder where or who oscar got his impeccable baking skills from.

♥ smau + written - fc: women on pinterest - as always none of the pictures are mine

♥ warnings: swearing and suggestive jokes !!!

♥ a/n: literal tooth rotting fluff

-Australia, 2024-

liked by user26, user7, user14, and 18,302 more

y/n.pastries getting ready for spring with some new cupcakes <3

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user14 looks yummy 😋

yoursister do I get a family discount?

yourusername no 🥰

user7 face card is insane

user21 looks good! i’ll stop by and pick up some things soon 😊

user25 you’re gorgeous

user23 your cupcakes never miss

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

-Webs Most Searched Questions-

"Is Lando Norris..." he peeled off the thin white strip. "Related to Chuck Norris?"

"Yes," Lando jokingly admitted, gazing straight into the camera as Oscar tossed the card aside.

The team walked up to the two men and handed Lando another card of questions to ask his teammate.

"Does Oscar Piastri... really like pastries? I dunno, do you Oscar?"

"I do like pastries," Oscar nodded. "I like making them more, though."

"You know how to bake?" Lando questioned.

"An old friend taught me." he admitted.

"You’ll have to bring some treats in for the team one day, then."

"Maybe one day I will. Cupcakes are my specialty."

"Oh are they?" Lando raised a brow. "I'm gonna need some proof of that."

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

liked by landonorris, mclarenracingf1, logansargeant, and 1,482,053 more

oscarpiastri made some cupcakes for the team like i promised

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user2 oh he cooked 😮‍💨

user1 the piping >>>

user3 i’m not surprised that he’s good at piping

user7 he can pipe me any day

user10 OSCAR CAN THROW DOWN

user6 no bc why do those look so good

landonorris i expect you to bring these every day now

user4 now whom exactly did he learn this from

user8 flavor?

oscarpiastri vanilla cupcake with buttercream, some with a lemon custard filling and some without for varied pallets

user9 get this man on a baking show asap

user11 and then Oscar opened a cupcake shop and him and Charles did a Collab birthday cake ice cream

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

-Your Bakery, March 12-

The golden bell on your bakery’s door chimed late in the afternoon as you swept, getting ready for closing.

Your back was facing the entrance as you spoke up, “Perfect timing. I was just about to lock the door. What can I get for ya?”

“A strawberry shortcake.”

You spun around, recognizing the man’s voice instantly.

It was Oscar.

You hadn’t seen him in about a decade, but you still occasionally took time to follow his racing. You were hoping that one day he’d find his way back to you.

“Hi,” you greeted him with a warm smile.

“Hi.”

“It’s been a while.”

“It has,” he responded, shoving his hands in his pockets.

You reached down to grab the small cake from the cold display case, “You know, your mum reached out to me.”

“She did? What’d she say?”

“Just how she wants us to reconnect and all. She visits me pretty often.”

Oscar hummed, as you set the cake on the counter.

“…To-go?” you asked.

He shook his head no, “Would you like to sit down with me?”

You nodded, plating the treat and walking out from behind the check out. You locked the door and he grabbed two small pink forks, handing one to you as you took a seat across from him.

“My mum, she would uhm…” he stabbed the utensil into the cake. “At every race she got to see in person she’d bring me a pastry from here. She’d make sure to tell me it was made by you and how your business was doing and all. I always performed better when she brought me them, too. It was always nice to know a piece of you was with me everywhere I went.“

You practically melted at the confession.

“That’s really sweet,” you dragged the tongs of your fork through some of the icing.

“I see that you’ve made a name for yourself in the Formula 1 baking community.” you both laughed.

“I had a great teacher.”

The two of you stared at each other for a moment, both taking bites from the cake.

“I’m sorry i didn’t visit sooner,” Oscar apologized.

“I’m just glad you’re here now.”

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

liked by oscarpiastri, charles_leclerc, carlossainz55 and 23,847 more

y/n.pastries race weekend

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oscarpiastri ferrari cookies really?

y/n.pastries i’m making mclaren ones too relax

charles_leclerc @/oscarpiastri is that any way to treat your father’s team?

user4 spectacular give me 14 more of em right now

user6 take my money 💳

landonorris so THIS is who taught @/oscarpiastri how to cook 🔥

y/n.pastries perhaps

user3 guys she’s so pretty

user1 @/nicolepiastri what’s the lore here

user8 obsesseddd

user10 hear me out she should sell these at the melbourne circuit

user7 this !!!

liked by oscarpiastri, arthur_leclerc, landonorris, and 100,583 more

nicolepiastri it was about time you two reconnected

tagged; @/oscarpiastri @/y/n.pastries

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oscarpiastri mummm

y/n.pastries 😅

landonorris what's up with that second picture

oscarpiastri no comment

user7 the amount of times i've seen f1 drivers dressed as nintendo characters is uncanny

user4 paul aaron and dino core

user1 AWWWW

user8 this is so cute

logansargeant @/oscarpiastri how come i’ve never heard of this? don't tell me you fumbled this bad

oscarpiastri 😐

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

-Australian Grand Prix-

At your bakery Oscar insisted that you attend this year’s Australian Grand Prix. You finally got the privilege of meeting so many amazing people such as Leo the famous paddock puppy and none other than Oscar’s best friend, Logan.

You stood in the Mclaren garage with Oscar’s parents as the team prepped for the race. You brought some cookies for Lando to which he complained that he wouldn’t be able to eat them until after the podium ceremony.

The two made their way back to you a few hours later, Lando in p3 and Oscar in p4. Lando snatched the tin of cookies from your hands.

“You know you’re supposed to share that?” you said as he took a seat, devouring the treats, but he just waved you off.

You gave Oscar a hug and he pulled you off to the side.

“So I was thinking… maybe I could take you on a proper date tomorrow?

You smiled, “That sounds great.”

liked by landonorris, logansargeant, georgerussell63, and 1,394,623 more

oscarpiastri morning

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user1 you don’t have to soft launch we all know you’re with y/n

user2 there’s only one person who can make those croissants and it’s y/n

user5 the third picture 😨

user3 she’s so lucky 😭

user4 @/yourusername how does it feel to live MY dream?

georgerussell63 @/alex_albon who takes all the shirtless pictures now

alexalbon still you mate

-F1 Winter Break-

liked by pierregasly, oscarpiastri, f1, and 1,492,053 more

y/n.pastries I am very pleased to announce three new limited additions to the bakery’s menu! Carlos Sainz’ pancakes, Yuki Tsunoda’s Fruit Sando, and the LEC Vanillove ice cream sandwich.

The fans have been dying to try my boyfriend Oscar’s (basic) vanilla buttercream cupcakes, so I’ll be keeping them as a year round pastry.

It has been an honor to work with the four of you <3

tagged; @/carlossainz55 @/yukitsunoda0511 @/charles_leclefc @/oscarpiastri

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oscarpiastri im so proud of you ❤️

y/n.pastries i love you osc

oscarpiastri i love you too

oscarpiastri also my signature cupcake is not “basic”

y/n.pastries whatever you say 😉

user1 guys yuki is slowly starting to accomplish his restaurant dreams

pierregasly no creds?

y/n.pastries for?

pierregasly helping yuki

y/n.pastries yea… no

pierregasly helping charles?

y/n.pastries 😐

user2 yukierre and piarles are so back

user7 the childhood friends to lovers is melting my heart 😩

user8 theyre so adorable it makes me physically ill

user3 i’m pretty sure nicole is jumping up and down right now

oscarpiastri oh don’t worry she is

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sleeplessdreamer14 · 7 months ago

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𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌

fandom: gravity falls

relationship: stanford pines x reader

summary: the moment Ford realized he liked you.

contains: stan being stan, the uh-oh moment, and pining

Ford wasn’t the most social person, to put it plainly. Despite his popularity amongst his teachers at school and the odd handful of classmates, he normally preferred his own company, otherwise his family’s. It had been that way for a long time, and it seemed like it would remain so for the foreseeable future.

And so it did. That is, until he met you, which he did not see coming.

You had this welcoming presence about you, that much was clear by the way you spoke to him for the first time in the seventh grade, remaining mostly unfazed by his sixth digit aside from the initial surprise. The first time he caught himself rambling about parapsychology and anomalistics, he found no judgment or disinterest in your expression. In fact, you were actually listening, setting down whatever you were doing just to give him your undivided attention. That was a first. It felt nice to have someone (who wasn’t his brother or mother) listen to him.

And the energy was returned, as he indulged your interests too. Before he knew it, Ford would often seek out your company, whether his brother was available or not, and the two of you could usually be found bouncing ideas off of each other. The room seemed to brighten when you came into view, your presence made him feel comfortably warm inside. Whenever you two parted ways, it always felt too soon, just like it did now.

“Oh my gosh.”

Stan’s voice drew Ford’s attention away from you as you left.

“What?” he asked, mildly perturbed by the wily grin on his brother’s face. Stan just chuckled and nudged him, “You’ve got it so bad, it’s almost embarrassing.” he teased, to which Ford lightly shoved him away, beginning their route back home from the pier.

“Stanley, come on. They’re my friend just as they are yours. They’re good company.” he said, glancing off to the side, as if that could conceal the rosy pink hue on his face, but Stan remained undeterred. “Sixer, face it. You’re whipped with a capital wh-pshh!” he said, smacking one hand with his other for emphasis.

“I am not- look, [Name] is very kind and a good friend, I appreciate that. It’s not like I lie awake at night thinking about them.”

Several hours later, it was well past nightfall and everyone in the Pines household was fast asleep, save Ford.

Up on the top bunk, he laid on his back, hands folded over his midriff as his chest heaved slowly and his heart thrummed steadily beneath its surface. That warmth was still present, especially around his face. His conversation with Stanley had been playing on loop all evening.

Of course Ford liked you, heck, he was crazy about you. You were so nice to him and fun to be around, your enthusiasm was so endearing, and you never treated his abnormalities as though they were defects.

And you weren’t bad to look at either, of course, like earlier that afternoon on the boardwalk when the sun’s light highlighted your features. He could stare at you for hours. The way you diminished his resolve just by looking his way and smiling at him was so positively-

Oh.

“Oh no.”

Ford could just faintly hear a sleepy chuckle from his brother in the bunk below him.

if this gets enough notes I’ll write a part 2

#stanford pines #ford pines #gravity falls #gravity falls x reader #x reader #teen ford #teen stan #my stuff #my writing #fluff #pining #stanford pines x reader #young ford pines #young ford #gravity falls fanfiction #when you know #stanley pines #stan pines #when you know you know

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smuttysabina · 6 days ago

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A Month With Aespa (Ch 5): A Taste of Winter

(Male Reader x Karina x Winter, 3k Words) Tags: Rampant lesbianism; Excessive foreplay; Immense Creampies; Twintails get used as handlebars, These outfits were honestly wild, they should wear more fishnets; some voyeurism; Vaginal and Oral sex; Threesome; Some Fisting

Read Ch1, Ch2, Ch3, Ch4 here!

It had so far been a perfectly ordinary day. You had spent a great deal of your time luxuriating in the gardens that still glistened with the morning's dew, sampling some new delicacies from the kitchen, and had received a somewhat mediocre, if enthusiastic, pleasuring from Ningning (who had insisted upon using her modest breasts to prove her bust's superiority over Karina's; it were not). So, aside from a rather strained painting of an idol's chest with your seed, your day had otherwise been filled with whimsy and the like; you could already hear your maids muttering to themselves about the lack of attention. It was in the late afternoon then that you were strolling through the corridors, eyeing your passing staff to see if any felt particularly fulfilling to well, fill, when you notice Karina scurrying through a service passage. It was surprising enough to see her out and about considering her penchant for staying in her room all day, but it was even more surprising to see doing so dressed like a cheap (well, moderately priced, really) whore. A tightening of your groin indicates that any further consideration about a potential distraction was not required; your darling maids would understand completely.

You follow Karina at a leisurely pace, keeping her barely in sight as you stroll along, giving you only glimpses of her outfit as she darts around corners and down stairways. Her exotic twintails bouncing erratically as she weaves a confusing path through your grandfather's manor; or at least it would be had you not known the place like the rear of your old anatomy teacher (Ms. Hendricks had held a rather hands-on view towards teaching, and her sizable posterior a formidable tool in that respect). As it was, you always managed to keep track of Karina as she wound her way back to where she started, and you find your curiosity further piqued as she seems to hesitate in front of the door of one of your other guests, before softly knocking on the door and slipping inside. Of course, the only other guests in the mansion were the other members of Aespa, so now you were well and truly baffled by the entire scheme of hers'; why bother bustling about if her eventual destination was literally feet away? Your brow furrowed with thought, you hurry to the service corridors yourself, and from there into the servant's passages that honeycombed the walls of your residence. You step quietly over to the peephole that looks into Winter's room, and peer intently through it, keen to discover just what the idols were up to (Hm? I'm sorry, why exactly is the mansion riddled with cuck-holes you ask? Obviously because where is the thrill of illicit love-making if there is not the risk of it getting exposed? Also the maids do love to watch, even if it does leave the place rather damp at times).

The view through the narrow opening was somewhat limited, but fortuitously the two idols had placed themselves upon Winter's bed directly in front of it. Now that she was finally still, you could truly examine in detail Karina's outfit, and found yourself suitably impressed. Her long twintails frames her sizable bust quite nicely, which though shrouded by fabric was still pleasantly arousing, and the black fishnets that led up to her miniskirt were the icing upon the proverbial cake. Winter by contrast was a brighter version of Karina, her fishnets were pink, as was the open skirt around her waist, which was conspicuously lacking anything to cover up her darker-hued panties. Yet more fishnetted lingerie covered her arms and chest, and her more modest twintails were set further back on her head; it was surprising to see them dressed so sensually, neither had bothered since their first days at the mansion. Giselle on the other hand seemed to revel in extravagant outfits, nearly as much as she enjoyed annoying you enough to bend her over in a service corridor, praise be that your maids were experts in removing semen stains! Of course Ningning also could be seen flaunting her body in sleek dresses and shifts, though those were rarely on her body long enough for you to truly appreciate them these days.

But the bemusement at seeing Karina and Winter not in their usual sweats or pajamas was swiftly escalated when the pair begin to make out. Your eyes practically bulge as you watch Karina melting into Winter's arms, their lips locked tightly together as their hands roam each other's bodies. Now this was a truly unexpected development, you had imagined that Aespa would have been carnally familiar with one another, but the manner in which the two were kissing indicated an intimacy that surpassed casual sex. You are surprised to feel a stab of jealousy as Winter freely mauls Karina's ample breasts through her shirt, the latter's constant denials had you feeling a touch possessive in your desires towards her. And Winter's consistent polite coldness towards your advances had made you think it was simply a quirk of her personality, yet with the other idol she showed a gleefully honest lack of restraint. You had thought you would catch the girls gossiping away or the like, and yet here they were, engaging in passionate foreplay that would no doubt soon devolve into outright sex! So, with a rather particular tightness in your pants, you sit forwards to enjoy the show.

You knew that lesbians tended to take awhile with their foreplay, but frankly, this was getting ridiculous. Karina and Winter were still merely kissing and petting one another, why, they had not even moved from that particular spot on Winter's bed! Surely the idols must be so worked up by this point that they were literally dripping wet, you certainly were, but no, the pair spared only the gentlest of touches to their sexes; and remained completely clothed! With an irritable huff you force yourself to settle, indulgent excess was meaningless without restraint, as your dear grandfather had been so fond of saying (He had also been wont to repeat "through anal fornication, comes perfection", so perhaps you should harken too closely to his, ah, wisdom). Yet, nothing happened. It was as if the members of Aespa were putting on a show for none (obviously they would assume their little tryst was going unwatched after Karina's stealthy antics), that, or they were appallingly chaste with one another. There was only so much teasing one could tolerate however, and the only reason why you had not faltered in your determination to copulate with Karina and merely emptied yourself into some passing maid, was that one had not wandered by yet. So you rationalize that it was only your duty as a gracious host that you properly encourage those two to, well, get on with it; some couples do require a helping hand (or member) after all!

Filled with fresh resolve, you retrace your steps out into the main hallway, past several maids who eye your obvious bulge with more than a little interest, and right to Winter's door. After taking a moment to adjust yourself so that your erection was not blatantly visible, you knock briefly before inviting yourself inside, a kindly request for some advice regarding Giselle's mundane habit of leaving her belongings everywhere dying on your lips as Karina and Winter break out of their embrace to glare at you in parodies of shock and surprise. You cough awkwardly at this truly unexpected situation, and fixing a look of benevolent concern upon your face, stride deeper into Winter's room. Surely the idols had not been pushed to engage in such banal intimacies due to inattention on your part, you declare with worry, had you been so poor a host that you had focused too closely upon the other two members of Aespa? You would gladly assist them in remedying this disgraceful failing on your part... Winter narrows her eyes at Karina, subtly indicating that she should be the spokesperson, and the idol duly burbles out a breathless response, "Oh, um, dear host, not at all! We were merely... practicing! Yes, we were practicing," Karina beams innocently, her polite demeanor unable to hide the obvious flush coloring her cheeks. A single raised eyebrow is all the reply you require to prompt her into continuing, "Of course, you are welcome to observe, as is your right," Winter frowns but nods in agreement; ah, progress.

You pull an armchair in front of the bed, leaning back into it before broadly gesturing for the idols to continue with their... "practice"; and are given a front-row view of Karina and Winter once more shyly kissing one another. You are utterly baffled by their behavior, you knew from first-hand experience that Karina was an absolute menace between the sheets, and from your brief interactions with Winter, you could tell that she was beyond experienced when it came to pleasuring both men, women, and everything in between. Undoubtedly the pair had engaged in wanton acts of debauchery together, idols were renowned for their depraved orgies, so your thoughts once again churned as you attempted to solve this knotty problem... As always, the wisdom of the Ancients comes to your aid, why bother untangling this Gordian mystery, when you could simply sever it? With a radiant smile upon your face, you heave yourself upright and stand proudly in front of the bemused idols, who once more ceased kissing to stare at you, courteously awaiting your words. They barely even blink when you unsheathe your sword, its tip bulbous and oozing from the girl's infuriating teasing; Karina's lips seem to quirk slightly before returning to her demure half-smile.

Usually you would engage in foreplay, exploring your lover's bodies while they probed your own, but after nearly an hour of simply watching, you decided to forego such pleasantries. You order Karina to open her legs, which she does with a disinterested sigh, while Winter huffs in disgust, but the latter's eyes widen when you tell her to start eating Karina out. The members of Aespa glance at each other, before Winter shrugs with exaggerated indifference, and leans down between Karina's fishnetted thighs, moving her tight miniskirt up to reveal Karina's glistening slit before her head obscures it. Winter's rear remains upraised however, her gauzy pink skirts shrouding it in an excess of fabric, and you are quick to lift it up over her hips, revealing the thong beneath. Winter looks back at you for a moment, before rolling her eyes and returning to devouring her friends' pussy; who seems to be rather enjoying herself if the squelching noises coming from her crotch are anything to go by. But now it was your turn, and you are almost trembling as your hands roam Winter's pale rear, her skin pleasantly dimpled by the pink fishnets as you squeeze and spread them. You slap your meat against her exposed lower lips, causing runnels of juices to dampen her thighs, and with barely contained excitement, your manhood tastes the final member of Aespa's pussy for the first time.

Unlike her name, Winter's sex was hot, almost uncomfortably so. It felt as if your member was inside of a heater, one that was enjoyable lubricated to be sure, and that voraciously sucked you inside of it, but still. Not that you minded though as you plow Winter from behind, her stuffy pussy already having you on edge from her extensive show- Fresh wetness gushes down your shaft, the idol shudders in your grasp, evidently she had been pushed to her limits by Karina's chaste kisses as well. With a grunt you push forwards, forcing Winter flat atop Karina, her face shoved between her friend's amble breasts as you start to prone bone the idol. Your cock grinding against her sensitive spot with every thrust, sending fresh quivers through her body as her pussy soaks the skirt pooled beneath her groin. No matter how skillfully your movements however, you found yourself unable to resist the burning heat broiling your manhood, and after several more messy slaps you finally allow yourself to let go. Winter lets out a muffled squeal as your semen pours into her, her feet drumming against the bed as your load fills her pussy. You shake as you collapse down onto her, your strength leaving you as pleasure wracks your form, the pair of you shuddering in sympathy as your twined orgasms leave you breathless. Shivering, you unmount Winter, your erection dragging across her buttocks as you rise back onto your knees, leaving behind a glistening trail that leads back to the creamy mess belching from her vagina.

You lay on your side to catch your breath, as the idols untangle themselves from one another, the both of them leaving behind obvious wet stains on the sheets. But before your seed can add to the damage, Karina determinedly takes her own turn between Winter's thighs, lapping up the sperm before using her tongue to clean even deeper inside of the other idol. If you had thought your own efforts had been adept at bringing Winter to orgasm, Karina swiftly put you to shame as her oral techniques soon have Winter blubbering. The usually composed idol was in paroxysms of agonizing pleasure as she held onto Karina's twintails, her face bright red as she drowns Karina in her fluids, until with a undignified shriek she squirts so hard it sprays past Karina's face and all over the bed. Her chest heaving, Winter pats Karina's cheeks affectionately, "Stupid, Cheese Cat," she gasps, and the pair share a smile. But such an impressive display had stirred your lust once more, and now you wanted to try using Karina's twintails as handlebars! Karina's blowjob skills were, of course, perfect. Even as you used her hair to piston her head up and down your shaft, her tongue still plied its underside while her lips wrapped tightly around it. Karina idly masturbates throughout, no matter how hard you fucked her face her fingers continued stirring at an unbothered pace; if only you could keep her forever...

After allowing Karina to slobber all over your manhood without your assistance for a little while, you decide it is only right that you reward her for her efforts. So once again she spreads her lingerie-sheathed legs, but this time it is you who place yourself between them. Karina had been wet when you had made love the first time in the showers a week ago (with more than just steamy water, obviously), but this time she was literally soaking from Winter's efforts. You suppress a groan as Karina's exquisite pussy welcomes you inside of it once more, her folds squeezing your cock tightly as it swallows every inch of it. With your hands beneath her knees, you push her legs back, allowing you to take her in mating press, her voluptuous body squishing against yours, and with a single violent motion you wrench her top up over her breasts. Karina gasps slightly, but gives you an amused smile in response, "How romantic," she says dryly as her cleavage flattens itself against your chest, your body weight pressing you together. Your thighs slam you down into her again and again, and you nuzzle against her neck as she wraps her arms around you, your conjoined sexes squelching loudly as they slap together. A shudder runs through Karina, and a fresh slurry of fluids sprays against your balls as she climaxes, "Oh you vile..." she moans before purring with ill-disguised satisfaction.

Having brought your partner to orgasm, it was only polite then that you gifted her a reward for her efforts today; seeing the elegant idol dressed so lewdly had aroused you more than you had realized, and it was only proper that you showed your appreciation. You groan as pleasure surges through you, and after several more long, determined thrusts, you creampie Karina. Your seed spews deep inside of her, and the idol quivers as she is bred, her enjoyment at the sensation of being inseminated as obvious as your own joy at doing it to her. When your semen has finished painting the entrance to her womb, she coughs, politely reminding you that you are squishing her. You gently scramble off of her, and Karina simply lays there, her chest heaving in a rather attractive manner (It was a struggle to not mount her bodice then and there), before giving you a somewhat pleased smile, "Well that was nice, I suppose. Are you quite done now, or should we wait on cleaning up?" she asks with an upraised eyebrow. With an exhausted wave you indicate that the idols were free to do as they wish, giving them a nod of approval before tottering towards the exit. You had not even finished closing the door before hearing the noisy sounds of Winter slurping your load out of Karina; they did seem to have great experience in cleaning one another out...

You were thoughtful as you slowly strode back to your own chambers, blissfully unaware of the fact that you were still stark naked; though to be fair, that was hardly an unusual state for you to be in. Karina had put a great deal of trouble into scurrying all around the mansion, it was almost as if she had been trying to catch your attention with such a flashy outfit... Any further musing was put on hold however when you open the door to your room and find Ningning elbow-deep inside of Giselle's sloppy cunt; were all of Aespa carnally interested in each other? Ningning glances back at you without a hint of apology on her face, "Oh good, you're back, we got bored with waiting so we started without you," her eyes narrow as she takes in your unruly appearance, and she sniffs the air before scowling, "You've been fucking Karina again, haven't you? I can smell her loose cunt on your cock," Ningning smirks wickedly as she presents her rear for your pleasure, "Why don't you clean yourself in a real idol, you can even dirty yourself in this slut's holes to truly appreciate the difference..."

You sigh inwardly, this was proving to be a touch more exhausting than you had originally anticipated...

#smut #kpop smut #fanfic #aespa smut #aespa fanfic #karina smut #winter smut #kpop fanfic

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i2sunric · 8 months ago

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HOLD YOUR BREATH (s.jy)

pairing: detective!jake x reader (f)

summary: not having seen your husband’s face in two days, you decide to bring him dinner and check up on him— sleep deprived and stressed, he can’t help but get a taste of you.

warnings: 1960s au. mentions of murder, unprotected sex (don’t be silly, wrap your willy!), pussy eating, pussy drunk jake (r we even surprised), semi-public sex, choking, p in v, jake is a detective, jake wears glasses, sex on desk, dirty talking, pet names (baby, love, darling), wall sex, breeding kink, cream pie, lmk if more. NOT PROOFREAD.

wc: 3.7k

published: 11th June 2024

taglist: (permanent) @stolasisyourparent @jaeyunsbimbo @heelvsted @jwnghyuns @seunghancore @bangtancultsposts s @shawnyle (oneshot) @kirinaa08 @immelissaaa @skzenhalove @anittamaxwynnn @honeybunnee @cherlv

a/n: based on this ask from anon! sorry if it took me a while to prepare it, hope you like it tho <3 please LIKE & REBLOG!

Being a detective in the 60s wasn’t easy at all. With all the danger occurring and newly killers all walking around, trying to take lives as if they were useless, you couldn’t help but bite your nails as you waited for Jake at home.

But being a detective’s wife was even more difficult. The constant dread fuelling your heart until it was too heavy to carry.

One late Friday night, you were sitting by the kitchen table all alone. The warm June air hitting your skin since you left your window open, watching as the sun was beginning to set.

You had already deep cleaned the whole apartment, probably not even a single crumb of dust was left.

Then, you rearranged the books on the shelves.

In the morning, alphabetically and in the afternoon from the oldest to the newest. Ridiculous.

Utterly bored, you had even painted your nails of a weird shade of green that matched your favourite blouse-skirt set.

You weren’t even being dramatic, given the fact that your only company hadn’t shown his face at home for two days.

Date a detective, they said. It’ll be fun, they said.

It was everything but fun or entertaining, since you spent most of the time alone, due to his crazy schedules.

But you loved Sim Jake too dearly to even consider confronting him about it.

You heard a few stories about old ladies’ nieces at the hair salon you worked who got forced into marriage and you were so glad it hadn’t happened to you.

Because you knew it, bet your heart on it that Jake would always choose you first.

You glanced at the clock that ticked half past seven and like the perfect wife you were, you began to wonder if Jake was even taking care of himself. Had he eaten enough? Had he even eaten at all?

So, rolling up your sleeves, you cooked a delicious meal to bring him to his workplace. Inside the small lunch box was some warm miso soup and vegetables for his big, sexy brain.

Repressing the shiver that ran through your spine when you stepped out of your house and immediately spotted a ‘Missing Person’ sign, you started walking down the familiar road. You just thanked the sun was still high enough to bring some natural source of light.

You reached his office when it was dark already, having walked almost one hour away. Cursing the heels you forced yourself to wear even as your feet screamed for help, you knocked on the door.

The new detective Jake introduced you at a dinner showed up, bright smile and innocence plastered on his face “Hello! Miss Sim.”

You smiled back “Good evening, Mister Kim.” Sunoo stepped aside from the door “Looking for Detective Sim?”

You hummed as you took in the sight of the very dark hallway “Third door on the left, is that right?”

Sunoo nodded happily, “You remembered.” He then placed one hand on the side of his mouth to whisper “But I warn you, he’s not in the brightest mood.”

Oh goodness. “Thank you for the information.” You said as you walked away, to the door that led to your husband’s office.

Softly knocking on the door, you waited for his response, and when his grumpy “What?” From the other side, you decided to open the door.

And there your husband was, his hair sticking to every direction while his glasses almost fell down his nose bridge.

Jake was playing billiards, leaning against the table as he desperately tried to get in the ball. A simple task that seemed not to work for him, since he looked so distressed.

A cigar balanced between his upper and bottom lip, its smoke lingering in the air.

When his chocolate brown eyes finally settled on your figure, they softened in a way that made your heart skip a beat.

“Y/N.” Jake breathed out, placing down the pool stick on the table and walking towards you as you closed the door “What are you doing here?”

“I brought you dinner.” You raised the lunch box in your hand, smiling “Figured you might need it.”

His brows knitted, a frown appearing on his face “You walked here all alone?” He glanced at the clock that ticked nine already “It’s dangerous, baby.” Don’t let yourself be fooled by the sweet nickname, his tone was low and rather pissed.

Being in contact with crime most of his day, Jake grew very protective of you, and directly imposed that you wouldn’t go out without him — or any male friend — after six pm.

You shook your head and let out a small sigh “I’m here, aren’t I?” You said as you walked towards his desk to place down the lunch box.

“Besides, I haven’t seen you in a while.” You tilted your head, resting your back on the table “Haven’t you missed me?”

“Christ, Y/N.” He walked toward you right away, closing the space you had put “I missed you like crazy.”

He dropped his head low and sighed tiredly “But there has been another murder and we can’t figure out who the culprit is. I’m in deep-sea here.”

You gently cupped his cheek in your small palm and rubbed your thumb “Maybe you should take a break?” You suggested “Working too hard fries your brain.”

Jake nodded “Maybe I should.” He murmured and looked behind his shoulders “Wand to play pool?”

You grimaced “You know I can’t play that game.” His lips twitched into a smile wrapping a strong arm around your waist. "I could teach you." He told you, lowering his head and brushing his lips against your ear.

You placed your hands with your newly polished nails on his clothed chest, right under his shoulders "I'm afraid I'm a lost case at this game, even for the greatest detective in town."

Jake chuckled lowly and tilted his head to press his lips against your own, sliding a hand downward to grip your thigh. He parted his lips, slipping his tongue into your mouth and tilting you backwards in between his body and the desk.

Jake took the opportunity to grip your thigh and spread it apart, too eager to even care about having a make out session first. He slipped his hand under your skirt and groaned when he felt your folds right under his fingers.

"Goodness, you didn't seem to be wearing anything." Jake mumbled against your lips before trailing his own down your jawline and to your neck.

His fingers pressed against your core and he groaned lowly, sliding his fingers across your entrance.

You let out a quiet gasp at the feeling and let out a small chuckle before his fingers delved deeper inside of you, moving in and out of your wetness while kissing across your jawline.

"You seem quite needy already, love." He mumbled with his gravelly voice. You grasped the back of his head and rested your forehead on his, your eyes never leaving his.

He kissed the tip of your nose, such a gentle gesture in contrast to the filthy thing he was doing to your body, the sound of your slickness pooling down your thighs and on his wrist filled the room— until it was interrupted by a knock on the door.

Cursing under his breath for not having locked the door when you first came in, and not having foreshadowed his fingers deep inside you, he pressed a finger on his lips to shush you. “Who is it?” He then asked.

“Detective Sim?” Someone’s voice came from the other side “The captain wants to speak with you, sir.”

He was about to turn the doorknob when Jake said “Busy at the moment.”

The other detective stepped back from the door but didn’t walk away. “It’s important.” He said bluntly.

You thought that at those words, Jake would leave you there on the table and go doing his job, instead he curled his finger inside of you, making you press a hand on your mouth to middle a moan.

“You can tell me from there.” The detective began speaking and Jake looked down at you, his eyes darkened as he continued to move his fingers in a circular motion inside of you. "Keep quiet, mh?" He whispered to you, his tone smug.

You let out a shaky breath and grasped his forearm, doing your best to not let out any noise.

He let out a low chuckle, curling his fingers again to draw a moan from you. "Shh, you have to be quiet." He whispered and the detective continued to speak.

Not like you could focus on what he was saying with the way his fingers worked you closer to the edge.

“About the murder cases we were working on…” The detective said, “I have an update.”

Jake tilted his head at the mention of the case and kept his fingers moving inside you. "And what is the update?" He called out, not letting up his movements at all.

You couldn’t take it anymore and tried to remove his wrist, "Detective Park found a similarity with the other two murders, seems like the culprit puts a small signature."

Jake ignored your piss-poor attempt to stop him as he continued to talk to the detective with a nonchalant tone.

"What sort of signature?" He questioned, a smirk on his lips while he continued his movements with a particular curling of his fingers.

Your legs shook as he kept hitting your sweet spot “He cuts the ring finger's nail of all the victims." The detective informed him.

Upon hearing the information Jake's eyes widened slightly before moving his sight back down to you. His fingers continued their ministrations, drawing more tremors from your body though his mind was working at the new information revealed to him.

Not hearing any reaction from the inside, Jake’s colleague added “Detective park said to find him when you aren't... busy?” He cleared his throat and for a second you thought he guessed what was happening “I'll tell him you'll talk to him later?"

Your husband hummed lowly as he thought back to the information, continuing to work his fingers in and out of you as if it helped him think. "Yes, I will come talk to him after." He told the detective with a steady voice, his eyes taking in your expression while his gaze darkened.

With the dismissal, the person’s steps went away until they completely disappeared. Jake smirked and moved his fingers faster, curling on your g-spot.

He lowered his head, pressing his lips against the side of your neck and up to your earlobe. "Just a little more, love." He whispered in your ear.

You moaned shakily, now finally able to let it out. You wrapped one arm around his neck to steady yourself as the other rested behind you.

You clenched around his two digits, the knot in your stomach tightening.

Jake let out a soft growl in your ear, his fingers curling against your sweet spot. "Not yet, wait." He demanded.

“W-what?” You frowned, unable to stop the euphoria creeping in “Why?”

Jake smirked against your ear "I'm not done with you yet, love." he mumbled huskily before taking your lobe in his mouth and sucking on it.

His fingers worked you until another moan nearly escaped your lips and he took that opportunity to capture them in his own "Quiet, you don't want anyone to hear you being a noisy little thing, do you?"

You shook your head as you threw it back, your hair dangling in the air and eyes squeezing. You bucked your hips to meet his hand, his palm rubbing against your clit.

Jake titled his head at the sight, looking ever so gorgeous. He added a third digit inside of you, but it stretched you so good to the point of pain. You couldn’t help but whimper out loud.

Jake chuckled at your reaction and his tongue delved between your lips when you whined, muffling your sounds. "Shh, you're being too loud, baby." He bit your bottom lip.

You clenched around his digits, walls taking them in “T-too much.” You murmured.

He hummed lowly and slowed his pace slightly, bringing one arm to grip your waist again. "You can handle it, can't you, baby?" Hequestioned as his fingers began to curl against your sensitive spot to ease your discomfort.

At the feeling, so full and good, you rolled your eyes to the back of your head “T-there.” You moaned helplessly “Keep going.”

“Be quiet for me.” He demeaned and curled his fingers at a speed you weren’t even sure was possible.

You looked down at where your bodies collided and couldn’t help but let out a moan, your slickness was pooling down his wrist onto the floor, making a whole mess.

Jake followed your gaze and smirked at the sight, “You like this? Mh?”

You nodded “Yes, Jake.” Your eyes were half lidded as you felt the knot in your stomach tighten “Like it. So good.”

Jake titled your chin up to meet his dark eyes and raised a brow, your walls sucking his digits in “Are you close, baby?”

Like the expert of your body that he was, he knew all the signs to pick up. “Yes— I’m so—“ You couldn’t even finish your sentence, that one particular curl on the spongy wall made your body shake in release.

Jake’s arms wrapped around you, holding your body against his as you quaked, “Good girl." He mumbled in your ear, his fingers continuing their work until you came down from your high.

He pressed a soft kiss to your jawline, his fingers slowly pulling out of and he smirked as they came out slick with your release. "You were so good for me, darling." he mumbled against your ear.

He pulled his fingers to his mouth and sucked them, he hummed “Love the taste of you.”

Jake gently gave your arm a light squeeze before moving you to the side. You watched him through puzzled eyes until you saw him pushing on the floor all of his files.

“Baby?” You asked and he only replied with a smile. He pressed his lips against your neck, sucking and biting on the soft flesh while he moved his hands to the back of your thighs.

“Now..." He mumbled as his hands gripped your thighs, lifting you up.

You widened your eyes when you noticed how he placed you on the desk and rested your thighs on his shoulders, kneeling in front of you “There we go.”

“J-jake?” You asked, looking down at him. He winked at you “Just relax." He mumbled softly as his lips began to trail across your thighs.

Your body twitched at the feeling, his featherlight kisses sending waves of pleasure.

Jake trailed his lips up until they were close to your core, his breath fanning against your sensitive skin.

“Wait.” You tried to stop him by pressing one hand on his hair. “You haven’t been touched yet.”

He chuckled again, looking back up at you from his position in between your legs. "Don’t worry about me, love. This is about you." He whispered, blowing on your pussy.

You rolled your eyes back and Jake took the opportunity to swipe his tongue slowly on your core, tasting your juices and your previous cum.

“Oh, Lord.” You moaned out, grasping his hair into your hand, knuckles almost white.

He hummed as the taste of you hit his tongue, drawing a low groan from him.

Your breath grew heavy, slowly guiding his head to lick in the spots you were the most sensitive.

“You taste wonderful, love.” He whispered, sucking on your clit.

You unconsciously bucked your hips, not in control of your body anymore as it succumbed to the pleasure.

Jake chuckled and pressed a hand on your hip, pinning it down to keep you from moving while his tongue continued circles against your sensitive spot. "Stay still for me, darling." He mumbled, continuing his movements.

You arched your back and grasped his hair and he could tell that you were already close to the edge.

So, he took the opportunity to slide his tongue in your entrance, making you moan out as the warm and spongy feeling made your whole mind black out.

His eyes never left your expression as he watched you closely. He was enjoying making you squirm, moaning out his name.

And just like thunder crashing, your body shuddered while you squirted right on Jake’s face.

You widened your eyes, unable to stop the overwhelming feeling of pleasure as you basically screamed-moaned. At that point, you were sure even people on the streets knew what you two were up to.

However, Jake seemed very content with it. He wiped his face with the sleeve of his suit. “Pussy so good, makes my day better.” Your liquid was dripping down his glasses and jaw.

“I made a mess.” You whispered, propping yourself up on your elbows “And?” Jake raised a brow, pulling your chin in a kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue “I love your messes.”

“I want to help you.” You stated, palming his angry hard-on “You already made me cum twice.”

“We don’t have protections.” He murmured, kissing your lips once, then twice “I don’t want inconveniences to happen.”

The thought of him breeding you made your mind fill with primal urges, but you tried to negotiate “You can pull out.”

Jake shook his head, resting it on your shoulder “I don’t have self control when it comes to you.” He kissed your clothed shoulder.

“A blow?” You questioned, caressing the little hair he had behind his head. Jake chuckled again, “I’m too rough and I don’t want to ruin your cute attire.”

His gaze travelled down to your hand that helped you hold yourself up and smiled “You put nail polish on? It suits you.”

How he managed to make your heart flutter after literally having you shake, you weren’t sure. Maybe he had a talent.

“I wanted to be pretty for you.” You chuckled, “Can’t ruin your reputation.”

No matter how much Jake tried to talk you out of sex in his office, the way he was slowly rutting his hips on your inner thigh gave him away.

He occasionally let out small hums in between his words, and you knew damn well he must be feeling so pained.

So, you slowly climbed down the desk and looked at him. He showed you a nice smile, oblivious to the contorted plants you had in mind. His lips dropped into a frown at the same moment your skirt dropped to your ankles.

“Y/N?” He asked, raising a brow as you began to unbutton your blouse, showing your silk bra.

If Jake had one weakness apart from eating you out, then it was your boobs. He loved them, worshipped them day and night.

His eyes darkened at such sight, walking towards you right away and pushing you against the wall.

“You drive me insane.” He whispered, unzipping his pants and letting them drop to the floor “You fuck my head.”

You watched him with excitement bubbling your stomach, he gripped your bare thigh and raised your leg until it was around his waist.

You looked down at his hard cock, pressing against your stomach “Watch me stretch this pussy out.” He said as he aligned himself with your entrance and thrusted inside of you.

You were so wet and sensitive, your skin burning against his. Jake gripped your ass so tight it would surely leave a mark by the next day, he rutted his hips inside of you at a fast speed.

“I don’t think I’ll last long.” He warned, “I feel you much better without a condom.”

You clenched around his length as his admission, making him groan. He pulled you into a heated kiss as he kept moving his hips, desperately chasing the relief he longed for.

“Fuck.” He breathed out, grip on your skin painful “Fuck, you were made for me.”

With one skilled hand, he undid your bra and palmed your breasts, his tip hitting your cervix, making you moan.

Jake lowered his head onto your chest and began sucking on your nipple, circling his tongue around it “Ah, Yes!” You chanted out.

Without missing a beat, Jake changed tit and did the same thing to the other.

“So deep.” You moaned, squeezing your eyes shut as the familiar feeling of euphoria reached you for the third time “So good.”

“Yes baby,” He grunted, one hand sneaking up to wrap around your neck “You’re so good for me, so good.”

The sudden loss of air made you clench around him, your walls hugging his cock, sucking him in.

“Fuck— Stop clenching like that.” He huffed, squeezing his eyes just like you did “I’m already so close.”

“I don’t want you to pull out.” You placed one hand on his cheeks, brown eyes boring into yours “What?”

“I want you to cum inside of me.” A rather deep thrust “Your babies, I want them, I don’t care.”

“Oh goodness.” Jake grunted, his hips moving almost manically “You’ll be the death of me.”

You pulled him into a kiss which wasn’t exactly one, you two were just moaning and breathing into each other’s mouths.

“Are you sure, love?” He asked, drops of sweat coating his forehead, his bangs sticking to it “We can’t undo this.”

“I’m so sure.” You moaned out “Cum inside of me.”

At those words, Jake shot his load deep inside of you, filling you up with his warm seed.

You whimpered, grasping his forearm when the orgasm hit you as well, making you clench around him.

He held you against the wall, both of you trying to catch your breaths.

You smiled and removed one bang from his eye, caressing his cheek with your thumb “This was the craziest shit I’ve ever done.”

You slowly rocked your hips, needing to feel him more, needing his cum to stay inside of you.

Jake groaned and rested his forehead on yours “Damn baby, if this is how it’ll end up every time you visit, I hope you do it more often.”

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lizzyk137 · 8 months ago

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It's A Date- A Spencer Reid Fanfiction (Spencer X Reader)

Description: Spencer does not want to go to the BAU picnic but goes because he has a crush on you and suddenly Spencer is good a baseball which shocks everyone. Warning: None, just pure fluff

Want to read more, visit my Masterlist!

Two minutes.

Just two more minutes.

Only two more minutes until the entire team could leave for a fun filled afternoon together without the worry of trying to catch a serial killer.

Hotch could see how restless the team was after having five back-to-back cases with no break and too much paperwork. So, he set some time aside for a small break for the team to relax and have some fun. A picnic at the park with some team friendly games.

You were excited, ecstatic even, about being able to enjoy an afternoon in the sun and just relax. Everyone was bringing a dish to share and even though you weren't great at sports, you were excited to play a few games with everyone.

The clocked chimed as it hit three o'clock and everyone cheered, quickly grabbing their already packed items before heading out the door, Hotch reminding everyone to meet at the park at four and to remember their food dish. You looked around smiling as everyone hurried to the door before stepping inside and turning to face the front as you saw Spencer, your best friend and long-time crush, dragging his feet as he made his way to the elevator.

Morgan and Emily called out to him to pick up the pace, as Hotch pushed the open-door button to keep the elevator from moving. Spencer finally stepped inside, chest to chest with you, a fake smile placed on his face. You knew he wasn't thrilled to be going, that he would rather go home and read or visit the outdoor theatre to watch an old film. You finally convinced him to go that it would be fun to try new things, him reminding you that playing any sport wasn't new or fun to him, the memories of gym classes still haunting his mind.

You had just patted his back reminding him that the team were not his old classmates and trying to play something without dreading it was something new to him. He just shrugged and agreed to go after you flashed him your puppy dog eyes, a look he could never say no to.

The park was right by your house, so you decided to walk over, seeing almost everyone was already there and helped set up the picnic table full of food with Penelope and JJ. It felt nice to chat openly with everyone about life and pure silliness without having to worry about keeping it short between solving a case. Everyone was sitting down to eat when you realized someone was missing. Spencer.

You reached for your phone when you heard his voice behind you. "I know I'm late, I'm sorry." You looked up at him from your spot on the grass with a smile, taking in his work clothes that he was still wearing.

"I'm glad you could make it! I saved you a spot." You patted the spot next to you and he sat down next to you before you bumped your shoulder with his. "Are you ready for a fun night?"

He sighed before stealing a chip off your plate. "Honestly, not really."

You gave a sad smile and offered your plate to him to pick off of. "At least try to keep an open mind to it." He just hummed his response and took half of your sandwich, laying his head down on your lap for you to play with his hair.

----

You were playing baseball with everyone, Spencer still seated on the grass, reading a book with occasional peek up at you. He wasn't excited to play baseball but he enjoyed watching you get excited, your laugh echoing through the air, your smile bright. He loved it when you were happy, your smile always getting lost in the gore of your job. He noticed you looking at him, worry buried between your brows, and he knew you were worried about him not joining in. An hour into the game, he sighed and set his book down then made his way over to you in the makeshift dug out area.

He poked your shoulder, something he always did to let you know he was there when he came up behind you. "Are you joining?" A hopeful look on your face when you asked. He nodded and gave you a small smile. He didn't want to join but he just couldn't say no to you.

It was your turn to bat, and you struck out every time, a playful pout on your lips as you shuffled back to him, resting your head on his arm upset you didn't hit the ball as he patted your back. JJ was up to base and she hit one pitch, making it to first base, making it Spencer's turn next.

He stepped up to base, Morgan smirking at the pitcher's spot, a knowing look on his face. An easy three throws and Spencer would be out, his team a step closer to winning. Spencer got into his stance, Morgan throwing the ball at lightning speed and the clunking sound filled the air as the ball flew through the air way past Hotch who was out in the far field.

You screamed with the rest of your team as Spencer sprinted toward first and second base, a quick glance to the out field as he saw Hotch grab the ball, and he made a rash decision to keep going, pushing JJ out of third base and forcing her to head toward the home base with him as the ball zoomed through the air towards home base, JJ and Spencer narrowly making it.

Silence filled the air for a second, everyone dumbfounded on how Spencer got a home run on his first try, before Penelope and you erupted into cheers as you ran up to Spencer jumping up into his arms, him easily catching you, a laugh easily released from his throat as he spun your around.

The next hour was filled with laughter, smiles and cheers as the game went on, Spencer helping you with your stance, helping you get to third base. You had never seen Spencer so carefree, and it took everyone by surprise, earning a lecture on physics in how you can easily figure out the speed in which you need to hit the ball in order to get a good hit in.

The night was closing in and everyone decided on a quick game of soccer, something Spencer couldn't figure out with his brain but you pulled him over to your team, your hand fitting perfectly into his. The game quickly began and you laughed at how Spencer tried to recreate the fancy tricks Morgan and yourself were pulling, earning a few grass stains on his white dress shirt. Your team somehow won and Spencer pulled you into a hug after you scored the winning point, something you weren't expecting.

Both of you helped clean up and everyone was leaving with the promise to have another night out next week from Hotch, when you were asked a question you didn't think Spencer would ask.

"Can you teach me how to play before next week?"

You turned around, confusion on your face. "Um, why? I thought you didn't like playing sports?"

"I-I don't but you like playing, and I didn't have enough time to watch soccer games before I came to impress you." His voice just a whisper.

You chuckled, your face heating up. "I can teach you, but was that why you were late?"

"Yeah- I, um, watched some baseball games to figure out what to do." Spencer squeaked out as you walked up to him a teasing smirk on your lips.

"Well, it was certainly impressive." Spencer eyes grew big.

"It-it was?"

"Mhm, it was." You stopped a few inches from him and looked up at his chocolate coloured eyes. "So, are you going to walk me home?"

The smile on Spencer's face grew and he laced his hand in yours, like he's done it hundreds of times before, and pulled you close as you walked out of the park.

You were almost to your apartment complex, the silence comforting and your hands still intwined. "I think I'll need lots of lessons with you."

"Lessons in what?" You teased, a smirk on your lips as you poked his cheek. His cheeks turned a bright red along with the tips of his ears as he shook his head.

"I-I meant with soccer, Y/N."

You pouted your lips playfully. "Boo, I thought you were talking about something else."

He abruptly stopped and turn to you. "I didn't think you'd want to do that. Not saying you could not want it but we're friends so I-I didn't think that you'd want to further our friendship, especially with me, would be possible. I was talking about soccer, because you seemed so good at it and I fell quite a few times, but if you do want to do want physical relations, I-I'll try my best to-." His rant silenced by your lips on his.

You pulled away after a few seconds, Spencer body still, his eyes large as he watched you look up at him a big smile lighting up your face. "I've been wanting to kiss you for years." Your cheeks flushed pink, and Spencer could feel his heart clench at how adorable you were. "Saturday, pick me up at three, it'll be a date."

Untangling your hands, you made your way to your complex's doors with a smile on your face, your cheeks warm, embarrassed that you just shut him up with a kiss.

"Y/N!" You turned around to the sound of your name to see Spencer running up to you. One of his arm's circling your waist, pulling you closer to him as his other hand tilted your head up as he cupped your cheek before he brought his lips to yours for a sweet kiss that left you breathless. He pulled away, a devious smile on his handsome face, he gave a small peck to your lips again. "It's a date."

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid scenarios #spencer reid criminal minds #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds bau #bau team

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amourquinn · 11 days ago

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𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ; quinn hughes ( short fic )

pairing : quinn x fem!reader wc. 1.2k

genre : fluff no warnings

summary : a weekend at the lake house with friends takes an unexpected turn when a nightmare brings you and quinn closer

the lake house was quinn’s idea—a perfect place to escape and unwind. for someone as busy as him, weekends like these were rare, and he was excited to spend it surrounded by his family and closest friends, including you.

you and quinn had been friends for years, the kind of friendship built on quiet understanding and mutual trust. it wasn’t flashy or loud, but it was solid. he’d been there for you during tough times, always offering support in his own quiet way, and you’d done the same for him. you were one of the few people he could truly be himself around—no expectations, no pressure, just quinn.

there had always been an unspoken connection between you, but nothing more than friendship had ever been explored. you weren’t sure why. maybe it was fear of ruining what you already had, or maybe it was just the timing never being quite right. either way, you valued the bond you shared and wouldn’t trade it for anything.

that weekend at the lake house had been a long time coming. the two of you, along with quinn’s brothers, some family friends, and a couple of his teammates, had spent the day making the most of the gorgeous weather.

the morning began with a big breakfast prepared by quinn’s mom, followed by a hike that left everyone a little out of breath but in good spirits. in the afternoon, the lake became the center of activity. you and quinn had spent hours on the water, racing kayaks, teasing each other relentlessly, and soaking up the sun. he’d even pushed you off the dock at one point, laughing as you sputtered and promised revenge.

later, as the sun began to set, everyone gathered for a barbecue dinner. the smell of grilled burgers and hot dogs filled the air, accompanied by the sound of quinn’s brothers bickering good-naturedly. when night fell, the group sat around the fire pit, roasting marshmallows and telling stories. it was one of those perfect days where everything felt easy and carefree.

by the time you finally retreated to bed, your body ached pleasantly from the day’s activities. you’d fallen asleep quickly, but your rest was short-lived.

the nightmare came out of nowhere, vivid and unsettling. you woke up with a start, your heart pounding and your breaths shallow. the images refused to leave your mind, clinging to you like a dark cloud. you tried to calm yourself, telling yourself it was just a dream, but the unease wouldn’t go away. every creak of the old house seemed amplified, every shadow in the room more menacing.

you sat up in bed, wrapping your arms around your knees. you didn’t want to stay in the room alone any longer, but you weren’t sure what to do. then, you thought of quinn. he was only down the hall, and if anyone could make you feel safe, it was him.

grabbing your phone, you hesitated. was it weird to text him this late? but then again, quinn was quinn. he wouldn’t mind. taking a deep breath, you typed out a message.

y/n : hey, are you awake?

the reply came almost instantly.

quinn : yeah, what’s up?

your fingers hovered over the screen as you debated what to say. finally, you decided to just be honest.

y/n : i had a nightmare. i can’t fall back asleep. can i come to your room?

the three dots indicating he was typing appeared almost immediately.

quinn : of course. door’s unlocked.

the hallway was quiet as you slipped out of your room and padded down to his. you cracked the door open to find him sitting up in bed, his phone still in his hand. the soft glow of the screen illuminated his face, and when he saw you, he set it aside, his expression softening.

“hey,” he said quietly. “you okay?”

you stepped inside, closing the door behind you. “not really,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “i couldn’t stay in there alone.”

quinn nodded and shifted over, patting the empty space beside him. “come here. you can stay.”

you hesitated for only a moment before climbing into bed, keeping a bit of distance between you. the mattress dipped slightly under your weight, and the faint scent of his cologne—fresh and familiar—immediately soothed some of your nerves.

quinn pulled the blanket over you, his voice gentle as he asked, “do you want to talk about it?”

you shook your head, your gaze fixed on your hands. “it was just… bad. i don’t even remember all of it, but it left me feeling weird. i couldn’t fall back asleep.”

his brow furrowed in concern, and he leaned back against the headboard. “i get that. sometimes i get those dreams too.”

his tone was steady, calming, and you felt a lump rise in your throat. you weren’t used to letting people see you like this—vulnerable and scared—but quinn made it feel okay.

“you don’t have to talk about it,” he added. “just stay here. you’re safe.”

“thanks, quinn,” you murmured, settling into the pillow.

“anytime,” he replied softly, lying back down beside you.

at first, you kept to your side of the bed, still feeling a little awkward. but as the minutes ticked by, the quiet steadiness of his presence started to chip away at your unease. his breathing was slow and even, and the warmth radiating from his side of the bed was strangely comforting.

⋆˙⟡

the morning sunlight streaming through the blinds woke you. blinking groggily, you realized two things: quinn’s arm was wrapped around you, and your head was resting on his chest. sometime during the night, you’d both shifted closer, his body curled protectively around yours.

the door creaked open, and you turned your head just in time to see trevor step inside.

“hey, quinn, breakfast is—” he stopped mid-sentence, his eyes widening as he took in the scene.

“well, well, well,” trevor said, his voice laced with amusement. “what do we have here?”

your cheeks flushed as you instinctively tried to pull away, but quinn groaned, pulling you closer.

“too early,” he mumbled into your hair, his voice heavy with sleep.

“breakfast is ready,” trevor said, leaning against the doorframe with a smirk. “but i can see you two need… a little more time.”

“trev,” quinn muttered, his voice muffled, “shut the door.”

trevor chuckled, retreating and closing the door behind him.

you sighed, finally managing to tilt your head back to look at quinn. his hair was a mess, and his eyes barely open, but there was a small, sleepy smile on his face.

“five more minutes?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

he shrugged, his arm still loosely around you. “we deserve more than just five minutes of sleep.”

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile forming on your lips. “you’re impossible.”

“maybe,” he murmured, his voice soft and raspy. “but you’re comfy.”

the honesty in his tone made your breath catch, and for a moment, neither of you moved. the morning sunlight bathed the room in a golden glow, and the world outside seemed to fade away.

“okay,” you finally said, settling back into his embrace. “ten more minutes.”

quinn’s smile widened as he pulled you closer, and the two of you drifted off again, savoring the quiet intimacy of the moment before breakfast.

#[ 📁 ] short fic #quinn hughes #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes fanfiction #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes fluff #nhl hockey #vancouver canucks

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mariasont · 9 months ago

Text

Ideas From a Book - A.H

a/n: im writing what i want !!!!!!!!!!!!! i have a gun kink SUE ME !!! if you don't like it don't read it !!!!!!!

anyhow HAPPY READING

masterlist

₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

pairings: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

summary: in which hotch comes home to find you reading and finds out you have a gun kink

warnings: 18+ MDNI, a lot going on here yall idk, gun going in ur vag, reader loves smut she's just like me fr, gun kink!, dirty talk, established relationship, yada yada

wc: 2.3k

When Hotch returned home from work, the ritual he had was comforting in its predictability: shedding his coat and shoes, setting down his briefcase, and locking up his gun. Then, he'd find you, as he always did, nestled into the couch, book in hand.

It was something he could count on, as reliable as the sun rising in the morning. Your bookshelf was a spectrum of genres--science fiction, poetry, mystery, historical, fantasy--name it, you've likely read it. Among these, he had noticed a trend--your favoritism for romance. It was fitting, as you've always been an ardent believer in fairytales and happy endings. It was a belief he intended to uphold, a fairytale ending he was set on creating for you.

The book you held today had a cover he didn't recognize. He cleared his throat, announcing his arrival. Your eyes met his in an instant, and he was struck anew by just how pretty you are. Effortlessly so. He told you as much, though you seldom accepted the compliment.

"Hi, handsome," you said, infusing your words with honey as you folded the corner of your page and laid the book aside. Spencer would scold you for that. "How was work?"

A shrug rolled off his shoulders, fingers working to loosen the tie that felt like a noose after a long day. Stepping further into the living room, he sighed, "Heavy with paperwork."

"That's no fun," you said, lips curving into a delicate pout.

It was an invitation he couldn't ignore. Leaning in, his hands found your face, and as your lips met, you giggled, pulling back just enough to study his face, the harsh lines under his eyes, reading the fatigue on his features like a well-thumbed novel.

"What are you reading?" he questioned, easing down next to you, the couch dipping to his weight.

You dodged his eyes, fingers absently fidgeting with your earlobe as you gave him a half-smile, tilting the book just enough so he couldn't catch the title.

"Just some romance book," you admitted, with a slight uptick in your voice. "Garcia recommended it."

He regarded you with a contemplative frown. Normally, a book you would have gone on for hours, detailing every character, plot twist, and subplot, dissecting its layers and intricacies in exhaustive detail.

Aaron watched as you placed the book on the side table, movements deliberate. You positioned yourself across his lip, a seemingly innocent distraction. It almost worked. Your soft thighs sinking into his calloused hands, as if they were crafted just for him. He recognized your ploy, though, giving your leg a squeeze a little tighter than necessary.

You leaned in, your breath tinged with the minty traces of your afternoon tea, a detail as intimate as any secret shared between lovers. He nipped at your lip, a gentle diversion, as his hand crept towards the book.

You wriggled in his hold, vying to get there first, but he was faster. Much faster at that, although you loved to challenge him on that. He secretly loved when you did. He loved you.

"What are you doing?" Your voice was rising in a panicked pitch. You stretched your hand out, trying to reclaim it, but he kept it just beyond reach.

Aaron's arm formed a band around you, effectively pinning your arms to your torso while you writhed within his grasp. A groan was stifled in his throat. "Quit that."

You smiled, a hint of tease in the curve of your lips and stilled. You were acutely aware of the effect you had on him, and it was a feat achieved with little effort.

"Why are you being so secretive about this?"

He nodded to the book. The cover was unassuming, black with a smattering of designs that sprawled across it. It looked like any other book you read.

"I'm not being secretive," you insisted, deliberately avoiding his probing gaze. "You're just being nosy."

"Oh, am I?" He couldn't help but laugh, nose crinkling as he dismissed the notion with a shake of his head.

You nodded, not saying anything in response. He thumbed through the book, opening it to a random page.

"Wait--," you pleaded, but his attention was already glued to the ink. You wrapped yourself around him, your face buried in the folds of his crisp dress shirt as you murmured into the fabric, "please don't."

His arm shifted from your waist to cradle the back of your neck. "Gasping at the cool metal of the gun running across my belly, I want him press it into my panties."

Your breath caught, warmth flooding your cheeks as you pressed your face deeper into his chest. "Aaron, stop."

But he didn't, of course, he was far too intrigued.

"Parting my legs, I roll into the metal. He runs it back and forth across my pussy, wetting it against the barrel to my entrance," He continued, wetting the pad of his thumb as he turned the page, eyes meeting yours.

He cocked an eyebrow as if waiting for your response. You didn't give him one, huffing a sigh as you plucked the book from his hands and flung it onto the cushions of the couch.

"Are you...into this?" He articulated each word with deliberate slowness, as if navigating a minefield. "This is a little intense."

You groan, tucking your chin down to your chest as you fought against the tingling sensation clawing up your spine.

"I don't know." The words tumbled out in a murmur, a feeble shield against the embarrassment flooding your senses.

It was the truth. You didn't know. Ink on a page was a far cry from reality. Nonetheless, your recent daydreams were filled with images of Aaron with his gun. God, forbid you see him on duty.

He shifted you off his lap, and you felt the corners of your mouth turn downward involuntarily. You watched his retreating figure vanish down the hall, your thoughts racing at breakneck speed, gripped by the fear that you had scared him off, that this was his tipping point.

The welling tears were poised to fall, but they paused as he came back into view. Holding his gun.

Your breath halted, a knot forming in your throat as you clumsily rose to your knees on the couch, your eyes wide and transfixed on him.

You watched, more like ogled, as he methodically removed the magazine, opening the action and ejecting the cartridges of the gun, putting the safety into place. Your throat felt dry. His advance towards you was predatory, a slow march that rekindled a well-known flutter in your stomach.

"Aaron?"

He stepped in front of you, the firearm dangling loosely at his side. You gazed up at him, peering through the shelter of your lashes.

"Do you want me to fuck you with this?"

You knew you said you didn't know if this was something you were into, yet here you were, retracting every syllable. Suddenly so incredibly turned on it almost hurt.

You nodded vigorously, your enthusiasm outpacing your self-awareness.

The look he gave you was one you recognized instantly, eliciting yet another soft pout before you gave in. "Yes, please, Aaron."

"Good girl," he said, making your heart skip a beat as he pressed the nose of the gun into your chest, forcing you backward. "Always so good for me."

You nodded again, even though there was no need to, but you weren't really focused on his words. You were focused on the gun pressing into your body, imagining it pressed against your clit, up your pussy.

"You're sure, um," you managed, trying to catch your breath, pausing in the middle of your sentence to clear your throat, "that all the safety stuff is on?"

You sounded dumb, you were aware, but all intellectual thoughts were out the window.

He let out a deep chuckle, the sound sending another wave of desire straight to your core. "Yes, baby, all of the safety stuff is on."

"Okay, good."

He pressed his lips to yours, the gun still flush against your chest, now grazing your nipple as you arched into him.

He pulled back only enough to speak into your mouth. "What's your safe word?"

"Mercy."

He hummed in response, fingers threading through your hair as he pushed the barrel of the gun down your stomach. You froze, a subtle gap forming between your lips as your eyes remained locked on the motion.

He brought his mouth to your ear, nipping at the skin lightly as he pushed the metal further down your body, lifting the hem of your shirt with it. You gasped at the feeling, pulling your bottom lip through your teeth as you tried to hide just how affected you were.

"Do you trust me?"

"Yes." It was immediate. Without hesitation.

He kissed your lips, gentle and unhurried, as if he was savoring the sensation, like he thought I might crumble under too much pressure. He might be right.

"Take these off."

His gun pressed against the waistband of your shorts. You didn't waste a second, lifting your hips and shimmying out of the fabric. A sound of approval vibrated from his throat, his fingers entwining in your hair, gently drawing your face closer to his.

"Are you sure about this?"

A nod came naturally, followed by a yes breathed out like a prayer, as your eyes trailed down to in between your thighs where the gun was now sitting.

"Aaron, I need it."

"Oh, you need it, huh?" He tsked his tongue, running the nose of the gun over your clothed heat. "I can tell."

You let out a sharp gasp, bucking your hips into the device as you met his eyes, willing him to keep going. You had never been more turned on in your life. His hand moved from your neck to the small of your waist, pinning you in place. With one hand. Fuck.

He laid the gun beside your hip on the couch in order to pull your panties off. You squirmed at the rush of cold air encompassing between your thighs. His eyes were glued to your pussy, tongue darting out to swipe across his lips.

"Christ sweetheart," he hissed, sliding one finger through your slit, showing you the moisture you had produced. "Needy girl."

"Aaron, please." You needed something inside of you.

He laughed, at your expense, but you didn't care, concentrated on his hand grabbing the Glock and repeating the action his finger just did.

You choked out a sound, stuttering against the touch. He in a merciful mood apparently, pushing the gun slowly into your sopping cunt. You were writhing against it, your mouth parted as you tried to get used to the foreign object.

"You okay?" He asked, pausing his motions, giving you a second to adjust.

You swallowed; gaze drawn down to where he was sliding the gun into you. You bit down on your lip hard enough to draw blood.

"Yes."

"You can take it," he said, but the way the firearm was stretching you made you unsure.

It wasn't the size necessarily, but the way the groves and magazine were cramming into you was making hold your breath, which him being him he noticed immediately.

His hand rested gently against the pouch of your stomach. "Breathe."

The pent-up breath escaped your lips, and he rewarded you by sinking the gun further into your pussy. You fingers wrapped around his biceps, the tips digging slightly into the constellation of freckled skin.

One final thrust and it was fully in you. You could feel every groove and contour of it, cunt clenching and unclenching at the sensation.

"Look at you," he drawled, beginning to fuck you with it. It transcended the prose of any book, a sensation that no array of printed words could fully capture. "You like that?"

Nodding was your only recourse, mouth hanging pathetically open as you moaned and whined. You were in a daze-like state, every sound and motion involuntary.

"This is the Glock 17," he explained, thrusting the gun faster, causing you to tighten your hands around his neck, bringing him so close his words were melting into your skin. "It feeds from a staggered-column magazine that has a 17-round capacity. It sends 115 gr bullets downrange at about 1200 feet per second."

You could feel your arousal leaking to your thighs, coating his forearm in the process, but that would never stop him.

"This gun has taken the lives of nineteen unsubs."

You know this should make you coil away, that it should feel wrong somehow, but all you felt was that growing tightness in your core, your legs shaking, your chest rising and falling at a more rapid pace.

"You don't even care, do you? All you care about is getting yourself off." His chuckles wove through his words, and his motions didn't falter, intent of ushering you to your peak. "My dirty girl."

You were so close, the edges of the gun managing to hit every spot just right.

"Come on, honey."

Fuck. You let out another strangled gasp, way louder than intended as your back arched like a string of a bow, and then suddenly you released.

A prism of colors exploded behind your squeezed eyes. A collage of musical notes falling over your ears. Your whole body was being ignited as you gushed around the gun.

"Christ." His new favorite word as of late. He withdrew the weapon from you.

You let out a subdued hum, propping yourself on your elbows, your eyes lazily rising to meet his with a tender flutter.

"You're so pretty," he murmured, the compliment settling on you like dew on morning flowers. Your gaze caught the gun, now bathed in a liquid gloss, cradled in his hands.

"Oh my god," you said, hand covering your mouth.

He laughed softly, placing it on the coffee table before his lips brushed against yours, a soft and measured caress that belied his previous urgency.

"You might need a new one," you said sheepishly, heat creeping into your ears as he pressed another soft kiss to your cheek.

"Absolutely not," he murmured into your flushed skin. "It just became my gun of choice."

You were going to give him the best head of his life.

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x fem reader #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #aaron hotchner fic #criminal minds smut #hotch smut #hotchner #hotch #Spotify

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illbegottenfaith · 1 month ago

Text

...and a bruise underneath

you can't help becoming distant as your relationship with theo starts feeling like an open wound (theo nott x reader)

Part 1 | Part 2

a/n - idek what this is anymore 😭 but I will say writing this had me giggling and kicking my feet every five minutes 🙈🙈🤭 this fic may or may not have been inspired by how crap my magnesium intake is :( college resumes in like a week for me and I get very cranky on less than 6 hours of sleep (i am a very light sleeper!!!) chat am I cooked

tropes/warnings - angst, happy ending (yayyy), suggestive but not explicit content, fluff, theo being befuddled, bamboozled, astonished, even; wholesome bickering

word count - 2.2k

taglist (everyone who asked to be tagged for part 2!) - @justaproudperson @pumpkinchee @lorenzozurzolocanruinmylife @smithieandy @augiemyers79

Once Theo returned from his trip, you somehow managed to minimise the little time you spent together, making barely convincing, half-baked excuses whenever you could. Still, he never commented on it. Perhaps he would have if he actually cared. You weren't sure if you were shutting him out to punish him or yourself.

Still, even you couldn't get out of spending time with your boyfriend entirely, which was how the two of you ended up in your dorm on a Thursday afternoon, working through your homework. You were sitting propped up by your numerous cushions, proof-reading an essay while Theo leaned against on the bed posts at the foot of your bed, reading a Potions book to help with his project.

The two of you worked in silence, equally absorbed in your work - or so you assumed until you heard Theo close his book and set it aside. Without warning, he shifted towards you, and before you could flinch or put more distance between you, his arms were encircling your waist and his head was resting on your abdomen.

You froze. This was the closest he had been since before the trip. You weren't sure if you had even hugged him when he returned.

You shoved down the stab of amusement in your gut. Theo was hardly the playful kind, but every once in a while, when your schedules allowed for it, he would be in a good enough mood to fool around with you in a manner that did justice to the expression. The two of you could lose entire afternoons to whispered giggles, frisky hands, and smothering kisses. Even now, your hand twitched with the instinct to comb through his soft, silky curls.

But while you normally found it endearing, today it was irritating, because you were in a fight with him, albeit one-sided.

"What...are you doing?" you asked in a bored monotone.

He shifted his head like he was getting comfortable. "Taking a nap."

You refused to pull your eyes away from your essay when Theo failed to elaborate. "With me?"

Theo sighed, like he thought you were being purposely difficult. "Yes, you."

Too thrown off to keep up the act, you finally looked up, watching the tiny shadows his long eyelashes cast against his face tanned from one too many summer Quidditch practices. "Why?"

He cracked an eye open and smiled lazily at you, half-drowsy. It wasn't fair how seductive his perpetual bedroom eyes typically were, let alone when they were laced with actual exhaustion. Despite yourself, you felt a flicker of satisfaction over being the only one who got to see him like this - uninhibited and free.

The satisfaction didn't last long. Without any warning, Theo plucked your essay out of your hand, casting it aside as he sat up with a teasing glint in his eye.

"Why? Would you prefer I take a nap with Mattheo?"

He was so close, you were sure he could hear your heart racing. Your mouth went dry. Days of subtly dodging his kisses or making excuses to sit away from him had gone down the drain. The thing about Theo's gaze was that it carried an intensity that demanded answers and explanations. Even as your pulse flickered under his relentless stare, you rolled your eyes without any real heat. "No, of course n-"

Theo leaned in, backing you up against your headboard. Your hands clenched in your sheets restlessly, aching to reach out to him. You struggled to focus on the words coming out of his mouth, dizzy with the proximity. "Is this your way of getting me to sleep with my best friend?"

You could feel it - your face was fully scarlet by now. Honestly, how on earth were you meant to come off calm and collected with a face that gave you away at the drop of a hat?

You shivered as he ran a hand up the skin exposed by your top riding up. You finally caved, settling your hands on his collar. "You're a real comedian, you know that?" you muttered, trying and failing to play it cool as your hands slithered into his hair, dragging him closer.

Theo obliged, hovering over you, broad-shouldered, not half the mess you were underneath him. Not yet, at least. "Next you'll be telling me you want to watch, you little perv."

Your lips twisted into a poorly suppressed smile. "It's why you love me."

"Your voyeuristic tendencies?"

You hummed as his lips finally connected to your pulse. As one of his hands started creeping up your ribcage, you were starting to remember why you put up with him. "Exactly."

You didn't hear what he had to say after that, blissfully distracted by the exhilarating feeling of his skin on yours.

"Cara..." Theo sighed, his breath ghosting the shell of your ear.

"Hmm?"

All too frustratingly soon, he pulled his hands away. He pressed a lingering kiss to your temple. You fought the overwhelming urge to cry. Moments like these proved that he was soft and pliant underneath that rough exterior. As he leaned back, you tenderly brushed back a lock of hair falling in his eyes. Why couldn’t he love you the way you loved him?

"Do you want to tell me why you've been freezing me out?"

The giddy feeling in your stomach died almost immediately. Maybe he wasn't as oblivious as you had thought. Your teeth dug into your swollen bottom lip. You hadn't expected a confrontation, especially not half-naked, though you were beginning to realise it was an oversight on your part. The direct person that he was, Theo was never one for playing games or beating around the bush. You felt your head start to pound, suddenly feeling far too exposed in more ways than one. You distractedly started rebuttoning your shirt before he stopped you.

"Tesoro..." he prompted softly. You heard the firm message hidden in his tone - no more deflecting. You bit the inside of your cheek, gaze fixed on the strong, slender fingers covering yours. It was the closest you had gotten to holding hands.

You felt the absurd urge to laugh. It was laughable, wasn't it? How tragically ironic the whole thing was? You had liked that Theo was low maintenance, but somewhere along the way you decided that low maintenance wasn't enough for you.

You shook your head, finally accepting defeat. How long did you think you could keep up the charade? How long did you think you could tolerate this misery? Indefinitely? Of course not. As soon as you had watched him step off the carriage, still as fresh-faced and only a little quieter than usual, you had known - you were going to have to tell them, and after one awkward conversation, the two of you would part ways, and he would fade into obscurity over the years, only to be remembered as some guy you had dated when you hadn't known any better.

This was it. The beginning of the end.

"Why didn't you tell me about Katherine?"

You thought saying that would be much harder than it was. But then again, you had nothing to lose - not that you ever had anything to lose.

Theo raised his eyebrows slightly. "Ka-"

"Katherine Sawyer," you hissed. After weeks of avoiding bringing it up, it suddenly felt unbearable, having to wait one moment longer for the answer. "You know, the one you've been cosying up with every other night?"

"I only know one Katherine," Theo started irritably. "Just the one. And I haven't spoken to her since we wrapped up our Transfiguration project before I left for my trip. You remember, the one worth half our grade?"

"...oh." Oh, indeed.

"This isn't like you, Y/N," Theo pressed. "You've never cared about who I talk to. You've always trusted me."

The implication stung. "I don't care who you talk to," you protested. "I still trust you."

And it was true - you had only very briefly, if at all, entertained the idea of Theo having an affair. Even then, it was a notion borne of weeks of exhaustion from catering to your aconite's every little need. But it had been the spark for your brooding resentment.

"I just wish you had told me about her or mentioned her some time. It feels - " Your breath caught. "It felt like you were keeping secrets from me."

Theo's jaw ticked. He let out an exasperated sigh.

"Then why didn't you just ask me?"

You dropped your eyes.

"Dunno. Just...didn't want you to get mad."

His eyebrows disappeared into his hair.

"Didn't want me to get mad?" Theo echoed incredulously. "Honestly, L/N," he said sharply, looking more than a little peeved, "what did you think I was going to do?"

"I don't know," you wailed, closer to tears than ever, "break up with me?"

Theo opened his mouth to respond before closing it again. He furrowed his brow, mouthing indecipherable half-words as if trying very hard to wrap his head around what you were saying. Then, without warning, he pulled you close, wrapping his arms around you.

"Right," he finally said, with the air of someone washing their hands of some uselessly challenging task. You could barely focus on his words with the thrill running under your skin. Theo didn't mind being hugged - it was one of the frills he indulged you in - but he wasn't exactly the hugging type. "Next time something's bothering you, I want you to stop what you're doing and come find me."

You twisted your head out of his chest with some difficulty. "What if you're-"

"No - no exceptions," he continued, tightening his hold around you. "No letting it spiral into - whatever this was-"

"So," you interrupted shakily, "you're not breaking up with me?"

Theo glanced down at you, looking like he was going to have a coronary.

"No," he said, with some effort, staring at you like you'd grown a third head. "I'm not." He tilted his head, still squinting at you. "Are you sure you've been growing your aconite properly? It seems like it's been screwing with your head."

"Hey," you scowled, wriggling out of his grasp and giving him a dirty look. "I'll have you know Professor Sprout thinks my mandrakes are -"

But you never got to what Professor Sprout thought about your mandrakes, because you had spotted a familiar teasing glint in Theo's eye.

"About time you started taking it out on me," he laughed, blocking your spirited yet ineffective efforts in shoving him off your bed. You flopped onto your pillows once you gave up, flushed with bedraggled hair. Served you right for dating a 200-pound brute of a guy. "I was starting to think you were going to keep that all bottled up forever."

"Yeah?" you panted, embarrassingly out of breath. "Just you wait. I'm not...finished. It's going to be two more weeks of...of this...once I-"

"- catch your breath, darling?"

You glared at him. Theo could make anything sound salacious while looking perfectly innocent, a trait that was especially inconvenient during some of your shared lessons. You debated giving him the finger, but that would only further amuse him.

Besides, you were feeling very comfortable lying on your mountain of pillows and cushions. You closed your eyes for just a minute. "Dead man walking, Nott," you mumbled, pushing back the hair that had plastered to your forehead.

You opened your eyes when you felt him rest his head on your abdomen once again, his arms coming up around your hips.

"I'm serious about the nap, though," Theo said. "Jet lag is a bitch and Mattheo's going to take the piss out of me if I'm too tired to show up for practice."

You softly carded your fingers through his hair, your fingernails barely grazing his scalp. "Yeah, yeah, sure, you're sleepy. You're always sleepy." You tapped his face insistently as he already looked halfway to dozing off. "You realise that?"

"'M not," he mumbled out the corner of his mouth, relaxing under your touch. "It's the jet lag."

You rolled your eyes. "Yes, you are. All I have to do is get you to stop thinking for two minutes and you'll nod right off, jet-lagged or not. It's because you're always drinking that damn coffee at all hours of the night." Your hair-raking turned somewhat fastidious. "What's your magnesium intake like?"

Theo huffed. "You're so bossy, you know that?"

"Avocado, spinach, almonds, quinoa-"

"I eat plenty o-"

" - less coffee -"

"I like the taste!"

"You could always take decaf."

Theo choked, eyes flying open.

"You take that back."

You eyed him sternly but relented. He couldn't help his Italian roots. "Well, you still need enough magnesium to get a proper night's rest-"

Theo groaned, burying his face into your stomach once again.

"Enough with the magnesium." He sucked in a breath between his teeth, grumbling to himself. "Merlin, I forgot how bothersome you could be."

"It's not my fault you need someone to bully you into taking care of yourself," you retorted.

"Whatever," Theo muttered, and it was something so comfortingly familiar you couldn't hold back a smile.

"Honestly...you and your...fucking magnesium..."

#theo nott #theo nott x reader #theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott x you #theodore nott fluff #theodore nott angst #i initially wanted to add bonus content from this one scene i scrapped in an earlier draft but I didnt realise I had like fully deleted it #oh well maybe i'll rewrite it for another fic hehehe

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kiwriteswords · 1 month ago

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Finer Things [Aaron Hotchner x High-Maintenance!Reader]

Masterlist || Ao3||Word Count: 6k|| AN: Here we are! This took a little longer than expected, but I think I like how this one turned out!

Tags/Warnings: no use of y/n, canon-typical themes, high-maintenance reader, female reader, progression of relationship, simp!Hotch, feminine reader, Jack exists but is only briefly mentioned, BAU reader, materialistic reader, Garcia the helpful friend, flirty banter, mild language

Summary: You're a stylish...arguably high-maintenance BAU agent who unexpectedly falls for your straightforward and grounded partner, Aaron Hotchner. As you both tackle cases and life’s surprises, you learn to blend your love for the finer things with his practical approach, discovering a deep and enduring connection.

Hotch’s office door clicked softly as you knocked, barely audible over the hum of the precinct around you. The frame filled almost instantly with your form—pristine as always, from your flawlessly styled hair down to the heels that added an effortless grace to your every step.

“Got a minute?” you asked, your voice as smooth and composed as the latte you held in one hand, the steam still curling lazily up from the cup.

Hotch stepped aside, allowing you entrance. “Of course,” he said, though he knew his afternoon was already crammed with meetings and reports. For you, though, he made time—something the rest of the team had noticed and often teased him about. But what could he say? Aaron Hotchner, stoic and steadfast, had indeed developed a soft spot for you.

As you settled into the chair across from his desk, Hotch couldn’t help but admire the meticulous way you organized your space on the table. Your designer bag was set precisely to the right, not a strap out of place. He often wondered how someone so particular could thrive in the chaotic unpredictability of the BAU.

“So, what did you think of the profile?” you began, breaking into his thoughts. Your eyes were bright, lively—a stark contrast to his own, which often carried the weight of the job.

“It’s thorough. You have a knack for getting into the unsub’s head,” Hotch replied, his voice firm yet carrying a hint of warmth reserved mostly for you.

Your smile widened, pleased. “I do try,” you quipped, stirring your latte leisurely. “But I think it could use a bit more… je ne sais quoi, don’t you think?”

Hotch raised an eyebrow, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “And what would you suggest?”

“Well,” you leaned forward, the light catching your earrings just so. “If I were him, I’d be more careful about where I left my clues. Too sloppy. Maybe he needs a lesson in organization from me.”

Hotch chuckled, the sound more natural than he intended. “I think he’d be horrified at the idea.”

“Good,” you grinned, sitting back with satisfaction. “Then he’d know how I feel about unorganized data.”

Moving to the round table, the rest of the team began to filter into the office for the briefing, and Morgan threw a teasing glance your way. “Looks like Hotch is getting his daily dose of high maintenance,” he commented, a playful smirk on his face.

Prentiss elbowed him lightly, smiling in your direction. “Leave them alone. If anyone can get Hotch to lighten up, it’s her.”

Hotch cleared his throat, signaling the start of the briefing, but he couldn’t deny the truth in their observations. You brought a lightness to his often too-heavy life, a splash of color to the monochrome routine.

As the meeting progressed, your contributions were not just insightful but infused with a vibrancy that lifted the somber mood typical of these sessions. Each time you spoke, Hotch found his attention drawn not just to your words but to the way you expressed them—with a confidence and a flair that was uniquely yours. When you directed a comment towards him, accompanied by a playful raise of your eyebrows, there was an underlying challenge there, as if you were coaxing him out from behind his well-constructed barriers.

Your laughter, light and unguarded, filled the room at one point when you poked fun at the unsub’s choice of hideouts, suggesting even you could find a better hiding place during your shopping trips. The team chuckled, and even Hotch’s lips twitched into a smile—your cheer infectious, your presence undeniably compelling.

As the team began to disperse, you lingered over your notes, your meticulous nature evident as you aligned your papers and recapped your pens with a precision that spoke of a deeper need for order—a trait Hotch could appreciate, perhaps because it mirrored his own.

Hotch watched you, the way the light caught the highlights in your hair and the meticulous care you took with even the smallest task. He remained in his seat, an internal debate raging within him. He was the Unit Chief, always in control, always composed. But around you, those walls he meticulously maintained seemed less formidable, more permeable.

Finally, he stood, his decision made, propelled by a force he hadn’t fully acknowledged until now. Approaching you, he noted the slight surprise in your movements as you looked up. His voice, when he spoke, was steady, but there was an undercurrent of something more, something deeper.

“Dinner tonight?” he asked, the invitation hanging between them, heavier than the casual manner he attempted to portray.

You paused, a pen still in your hand, and met his gaze. The flicker of surprise was quickly replaced by a slow-spreading smile that warmed your eyes. “Trying to keep up with my high standards, Hotch?” you teased, the challenge back in your voice, but this time it was laced with an unmistakable warmth.

“I think I’m ready to try,” Hotch replied, his voice low, honest. The corners of his mouth turned up in a rare, genuine smile that seemed to reach his eyes, softening the usual hardness there.

“Then it’s a date,” you declared, your voice light but carrying a weight that filled the room with a promise of something new, something thrilling.

As you gathered your belongings and left, your heels clicking assertively against the floor, Hotch watched you go, a sense of anticipation building within him. It was a feeling foreign yet exhilarating, stirring something within him that had lain dormant.

He realized then, as the distance grew between you, that what the team jokingly called his ‘weakness’ was perhaps his most profound revelation. In you, Aaron Hotchner found not just a challenge but a vibrant counterpart who could match his steps in life’s intricate dance. With you, the future seemed less daunting, more vivid—colored by the finer things, in every possible way.

Since that first dinner, a subtle shift had occurred in the dynamics between Hotch and you. What started as a casual outing evolved into a series of clandestine meetings, each encounter deepening the bond that was swiftly becoming an integral part of his daily life. The secrecy was necessary—not just for the sake of professionalism within the team but to preserve the unique world that had begun to flourish between the two of you.

Hotch found himself anticipating your texts, which often popped up on his phone with playful emojis and witty remarks about everything from case files to the peculiar habits of their local barista. You managed to make even the mundane seem amusing, and Hotch, ever the stoic leader, found his day brightening with each notification.

One evening, as Hotch returned home from a particularly grueling case, he found a small package at his doorstep. Inside was a high-end espresso machine—a gift from you, complete with a note: "For your home office, so you can enjoy a proper latte without braving the outside world. Think of me when you use it." It was both a luxurious gesture and so quintessentially you, blending high maintenance with thoughtful consideration.

Hotch couldn’t help but smile as he set up the machine in his kitchen. It wasn’t something he would have ever purchased for himself, but now, brewing a cup in the quiet of the morning, he found a new appreciation for the ritual. It reminded him of you—how you’d insist on the perfect temperature, the ideal foam-to-espresso ratio, details he’d once overlooked but now found endearing.

At work, these small infiltrations into his life were becoming more apparent. You had taken to adjusting the small things around him, straightening the papers on his desk, sometimes replacing his usual stark office supplies with items that had a bit more personality—a stapler in polished chrome, sleek and efficient like the espresso machine, or pens that wrote so smoothly he found excuses to handwrite notes he would typically type.

Hotch had to admit, albeit reluctantly, that your influence was a welcome one. It was as if you were slowly coloring in parts of his world that he hadn’t even realized were so monochrome. And when you both sat down at the round table, reviewing case files together, the subtle touches—the way your knee would gently brush against his, or how you’d share a quick, knowing look over a shared inside joke—added layers to their days that Hotch hadn’t anticipated but found he no longer wanted to go without.

One afternoon, caught in a rare moment of downtime, Hotch found himself at the local shopping center, standing before a display of designer ties. He remembered you commenting on how a splash of color could brighten his usual ensemble of dark suits and somber expressions. With a critical eye, he selected one that was a soft shade--something that would match your eyes, he thought, a private acknowledgment of the space you were coming to occupy in his life.

That evening, when he wore the tie, the team didn’t miss the change. “Look at Hotch, finally taking some fashion tips from the best,” Morgan teased, nudging you as you both arrived for the briefing.

You shot Hotch a playful wink, and he responded with a slight nod, a silent conversation passing between them. Yes, you were changing him, but perhaps, Hotch considered as he adjusted the new tie subtly, this change was not just inevitable but necessary.

For Aaron Hotchner, known for his rigor and restraint, the gentle invasion of your high-maintenance habits into his disciplined life was less a disruption and more a revelation. Each new preference, each shared secret, wove a richer tapestry into his days. And as he looked across the table at you, he realized with a clarity that surprised him, that these threads, once so foreign, were now essential to the fabric of his life.

The rarity of a day off was not something Hotch took lightly, especially with Jack away on a Boy Scout trip. He had considered a quiet day at home, perhaps catching up on some reading or simply enjoying the peace. However, as he was contemplating his solitary plans, you texted him about your own plans for the day—getting your nails done, a routine you indulged in every few weeks.

"I’m off to maintain my high standards," your message read, accompanied by a laughing emoji. "Care to join me for a change of scenery?"

The invitation was unexpected. The thought of spending his day off in a nail salon was not something Hotch would have ever considered before meeting you. Yet, the idea of accompanying you, of sharing in something that was a part of your routine, held an appeal he couldn’t deny.

"Sure, why not?" Hotch texted back, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he imagined your reaction.

At the salon, you greeted him with a bright smile and a quick peck on the cheek. "Never thought I’d see the day Aaron Hotchner steps into a nail salon willingly," you teased, leading him inside.

The salon was a buzz of activity, a stark contrast to the usual seriousness of his work environment. You introduced him to your nail technician, a friendly woman named Lisa who greeted him with a warmth that seemed to radiate throughout the room.

As Lisa started on your nails, you chatted animatedly about the colors and designs. Hotch found himself pulled into a conversation about the merits of various shades—a discussion he never thought he’d have, yet here he was, weighing in on whether 'Midnight Blue' was a better choice than 'Stormy Grey'.

"You know, you could get something done too. A manicure perhaps? It’s quite relaxing," you suggested, your eyes sparkling with mischief.

Hotch raised an eyebrow, considering it. "What would the team think if I showed up with polished nails?"

"They’d think you’re embracing the finer things in life," you replied with a laugh. "But maybe just a clear coat. We wouldn’t want to give Morgan too much ammunition."

Surprisingly, Hotch agreed. As Lisa began to work on his nails, he found the experience unexpectedly soothing. The gentle handling, the focus on something so trivial yet intimate, was a stark departure from his day-to-day life.

"So, how does it feel to be pampered?" you asked, watching him with an amused expression.

"Strangely relaxing," Hotch admitted. "I can see the appeal."

As Lisa finished, you both sat under the nail dryers. Hotch looked over at you, taking in the relaxed ease of your posture, and the genuine smile on your face. It was these moments, he realized, that he cherished deeply—the simple pleasures shared, the barriers between professional and personal blurring into something beautifully ordinary.

"You know, I’m glad you invited me," Hotch said, his voice soft amid the hum of the salon. "It’s nice, sharing this part of your world."

You reached over, your hand finding his. "I’m glad you’re here, Aaron. It means more than you know."

As they left the salon, Hotch felt a lightness he hadn’t experienced in a long time. The day had been uneventful by most standards, yet for him, it was a precious insight into the everyday joys of the person who had unexpectedly become his closest confidant.

The team's discovery of his relationship with you was as inevitable as it was unintended. It began one morning when Garcia, ever observant, noticed the faintest of smiles on Hotch’s lips as he read a text from you. It was nothing overt, just the subtle lift of his mood, but it was enough to pique her interest.

“Spill it, Hotch. You’ve been smiling more these days,” Garcia prodded as they gathered in the briefing room, her tone teasing but her eyes sharp with curiosity.

Hotch, caught slightly off-guard, managed to maintain his composure. “It’s just been a good morning,” he replied smoothly, hoping his nonchalance would deflect further inquiry.

Garcia, however, was not so easily dissuaded. “Uh huh,” she hummed, giving him a knowing look but dropping the subject in the presence of the rest of the team.

The next clue came unintentionally from you during a case briefing. You were discussing a particularly challenging aspect of the case when you casually mentioned a small detail—a detail that Hotch had shared with you in confidence during one of your dinners together.

As you spoke, Reid’s head tilted slightly, his brow furrowing in that characteristic way when he was putting pieces together. “That’s an interesting observation,” he remarked, glancing between Hotch and you. “Not many would’ve caught that.”

Hotch met Reid’s gaze, a silent acknowledgment passing between them. Reid’s expression softened into a subtle smile, and he nodded slightly, turning his attention back to the files in front of him.

Morgan and JJ were the next to catch on. It happened in the field, during a tense moment when you instinctively reached for Hotch’s hand. It was a brief touch, meant to be reassuring, but Morgan and JJ caught the action from the corner of their eye.

Later, as they regrouped at the SUV, Morgan clapped Hotch on the shoulder. “You know you can tell us, right? We’re family here,” he said in a low voice, his look pointed but friendly.

Hotch simply nodded, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards. “I know, Derek,” he said, grateful for the support he knew they would offer.

Prentiss figured it out during a late-night coffee run when she saw you both at a small cafe, your heads close together, laughing softly over shared stories. She didn’t approach, respecting your privacy, but the next day, her smile was a bit wider when she greeted you both.

“It’s good to see you happy, Hotch,” she said quietly as she passed by his office, her words meant only for him.

By the time Rossi found out, it seemed that most of the team had already accepted the new dynamic with characteristic adaptability. Rossi, ever the father figure, simply raised his glass to Hotch during their next team dinner, a silent toast that spoke volumes.

“You’ve got a good thing, Aaron. Don’t let the job get in the way,” Rossi advised later, when they were alone, his voice low and earnest.

Hotch appreciated the wisdom; knowing the balance between personal happiness and professional duty was a fine line to walk.

As the team gradually discovered the relationship, what surprised Hotch most was not the fact that they found out, but the ease with which they accepted it. Their teasing was gentle, their support unwavering, and in their acceptance, Hotch found not just confirmation of his feelings for you but also a deeper appreciation for the team he considered his second family.

In this newfound openness, Hotch realized that his relationship with you did not weaken his leadership; rather, it enriched the very fabric of his life, both at work and beyond. With each passing day, as you both navigate the complexities of a relationship built amidst the demands of the BAU, Hotch found himself not just accepting but embracing the vibrant color you brought into his once-monochrome world.

The integration of your meticulous routines into Hotch's daily life was gradual, almost imperceptible at first, until one day he found himself deeply enmeshed in the particulars of your high-maintenance habits. What began as playful observations soon became cherished moments of his day, each routine offering a glimpse into the meticulous and vibrant world you inhabited.

Every evening, as you both prepared for bed, Hotch would lean against the bathroom doorway, watching as you engaged in your elaborate skincare routine. The array of creams, serums, and tools was impressive, and he'd often raise an eyebrow in mock incredulity as you explained the purpose of each one.

“Do you really need all of this?” Hotch would ask, his tone light and teasing as you applied a night serum with precise, practiced motions.

“Absolutely,” you’d reply without missing a beat, your reflection in the mirror smiling back at him. “It’s about maintaining standards, Aaron. You of all people should understand that.”

“I thought we were just going to bed, not preparing for a photo shoot,” Hotch would retort, the corners of his lips twitching into a smile.

“It’s called preventive maintenance,” you’d say, tapping the side of your nose with a finger. “One day, you’ll thank me when we’re both ninety, and I still look seventy.”

Hotch couldn’t help but laugh, the sound mingling with the soft notes of the evening. He had to admit, there was a certain peace in these nightly rituals, a tranquility that had seeped into the crevices of his once rigid routine.

Sometimes, you would catch him watching and pull him into the routine, applying a bit of moisturizer to his face with gentle, coaxing motions. “You’ll feel better,” you’d assure him, and he’d comply, not because he believed in the miraculous claims of the products but because it meant more moments shared with you.

On weekends, the rituals would extend to mornings. You’d take your time selecting an outfit, coordinating accessories and makeup with an artist’s eye for detail. Hotch would sit on the bed, coffee in hand, offering the occasional nod or hum of approval as you held up two nearly identical pairs of shoes, asking for his opinion.

“What do you think? The matte or the glossy?” you’d ask, holding them up for him to see.

“The matte,” Hotch would decide after a moment’s consideration. “It’s subtler.”

“Subtle,” you’d repeat, considering this. “I like it. Subtle but effective. Kind of like you.”

The routine wasn’t just about vanity or upkeep—it was a dance, a way of you expressing yourself and inviting him into your world. Hotch found himself missing these interactions whenever you were at your own apartment. The bathroom felt too empty, the mornings too quick and utilitarian. He missed the scent of your skincare products, the sound of your voice explaining the benefits of jasmine oil, or the way you’d ask his opinion on things he’d never considered before.

Even his morning routine had adapted; where once a quick shave sufficed, he now found himself opening your moisturizer, the scent a comforting reminder of you. It was a small concession to the routines you loved, a way of keeping you close even when miles apart.

Through these shared routines, Hotch learned more than just the importance of exfoliation or the difference between matte and glossy finishes. He learned the value of slowing down, of savoring the quiet moments together before the chaos of the day set in. Each ritual, each routine you shared, wove deeper connections between them, turning mundane moments into cherished memories and in doing so, seamlessly blending his life with yours.

With your birthday on the horizon, Hotch was well aware of the intricacies involved in selecting the perfect gift. Your independence and flair for purchasing exactly what you wanted, when you wanted, left little room for him to dazzle you with something unexpected. Yet, the desire to surprise and delight you was strong; he wanted to be the doting boyfriend who could still manage to sweep you off your feet.

One morning, as he was choosing a tie for work, you playfully suggested one that would "match beautifully with my purse—if I had the right shade." The comment was offhand, perhaps even forgetful of the collection you already owned, but it sparked an idea in Hotch's mind.

Later that day, armed with determination, Hotch sought out Garcia. He found her busy at her workstations, screens flickering with data.

"Garcia, could I get your help with something a bit more... personal?" Hotch began, hesitating slightly as he ventured into unfamiliar territory.

Garcia swiveled in her chair, her expression instantly shifting to one of eager attentiveness. "Of course, Hotch! What do you need? Secret admirer codes cracked? Background checks for mysterious suitors?" she quipped, her tone light.

"Actually, I need advice on buying a purse," Hotch admitted, and briefly explained the situation.

"A purse? Oh, for you know who?! This is going to be fun!" Garcia clapped her hands, her earlier levity shifting into focused enthusiasm. "Okay, first things first, we need something as unique and classy as she is. Let’s dive into the world of designer handbags."

Garcia guided him through various high-end brands, explaining the appeal of each. "These are timeless," she pointed out, scrolling through an array of sophisticated designs. "But knowing our girl, something with both function and a high fashion quotient would be ideal."

Hotch listened, absorbing details about textures, colors, and what each brand symbolized. They finally narrowed it down to a few choices, each one reflecting a different aspect of your personality and style.

"This one here," Garcia pointed at a sleek, modern satchel with minimalist design but luxurious detailing, "seems like it could be the perfect accessory for her. It’s stylish but not ostentatious, much like how she approaches her work and personal style."

"It looks great," Hotch agreed, imagining how it would look draped over your shoulder. He made a mental note of the bag and the brand, deciding to do a little more research before making the final purchase.

"Good luck, Hotch! She's going to love whatever you choose because it's from you," Garcia smiled warmly, giving him a thumbs-up as he thanked her and left.

Back at Hotch’s apartment, as you both moved through your evening routine, Hotch found opportunities to subtly probe for more of your preferences without giving away his intentions.

"So, if you were to splurge on something frivolous, what would it be?" Hotch asked casually as you were both settling down with a glass of wine.

"Frivolous?" you chuckled, giving him a playful look. "Isn’t everything I buy somewhat frivolous to you, Mr. Practicality?"

"Perhaps," Hotch conceded with a smile, "but indulge me."

"A purse," you said after a moment, a mischievous twinkle in your eye. "A really good, outrageously and stupidly expensive purse that makes me feel like a million bucks when I carry it."

"Sounds like a worthy investment," Hotch replied, his tone teasing but thoughtful. Your eyes met, and there was a spark of something that went beyond the casual banter—a shared understanding and appreciation for these little confessions.

Hotch tucked away every piece of information, each helping him build towards the moment he would present you with the perfect birthday gift. It was more than just a purse; it was a symbol of his attentiveness to your desires and his wish to celebrate everything you were.

But the birthday Hotch had planned for you was supposed to be special, a day to celebrate you in style, with every detail tailored to your liking. Instead, duty called in the form of a particularly tough case that dragged on much longer than anyone had anticipated. The hours turned into days, and by the time it was over, everyone was exhausted, physically and emotionally drained.

As the team began packing up, you sighed heavily, the weight of the last few days evident in your slumped shoulders. "I just want to go back to my apartment," you murmured. "I ran out of clothes, and I forgot half my skincare stuff in the rush out."

Hotch, who had been hoping to salvage what was left of the day, felt a twinge of disappointment. "You could grab what you need and come back to my place," he suggested, trying to keep his tone light, though concern etched his features. He’d go to your place if he could, but Jack was waiting for him.

You shook your head, fatigue lining your face. "I'm just so tired, Aaron. Let’s just celebrate tomorrow, okay?" Your voice held a note of finality, but also a plea for understanding.

He knew he should let it go…give you the space you needed, but a part of him—the part that had been quietly contemplating a more significant step in your relationship—spoke up. "I was going to bring this up over dinner," Hotch began, his voice steady despite the chaos of the day, "but maybe this is the right moment. You and your... elaborate routines should just move in with me."

Your fatigue momentarily gave way to surprise. "Do you know what you’re getting into? My high maintenance might take over your space," you teased, a faint smile playing at your lips despite the exhaustion.

"Yes," Hotch said firmly, his gaze intense. "I know exactly what I’m getting into, and I love it. I miss it when you’re not there."

You looked at him, searching his face for any sign of hesitation. Finding none, your smile grew, and the weariness seemed to lift slightly. "You really want me and my half a suitcase of skincare products moving in?"

"Every last bottle and brush," Hotch confirmed, his voice softening. "It’s part of who you are, and I want all of you every day. Not just on good days or birthdays, but every challenging and tiring day too."

Your eyes softened, and you stepped closer, leaning into him slightly. "Okay, but we’re getting a bigger bathroom cabinet," you stipulated, your tone light but sincere.

"It’s a deal," Hotch agreed, wrapping an arm around you. The case had taken much from you both, but at this moment, a new door was opening—a commitment that promised to blend your lives in ways beyond shared cases and briefings.

As you both headed back, the weight of the case still lingering, there was a new undercurrent of hope, of shared futures and bathroom cabinets, a testament to the resilience of your bond.

You decided to pick up a few essentials from your apartment and spend the night at Hotch's place--now your place, too, despite your tiredness. Hotch, feeling a mix of relief and excitement, drove you to your apartment, waiting as you gathered your things.

Inside, you moved efficiently, albeit with a tired grace, packing your cherished skincare products and several outfits. Hotch leaned against the doorway, watching as you filled a small suitcase with what seemed to him an elaborate array of potions and tools. Each item was carefully selected, a ritual that he found both fascinating and slightly amusing.

“You sure you’ve got enough there for just one night?” Hotch teased lightly, his eyes twinkling with humor.

You glanced over your shoulder, a playful smirk on your lips. “This is the streamlined version, believe it or not. You might have to rent the apartment next door.”

“I’ll consult the landlord tomorrow,” Hotch quipped, the corners of his mouth lifting in a smile.

Back at his apartment, as you began setting out your skincare products in the bathroom, Hotch watched for a moment, his mind returning to the gift he’d carefully hidden away—something he hoped would make your day a little brighter after the tough case.

“Hey,” Hotch called softly, capturing your attention as you meticulously arranged your items. “I have something for you. I was saving it for a proper celebration, but I think tonight is as good a time as any.”

Your curiosity piqued, you followed him to the living room, where he retrieved a small, elegantly wrapped box from a drawer. Handing it to you, he watched as your eyes widened slightly, a mix of surprise and anticipation lighting up your features.

You unwrapped the box with a gentle precision, and as you lifted the lid and saw the purse—a beautiful, designer pocketbook that perfectly matched the sophisticated style you cherished—your expression transformed into one of sheer delight.

“Aaron, this is beautiful,” you breathed out, carefully pulling the purse from the box. You admired the craftsmanship, running your fingers over the smooth leather and the detailed stitching.

“It reminded me of you,” Hotch said, his voice sincere. “Elegant, practical, and incredibly stylish. Happy Birthday.”

You looked up at him, your eyes shining not just from the beauty of the gift but from the thoughtfulness behind it. “I love it,” you said, stepping closer to wrap your arms around him in a heartfelt embrace. “Thank you; this is the best end to a rough day.”

Hotch held you close, his heart swelling with the joy of seeing you so happy. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to make you smile like that,” he murmured into your hair, feeling the weight of the case and the fatigue of the day finally begin to lift.

As you pulled back slightly, still holding the purse, you teased, “Does this mean I get a new purse for every rough case?”

“Birthdays,” Hotch corrected with a gentle smile, his gaze softening as he added, “You make it incredibly hard for me to spoil you more than I already wish to.”

You laughed, a sound that Hotch had come to cherish deeply. “I’ll try to be less self-sufficient in the future,” you quipped, clutching the new purse a little closer as if it were a treasured award.

“I wouldn’t change a thing about your independence,” Hotch replied earnestly. “It’s one of the many things I admire about you. But allow me the occasional indulgence of spoiling you, especially on days like today.”

The purse, an elegant and thoughtful gift, lay between you on the coffee table, symbolizing not just a celebration of your birthday but of the new phase in your relationship. The evening settled into a comfortable rhythm, the earlier tension from the case dissolving into the background as you both enjoyed the simple pleasure of each other’s company.

With the challenges of the case behind you and the warmth of your shared space around you, Hotch felt a profound sense of contentment. This was more than just a birthday celebration—it was a reaffirmation of your partnership, a testament to how deeply your lives had intertwined.

As you both relaxed into the sofa, the conversation drifted from light teasing to deeper, more introspective topics. Every so often, your hand would brush against the purse, a physical reminder of Hotch’s affection and attention to what brought you joy.

“Thank you, Aaron,” you said again, your voice lower, more reflective as the night wore on. “For understanding me, even when I think I don’t need anything.”

Hotch reached over, his hand finding yours, squeezing it gently. “You don’t need to thank me for that,” he murmured. “It’s just another part of our journey together. And I’m grateful for every step we take, side by side.”

The purse remained on the table, a beacon of new beginnings and mutual understanding, as you both shared the quiet comfort of knowing you were exactly where you were meant to be.

Tag List:

@zaddyhotch @estragos @todorokishoe24 @looking1016 @khxna @rousethemouse @averyhotchner @reidfile @bernelflo @lover-of-books-and-tea @frickin-bats @sleepysongbirdsings @justyourusualash @person-005 @iyskgd @hiireadstuff @kcch-ns

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fear-less · 12 days ago

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₊˚⊹˚ 𐙚 this is awkward..

pairing: james potter x f!reader

➥ In which, you were fed up with James, deciding to put aside your pettiness you drag him away from the gryffindor party to talk to him.

Warnings: angst, fluff, james pov, this inspired by awae (aka the best show ever), r and james speaking is 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓿𝓲𝓵𝔂 inspired by gilbert confessing that he wants anne so effing bad bc he 𝓯𝔀 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓿𝔂, lowkey dont hate me for making the “dreams” u want so like…. I just didn't know what to do bc like idk smh i set back women 50 years by that

a/n: tysm for all the love on this series!! y’all are NOT ready for the next chapter, writing it rn and 😭🙏 BUTTT tysm for 300🫶🫶 also I finished the last chapter... do y'all want me to post it today or edge y'all and post it tomorrow

series masterlist ! - divider creds: i-mmaculatus & dollywons

It was now nearing the end of the school year—even if there was still a month to go. James could now be in the same room as you without glaring daggers at whoever you were talking to. Though he told himself he was over you, he knew deep down that the feelings never faded.

He told himself it didn’t matter. He told himself he was fine. And yet, every time he caught sight of you, every time your laughter reached his ears from across the room, it was as if someone had set fire to his resolve.

He wanted to talk to you so badly it was almost pathetic. But it was like the universe itself was conspiring against him—or, more specifically, like Finn Laurier had developed some sort of sixth sense for James’s intentions.

Because every single time James gathered enough courage, every time he braced himself to walk over to you, Finn would appear out of nowhere. Whether it was in the Great Hall, the library, or even during Quidditch practice, Finn always seemed to materialize by your side at precisely the wrong moment, stealing away your attention and leaving James feeling like the outsider in his own story.

It was infuriating.

“Mate, you’re grinding your teeth,” Sirius remarked casually one afternoon as they sat under the beech tree by the lake.

James startled, realizing with some embarrassment that Sirius was right. He quickly unclenched his jaw and let out a frustrated sigh.

“Sorry,” he muttered, running a hand through his messy hair. “I’m just…”

“Just what?” Sirius prompted, raising an eyebrow.

“Nothing,” James lied, though his voice betrayed him.

Sirius gave him a knowing look. “If this is about her again, just—”

“It’s not about her,” James interrupted quickly, though he winced as the words left his mouth. He knew Sirius wouldn’t believe him, and he wasn’t sure he even believed himself anymore.

Sirius sighed, shaking his head. “Prongs, you’re going to drive yourself mad if you keep this up. Just talk to her already.”

“I’ve tried!” James snapped, louder than he intended. He lowered his voice and added, “I’ve tried, but every bloody time, Finn shows up. It’s like he’s got a bloody tracker on her or something.”

Remus, who had been quietly reading nearby, finally chimed in. “You know, maybe you’re overthinking this,” he said, not looking up from his book.

“How could I possibly be overthinking this?” James demanded, throwing his hands up in exasperation.

“Maybe Finn’s not doing it on purpose,” Remus suggested calmly. “Maybe it’s just bad timing.”

“Bad timing?” James repeated incredulously. “Bad timing doesn’t happen this often, Moony. This is a pattern.”

Remus gave him a skeptical look but didn’t argue further.

James leaned back against the tree trunk, closing his eyes and letting out a long breath. He hated how much this was bothering him. He hated how much control this entire situation had over him.

But most of all, he hated the thought that you might actually be happy with Finn.

It wasn’t that he thought Finn was a bad guy—quite the opposite, really. Finn was charming, talented, and annoyingly good at everything he did. He was the kind of guy parents adored, the kind of guy professors went out of their way to praise. And worst of all, he was the kind of guy who could make you smile in a way James had only dreamed of.

James opened his eyes, staring up at the branches overhead. “Maybe I should just give up,” he muttered.

Sirius snorted. “Yeah, right. That’s the most ridiculous thing you’ve said all day.”

“I’m serious,” James insisted.

“No, I’m Sirius,” Sirius quipped, smirking.

James groaned, throwing a small pebble in his direction. “Not the time for jokes.”

“Fine, fine,” Sirius said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “But seriously, you’re not giving up. You’re James Potter, remember? Stubborn, arrogant, never-takes-no-for-an-answer James Potter. You don’t give up on things you care about.”

James hesitated, staring at the rippling water of the Black Lake. He wanted to believe Sirius. He wanted to believe that there was still a chance, that you weren’t as far out of reach as you seemed.

But as he watched you across the courtyard later that day, standing beside Finn and laughing at something he said, James couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, it was too late.

But his doubt soon melted into something far more unsettling when he noticed your gaze shift. For the first time in what felt like forever, your attention wasn’t on Finn Laurier—it was on him.

James felt like he might throw up.

His heartbeat thundered in his ears, and his hands fidgeted with the hem of his robes as he quickly looked away. In fact, he didn’t just look away; he turned his entire body in the opposite direction, hoping to mask the flush rising to his cheeks.

“C’mon, James, you’ve got a Quidditch game to win today! Channel all that anger you’ve got towards Laurier into winning us the Cup!” Sirius said, clapping a hand on James’s shoulder with his trademark grin.

James gave a faint nod, trying to let Sirius’s words sink in. He wasn’t sure if it would work, but he had to admit—focusing on Quidditch might be better than brooding.

As the match began, Sirius’s advice started to help. Flying through the air, the roar of the crowd, and the adrenaline coursing through his veins almost made him forget the mess he was tangled in. Quidditch always had a way of making the weight on his shoulders feel lighter.

Almost.

At first, he wasn’t paying much attention to the game. His mind wandered back to you, back to everything that had gone wrong. He thought about what he would say, how he could even begin to fix things. And, like always, he couldn’t resist scanning the crowd for you.

Even in the middle of a fight, even when he swore to himself that he was done, James always looked for you in the stands.

And he found you—right where he didn’t want to.

You were sitting with Finn Laurier, your hand clasped in his. James’s stomach twisted painfully at the sight, and he forced himself to look away, though the image burned into his mind.

Of course. Finn fucking Laurier.

He sighed, his grip tightening on his broomstick. There was no point in hoping anymore. Whatever chance he’d had—if he’d ever had one—was gone now. Maybe he’d already been downgraded in your life: a friend at best, a stranger at worst. The thought stung, and James shoved it down, refusing to dwell on it any longer.

And then, something golden caught the corner of his eye.

The Snitch.

For the first time all game, James’s focus snapped into place. He leaned forward on his broom, his heart pounding—not from heartbreak this time, but from the sheer rush of competition. If nothing else, he could still win this. He could still bring home the Cup.

James shot after the Snitch with everything he had, the rush of wind against his face only fueling his determination. The crowd roared, but their voices blurred into the background. His world narrowed to one thing: the golden glimmer darting just ahead.

The Hufflepuff Seeker was hot on his trail, but James barely registered them. This was his moment. The Snitch veered sharply to the right, and James followed, his reflexes razor-sharp. He could feel the weight of his emotions—anger, heartbreak, frustration—all pouring into this chase.

The Snitch dipped low, skimming just above the grass, and James dove after it, his fingers outstretched. The Hufflepuff Seeker was closing in fast, but James didn’t care. He pushed his broom harder, faster, his body leaning forward so much it felt like he might fall off.

And then, his fingers closed around the Snitch.

The Gryffindor stands erupted into cheers, deafening and jubilant. The sound echoed across the pitch as James pulled up, the Snitch held high in triumph. For the first time all week, a genuine smile broke across his face.

He’d done it.

Back on the ground, his teammates swarmed him, yelling and celebrating as they lifted him off the ground in a flurry of hugs and pats on the back. Sirius was the loudest, of course, laughing as he shouted, “That’s my best mate! Did you see that dive? Bloody brilliant!”

James grinned, allowing himself to soak in the moment. But as the initial adrenaline rush faded, his thoughts drifted back to you.

Through the crowd, he spotted you walking toward the castle with Laurier. You looked happy—laughing at something Finn said, your hand still in his.

James’s chest tightened, the pain creeping back in.

Sirius slung an arm around his shoulders. “Oi, don’t let that git ruin your moment. You just won us the Cup, Prongs. Focus on that, yeah?”

James forced a nod, plastering a smile on his face. “Yeah. You’re right.”

But deep down, as the team carried him back to the common room, the ache lingered. Winning the match had been a distraction, but it wasn’t enough to erase what he felt for you—or the sting of seeing you with someone else.

Still, James promised himself one thing: he’d get through this. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but eventually. And who knew? Maybe, someday, you’d see him the way he saw you.

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

The Gryffindor common room was a chaotic blur of red and gold, filled with triumphant cheers and laughter. The moment the team returned from the pitch, the party was already in full swing. Someone had charmed a banner to flash "Gryffindor Wins the Cup!" in shimmering letters, and butterbeer bottles floated around the room, courtesy of a cheeky charm from Sirius.

James stood in the center of it all, grinning as his teammates and housemates patted him on the back and congratulated him. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to bask in the glory of the victory, letting it drown out the knot in his chest. He’d won the game, and Gryffindor had the Cup—he deserved to enjoy it.

“Prongs!” Sirius yelled over the noise, shoving a butterbeer into his hand. “You’re the man of the hour! You better milk this for all it’s worth, because Merlin knows you deserve it.”

James laughed, shaking his head. “Don’t let me hear you say that too often, Padfoot. I might start believing it.”

Sirius gave him a devilish grin. “Oh, you will. Now, c’mon, let’s make some noise!” He climbed onto a table, raising his bottle high. “To Prongs, our Quidditch hero!”

The room erupted in cheers, and James couldn’t help but laugh, taking a sip of his butterbeer as the noise washed over him. For the first time all day, he felt lighter.

As the party went on, James moved through the crowd, chatting and laughing with his housemates. But no matter how loud the celebration got, his eyes kept drifting to the door, half-hoping, half-dreading to see you walk in.

And then, you did.

James froze mid-conversation, his heart doing that familiar stutter-step it always did when he saw you. You looked radiant, wrapped in Gryffindor colors, your cheeks flushed from the cold. But his chest tightened when he noticed Laurier trailing behind you, his hand resting casually on the small of your back.

James quickly turned back to his conversation, forcing a smile and pretending not to notice. He wasn’t going to let Finn Laurier—or his own stupid feelings—ruin the night.

“Oi, Prongs,” Sirius said, appearing at his side again. “Stop moping and do something fun. We just won the bloody Cup, mate! At least pretend you’re having the time of your life.”

James forced another grin. “I am having fun, Padfoot. Loads of fun.”

Sirius narrowed his eyes. “You’re staring at her again, aren’t you?”

“I’m not,” James lied, taking a long sip of butterbeer.

Sirius groaned, grabbing James by the shoulders. “Look, here’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to stop torturing yourself, and you’re going to have a bloody fantastic time tonight. And if that doesn’t work, we’ll prank Laurier so hard he won’t know which way is up. Deal?”

James couldn’t help but laugh at that, shaking his head. “Alright, deal.”

Hours later, the party was still going strong. Someone had turned the music up, and the common room had transformed into a dance floor. James found himself dragged into the middle of it by Lily Evans, who gave him a pointed look.

“Stop sulking, Potter,” she said, smirking. “You just won the Cup. Act like it.”

“I’m not sulking,” James said, though his half-hearted smile gave him away.

Lily raised an eyebrow but didn’t press further. Instead, she tugged him into the rhythm of the music, and for a while, James let himself get lost in the moment.

It wasn’t until he caught sight of you again, laughing at something Laurier said, that the knot in his chest returned. He took a deep breath, plastered on another smile, and decided that, for tonight, he’d keep pretending.

He watched you from across the room as you and Laurier continued talking, laughter bubbling between you two. He could see the way you looked at him now—so different from the way you looked at him before. It was like there was a barrier, a wall that hadn’t been there when he first met you.

“Prongs,” Sirius appeared at his side again, his voice low and concerned. “Look, I know you’ve been through a lot, but this is ridiculous. You’re letting Laurier ruin your night—and you just won us the Cup, for Merlin’s sake. You’re allowed to be happy tonight. So go talk to her. If you don’t, I swear I’ll do it for you.”

James frowned at him, irritated. “I’m not talking to her, Pads. Not now.”

“Then at least get out of here and enjoy yourself,” Sirius pressed. “We’re celebrating, mate. You’ve earned it.”

James looked over at you one more time, and for a second, he almost gave in. But the knot in his chest was still there, tightly wound, and it made everything feel so much harder than it should’ve been.

But maybe... maybe he could find a way to feel better. Maybe he could lose himself in the celebration.

“I’ll think about it,” he finally muttered, glancing at his friends.

Sirius didn’t seem convinced but let out an exaggerated sigh. “Fine, but I’m not letting you go off and brood in some corner. The whole bloody school’s celebrating with you tonight.”

James smirked faintly, feeling a little lighter. Maybe he could pretend to be okay, at least for tonight. He could let the victory, the laughter, and his friends drown out the ache for just a little while longer.

But as the night continued, and as the music played on, James found himself once again looking toward the doorway, hoping—just hoping—that you’d look his way.

For the first time in forever, the world was finally on his side as he saw you quickly leaving Finn and walking straight to him.

“May I speak to you, please?” James nodded, Dumbfounded.

You quickly grabbed his hand and went outside the common room and into the corridors.

You took a deep breath, your fingers twisting nervously. “James… I’ve been meaning to talk to you for a while now.”

James’s throat went dry, his pulse quickening as he struggled to find his voice. “Yeah?”

You nodded, glancing down at your hands before meeting his gaze. “I—I’m sorry.”

That wasn’t what he had expected. Of all the scenarios he’d played out in his head, an apology hadn’t been one of them.

“For what?” he asked, genuine confusion coloring his voice.

“For everything,” you said in a rush, your words tumbling out before you could stop them. “For avoiding you. I was confused—about what I did that made you ignore me. And I guess I wanted to get back at you for ignoring me, so I decided to do the same to you. And… I’m sorry for whatever happened between us that made things so weird.”

James stared at you, your vulnerability hitting him like a Bludger to the chest. His heart ached at the uncertainty in your voice.

“You don’t have to apologize,” he said quickly, shaking his head.

“Yes, I do,” you insisted, your voice firm despite the tears welling in your eyes.

“No, you don’t,” James countered, his tone soft yet resolute. “It’s not fair to put all of this on yourself. You’ve always been there for me, and I—well, I’ve been a terrible friend lately. I was practically acting like you didn’t exist.”

James faltered when he saw the blank expression on your face. Panic flickered in his chest—had he said too much?

But before he could say anything more, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him.

“Oh, James,” you murmured into his shoulder. “It’s okay. I—I was acting like you didn’t exist too, but only because you were doing it to me.”

He blinked, caught off guard, before slowly relaxing into the hug. He looked down at you, his hand instinctively reaching up to brush away a stray tear trailing down your cheek.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

You shook your head, a small, watery smile breaking through. “We’re both sorry. Let’s just… not do this anymore, okay?”

James nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Deal.”

“It feels so much better having my best friend around again.” James’ smile faltered again, he never liked the word “best friend” when it came to you, he always wanted more.

“Definitely”

You two let each other talk for what felt like hours even though it was barely fifteen minutes. He enjoyed every second though, until you brought up Finn and future plans they may include him. He couldn't believe it, when had your parents met his? He remembers your dad telling him how much he was rooting you and him to be together, now he's okay with you dating some other dude? And worst of all, your father was okay with that same dude wanting to marry his daughter? James felt like throwing up.

“Then he said that my father laid it out on a silver platter.”

“Laid... what out on a platter?”

“My future! Gave him the blessing to...to propose. I don't know what to do.”

“You told me you don’t mind being married straight after Hogwarts if you truly loved the man. That being a wife and mother... is your dream. Finn is.. nice, and both of your guys’ parents are supportive. I don't understand. What's holding you back?”

“Just… one thing.”

“What am I supposed to do? Everyone else is just... moving on, and now you’re... and I’m still... We never even... And he’s there, and you’re—Merlin, you’re never going to find someone who—” James stopped, his voice cracking. “I know that much, so how... how am I supposed to... I can’t... I— We...”

Before you could speak–a drunk Sirius somehow found you two. “Woah James you're really speaking to her? Atta boy, now, let's get back to the party, cmon, we are going to do something cool, have you heard of ....” Sirius rambled on, tugging on James’ arm to drag him back to the party.

“I’ll be off, then.” You said, voice quivering as if hesitant to leave.

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

All James could think about was the previous night—the talk you two had shared. Your words, your voice, the hesitation in your eyes—it all replayed in his mind like a haunting melody. What would’ve happened if Sirius hadn’t barged in, if James had told him to leave, if he’d been brave enough to stay in that moment with you?

“I think…” James began, his voice breaking as he paced the Gryffindor dormitory, “I think she might’ve been asking if I love her. And—and I think I told her to marry someone else.”

Sirius, slouched in the chair by the window, looked stricken. “Mate…” he started, his tone heavy with guilt. “If I’d known—if I knew what was happening—I wouldn’t have gone looking for you. I—I practically ruined your chances. Merlin, I’m so, so sorry.”

James stopped pacing, running a hand through his already-messy hair. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t even know if she meant it. She said so much without really saying anything, and now I don’t know if I imagined it all.”

“‘Sure, take option two,’ when option one is all she wants for her future?” James muttered, his voice thick with frustration.

“What is option one?” Peter asked, his curiosity breaking the tension.

James scoffed, bitterness creeping into his tone. “It’s Finn, obviously.” He paused, his anger flaring. “But both their parents support it, and she told me that! Before she spilled all of that on me, we were talking and laughing like nothing was wrong. But now…” He exhaled sharply, his voice softening as he sat down on the edge of his bed. “Now it feels like I’m being asked to explain the rest of my life on a bloody ticking clock. And if I make the wrong decision, I’ve either ruined my life—or hers.”

The room fell silent. Sirius and Peter exchanged uneasy glances, while Remus seemed lost in thought, unsure of how to respond.

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

Meanwhile, you had confided in your mother about your plans the night before: to finally tell the man you truly loved how you felt. You hadn’t wanted to bring it up while you and James were laughing and enjoying each other’s company, but you knew if you didn’t seize the moment, you’d never say it at all.

What you hadn’t expected was for him to turn you down. To tell you—calmly, almost dismissively—that you should marry Finn.

Your mother was waiting for your response. You knew she expected good news, a letter confirming that you and James were finally together. Instead, you sat at your desk, penning words that left a bitter taste in your mouth.

Dear Mother,

I did what you told me to do, but I fear I shouldn’t have. We were talking just fine, and then I told him everything. I told him how I felt. And he told me to marry Finn.

Finn is lovely, yes—but he’s not James. I asked James if there was any chance for us, and he said no. At least now I have clarity on where I stand with him. And I know it sounds awful to compare Finn to James, but... maybe knowing what I know now, I can learn to be happy with Finn. Father and Finn’s family are all thrilled, after all. I don’t even want to think about what I would’ve done if James had said he felt the same.

You sighed, folding the parchment carefully and sealing it in an envelope. The weight of your words sat heavily on your chest, but you couldn’t dwell on them any longer. You needed to send this letter immediately.

Pulling on your cloak, you found yourself heading for one of the secret passages to Hogsmeade—the ones you and James had used so often. The memories stung, but you pushed them aside. This time, you’d be using the passage alone.

The quickest way to deliver your letter was through the owlery. You knew exactly which owl was the fastest.

As you walked, you let your mind wander to James one last time, allowing yourself the quiet ache of what could’ve been. You would never speak to him again, not like before. That part of your life was over.

Finn was your future now. And while it hurt to admit, deep down, you knew it was for the best.

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on-my-vigilante-sht · 1 month ago

Text

Forgiveness

Cregan Stark x Reader

Summary: Cregan begs for his wife’s forgiveness when he accidentally injures her.

Warning: no use of y/n, dirty talk/mentions of smut, injuries, i'm pretty sure that's it

Word Count: 2.3k

Masterlist

Cregan sat in his study, buried in letters and decrees that claimed they required the utmost attention. They all said that even if they truly did not require that level of priority. However, everyone wanted their Lord’s approval and signature, leaving him to sort through what was a priority and what could wait. In some ways he missed the war, at least he was fighting and protecting his realm then. He felt like a true lord then. Now, he may as well be a bureaucrat locked in some tower of the Red Keep, imprisoned by his own position.

As he moved on to some sort of land dispute, there was a harsh knock on his door. “Enter,” he called, not even looking up.

The large, heavy door swung open, revealing a guard. “Lady Stark, my lord,” he announced.

Interest piqued, Cregan looked up just in time to see the guard step aside, revealing his lady wife. Without having to be dismissed, the man exited, shutting the door behind him to leave the couple alone.

“I haven’t seen you all day,” his wife explained her presence, approaching his desk.

For the first time that day, the Warden of the North took a break from his work, setting his quill down and leaning back in his seat. Sparing a glance out the window, he realized that it was dark. It had only been mid-afternoon when he sat down to begin his bureaucratic duties. “I suppose you’re right,” he confirmed, recalling that he had gently pressed a kiss against his sleeping wife’s head when he woke before disappearing for the day.

Opening his arms, he invited her to approach. Taking his cue, the lady of the north took a seat on his lap, easily slotting into his body. It was a well known fact that the Lord and Lady of Winterfell were unusually affectionate for a pairing of such high status. Typically, love was reserved for those who did not marry for status, or for extramarital affairs. But it seemed the Stark couple had been quite lucky in their match.

“The day has ended, we should go to bed,” Cregan’s wife asked in a soft voice, her fingers trailing through the hair she swept away from his face.

He smiled, finding his tension soothed by her mere presence. “Aye, I wish that I could but this has to be done,” he sighed, gesturing to his desk still covered in documents.

Observing all the work, the lady sighed, leaning her head against her husband’s for a moment. “But you, my lord, are the Warden of the North. Who is to tell you when things must be done?” she asked suggestively, knowing what calling him ‘my lord,’ did to her husband.

Cregan let out the faintest growl, wanting to dive into his wife right there but he restrained himself. “Why I thought that was your job,” he teased.

Fortunately, she laughed, throwing her head back in a way that made Cregan want to mark her neck in the way he so loved. “Please,” she dismissed, “I can hardly get my own husband into bed. How can I tell you what to do?”

He chuckled. “Fortunately for no one, my discipline is strong enough to withstand your temptations. Although, I admit they are barely capable. I swear to you,” he began, gently lifting his wife from his lap, “that I will be in our chambers within the next hour,” he said, eyes flickering to the candle on his desk that was nearly at its end. “I expect you to be ready for me,” he uttered darkly.

His wife blushed like it was their wedding night again, despite hearing far more vulgar things from her husband. “And how shall you expect me?” she asked teasingly.

Cregan bit his lip. As adorable as he found his wife when she was shy and coy at the mere inclination of sex, he loved when she was daring and teasing. He thought for a moment, staying silent for longer than necessary only to create an illusion for his wife. “Naked. On our bed. With your fingers between your legs.”

Once again Cregan found himself locked away in his office, buried in endless paperwork. He was deeply entrenched in some matter of land disputes when the door suddenly burst open. Cregan looked up in astonishment, his mouth open to reprimand them for their dismissal of protocol.

“My apologies, my lord,” the out of breath guard interrupted. “But a wildling has attempted to enter Winterfell. Says he wants to be a southerner, like us.”

Cregan quirked a brow, utterly confused as to why this required so much urgency and why someone had dared call him a southerner. “And why does this require so much urgency that you have broken protocol?”

“The gatesmaster believes this may be some sort of ruse to breach the walls of Winterfell.”

Cregan nodded, standing up. As he exited his office, he found a group of guards standing outside, seemingly waiting to follow them outside. He did not say anything about the waste of manpower at his door but headed outside. “Which gate was it?” he asked.

“The north gate,” his guard answered.

Nodding, the Warden of the North headed out to the northern courtyard. As he exited the walls of the keep, he intended to greet the gatesmaster who stood talking to another sentry. But catching sight of the supposed wildling made him freeze. Standing there by the gate was a disheveled man, looking as if he had spent his entire life in the woods. And talking to him, unguarded, was the Lady of Winterfell.

Cregan abandoned his path towards his gatemaster to get his wife away from the wildling. Who would have possibly thought it would be wise to leave both the wildling and his wife unguarded, even more so to let them meet? He was not thinking clearly as he reached the pair, grabbing his wife’s arm to wrench her away from the vile man before her. He must have pulled harder than intended because she let out a yelp as he did so. Still, he did not comprehend it as he whirled around to face his men, still clutching her arm.

“Who left them unguarded?” he demanded, his voice booming so loud it silenced the entire courtyard. He watched in rage as the crowd of men all sent glances to one another.

The spell was only broken by his wife’s cry. “Cregan, you’re hurting me,” he heard his wife whimper. Finally looking at her, he realized just how tightly he was gripping her arm. He relaxed his grip a bit, but still held on tight enough to push her so she stood in front of him, making himself a barrier between her and the wildling. She let out another cry as he jerked her, her free hand reaching for the hand clutched around her arm. She grabbed his wrist in a futile attempt to get him to let go. “Cregan, let go,” she cried again.

Seeing his wife’s face twisted in pain, the Lord of Winterfell realized what he had done. Quickly, he released his grasp, her arm falling into her own grasp. The cold air that whipped through Winterfell became biting as Cregan watched his wife cradle her arm against her chest, backing away from him as if he were the threat. As she backed up toward a guard, gesturing for him to escort her away, Cregan’s heart broke as he realized that in that moment, she felt safer with a guard than with him.

His jaw clenched as he leveled a glare to the men that had followed him, realizing that they had all run to tell him what was happening rather than do their actual jobs. He turned to his gatesmaster who had approached them by now, the few guards who had remained now taking hold of the wildling. “Take him to the dungeons I will deal with him later,” he gestured to the potential threat. “As to this lot, see to it they have nights watch for the next week.” He leveled one last glare at the group of men before heading back inside, intent on finding his wife.

Cregan was already planning his apology to his wife as he reached the hall that housed their chambers. As he walked down the hall, the guard that had escorted her earlier exited his chambers before taking his post just outside the door, sparking some level of unfounded jealousy.

As Cregan walked up to the door, the guard gave him a slight bow. “My lord,” he greeted. He did not reply, simply continuing toward the door, waiting for the guard to open it. But rather, he just spoke again, “The lady has asked me to inform you that she wishes to be left alone.”

Cregan stopped, looking incredulously at the guard. His words stung to hear. He had sworn an oath to protect his wife and had promised her parents that he would be a good husband and never hurt her. Yet here he stood, being barred from his wife by her own wish, with a man of his employ guarding her against him. The sentry looked deeply uncomfortable under his lord’s glare. He truly wanted to honor the wishes of his liege lady but her husband’s orders came first. Reluctantly he reached over, opening the door for the Lord of Winterfell.

Satisfied with his influence, Cregan strolled into his chambers, intending to begin the apology when he stopped short upon seeing the room empty. He turned to look at the guard as if to ask where his wife was. “Some maids escorted her to the maesters,” he informed nervously.

Cregan leveled yet another glare at the man before clenching his jaw and exiting the room, storming towards the maester. As the lord of Winterfell left, his guard briefly considered alternative employment.

Although Cregan had stormed towards the maester’s turret throughout Winterfell, he slowed as he approached the structure. Despite the guards posted outside holding the door open for him, he paused before the building, taking a breath. His wife’s scared expression flashed through his mind and that was a sight he never wanted to see again, yet he knew he would never forget it. The image made all the rage evaporate from him as he slowly entered the turret.

Ascending the stairs, he reached the healing room that he had often visited as a boy. Always having his training injuries and general wounds of boyhood treated here. Sat on the bench in only her shift and skirts was Cregan’s wife, having her arm bandaged in a way that held it to her chest, just as she had chosen to hold it.

Maester Kennet noticed the lord first, slowly halting his movements to look at the man. His wife turned to see the reason for the maester’s pause. She turned, finding her husband standing at the top of the stairs looking like a hollow version of himself. His face looked crestfallen as if he were informing them of a death.

Before she could snub him with a turned gaze, Cregan fell to a knee, his head bowed. “My lady, I truly do wish to apologize to you. I truly never meant to harm you,” he began, his voice dripping with a desire to be believed. “I swore an oath to protect you, as that was all I was trying to do. But instead, I hurt you, and that is a failure I will carry with me until my grave. I understand if you are unable to forgive me, I was being brash and absentminded. But all I ask is that I may be near you.” He looked up slowly, meeting his wife’s gaze. He could not read anything from it aside from pain.

Cregan had felt the pain of wounds of war before, but nothing hurt more than when his wife turned to look at Maester Kennet. But she only whispered a dismissal before looking back to her husband again. Cregan stood eagerly as the man’s hands gently left his wife’s shoulder before he approached his lord. The aging man paused beside Cregan, patting his shoulder momentarily before continuing down the stairs, leaving the couple in privacy.

Cautiously, Cregan approached his lady, once again crouching before her. “I truly am sorry,” he repeated. His wife said nothing as her gaze fell to her lap. But she turned her non-bound hand over in her lap, inviting his hand in hers. Cregan took it eagerly, his other hand going to her face to brush her hair aside as he gently grasped it. “I love you,” he breathed.

“I love you too,” she cried, falling into him. Cregan caught her, careful of her shoulder as he held her close, even pressing a kiss to the injured area as if promising to care for her.

He continued to hold her and continued to apologize. “I truly did not intend to harm you. I just saw you standing with that wildling, unguarded and all I knew was that I had to get you away from him.”

A comforting hand in his hair soothed him, halting his words. “I know,” she assured. “Maester Kennet explained why you were so upset. I apologize for not being more cautious. I just felt he was being treated unjustly.”

Cregan pulled away only enough to look at his wife, nodding in understanding. “You have a large heart,” he commended. “And it is my job to protect it. Sometimes I get carried away with it.”

The lady smiled, “Well I don’t suppose I can fault you for that.”

Cregan smiled at her forgiveness, once again holding her close. With all forgiven, he gained a teasing lilt to his voice. “Did you send that guard to our chambers to intentionally mislead me?”

“Perhaps,” she agreed, the teasing lilt finding her voice as well. But she attempted to distract from it with a stroke against his back. “I was quite irritated with you.” Cregan just chucked, the rumble of his laugh soothing his wife as they fell back into normalcy.

Masterlist

#x reader #game of thrones #game of thrones x reader #got #got x reader #house of the dragon #house of the dragons x reader #hotd #hotd x reader #cregan #cregan stark #cregan x reader #cregan stark x reader

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misswynters · 2 months ago

Text

Spoiled Rotten

short drabble (not that short)

featuring. Mel medarda x fem! reader

requested by anon

There was a beautiful morning sun glow that was casted across the Medarda estate, but instead of the usual talk of activity, the house was unusually quiet. Mel stood at the foot of the grand staircase, her work satchel in one hand and an ornate coat draped over the other. She glanced up toward the master bedroom, the faint sounds of your muffled groaning carrying down the hall. She sighed, a fond smile tugging at her lips.

She had planned to head to the Council meeting this morning as there was always a mountain of political chess waiting for her. However the moment you had sleepily grabbed onto her wrist earlier, mumbling something about cramps and feeling “so gross,” she’d made up her mind. Work could wait. You needed her help.

When she walked back into the bedroom, her heart clenched at the sight of you. You were still curled up beneath the silk sheets, looking pitifully small in your oversized sleep shirt. A hot water bottle rested against your stomach, and your face was scrunched in discomfort.

“My love,” she called softly, setting her things aside. Her honeyed voice wrapped around you like a warm blanket, and you peeked out from under the covers.

“You’re still here?” Your voice was hoarse, heavy with sleep and discomfort.

“Of course I am,” Mel replied, crossing the room and sitting on the edge of the bed. She brushed a strand of hair away from your forehead, her cool fingers soothing against your warm skin. “I’m not going anywhere today.”

Your eyes widened, but a glimmer of guilt crept in. “But don’t you have to go to the meeting—”

Mel pressed a finger gently to your lips. “Shhh. It can wait. You’re far more important than whatever petty squabble the Council is embroiled in this time.”

A wave of emotion hit you, and you reached for her, wrapping your arms around her waist and burying your face in her side. “I’m sorry for being so clingy when I feel like this,” you mumbled, voice muffled by her satin robe.

Mel chuckled, the sound low and affectionate as she stroked your back. “There’s nothing to apologize for. If anything, I love how much you rely on me. It’s…endearing.”

You looked up at her, your eyes glassy. “Really?”

“Yes, really.” She cupped your cheek, her thumb brushing lightly across your skin. “Now, let me take care of you, hm? No more arguing.” The morning passed in a haze of quiet indulgence. Mel, ever composed and meticulous, became your personal nurse. She brought you a tray of breakfast in bed, complete with tea, fresh fruit, and warm pastries from your favorite bakery that was nearby. When you whimpered that the cramps were still too much, she helped you reposition the hot water bottle and massaged your lower back with gentle, practiced hands.

As the afternoon sun climbed higher, Mel decided it was time for something more soothing. “Come, my love,” she said, holding out her hand. “Let’s get you into a warm bath.”

You blinked up at her, still sluggish from the morning but grateful. “You’d do that for me?”

Mel arched a brow, a teasing smile playing at her lips. “You’re acting as if I don’t spoil you at every opportunity.”

That earned her a weak laugh, and you allowed her to guide you into the bathroom. The tub was already filling with steaming water, and Mel had added a few drops of lavender oil, the soothing scent filling the air. She helped you undress, her movements slow and careful, treating you like the most precious thing in the world. Once you were settled in the bath, she knelt beside the tub, her sleeves rolled up as she gently washed your shoulders and back. Her touch was soft, almost as if she were savoring the quiet intimacy of the moment.

“You’re too nice,” you murmured, leaning your head back against the edge of the tub.

“Nonsense,” Mel replied, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “You deserve nothing less.”

By the time evening rolled around, you were back in bed, wrapped in fresh blankets and wearing one of Mel’s silk robes. She had tucked herself in beside you, her arms securely around your waist as she spooned you. The world outside ceased to exist; all that mattered was the warmth you shared.

“You’re really staying all day, huh?” you asked, turning slightly to glance at her.

“Is that so surprising?” Mel’s tone was amused, but her golden eyes were warm as they met yours. “I told you, you’re my priority today.”

You felt a small flush creep up your cheeks, grateful but still slightly guilty. “I’m just my period, acting so dramatic.”

Mel clicked her tongue and tightened her hold on you. “You’re in pain, exhausted, and emotional. That’s hardly dramatic.” Her lips brushed the back of your neck as she spoke. “Besides, I don’t need an excuse to spoil you.”

A soft, contented sigh escaped your lips. “You really mean it, don’t you?”

“Every single word,” she murmured, trailing her fingers up and down your arm in slow, soothing strokes. The room was dimly lit now, the soft amber glow from the bedside lamp casting long shadows on the walls. Your favorite music played faintly in the background, creating a cozy ambiance that melted away any lingering discomfort.

“I don’t deserve you,” you whispered, a small lump forming in your throat.

Mel shifted slightly, propping herself up on one elbow to look down at you. Her expression was one of affectionate exasperation. “If I hear you say that one more time, I’ll be forced to give you a lecture about how absolutely wrong you are.”

A laugh bubbled out of you, breaking the emotional tension. “I’d love to hear that lecture.”

Mel smirked, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “Maybe another time. For now, just accept that I love you, and I’m not going anywhere.”

Your heart swelled at her words, and without thinking, you turned in her arms to face her fully. Reaching up, you cupped her face in your hands and kissed her softly. It was a gentle, lingering kiss, full of gratitude and love. The rest of the evening passed in a haze. You drifted in and out of sleep, nestled in Mel’s arms, while she occasionally whispered sweet nothings in your ear. When you stirred complaining about the pain, she would bring you water, insisting you keep hydrated.

As the night deepened, the two of you stayed wrapped in each other’s arms, the outside world forgotten. It didn’t matter that you were an emotional wreck or that Mel had a mountain of work waiting for her. In that moment, all that mattered was the love you shared and the comfort you found in each other. Her, taking good care of you while you were on your period because she knew you would do the same for her. No questions asked.

taglist. @diffusebread @xxblairslairxx @themostlesbianever

banner. @anitalenia

#arcane #arcane masterlist #arcane x female reader #arcane x y/n #arcane x reader #mel x reader #mel merdada #mel medarda #mel medarda fluff #arcane mel #arcane mel x reader #arcane x you #arcane fic #arcane drabbles #arcane imagine #mel medarda x reader #mel medarda x you #mel medarda imagines

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