#the idea that they love each other but might not belong together

[residentrookie]

NFU 

a messy exes/right person, wrong time jegulus microfic inspired by the song NFU by del water gap for my bb @static-radio-ao3 as my thank u for the introduction :))

“Hello?” 

“Regulus,” a hoarse voice rasps on the other end of the phone, drawing out the syllables of his name. Rough and low and… drunk. Extremely fucking drunk, by the sound of it.

Regulus stiffens. “James. Are you-- you’re drunk calling me. Again.” 

“Very astute. You’re always so astute, Reg.” 

He checks the clock on his nightstand with bleary eyes. 3:30 AM. God. Not this again.

“I thought we talked about this,” he sighs, sitting up and rubbing a hand over his eyes. 

“We don’t talk much these days,” James points out rationally. “I think I would have remembered.” 

Regulus rolls his eyes. Not fucking likely. 

“Since you were in a similar state the last time we had this conversation, I’m not surprised you don’t remember. Just so we’re clear that doesn’t make it okay, James. This is— you have to stop doing this.” 

By ‘this’ Regulus means getting wasted and calling him when James is too far gone to talk himself out of the idea. And, if Regulus were smart, he would stop picking up when James’ name flashes across his screen. 

“Like I said. Astute.” 

Drunk James is his worst nightmare, truly. Drunk James is a walking, talking reminder of everything he doesn’t have anymore, everything he will never have again. When he calls, lacking crucial social skills like self-control and any modicum of a filter, Regulus is forced to be the rational one, reminding them both that this boundary exists for a reason. A very good reason.

“Okay. Well I’m glad— it’s good that we talked about this. But this is— this has to be the last time. I’m hanging up now, okay?” 

James continues as if he never spoke. “How’s your um— your boyfriend doing?”

Immediately no. 

“I’m not talking about this with you—” Regulus attempts to shut him down, but James is nothing if not obstinate. 

“You’re still dating the guy with the dumb fucking name, right?” 

James knows full well that he is. Sirius would have informed him otherwise. He just wants to hear Regulus say it because he’s fucking sick and twisted. Naturally, Regulus can’t give him the satisfaction, so he avoids the question. 

“You can’t think Regulus is a perfectly normal name and then turn around and shit on a guy for being named Kingsley.” 

James scoffs on the other end of the phone. “I can shit on him as much as I want. Fucking hate that fucker.” 

“You’ve never met him. You can’t hate someone you’ve never even met.” 

“Sirius hates him.” 

“Sirius doesn’t hate him—” Sirius just wishes he was you. 

“Mhm. Told me so. Said he’s a little bitch who can’t hold his liquor.”

Now it’s Regulus’ turn to scoff. “This coming from you right now? You sound so fucked up, I doubt you can even see straight. Not that you could before, but—” 

“I’m not fucked up,” James insists, then says calmly, “I just missed the way that you talk.” 

This. This was why they had to stop. In his worst moments, Regulus loathes the fact that Sober James all but ignores him most of the time, only bothering to text him on important holidays or birthdays. That is, until he’s reminded that Drunk James wants to ruin him— completely and thoroughly— by the casual cruelty of speaking his mind and expecting Regulus to go on peacefully with his life as if he didn’t just upend it entirely. 

“James…” he starts shakily. 

“Fuck, that sounded stupid. This was,” James hiccups, “not my best idea, I fear. Rash. Extremely rash feeling.” 

“What, drunk calling your ex? Yeah, I would say it’s one of your worst.” 

James is quiet for a moment. “You kill me, you know? I-I hate talking to you.” 

Rage wells up in Regulus’ throat so fast he nearly chokes on it. “You called me—”

“God, you sound good. You always sound sexy when you’re angry, did you know that?  Rougher… hotter. All red in the face and your neck…I can almost see it, if I squint.”  James pauses, presumably squinting like a drunken idiot. “Maybe that’s why I called you— to make you angry. To hear you be angry at me again. Stupid fucking thing to miss, isn’t it?”

Yet again, Regulus is at a loss. 

“You— I’m— God, you’re a real fucking bastard. Do you have any idea how excruciating it is to talk to you when you’re like this?” 

But James ignores him, saying ruefully, “Sirius told me, he always tells me, he says, ‘Don’t fucking do it, James. You always regret it, you always yell at me the next day for letting you call him,’ but he can’t stop me,” a childish giggle bursts from him. “I’m too fast. Much, much faster than him, just for the record. He’s never once beat me in a foot race, and if he says he has he’s a big, fat fucking liar—”

“James, I sincerely don’t give a fuck about that— be honest, did you run away from him at the bar?” 

Drunk James will do that. He’s a runner. Well, not when Regulus was around to keep him on a tight leash, but it seems that without him, James is turning back to some of his worst habits. 

The line goes quiet. Then, “A little bit.” 

“It’s a yes or no question, James.” 

“Mm.” He seems to think on it. “Yes, then.” 

Regulus tosses his hand in the air, forgetting James can’t see him. “Go back and find him!” 

“Don’t want to,” James sniffs. “Tryin to make my mistakes in peace.” 

“You— I’m hanging up and calling Sirius.” 

“No, no don’t!” James yells into the receiver, making Regulus wince and pull his phone away from his ear. James’ voice is much quieter when he speaks again. 

“Don’t, I have to say— I wanted to tell you. I have to tell you that I’m sorry, Regulus. I’m so fucking sorry.” 

A pit of dread forms in his stomach. James sounds wretched. He sounds like how Regulus feels when he thinks too long about how far they’ve drifted apart, how little they speak to each other anymore. For one infinitesimal second, Regulus gets the satisfaction of knowing that he’s not alone in this specific shade of misery— dark blue and bottomless. And then he reminds himself that he’s sober and his ex-boyfriend is drunk and they shouldn’t even be fucking talking right now if they knows what’s good for them. 

“James, look, you’re drunk, you’re emotional—”

“‘S not what I’m apologizing for.” 

“What, then?” 

“Everything. All of it. I never—I wanted…” 

Don’t say it, Regulus begs silently. Please don’t say what I—

“I still love you,” James breathes out. “I love you so much I can’t breathe around it.” 

Regulus lets his eyes sink closed, firmly shuttering the tears forming in his eyes. He can’t let himself say it back. He can’t. If he does…

“James…” Regulus lets himself savor the sound of his name on his tongue. Then says softly, “It’s okay.” 

They both know it’s not. 

______________________________

James looks down at the number on his phone. Blinks, just to make sure he isn’t imagining… but, no, he isn’t making it up. He picks up his phone, his apprehension growing. 

“Regulus?” he asks, unsure. 

A snort sounds on the other line. “Hm, fffancy seeing you here.” 

James blinks again. “...We’re talking over the phone.”

He doesn’t have to see Regulus to know that he’s just waved James’ words away with a flippant hand. “Metaphorically, then.” 

It’s been weeks since the last time they spoke. James remembers very little of that ill-conceived conversation, except of course for the part where he said the one thing he promised himself he would never say again because his brain hates him. It’s played on a loop in his head everyday since, his ragged, sincere words and Regulus’ noncommittal response to them. 

It’s okay, he had said. 

It was anything but okay. They both knew that. 

He had been doing so well, had been training himself to think of other things besides his ex boyfriend and his ex boyfriend’s new boyfriend and what the two of them were getting up to together, all the fun things they were probably doing while James was just focused on getting through his day. On getting to the next one. The next. The next the next the next the next the next—

“You don’t have ‘nything to say? Hm?” Regulus’ words slur. Unusual for him. Regulus was always so in control of himself. 

James frowns. “Are you okay? You sound—”

“Drunk? Well, that’s because I am. Royally, massively fucking toasted. Thought I’d return the favor and call you for once. ‘S your lucky day.” 

“Oh. I guess— I deserve that.” 

“I’ll say. Taste of your own medicine. Drink up, Potter.” 

James huffs a humorless laugh. “You must be drunk if you’re calling me ‘Potter’. You never call me that.” 

“Never say never, Potter,” he spits out meanly.  “It’s never a good idea to say never, remember? Remember how not good of an idea it is to use the word never? My therapist, she says I need to stop talking in absolutes. Never and always. Never say never, I learned that from her. Shame you didn’t, too.” 

James sinks into a kitchen chair, burying his face in his free hand, rubbing out the headache growing in his left temple. “You were right,”  he admits. “This is excruciating.” 

This conversation is making him feel awful for every single time he’s dialed Regulus drunk, the barrier between his thoughts and his words nowhere to be found. Regulus was right. He deserved a taste of his own medicine. He deserved this for every single second Regulus had to keep his cool on the other line while James was busy fucking them up a little more than they already had been. 

“Like remember when you said we’d never break up? Or when you said you’d always love me? Hilarious. Really, really funny stuff.” 

Regulus’ voice is liquid rage, red hot and acidic. James swears it’s burning him through the phone. 

He sighs. “Regulus. Can we not?” 

“No, no, we should talk about it. It’s been long enough. We can be rational adults and have a damn conversation. Here, you know what, I’ll even go first. I wanted you to come with me, you know. I should have asked you. To come with me.” 

James feels his heart stutter in his chest at those words. “You did ask me to come with you,” he murmurs. 

Regulus was waiting for that, like a snake rearing to strike. “Wait. Yessss, that’s right. I asked you to come with me and you said no! Now I remember. You said fucking no.” 

James clenches his jaw, his own anger slowly rising up the column of his throat. “I didn’t say no. I asked for some time to decide if I wanted to upend my life and move across the country, which is a pretty sane response to a question of that fucking magnitude. You’re the one who decided my hesitation meant I didn’t fucking love you.” 

“Well, it sure didn’t feel like you loved me when you let me leave.” 

“Let you—?!” James cuts off, knowing he’ll blow a gasket if he doesn’t calm himself.  “Regulus,” he starts, “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but no one lets you do anything! You do whatever you please and damn the consequences! I just never— I didn’t want to be one of those consequences.” 

Regulus, to no one’s shock, does not attempt to calm himself. In fact, James fears he’s only stoked the flames. 

“You are hands down the most infuriating human being on the face of the goddamn planet! Of course you’re blaming me! Of course, like you were just an innocent bystander while I went about ruining our relationship! Like you had nothing to do with it! You had no part in it, no, not perfect James Potter, never him! I cannot believe— I just— it’s all so— fuck!” 

His voice breaks on the word and then the rest of him breaks too. His tears sound painful, like they’re fighting they’re way out of Regulus’ body with each sob. He cries loudly and messily and James can’t pretend like the sound doesn’t break his heart all over again. 

“Regulus?” He makes his voice gentle. Soothing. “Hey, don’t cry. Listen, you’re drunk. Why don’t we try talking when you’ve sobered up?” 

“No, James,” he sobs, gasping for breath. “You don’t understand. I fucked up. I fucking fucked up.” 

James sits up straighter, alarmed. 

“Are you okay? Are you safe? What’s going on—” 

Regulus sniffles. “No, I’m— I’m at my place. I’m fine. It’s just… it’s Kingsley.” 

James’ mind goes still in a way that should scare him but doesn’t. “Did he hurt you?” He doesn’t  bother keeping the cool rage out of his voice. 

“No!” Regulus nearly shouts. “No.. the opposite, actually. I hurt him. Badly.” 

James closes his eyes and takes a deep, slow breath. “Look… I’m sorry you’re upset but I really don’t want to listen to your lover’s spat—”

“I said your name last night,” Regulus whispers. 

“You��what?” 

Regulus doesn’t hold himself back. “He fucked me and I said your name. When I came. Yelled it, actually. No way to hide it. James and Kingsley don’t sound remotely similar.” 

And that— well. James has lost the ability for rational thought. “Oh,” he manages.

“Yeah, oh,” Regulus mimics him harshly. “He stormed out and we haven’t talked since. And I think— I think he’s going to break up with me now. He should break up with me. It’s— what I did is unforgivable.” 

No matter how hard he tries, James can’t think of a single thing to say to this information. Naturally, Regulus won’t let that stand. 

“James? Are you gonna say something?” 

“What do you want me to say?” he asks weakly. 

“Say you’re sorry!” Regulus shouts. “Say you’re sorry for drunk calling me all the fucking time, for reminding me that you exist, for reminding me I still fucking love—” 

He cuts off, but not quite quickly enough. James still heard everything he didn’t say. 

“I am sorry,” he says, voice rough. “I’m really fucking sorry, Regulus.” 

He hears the hitch in Regulus’ breath. If he closes his eyes he can see Regulus before him, see the pain take up residence on his beautiful face, the way he scrunches his nose when he cries, his eyes going stark red, his cheeks staining themselves pink. 

He can see Regulus so clearly in his mind. But he didn’t see what was coming next. 

“I-I just want to be with you again,” Regulus cries softly.  “I want to be with you, James. I’ll move back, I’ll quit my program, I’ll move in with you like you wanted, I’ll do fucking anything— but I can’t live like this anymore, James, I can’t, I can’t—”

James’ own tears slide down his cheeks silently, falling off the cliff-edge of his chin. 

“Regulus,” he says as firmly as he can manage. “Stop it. Please. You didn’t move away on a whim, okay? You’re in an amazing program. You love Chicago, you love the city and the river walk and the Art Institute and that bookshop across from Grant Park—” 

“You can’t— I didn’t tell you about any of—” 

“I pay attention. I know you love it. And I love where I live. I love my job here.” He forces the next words to leave his mouth, even though they taste like poison. “We’re… in the right places for ourselves. I have to believe that.” 

This doesn’t satisfy Regulus. The most twisted part of him is glad about that. 

“Why don’t you fucking get it, James? I can’t be in the right place if I’m not with you. The right place doesn’t exist if we aren’t in it together.” 

James squeezes his eyes shut tightly. Regulus can’t know how badly this is hurting him. He can’t know that James feels like dying every day they spend apart, that James has applied for over ten jobs in Chicago just to hear nothing back, has looked at apartments in Regulus’ neighborhood enough times he’s saved the site to his favorites bar. Even when Regulus was dating someone else. Even after Regulus had moved on from him. 

He's looked at it from so many angles, tried to reconfigure it so many times in his mind, and nothing made sense for them. One of them would always be giving up something, making sacrifices for the other, letting the resentment build.

Even thought Regulus is saying everything he’s been wanting to hear for an entire year...

He’s drunk. He’s drunk and he doesn’t know what he’s saying. Doesn’t know what he wants. 

“We’re happy, Regulus,” James tells him stiffly. “We’re both happy.” 

Maybe if he keeps repeating it, he’ll finally start to believe it. 

“If this is what happiness feels like,” Regulus snarls, “then I don’t want to be fucking happy.” 

No. And James doesn’t either. 

“You’ll feel differently in the morning. I promise.” 

Regulus laughs without humor. “I’ll still want you in the morning. Being sober doesn’t change that. It just lets me hold on to a shred of my dignity and not call you to tell you about it. But it doesn’t change a damn thing. You have to know that.” 

He’s drunk, James reminds himself. He’s fucking drunk. 

“Goodnight, Regulus,” he chokes out. 

“I still love you, James.” 

“It’s okay, Regulus. It’ll be okay.” 

They both know it won’t be. 

[musical-chick-13]

Fuck it, weird-yet-galaxy-brain take is that Love Is War is rom-com Death Note, but not in regard to the ship that everyone thinks, and what I mean by this is that Kaguya and Miyuki are NOT the lighthearted lower-stakes rom-com version of Light and L, they're the lighthearted lower-stakes rom-com version of Near and Mello.

[angelseraphines]

ೃ⁀➷ gods and monsters ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🦢 ꒱

╰┈➤ hwang in-ho x wife!reader imagine

a/n: i would like to give a special thank you to @lumillsie for the layout of this post and for the filter used on the header!

˚ ༘♡ you cherished your husband, your family, and the life you had created together. hwang in-ho was a man of contradictions, capable of immense love and devotion. he treated you with such care, as though you were the most precious thing in his world. his adoration was tangible in every gesture, every lingering glance. yet beneath that tenderness was a darkness you struggled to reconcile. this same man, who held your hand with precious affection, was also the masked overseer of the squid game, a series of merciless challenges where the desperate competed, often at the cost of their lives, for a staggering cash prize.

˚ ༘♡ you could never truly fathom it. the man who pressed sweet kisses to your forehead at night was the same monster who orchestrated a spectacle of death and suffering. he claimed no pleasure in it, but the mere fact of his involvement unsettled you. the gleaming black mask, the command he held over every horrific detail, it was a world so far removed from the comfort of your home, yet it belonged to him all the same.

˚ ༘♡ only once had he asked if you wished to attend, to see what he called “his other life.” the question had terrified you to your core, your lips parting in silent dismay. you hadn’t needed to answer. the way your expression shifted, the way fright and disapproval glared across your pallid face, was enough. he never brought it up again, never risked shattering the fragile balance he had created between his two identities.

˚ ༘♡ you were a mother to a healthy three-year-old son, who filled your days with laughter and energy, and you were carrying another child, though you had yet to tell your husband. the news remained a quiet secret, one you turned over in your mind during the solitude of the evening. it wasn’t fear of his reaction that kept you silent. hwang in-ho adored his family, there was no question of that, but the thought of bringing another life into the shadow of the games unsettled you.

˚ ༘♡ you tried to focus on being the woman you wanted to be, a loving mother, a supportive partner. in many ways, you succeeded. you tucked your son in every night with whispered stories and soft lullabies, kept your home warm and welcoming, and met your husband’s gaze with as much love as you could muster, even when doubts crept into the corners of your mind.

˚ ༘♡ when your worries became too much to bear, he would sense it, always. he would take your hands in his, his voice calm, his tone measured. “think of me as two men,” he would say, his words a plea for understanding. “there is hwang in-ho, your husband, your partner, the father of our children. and then there is the front man, a role i play, a mask i wear.”

˚ ༘♡ you wanted to believe him, to hold on to the idea that the man who kissed you tenderly each morning could be separate from the one who orchestrated so much pain. but no matter how you tried to comprehend it, there were nights when the thought of who he was beyond your shared walls kept you awake, your heart aching with questions you couldn’t bring yourself to ask.

˚ ༘♡ you tried with all your might to separate the two sides of the man you loved, the front man and your husband, hwang in-ho. but when he told you he wouldn’t be able to contact you during this year’s games, the delicate balance you had worked so hard to maintain crumbled. the weight of his words refused to settle, tearing at you, and you couldn’t bring yourself to simply let it go.

˚ ༘♡ “every year, you’ve managed to visit after the game for the day. what’s different this time?” you asked, your voice trembling with desperation.

˚ ༘♡ at first, he deflected, his tone dismissive as if your concerns were unwarranted. but as your worry grew, it became impossible for him to ignore. the strain in your expression, the way your voice cracked when you spoke, it was enough to wear him down. even your son had begun to notice, his small hands tugging at your sleeve, his innocent eyes filled with confusion at the tension that filled the air.

˚ ༘♡ with a frustrated sigh, in-ho finally relented. his hand enveloped yours, warm and steady against your trembling fingers. “i will be there this year,” he admitted, his voice hushed and measured. “as a player.”

˚ ༘♡ the words sent a chill through you, and your breath caught in your throat. “what? why?” you asked, your disbelief slicing through the tension.

˚ ༘♡ his gaze locked onto yours. “there is someone returning to the games this year,” he began, his tone careful. “a former player, a winner in fact. he’s likely to cause complications, and… i can’t deny the intrigue of watching him. this year will be different. i’ve decided to stay close by instead of observing from a distance.”

˚ ༘♡ fury and agony surged within you, and your hands shook as you lightly struck his chest, the beating driven by hysteria. “you idiot!” you yelled. “you can’t guarantee you’ll be safe! have you even thought about your family? what about our son?”

˚ ༘♡ he caught your wrist gently, his grip cautious, his face softening as he pulled you closer. “i will not be in danger,” he said, his voice calm but insistent. “i promise you that.”

˚ ༘♡ still, his assurance wasn’t enough. it didn’t stop the knot in your stomach from tightening or the ache in your chest from growing far more intense. the words you spoke next tumbled out before you had a chance to think them through. “if that’s true, then you won’t have any problem with me coming along!”

˚ ༘♡ the declaration hung in the air, sharp and sudden. even you were startled by it, your heart pounding in your chest as the misery of your demand settled between you. fear and anger had driven you to say it, but now it was too late to take it back. you searched his face for a reaction, your pulse racing.

˚ ༘♡ “don’t speak such nonsense again," he said firmly, his tone cutting through the tension in the room. "you have our son to think about. i am going, and i’ll return in a week. this is final."

˚ ༘♡ “no!” you shot back, the tremor in your voice betraying your growing panic. “if you’re going, then i’m coming with you. you told me it’s safe.” your eyes darted toward your son, who had long fallen asleep, blissfully unaware of the battle unfolding. a wave of guilt swept over you, tightening your throat. “he can stay with the household staff for a week. do you think i could take care of him properly while i’m sick with worry about you?”

˚ ༘♡ his brow furrowed, the sharp lines of irritation creasing his weary face. “you’re being unreasonable,” he said, his voice hard, though it faltered slightly as he began pacing the room. each step was measured, purposeful, as though he were trying to walk away from the argument itself. “this is dangerous enough without you there complicating things.”

˚ ༘♡ “and you’re being infuriating,” you countered, your tone rising as desperation overtook your earlier composure. “do you think I’d forgive myself if something happened to you while i stayed here and did nothing? you’re asking too much of me.” your voice cracked, the weight of your despair spilling into the room.

˚ ༘♡ the argument carried on into the late hour, a nightmare of clashing scorn and unresolved fears. he tried to dismiss you, to shut you down with reason, but you refused to back down. your agony, raw and untamed, eventually drove you to the brink. “if you go without me, i’ll leave,” you said, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “i’ll take our son, and i’ll leave.”

˚ ༘♡ the silence that followed was deafening. he froze, his gaze snapping to yours, searching your face for the truth. you hated the lie, the hollowness of your own threat, but it was all you had left. leaving him wasn’t something you could ever do, but the thought of him walking into danger alone was unbearable.

˚ ༘♡ he exhaled sharply, his shoulders sagging under the burden of his dilemma. “fine,” he said at last, his voice clipped and low. “if you’re coming, then there are conditions… rules that have to be carefully followed.”

˚ ༘♡ your relief was immediate but short-lived as his words settled over you like a heavy cloak. “what conditions?” you asked, your voice softer now, cautious.

˚ ༘♡ “we’ll need to use false identities," he explained, his tone deliberate, each word chosen with care. "to everyone involved, we’re strangers. no one can know who we are, not even that we’re connected."

˚ ༘♡ the practicality of his demand sent a shiver down your spine, even as you nodded in agreement. the idea of pretending he was nothing more than a stranger felt unnatural, wrong, but you couldn’t argue. “i understand,” you murmured, though the knot in your stomach tightened with every passing second.

˚ ༘♡ he didn’t respond immediately, his gaze lingering on you as though considering whether you truly grasped what you were stepping into. when he finally looked away, you felt no sense of victory, only the forthcoming horror of what lay ahead.

˚ ༘♡ the games were set to begin in exactly one week, and each passing day left you feeling more unsettled. every time your husband pulled you into his arms, the unease lingered beneath the surface, making it difficult to fully surrender to his warmth. though you tried to find comfort in his presence, the thought of what lay ahead clouded every shared moment.

˚ ༘♡ you had entrusted your son to the most reliable and loyal members of the household staff, ensuring that he would be cared for in your absence. you also took great care to conceal any sign of your pregnancy. if in-ho discovered the truth, he would never allow you to join him, and staying behind was not an option you could accept.

˚ ༘♡ he had laid out the plan with meticulous precision. the two of you would arrive after the chaos of the first game, red light, green light. as he explained it, a large portion of the participants would undoubtedly be eliminated once they grasped the deadly reality of the games. the aftermath of that horror would provide cover for your entrance, allowing you to integrate without raising suspicion.

˚ ༘♡ your husband would take on the identity of player 001, an unassuming participant with no visible ties to you. your alias would be player 077, your stories carefully crafted to fit the narrative. his fabricated reason for joining the games was both haunting and ironic, he claimed he needed money for his pregnant wife. when he first told you this, a wave of panic washed over you, thinking he might have discovered your secret. but as you studied his expression, his calm demeanor revealed no hint of realization.

˚ ༘♡ for your feigned story, he decided you would play the role of a young woman drowning in debt, struggling to pay off the burdens left behind by your late father. the lie felt strangely fitting, yet it unsettled you all the same. every detail he crafted for your cover seemed so calculated, so detached, it was as though he had rehearsed this for far longer than he let on. this game of life and death was nothing more than a facade for him.

˚ ༘♡ you nodded along as he explained the plan, his voice unwavering. though the words were spoken with care, they failed to soothe the growing tension within you. each step of the plan felt cold, clinical, designed to strip away any sense of the life you shared outside these games. with every passing day, the distance between hwang in-ho, your husband, and the front man became more glaring, and you wondered if you could truly separate the two when it mattered most.

˚ ༘♡ you knelt by your son’s bedside, planting a soft kiss against his forehead. his small hand clung to your finger, and for a vanishing moment, you felt the crushing weight of guilt threaten to undo you. you whispered promises you weren’t sure you could keep, telling him you would be back soon, that everything would be fine. as his breathing slowed in sleep, you lingered a minute longer, memorizing the curve of his face and the delicate skin of his tiny hand before slipping away with your husband.

˚ ༘♡ the player uniforms were a tight, oppressive reminder of the role you had agreed to take on. the white and forest-green fabric felt rough against your skin, the stitched numbers, 001 on him, 077 on you, marking you both as part of this wicked charade. the air between you was dense with unspoken tension as you followed his lead into the heart of the games.

˚ ༘♡ the aftermath of the first game hit you like a physical blow. scarlet-red blood smeared the walls, the metallic stench thick enough to taste. lifeless bodies were being dragged away by masked figures, their uniforms pristine against the carnage. your stomach churned violently, and you had to bite down hard to keep from retching. your husband walked ahead, his pace measured, his face a mask of icy detachment.

˚ ༘♡ yet, even as he feigned indifference, you noticed the subtle tension p his clenched fists and the hard line of his jaw. no matter how disciplined and resolute he was, pretending you were a stranger clearly cost him some of his will power.

˚ ༘♡ you entered the massive dormitory, a cavernous space where the remaining players huddled in groups, their expressions etched with terror and disbelief. the room was alive with murmurs, frantic whispers of confusion and distress as they tried to process what had happened. the realization of the deadly nature of the games hung over the crowd, suffocating and inescapable.

˚ ༘♡ abruptly, a piercing voice broke through the calamity, commanding and filled with urgency. all eyes turned to player 456, a man whose presence seemed to dominate the room. his words were bold, calling for a vote in accordance with the consent clause, a chance for the players to decide whether they would continue or abandon the games. the idea rippled through the crowd, igniting faint glimmers of hope in some and deepening the despair in others.

˚ ༘♡ your husband moved slightly, a subtle shift in his stance catching your attention. his gaze flicked toward you, so brief it was almost imperceptible. then, with deliberate movements, he traced a small circle on the back of his hand, an action so precise it disturbed you. he turned away before you could react, his focus now on the masked enforcers who were setting up the voting station.

˚ ༘♡ it took you a moment to understand the message. he wanted you to vote in favor of continuing the games. the realization landed suddenly. you clenched your fists, your nails biting into your palms as you tried to steady yourself. the thought of condemning the remaining players to more death and suffering was unbearable, but you understood what his silent gesture meant. if the games ended now, everything he had planned, every risk he had taken, would amount to nothing.

˚ ༘♡ the apprehension caused your chest to tighten further as the masked figures prepared the voting station, their movements mechanical and precise. the voices of the players rose, some pleading for an end, others arguing to stay. you felt your pulse quicken, the enormity of what you were about to do pressing down on you as you prepared to cast a vote that would decide not only the fate of the players but the course of your husband’s dangerous mission.

a/n: the winner of the fanfiction vote, but i will definitely be writing for cho sang-woo as well! i hope you all enjoy reading! let me know if you have anymore requests! 🤍

[cowboybeepboop]

Omg your Tyler Owens stuff is so good! Can I request something for him please?

Where reader and tyler have been seeing each other but they haven't told the crew they are not trying to hide it just enjoying keeping it between them. After a night of "fun" reader had big hickey on her neck and collarbone and the crew teases her about it all day even a little on camera and keep asking the reader who she is seeing thinking it might be scott since she's the only one on their team that he's nice so they tease her and tyler gets jealous. That night tyler shows her who she "belongs" to and confesses his love and the crew hears them but still thinks it scott til the next morning they see tyler and her leave the room together and with his own hicky and and the crew is shocked and tyler looks at the reader and just says "busted"

Idk just a funny idea just popped in my head

Pairing: Tyler Owens x fem! Reade

Genre: Smut, romantic and fluffy

Word count: 5.9k

Warnings: Possessive Tyler, jealous tyler, hickeys, a small mention of a biting kink, secret relationship

a/n: Thank you for the super fun request, it quite literally had me giggling and kicking my feet as I wrote. Also thank you so much for your compliment, my requests are always open as I love getting to build off of others ideas. I hope you enjoy and that this was all you hoped it would be although I kind of changed the last little bit on accident 😭

You and Tyler have been secretly going out for a couple months now. You’ve known him the longest out of the rest of the crew as you met in University. Honestly having feelings for him since the day you met but once you became friends you became too worried to lose him.

Your relationship started after a drunk night of confessions and has only progressed since, things just feel right with him. The pair of you have even started sharing hotel rooms in secret. Which is exactly how you ended up in this sticky situation: having a dark purple hickey on your neck.

You groan as you try to cover up the mark with concealer, he comes up behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist. Tyler grins, seeing your frustration as you try and fail at covering it up. He leans his chin on your shoulder, eyeing you in the mirror.

"Babe, why are you even trying to cover it up? You know it'll just keep appearing," he teased, nipping at your ear. You shoot him a glare, with no real heat behind it, as you lean back against his chest.

“Ty, we're so screwed.” you sigh as your fingers brush across the mark, “You know Boone isn’t going to let it go until he finds out who I’m with.”

Tyler lets out a low, amused chuckle, his hands slowly tracing your hips. "And what's wrong with that?" He teased, his lips wandering down the side of your neck.

His hands toy with the hem of your shirt, as if contemplating lifting it up. His voice is a low, heated growl in your ear. "You don't *want* everyone to know you're mine, babygirl?"

“Mm,” you let out a soft noise at his touch, “I thought we agreed to keep things quiet for a while..” your hands move on top of his as you pull them away from you slowly. You turn and give him a sweet smile while adjusting the collar of your shirt, trying to hide it.

You know he's not a big fan of keeping your relationship a secret, it’s just that you're worried about things changing within the team, or heaven forbid his teenage fangirls trying to track you down out of jealousy. You’ve always been a private person and he knows that.

Tyler frowns as you pull away, his arms dropping to his sides. He steps back with a small sigh, leaning against the counter. He's frustrated with you, but he's always been patient.

"We said that a few months ago," he points out. His thumbs hook into the belt loops of your jeans, pulling you closer against his chest. "I want to show you off, sweetheart. I'm tired of hiding you away...You're mine," he adds, his voice firm.

“I know..” you wrap your arms around his neck, giving him a soft kiss. “Just a little longer. Plus you have to admit, it’s a little fun sneaking around.” you gaze up at him lovingly.

"Sneaking around has its perks, I'll give you that," he agrees, his hands coming up to rest on your hips as you kiss him again.

His fingers toy with the fabric of your shirt, before his hands find their way underneath it, his touch warm against your skin. "But I'm gettin' impatient, sweetheart. This whole 'secret' thing is wearing me out..."

“You’re always impatient,” you give him another sweet smile, “We should get heading out soon…” your voice trails off as he slides his hands over your bra.

Tyler smirks at the change in your tone, his touch roaming across your bare skin underneath your shirt. He takes his time, tracing the band of your bra with his fingertips.

"Is that so?" he teased, his lips against your neck. He nips at the spot just below your ear, his stubble scratching against the sensitive skin. "What's the rush, darlin'?" you shiver at the sensation.

“Come on baby..” you reluctantly pull away from him, “We really need to get downstairs, you have a storm to find.”

Tyler watches you pull away from him with a pout, his eyes roaming over your body. He lets out a frustrated huff before he lets you go. "Fine," he grumbles. "But you're gonna pay for leaving me like *this*." He gestures down to the bulge in his jeans, giving you a cheeky smile.

You lean forward, your hands on his shoulders “I’m looking forward to that,” Tyler grins, his hands grasping your hips and pulling you closer against him. He leans in, as if to kiss you, but stops just short of your lips.

"You're gonna be the death of me, darlin'," he smirks, nipping your ear, and giving your butt a firm smack through your jeans. “You head out first, I’ll follow in a few minutes.” his voice calls after you as you walk out of the bathroom.

“Don’t be too long,” you reply with a teasing tone, your eyes flicking to his jeans. Leaving the room you head down to the truck. Tyler follows shortly after, readjusting his jeans to make his arousal less prominent.

He can't help but grin at the slight bite mark on your neck, and the faint redness there too. He slides into the driver's seat, glancing over at you before he starts the truck. "Don't you look pretty with my mark on you," he teases, leaning across to buckle you in.

“Shh,” you shush him, pulling down the mirror as you move your hair over the mark. “Ty, play nice.” Boone slides into the backseat with an annoyed sigh.

“Hey, I thought it was my turn to have shotgun Y/N.” he murmurs as his arms cross over his chest.

You shoot him an apologetic look, “We can switch, if you want.” his expression softens as he relaxes into the seat.

“I’m just playing,” he smiles at you before his eyes narrow in on the hickey, noticing it through the mirror you left down. “But what's that? On your neck?” he teases with a smirk.

Tyler can't help but chuckle as Boone teases you, his own grin growing wider. He glances in the mirror, watching Boone's reaction to your neck. "What *is* that, darlin'?" he chimes in, parroting Boone's words and playing along. He gives you an innocent smile, feigning ignorance.

“It's nothing,” you stammer with a bright blush, “Just a bug bite, I must've scratched it too hard..” Lily slips into the backseat with her drone in hand.

“Lily, Y/N has a huge ‘bug bite’,” Boone leans over to her with a smirk as he points out the mark on your neck.

Lily immediately zeroes in on the mark, her eyes narrowing. She leans forward, squinting at the redness and the bruising. "That's a hell of a bug bite!" she snickers, smirking. "It looks more like someone was gnawing on your neck."

“It’s nothing,” you repeat, your blush growing brighter as Tyler starts up the engine, pulling out.

“I wonder who could have possibly left that,” Boone presses a finger to his chin as he gets lost in thought. You groan, knowing that there's no way either of them will let it go until they find the culprit.

The good news is, it's nearly impossible for them to connect the dots between you and Tyler, considering how professional and friendly you keep things.

“Maybe it was Scott,” Lily murmurs to Boone, “he does have a soft spot for Y/N, she’s like the only person he can tolerate.”

Tyler bites back a scoff, fighting the urge to react as they mention Scott. He keeps his eyes on the road, his jaw clenching.

He's trying to keep his cool, but hearing them speculate about who left the mark, and having Scott's name brought up, is getting under his skin.

Boone glances at Tyler, noticing his clenched jaw and the subtle tension in his shoulders. He raises an eyebrow, but doesn't say anything.

“Oh come on, just let it go already.” you purse your lips with a sigh, “I’m not gonna give anyone any names.”

“She didn't deny it.” Boone says to Lily, his tone suggestive. “So maybe we got it right, I guess that would explain why she's so close with the competitor.” he smirks, knowing he's getting on your nerves.

Tyler's hands tighten on the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white. He can feel the anger rising within him, the urge to speak up and put an end to their speculation growing stronger with each passing second.

But he keeps his lips sealed, gritting his teeth as he forces himself to stay quiet. He knows that getting involved would only lead to them suspecting something. No matter how much he hates hearing them talk about you and Scott.

“Boone, just get your camera out. We’re getting close,” you nod toward the window in front of you, arms crossing under your breasts as you try to ignore their comments

Boone rolls his eyes and grabs his camera from the seat next to him. Lily sighs disappointingly, but she too reaches for her drone.

Tyler's still trying to keep his composure, still fighting the urge to snap at them. But the way your arms cross, pushing up against your chest, momentarily distracts him. He forces his gaze back onto the road.

__________

Boone keeps filming even as the tornado sweeps into the distance, a small smirk on his lips as he films you.

“Let's take a look at our beautiful Y/N,” he walks closer to you with his sly expression, “And her huge ‘bug bite’.” Lily giggles, joining in on the teasing as you roll your eyes in response. Tyler’s grip tightens further on the wheel, his knuckles turning white. He glances at you through the rear view mirror, seeing the way you roll your eyes at their teasing. A mix of anger and possessiveness stirring within him.

Boone chuckles as he gets closer to you, camera in hand. He knows he's getting on your nerves, but can't help but tease you further. You push your hand to the lens, covering it up as you shoot him a soft glare.

“Boone, you've gotta drop it at some point.” His smirk only grows as he pulls the camera back.

“Nope,” Boone grins, his smirk only growing wider. "This is too damn good. Who could have left that on your neck, darlin'? Such a mystery.”

Lily laughs, enjoying the banter. She glances at you, her eyes studying the mark on your neck with mild interest. You let out an irritated sigh, knowing the only way to shut them up is to give an answer, the downside being that it would piss your boyfriend off.

“Well, maybe it was Scott, or maybe it was some rando from the bar.” you shrug, your gaze going to Tyler with an apologetic yet pleading expression.

Tyler tenses as you answer them, the irritation and possessiveness bubbling up within him. He keeps his eyes on the road, his expression neutral, trying not to react.

The thought of you and Scott being together, even in this hypothetical scenario, fills him with a mix of anger and jealousy. But he fights to keep his cool, knowing that he can't reveal his true feelings. Boone and Lily both perk up at your answer, their teasing grins widening.

Tyler starts the engine once again, pulling out on the road as the pair continue to speculate in the back.

“So, it was definitely Scott.” Lily says with certainty, “Y/N is not the type to hook up with some stranger she just met.” you groan in response, knowing that all this talk of Scott was going to bite you in the ass later.

Boone nods, agreeing with Lily's assessment.

"That's what I was thinking," he adds, his eyes darting to the mark on your neck. "Scott has always had a soft spot for Y/N, it wouldn't surprise me at all if he's the one who left that mark."

Tyler grits his teeth, his jaw still clenching tight. He can't help but feel a surge of jealousy and anger at the mention of Scott and your nonexistent 'relationship' with him. You send the pair an irritated glare.

“Well, the case is closed. Will you let it go now?” your annoyance finally gets them to back off.

Boone holds up his hands in surrender, a bemused smile on his lips. "Alright, alright. We'll lay off. For now anyways."

Lily grins, amused at your irritation. "Don't worry, Y/N. We're just having a little fun, that's all. But don't expect us to forget about that 'bug bite' anytime soon." Her implication is clear, and Tyler's expression hardens as he gives you a frustrated glance.

You sigh, relaxing into your seat with the newfound silence, the only thing in the background being Boones music as Tyler drives down the highway. You go over all the possible arguments you're likely to have once you get back to your room, knowing that it's your fault for not just spitting out the truth.

Tyler is stewing in silence, his grip on the steering wheel still tight. He feels frustrated and angry, both at your friends for their teasing and at you for not just telling the truth.

His mind is racing with thoughts of you and Scott together. He knows he's being irrational, that it's not true, but he can't help the possessive jealousy that's consuming him.

He glances at you from time to time, his expression still stoic, silently seething. Your nerves grow as Tyler pulls into the parking lot of the motel, killing the engine and steadying his breathing.

Boone and Lily exit the truck, their conversation resuming as they head towards the motel, none the wiser to the tension between you and Tyler.

Once the others are out of earshot, Tyler turns to you. His expression is still stern, his gaze fixated on you. "We need to talk," he says curtly, his voice low and firm.

“I know baby,” you reach over, pressing your hand to his chest softly. Tyler's expression softens slightly at your touch, but his features remain stern. He takes a moment, letting the soothing feeling of your hand on his chest settle his emotions.

"You shouldn't have let them keep speculating like that," he finally says, his voice low and controlled. "And I really didn't like hearing Scott's name brought up."

“I know and I’m sorry..” you sigh softly, “They just wouldn't let it go and I figured if I gave them their answer they would back off.” your eyes study his face.

Tyler's expression softens a bit more, the anger and jealousy slowly fading as he sees the remorse in your eyes. "I get that," he relents, the edge in his voice fading. "But you know how I feel about Scott... hearing them talk about the two of you like that, it just pisses me off."

“But he's just a friend,” your voice is quiet as he cuts you off, Tyler lets out a deep sigh, running a hand through his hair.

"You say that, but you two have this... strange, close friendship. And it bugs me. He's always making those comments, he's always hanging around you... I just don't trust him, darlin'."

Your eyebrows furrow softly, you know you don't have a reason to defend him or yourself but it doesn't stop the words from spilling out of your lips. “We don't have a strange friendship.”

Tyler's expression hardens again, the irritation creeping back in. "Y/N," he interupts, his tone firm. "He calls you 'doll'. He's constantly flirting with you. And he's *touching* you all the time. How is that not strange?"

“It's not like that.” you huff out, arms crossing under your breasts.

Tyler's eyes flicker to your chest as your arms cross, a part of him distracted by the sight. But he quickly snaps his gaze back to your face, irritation and jealousy once again taking hold.

"Then tell me what it's like," he challenges, his voice growing firmer. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you two have some kind of thing going on. I don't like it, darlin'."

Your irritation peaks as you get out of the truck, slamming the door behind you. You're just frustrated with the way everyone has been pressing you all day.

Tyler follows closely behind you, shutting the truck door with more force than necessary. He follows you into the motel, his irritation matching yours.

As soon as you reach your room, he pushes the door open and steps in after you, his expression intense and serious. "We're not done talking about this," he states firmly, closing the door behind him.

You feel more relaxed in the privacy of your room, a soft sigh escaping your lips as you pull Tyler to you. “I’m sorry,” you press your face to his chest, “But it’s really not like that with him, I swear.”

Tyler's frustration eases slightly as you pull him to you, his arms automatically wrapping around your waist. The feeling of you against him soothes his irritation somewhat. He lets out a deep sigh, his grip on you firm and possessive. "I want to believe you," he admits, "But it's hard not to get jealous when I see him constantly all over you."

You giggle softly, your voice muffled by his chest. “We’ve been friends since elementary school, he’s just a little awkward around others, that's why he sticks by me so much.”

Tyler lets out a scoff, his arms clinging tighter to you. "Yeah, real 'awkward'," he mutters, the sarcasm evident in his voice. "He's always touching you, calling you cute little nicknames... that doesn't seem 'awkward' to me, that seems pretty damn intentional."

“Trust me Ty, he just sees me as a younger sister.” you gaze up at him, “Plus he’s probably going to propose to my sister the second he gets back home.” your voice is a soft murmur, as you reach up brushing his hair out of his eyes.

Tyler's expression softens more as you explain Scott and your sister's history. A mix of relief and guilt washes over him, realizing his own insecurities and jealousy have gotten the best of him.

He lets out a sigh, his voice quieter than before. "I guess I'm just feeling a little protective of you, darlin'. I don't like seeing other guys touching you like that. It pisses me off."

“I think I'm a fan of your jealous side,” you smirk up at him, your hand trailing down his chest. Tyler's eyes darken with desire, a low growl rising in his throat as your hand trails down his chest. Your comment only adds fuel to his possessiveness, stoking the flames of his jealousy.

He tightens his grip on your waist, pulling your body flush against his. "Oh, are you now?" he purrs, his voice deep and gravelly.

Standing on your tippy toes you whisper into his ear, “It turns me on, seeing you all possessive..” your hand travels down to his belt buckle.

Tyler's breath hitches as you whisper into his ear, followed by your hand moving to his belt buckle. His body tenses, a mixture of anticipation and desire running through him.

"Is that so, darlin'?" he murmurs, his voice low and hoarse. His hands grip your hips firmer, his thumbs gently tracing small circles against your skin.

“I like it when you get worked up like this.” you press kisses to his neck as your hands fumble with his belt, pulling it off and unbuttoning his jeans.

Tyler lets out a low moan as you press your lips to his neck. His body tenses even more, his breathing growing more ragged with each touch. Your hand fumbling with his belt, followed by the unbuttoning of his jeans, only adds to his growing arousal.

His hands grip your hips tighter, pulling you flush against him. “Are you trying to drive me crazy, babygirl?” he growls, his voice raw and husky.

“I’m trying to make things up to you,” your eyes are full of desire as you drop to the ground, pulling his jeans and boxers down with you.

Tyler's breath hitches as you drop to the ground, his gaze locked on yours as you pull his jeans and boxers down. The sight of you on your knees, your eyes full of desire, sends a jolt of anticipation through him.

He watches you intently, his hands resting on your shoulders, his expression a mixture of hunger and need. He's barely able to muster a reply, "And how exactly do you plan to do that, darlin'?"

With a wicked smile, you grasp ahold of Tyler's length, his eyes widening in surprise as you begin to suck him off. Your mouth is hot and wet, your movements slow and deliberate. You savor the feel of him in your mouth, the way he responds to your touch. His hands find their way into your hair, gripping it tightly as you tease him with your tongue, tracing the veins that run along his shaft.

His hips buck slightly as you take him deeper, your eyes never leaving his. The look in your eyes is full of challenge and defiance, as if saying 'You want to be possessive? I'll give you something to be possessive about'. Tyler's jaw clenches, his eyes hooded with desire as he watches you, his breathing growing heavier.

You feel a thrill run through you as you bring him closer to the edge, your hand moving in tandem with your mouth. The sounds of his pleasure are music to your ears, his groans and gasps driving you to go further. You swirl your tongue around the tip of his cock, feeling him throb in your grip.

Tyler's eyes are squeezed shut, his head thrown back in ecstasy. His hands tighten in your hair, guiding you as you suck him off, the tension in his body building. His hips rock into your mouth, his movements growing more erratic as you increase your pace.

You moan around him, feeling his cock thicken and swell. You know he's close, and the power you have over him at this moment is a heady rush. His grip on your hair tightens, his breathing becoming ragged.

With a final, desperate thrust, Tyler cums into your mouth, the warm, salty liquid filling it as you swallow reflexively. His hips jerk, his body trembling with the force of his orgasm. You keep your eyes locked on his, not breaking the intensity of the moment as you finish him off, your hand still working his shaft gently.

As he starts to come down from the high, he groans, pulling you to your feet. His hands roam over your body, his touch hungry and possessive. You stand up, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, your own desire spiking from the sight of him so lost in pleasure.

He wraps his arms around your waist, his mouth finding your neck as he starts to pepper it with hot, demanding kisses. His teeth graze your skin, his tongue flicking against the sensitive spots he knows drive you wild.

You gasp as he pulls your shirt over your head, his hands moving to unclasp your bra. His eyes devour your bare chest, his breathing growing ragged. He cups your breasts, his thumbs flicking over your hardened nipples as he sucks in a sharp breath.

Leaning down, Tyler captures one of your nipples between his teeth, tugging gently before sucking it into his mouth. His tongue swirls around the sensitive peak, eliciting a moan from you as he rolls the other between his fingers. The sensation sends shockwaves of pleasure through your body, making your knees weak.

With a sudden, yet gentle force, Tyler pushes you back against the bed, his hands firmly on your hips as you stumble slightly. You let out a surprised gasp, but the excitement in your eyes is unmistakable. He follows you, his body pressing against yours as you fall back onto the mattress.

With deft movements, he slides your pants and panties off in one swift motion. The fabric whispers against your skin as it's peeled away, leaving you bare and exposed before him. You can feel the coolness of the room air kiss your newly exposed flesh, making you shiver with anticipation.

Tyler groans, his eyes darkening as they drink in the sight of your bare body. Goosebumps rise along your skin, not from the cold, but from the raw hunger in his gaze. His hands glide up your thighs, his thumbs tracing the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, sending waves of heat through your body.

He peels his own clothes away with a sense of urgency, his shirt and pants dropping to the floor in a hasty heap. His chest is bare, muscles flexing with each breath he takes, his skin warm and inviting. You can't help but reach out and run your fingers over his abs, feeling the power in each defined muscle.

He settles between your thighs, pressing warm kisses into your skin, starting at the top of your thighs and moving closer to your center. Each kiss feels like a promise of pleasure to come, sending shivers down your spine and making your legs quiver with need. His hands hold your thighs open, his gaze never leaving yours as he kisses and nips his way closer.

Your eyes widen with anticipation as he reaches the apex of your thighs, his breath hot against your sensitive skin. The kisses become softer, more gentle, as if he's savoring the moment before he takes you over the edge. His tongue flicks out, tracing the crease of your thigh before delving into your folds. You moan, arching your back as he tastes you.

The room is filled with the sound of your breathy gasps and his hungry groans. His mouth works against you, his tongue flicking and swirling, driving you closer and closer to climax. You're lost in the sensation, your hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer as you begin to rock your hips against his face.

His eyes stay on yours, watching your every reaction, as his mouth works its magic. You can feel the tension building, your core tightening with each stroke of his tongue. He seems to know exactly what you need, his mouth moving in perfect rhythm with your body's desires.

Your legs start to tremble as you feel yourself getting closer to the edge. Tyler's eyes darken with satisfaction, his hands moving to grip your hips tighter, holding you in place as he increases his pace.

The pressure builds, your body feeling like it's going to combust from the inside out. And just when you think you can't take it anymore, he flicks your clit with his tongue, sending you spiraling over the edge.

Your body convulses with pleasure, a keening cry escaping your lips as you come apart in his arms. He doesn't stop, though, continuing to lick and kiss until you're a puddle of pleasure beneath him.

As your breathing starts to even out, Tyler pulls back, a smug smile playing on his lips. He leans over you, planting a gentle kiss on your stomach before moving up to claim your mouth with his. You can taste yourself on his lips, and the act of sharing your own arousal with him only makes your desire for him grow stronger.

He pulls away, reaching for a condom from the nightstand. His hands are shaking slightly with his own need, but he manages to sheath himself before pressing back into you. You spread your legs wider, welcoming him with a needy whine.

As he enters you, you feel a sense of rightness, of belonging. He's so much more than just a friend, more than just a lover. He's yours, and in this moment, you're his.

He moves with a fierce gentleness, his hips rocking into yours as you both chase the high of your shared passion. The friction is delicious, each thrust sending sparks through your body.

You bite down gently on his shoulder, muffling your moans as they build in your throat. Tyler's eyes darken with pleasure at the small bite of pain, his movements growing more urgent. He knows you're close, he can feel it in the way your body clenches around him.

He slows down, his hips rocking into you with a purposeful rhythm that has you on the edge of sanity. Each stroke is a declaration of his possession, a gentle reminder that you're his, and he's yours. His thumb finds your clit, circling it with the same patience and care as he does with the rest of your body.

You bite down on your lip, trying to hold in the scream that's threatening to break free. Tyler notices, a wicked smile playing on his lips as he leans in to whisper in your ear. "Let go, darlin'. I've got you."

With those words, the dam breaks, and you cum around him, your body tightening and releasing in waves of pleasure. Tyler's hips stutter for a moment, his control slipping as he's overwhelmed by the sensation of you coming apart beneath him. His eyes squeeze shut, his own climax now just seconds away.

As your orgasm subsides, Tyler's own builds, his breathing ragged and uneven. He opens his eyes, looking into yours, and you can see the desperate need in them. He wants to claim you, to make sure there's no doubt in anyone's mind who you belong to.

The idea hits you like a lightning bolt, and you act on it without a second thought. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you. With your teeth, you graze the sensitive skin just below his ear, feeling his body jerk in response. He's so focused on driving into you, on reaching his peak, that he doesn't notice at first what you're doing.

But when your teeth sink into the flesh of his neck, he gasps, his eyes widening. He tries to pull back, but you hold him in place, your nails digging into his shoulders. "What the hell are you..." he starts to protest, but the words die in his throat as pleasure overwhelms him.

You suck hard, leaving a dark mark that matches the one he gave you. He groans, his hips jerking as he reaches his own climax. You can feel his warmth fill you up, and the feeling of his pulsing inside you sends you into another round of spasms.

"You little minx," he pants out, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he rides out his orgasm. You giggle against his neck, your mouth still latched onto his skin. "What was that for?"

You pull away, licking your lips and smiling wickedly up at him. "Payback," you murmur, your voice still breathless from the intensity of your shared passion.

Tyler laughs, the sound deep and rich, his body still shaking with the aftershocks of pleasure. He leans down to kiss you, his tongue tracing the path your teeth had just taken. "Fair is fair," he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin.

He pulls out of you with an exhausted sigh, his chest heaving with the effort of his release. Tyler rolls over, pulling you to his chest as you both catch your breath. The scent of sex and sweat fills the air, but it's not unpleasant. It's a heady, intoxicating scent that makes you feel alive and desired. Your cheek rests against his chest, listening to the steady thump of his heartbeat as it slowly returns to normal.

"But you know," he says after a moment, his voice teasing, "I can't have just anyone leaving marks on my neck. That's my job."

You laugh, feeling the tension from earlier dissipate completely. "Deal," you murmur, snuggling closer to him. Tyler wraps his arms around you, holding you tight as your bodies begin to cool.

The sound of your combined breathing fills the quiet room, the only other noise is the faint hum of the air conditioner. You both lay there, lost in the warmth and comfort of each other's embrace, the earlier tension and jealousy a distant memory.

"I love you," Tyler whispers, his voice barely audible. You look up at him, a soft smile playing on your lips. "I know," you reply, placing a gentle kiss on his chin. "And I love you too."

The two of you lay there, basking in the afterglow of your passionate encounter, the darkness of the room a stark contrast to the warmth and light that you share between you.

__________

Tyler's eyes slowly open, a yawn escaping his lips as you plant gentle kisses against his skin, trying to rouse him from his comfortable slumber. His arms automatically wrap around you, pulling you close.

"Mornin', darlin'," he mumbles, his voice groggy from sleep.

“You better get ready for the day,” you whisper into his ear, relaxing into his body.

Tyler groans, his lips finding your neck as his hands slide up your shirt, his touch firm yet gentle as he pulls you closer. "Do I have to get up?" he grumbles, burying his face against your skin.

“Mhm, it’s almost 9 baby.” you run your fingers through his hair, fixing the wild strands.

Tyler groans again, his body reluctant to leave the warm embrace of the bedsheets. However, the mention of the time makes him reluctantly start to untangle himself from you, his eyes slowly opening to the sunlight streaming through the window.

"Fine," he mumbles, groggily propping himself up on an elbow. "But only if you go get us some coffee, darlin'."

“You’ve got it,” you press a sweet kiss to his lips, “But you better be downstairs in 20.” your tone demanding as you turn away, grabbing your keys and wallet as you step out of the room.

Tyler watches as you leave the room, a sly grin on his face. He's never seen you this authoritative before, but he finds it oddly attractive.

"Yes ma'am," he replies, his voice still groggy with sleep. He rubs a hand over his face, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep.

He sits up in bed, the sheets pooling around his waist, revealing his bare chest. He watches the door for a moment before pushing himself up and heading towards the bathroom.

You lean against Tyler's truck watching as Boone and Lily argue over something small, your grin growing. The two cups of coffee sitting on the hood of the car.

Boone and Lily, with their usual banter, are engaged in a heated discussion over something small. You can't help but chuckle as you lean against Tyler's truck, watching them go at it.

Tyler steps outside, his hair still messy from sleep, and comes up behind you. He wraps his arms around you, resting his chin on your shoulder.

"What are they arguing about now?" he asks, his breath warm on your skin. Your body stiffens at his gesture noticing how Boone and Lily gaze over at you.

“I’m really not sure,” you glance over at him, feeling your stomach twist as Boone stalks over to the pair of you.

Tyler grabs his coffee, not missing the way Boone's gaze goes to the mark on his neck. Tyler suppresses a grumble, his grip on the coffee cup tightening slightly.

Boone's smirk is infuriating as he approaches the pair of you. "Looks like you had an eventful night, Tyler," he teases, his tone slightly mocking.

“Looks like we’re busted.” Tyler gazes down at you with a soft smirk as your cheeks flush.

[becgenius]

bolted - sylus x reader

three weeks after you had broken up with sylus, you run into each other at a gala. his issue, however, is the fact that you came with a date. 

!! nsfw, smut, fem!reader, exes to lovers, pwp, 18+

!!! not set in l&ds universe, reader not mc, pet names, cursing, might be angsty idk, jealousy, semi-public sex, multiple orgasms, cunnilingus, mirror sex, dirty talk, teasing, hair pulling, creampie, unprotected sex, fluff if u squint really hard, lightly proofread

wc. 2.4k

reblogs appreciated!

nsfw under the cut. minors dni

For the months you were dating Sylus, every one of your Friday nights had been reserved. Your own weekly ritual of being dressed in matching designer brands and attending various events: corporate galas, charity balls, and black-tie parties, to name a few. 

For the past three weeks, every one of your Friday nights has been spent alone, completely free of plans. 

Three Fridays have passed since you have shown your face at the social gatherings you so frequently attended. Three Fridays have passed since you officially broke up with Sylus. 

Admittedly not your wisest decision. Sylus was a man of endless wealth, influence, and power. Your own status in society is not at all insignificant; but there is a part of you that still feels inferior.

Because you heard the cruel gossip about your relationship behind your back: whispers of she doesn’t belong here and Sylus would be better off with me. Because you felt as though you were holding him back. Because you were scared that he would be the one to leave first. And though you love him, you left because he deserves someone better. 

But for the first time in three Fridays, you finally allow yourself to regret leaving. You allow yourself to miss your comfortable routine: Sylus buying an entirely new outfit for you to wear, sneaking out of parties together long before they were set to conclude, and ending the night on your couch with whichever takeout meal and show fit your mood that night.

The only reason you have the strength to drag yourself out of your weeks-long slump now is because of the invitation you received not long ago from some gentleman in your network, asking you to accompany him to tonight’s event: a fundraising gala at one of the city’s many national museums.

Of course, you have absolutely no interest in entertaining the man who invited you, you only know for certain that you would see Sylus tonight. 

It doesn’t take long for you to lose your date. As adamant as he was about getting you to go with him, he proved himself to be quite inattentive now that he had gotten your agreement. 

You are by yourself now, in spite of the crowd of event-goers drifting around where you stand in the extravagant ballroom, moving from one conversation to another.

The heels you wear add a few inches to your height. Not enough, however, as you can hardly see over the head of whichever wealthy socialite is in front of you.

You’re embarrassed to acknowledge the growing disappointment brewing in your chest as you fail to spot a familiar head of white hair. 

Never mind the embarrassment of admitting that you are here for Sylus in the first place. You were the one that ended things, after all. What would you even say to him if you do happen to run into one another? Maybe seeing him would be enough. Enough for what? This was a bad idea, you begin to think. 

That is, until you are suddenly very aware of Sylus’ presence. 

It is first the undeniable heat radiating from something, someone, behind you. It’s then the penetrating scent of bourbon and cinnamon invading your senses. Rather, the scent of trouble. 

“Looking for someone, Kitten?” It is finally his rich, husky voice that breaks through the crowd. Your heart skips a beat. 

You don’t give him the satisfaction of turning to face him just yet. “I’m not your kitten.”

“Oh? But you are, don’t forget.” His voice becomes dangerous, and his sly hand sneaks itself around your waist from behind, “Done running away from me yet?” 

Sighing, you turn, simultaneously facing him and shifting just enough to make his hand slip away.

“What do you want, Sylus?”

"You've always given me so much attitude.." He ignores your question. If he notices the desperation in your tone, he doesn’t show it. “Are you having fun going about your night with your arm around that moron?”

“He’s not a moron. And yes, I’m having plenty of fun, not that it’s of your concern.” You don’t know why you feel the need to defend your date or why you feel the need to lie to Sylus. After all, you weren’t having fun. 

“Lies,” he immediately accuses. “Do not think that I have forgotten what you look like when you are being dishonest with me. Especially when you are doing so in an outfit that I bought you myself.”

The low purr of his voice easily sends shivers down your spine. He had gotten nearer as he spoke, his face now mere inches from your own, his eyes bearing into yours. 

“Everything you do concerns me.” He comes impossibly closer, speaking directly into your ear now. “Besides, anybody here can tell, Sweetie, you are too out of that idiot’s league. Not your wisest decision.”

Sylus is right. No one can miss how your date’s eyes unfocus, zoned out, whenever you speak. Or how he never introduces you when he goes to greet the other party guests. He hadn’t even noticed you leaving his side and blending into the crowd just moments ago. 

“I could say the same for you.” You counter. He pulls back, curious, “you don’t seem all that interested in your date either, and she’s your type, isn’t she.” 

You don’t hide the fact that you’ve seen the various magazine articles and social media posts, all featuring Sylus and the new woman by his side as the main image. She’s obviously gorgeous. And, you discover with a quick web search, is also from an extremely well-off family with much more influence than you could imagine.

Though you hadn’t seen her tonight, you don’t need to be a genius to figure out that Sylus is here with her tonight as well. 

“I have no romantic feelings towards that woman, if that’s what you’re worried about.” 

“But you’re still here with her.”

“She isn’t you, you know.”

“I didn’t know that mattered.”

Now it’s his turn to sigh at you. His turn to be the defeated one.

“Come home, Y/n,” his voice nearly begging as he gets straight to the point, “it’s always been you.”

How could you bring yourself to deny him like this?

You don’t know if it was Sylus’ persuasiveness or your own willingness to go back to being his that brought you to where you are now: locked inside one of the museum’s many private restrooms, the noises of music and chatter from the party now a distant murmur. 

You’re also: bent over the bathroom’s sink, thanks to Sylus, with the skirt of your dress hiked up to your waist and your underwear pushed down around your knees.

“Sylus,” you whine, your legs feel weak with each lick he makes to your pussy. 

“Keep still.” He commands, tightening the grip on both of your thighs that both kept you in place aa well as spread out for him. 

“You taste so fucking good, Baby.” He doesn’t move away to speak and the breath from his hot mouth stays directly on your cunt as he does so, the heat eliciting a loud moan from you. 

His tongue fucks into your hole from where he is crouched behind your open legs. The squelch of your arousal on his tongue and your moans fill the quiet atmosphere of the bathroom. 

You feel him chuckle behind you before feeling the cold air hit your wet core at the sudden loss of contact. 

“Y’know, for someone who was just playing so hard to get, you’re really enjoying this aren’t you, Kitten?” He teases, and though he stopped eating you out, his hands keep their position on your thighs, massaging them up and down. 

“Shut up.” You push yourself back so that you were practically sat on his face. He, thankfully, doesn’t object and gives your clit some much needed attention, sucking hard.

You can feel your climax sneaking up on you and so can Sylus, recognizing the way your moans got breathy and the way you clenched around him when he inserts his fingers into you, intensifying the pressure between your thighs. 

He continues sucking your clit, lightly grazing his teeth on your sensitive bud. The stimulation startles you at first, he’s never done this before, but it soon turns into euphoria as the pain mixes with pleasure. 

It all becomes too much for you and your walls finally come crashing down on Sylus’ tongue. He takes you through your orgasm, making it last as long as possible, until you couldn’t hold yourself up any longer. 

He’s quick to get up on his feet behind you. You immediately come to his understanding and slouch against him, letting him hold up all your weight. 

“Look at us,” he gestures to your reflections in the mirror. You’re a mess: your dress straps cling to your upper arms and your face is covered in bliss. Sylus nonetheless towers tall behind you, annoyingly put together as he always is. “It’s like nothing ever changed between us, hm?” 

You have to agree with him. The sight is not new to you, and you’re overcome with a sense of fondness for all the times you’ve stood like this before. 

On the outside, your physical states are pure opposites. However, you know that right now, Sylus is as aroused as you are. You’re suddenly aware of the fact that he has yet to come. 

Still in your post-orgasmic haze, you try your best to reach behind you to where you assume his crotch is. 

“Already can’t get enough, Dear?” He teases you but even so, he moves back and pulls out his dick from his pants, simultaneously guiding your body so you’re bent over in the same position you were previously in and sliding his erection between your folds from behind. 

“Relax. You can take it,” he coos before slamming into your walls without warning. 

“Sylus!” You gasp at the intrusion. It’s a miracle that you even have the effort to scream his name, it was as if all your breath was taken away.

“Still so goddamn tight as I remember, Sweetie, I thought I told you to relax?” He begins to hammer his dick into your pussy, not sparing you and your sensitivity at all. You squeeze your eyes shut, and your moans and yelps with each thrust fill the room.

“Sy, ‘s too much!”

“You can handle it. After all, you wanted this.” His tip finds your g-spot and hits it at that same brutal pace. “Are you still thinking about that asshole that you came here with? Hm? Even as im fucking you like this? Have you forgotten him yet?” 

In the midst of being fucked, it takes you a second to figure out what, or who, he’s talking about. The truth is that you had forgotten all about the other man once you entered the seclusion of the bathroom you are now in. You don’t get a chance to reply before he continues.

“Can he fuck you like I do? Do you think of me when he’s this deep inside of you?”

Your eyes widen at the crudeness of his words. 

“I- never- we don’t-!” You’re quick to deny his accusations, albeit struggling to get the words out between moans. 

“Spit it out, Princess. Are you saying he doesn’t fuck you at all?” His hips smack against yours, hard this time. “Or are you saying that his dick can’t go deep like mine can?”

As he interrogates you, a hand reaches down between your thighs and begins circling your clit. The stimulation is all too much, and you’re still unable to properly speak. 

“Sylus-”

He takes a fistful of your hair and nudges your head up, forcing you to face the incriminating scene reflected in the mirror. “Answer me.”

You watch yourself shake your head rapidly, still being held up from your hair. “No! It’s not like that.. He and I never did it..”

“Oh yeah?” He still has the same smirk from earlier in the night on his face, but now his eyes are shrouded in a devious darkness. “That’s a good girl. If I had found out that he fucked you I might’ve had to kill him.”

He snorts, seeing your shocked expression. “I’m kidding sweetie,” he clarifies. Sylus then lets go of his hold on your hair and your head falls forward with more of his thrusts. “Now keep being my good girl and come for me.”

The exchange is pushed to the back of your mind and you’re reminded of the physical situation that you’re in.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as your whole body jerks up and down from bouncing back from his. 

You uncontrollably spasm as you cream around Sylus’ dick, squeezing around him just right. Overstimulated, your jaw hangs open as screams burst from your throat. Afterwards, you become fully limp in his hold.

“Fuck. So fuckin’ noisy, huh? You’re doing so good for me, sweet girl..”

You feel the exact moment he reaches his climax. He thrusts himself one last time into your sore cunt before you’re filled with his cum. 

You stay there for a while, neither of you bothering to move. 

After what feels like hours of standing still, Sylus finally pulls out of you. And last moan escapes your lips as he does so. 

He kneels, pulling up your panties from their bunched up state around your ankles to over your sopping hole before any semen could leak out. 

“You think you can keep it inside until we get home?” He asks before leaving a kiss on your clothed cunt and standing to fix your dress, erasing any evidence of your sexual encounter. 

“And when are we getting home, exactly?” You don’t comment on the fact that he said ‘home’ as if it was the same place for you. As if nothing had happened between you two. You don’t comment because you want both of those things to be true. 

“Now.” It isn’t a suggestion, nor a question, but a statement. 

“Wait, you’re not staying until the gala ends?”

“No, Sweetie. We’re not staying until the gala ends.” He laughs as if it’s obvious, “we both know that I could buy out this whole fundraiser if I wanted to.”

“What about our dates?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re my date, and I’m yours.” 

[eloves-writes]

careful who you’re talking to

[coriolanus snow x reader]

desc: snow hears a conversation with the academy boys about the girl he is secretly seeing and wants them to know who you belong to warnings: snow being snow like fr (toxic, controlling, insane, blah blah blah), smut, exhibitionism, public sex, unwarranted sexual comments about reader behind her back, she/her pronouns used, reader is wearing a dress, if i need to add any other warnings please lmk a/n: hiiiii! i'm back again. this is slightly unhinged and i didn't mean for it to be this unhinged but anyway hope u enjoy, send any and all coriolanus requests my way! mwah mwah mwah ily this work contains mature themes, minors dni

it was a cold night in the capitol, and you were steadily sipping a glass of posca to keep warm in your blood-red dress. the silky material was slit up your leg and cut down to reveal just the right amount of cleavage; you might feel a chill but you looked damn good and everybody knew it.

especially coriolanus snow. the two of you had been spending a lot of time together recently- behind bookshelves in the library, in dark corners of the academy halls, bend over desks in empty classrooms. it had begun as purely physical. stress relief. but after a month or so, you had each caught feelings for the other and were struggling with whether or not to admit it. and in that moment, he was also struggling tremendously to take his eyes off of you.

you stood talking across the room with arachne and livia, unable to concentrate on whatever meaningless gossip they were discussing with the feeling of coriolanus’ ice blue eyes on you; there was an electric thrill passing between you like you were connected with a live wire. to say your relationship so far had been hot and heavy would be an extremely severe understatement, and you found your mind constantly occupied with the thought of him touching you and the need to have him touch you again.

-

“i think y/n is checking me out,” festus creed smirked to the group of boys around him.

coriolanus almost snorted in amusement. you were obviously looking at him, and only him.

“something funny, snow?” gaius asked sharply. “jealous, perhaps?”

snow reserved his irritation. “not at all, breen.”

“whoever she is looking at,” felix stated earnestly, “i’m certainly jealous of them. i mean, just look at her. she looks fucking hot.”

festus nodded in agreement. “i’d love to rip that dress off of her. she acts so innocent, but you just know she likes it rough.”

coriolanus felt his blood boil. you were his. how dare they talk about you like you were a common whore? perhaps you did like it rough. he would know, he was the one fucking you. not these basic capitol losers. none of them could make you scream the way he did. none of them had scratches down their backs beneath their shirts from your nails. only he did. only he ever would, and he would make sure it stayed that way.

the other boys laughed, agreeing with festus. adding on their own ideas. detailing the ways they’d make you fuck them. describing the times you had supposedly sent them signals. assuming that you did not already belong to snow, that you would even think about going near them. that you would get on your knees for them like you always did for coriolanus.

he couldn’t listen to them any longer. “she’s seeing somebody,” he jeered, fixing the cuffs of his jacket and making definitive, unquestionable eye contact with you and subtly tilting his head towards the exit.

festus laughed incredulously. “is she now? i think we’d have heard.”

oh you’ll hear it alright.

“yes,” coriolanus replied with a chilling calm, watching you make your way to the door. “if you’ll excuse me.”

-

on the steps outside the ridiculously grand building, you waited patiently for snow to follow you out. it was only a few minutes before you heard the door open again, turning to face corio and immediately sensing anger. you worried, sometimes, about his anger. you knew he wouldn’t seriously harm you, but the same could most certainly not be said for any others who dared cross his path. the future president of panem could only afford so much blood on his hands.

“what’s wrong, coriolanus?” you asked gently.

he inhaled deeply and stared into your eyes in a way that strongly suggested you would be unable to walk the next morning. you waited for him to answer.

“you shouldn’t have worn that dress," he warned.

“what?”

“you heard me.”

either the cold or a fucked up part of you sent shivers down your spine, hairs standing up on your neck. your underwear dampened at his fury.

“i thought you would like it, corio,” you flirted, stepping closer to him. he placed a large, firm hand on your waist.

“i do like it, y/n,” he said before speaking in a low voice. “i would like it better if you took it off.”

you smiled and leaned up to kiss him, but he turned his head. you pulled a face in protest.

“behave,” he spat. “so desperate. do you not want to know why you shouldn’t have worn this?”

“yes, corio,” you replied, doing your best impression of somebody who wasn’t about to throw yourself on top of him. he liked when you were patient.

“because every man in that room wants to see it on their bedroom floor," he attested lowly.

“and you’re jealous,” you smirked.

coriolanus suddenly grabbed a fistful of your hair and roughly pulled your head backwards so that your face was tilted towards his. “and nobody else should be looking at you like that.”

a jolt of excitement ran through you. “corio-”

he gave your hair another tug. “say you’re mine.”

“am i yours?”

he realised instantly the meaning of your question. he didn’t have to think about his reply; he had thought about it every waking moment since the day you met. “you’re mine. say it.”

“i’m yours.”

“good girl,” snow spoke deeply before kissing you like he’d never kissed you before. without breaking apart from your lips, coriolanus guided you around to the side of the building. he counted the windows you passed until finally stopping by one that was cracked open and pushing you against the cold wall. as he removed his jacket and unfastened his belt, he looked inside the hall and you assumed he was checking no one was looking. he wasn’t. he was making sure that festus creed and the other boys were still stood in the same spot; directly in front of this particular window, and far enough from the rest of the partygoers that only the boys would hear you.

you gathered the skirt of your dress at your waist and wrapped your legs around corio’s sturdy form as he reached to move your underwear to the side. he circled your clit until you were practically whimpering, then slid two fingers inside of you.

“corio, feels so good,” you moaned softly.

he kept his same pace with his fingers, fucking you into a state of bliss where he knew you would be uninhibited and so drunk with his stimulation that people would think you’d finished every glass of posca in this stupid party. coriolanus was too good at what he was doing, you were on the edge of release within minutes and still desperately trying to quiet yourself in the name of dignity.

“corio, please, corio, i’m so close,” you whimpered into his neck.

he pulled away his hand, making you whine in displeasure. he liked to do that. liked to know he was in complete control of you, you would only cum when he willed it.

corio looked through the window again, but the boys had yet to hear anything out of the ordinary. they were still laughing amongst themselves. he unzipped his pants and pulled out his cock, using the slick on from your pussy to stroke himself before he pushed inside of you.

you tried again to stay quiet, but coriolanus began to coax you. “look at you, taking me so well. you wouldn’t let anybody else fuck you like this, would you? who makes you feel this good, huh?”

you couldn’t hold back anymore, his beautiful face spewing such foul things whilst fucking you raw and digging his fingertips into your flushed skin. “you do, corio. fuck,” you moaned, loudly enough that festus turned to look outside.

coriolanus smirked as they made eye contact. the initial confusion about the sounds coming from outside, the look of shock as he realised his classmate was balls deep in a girl he had pushed against the exterior of a building in the damn capitol, his face finally dropping as he realised who corio was fucking by the colour of your messed up hair and the visible strap of your dress, his eyes widening as he heard the things snow was saying to you.

your moans were getting louder too as you got even closer to your orgasm, whimpering corio’s name and repeating “i’m yours,” like a mantra.

snow took his gaze from the boys to you, feeling satisfied that he’d proved his point and starting to performatively enjoy himself, knowing yours weren't the only eyes on him. his pace quickened, driving you over the edge and making you clench around him as you came. he moaned aloud himself as continued to fuck you through your high and the overstimulation that came after until he finished inside of you.

you were completely fucked out, relishing the feeling of snow’s cum beginning to drip down your thighs after he swiftly removed your underwear to fold into his back pocket. he picked his discarded jacket up from the floor and placed it over your shoulders, kissing your head and leading you to the front of the building and helping you into a car which would take you both home. before you walked away from the window though, coriolanus smoothly pulled your lace panties from his pocket and waved them nonchalantly in the night air, catching the attention of the rest of the group. you would never have to know why he fucked you, only that the boys would stop bothering you now they knew who you belonged to.

[keigh0e]

Touch ↬ Caleb

Summary: You have been dating Caleb for quite a while now and you’ve had enough of him not touching you with his metal arm, so you give some not-so-gentle encouragement

Word Count: 5.9k

Triggers: smutty smut and the usual language you can always expect from me

Author Note: Meowdy .₊̣̇.ಇ/ᐠˬ ͜   ˬ ᐟ\∫.₊̣̇. Hope you’re all doing well! I finished the new stories for Love and Deepspace last night and now I’ve got Caleb brainrot, so you must suffer with me I’m afraid. This hasn’t been checked so apologies for any spelling/grammar mistakes. I’d appreciate any feedback!

You were an open book to Caleb and had been for years. 

Every twitch in your lips was a poem to him, every laugh his new favourite song, every tear a sonnet that pressed more weight on his soul than his evol ever could. 

He’d do anything for you. No, the man was determined, he would do everything for you. Everything, it seemed, but touch you with his metal arm. There would be accidental grazes here and there, but he made a vow to himself the first night he held you after returning, that he wouldn’t let his darkness touch you.

That arm was the physical manifestation of everything wrong with him. Even though it had been years and he’d learnt how to make use of the mechanism, learnt how to make it one of his greatest weapons in battle, that’s all it could ever be to him. He wouldn’t put a knife against your throat, so he wouldn’t dare even try to hold your hand with the very thing that had taken him away from you in the first place. Now you were back with him, back in his arms.

Now he was back with you, back in the light, he refused to let the shadows of his past consume anymore than they had.

Caleb thought he was pretty good at hiding things from you. He didn’t enjoy lying to you and made an avid effort to avoid creating any more after all the Farfleet drama that had originally reunited you, then torn you apart again. 

This sweet man didn’t think you carried his same brand of obsession. He didn’t know that you watched him just as intensely, noting every smile, every wince, every breath.

There was a reason you two were so perfect for each other, after all.

He had no idea that you’d caught on pretty quickly to the fact that he’d constantly do things so as to avoid touching you with his right arm. 

It hadn’t been obvious at first, not until you’d caught him reprogramming the faulty appendage one night. He’d been so raw that night. Maybe it was because he was so tired and recovering, but you’d seen it clear as day, the kind of look that didn’t belong on a man like Caleb, shame.

It had broken your heart all over again.

You’d done everything you could think of to wipe that look off his face that night, you’d made him hold you, you’d taken his hand, pressed a thousand kisses to each fingertip and you would have pressed a thousand more if he’d let you. But as per usual, Caleb had pushed his own feelings aside to concentrate on yours, he’d started making lightheaded jokes the second he saw tears appear in the corner of your eyes.

Though it didn't sit right with you, you let him change the subject, thinking maybe that was what he needed. But as time passed, you began to realise how big of a mistake you’d made by allowing him to shove the topic under the metaphorical rug. 

To an outsider they might not notice how he favours you walking on his left side so he can hold your hand with his. If you ever stand on the right side, the most touch you’ll get from him is his arm wrapped around your shoulder. You’d barely be able to feel the weight of him, like a layer was over you, keeping him from actually touching you with his metal arm.

He’d make you sit on his left side whenever you cuddled up on the couch, or ate together at a table. As though he was trying to keep you as far away as possible. 

He was sly about it, as was Caleb’s way. If you ever touched his right arm, he’d smoothly grab your hand with his left, bringing the hand to his lips and distracting you in all the ways he knew how because, as mentioned previously, the man knew every chapter in your book. Specifically the ‘how to arouse them with one look’ chapter. He’d clearly revised over that one many many times.

Last night was the final straw for you.

He’d been showering when you arrived at his home and you didn’t think twice about getting in the shower with him. 

To your shock, his arm was uncovered, not hidden under fake skin so no one but you and him knew about his little secret. He had a couple of scratches over his chest so you guessed he must have gotten hurt and had to fix his arm again.

You let out a titter, hating the idea of Caleb taking care of his own wounds, sitting alone in the dark like that last time. He’d never let you do that, so it was unfair he expected you to leave him like that as well.

Feeling your heart swell, you reached out, dragging your fingers down his arm. The usual cold steel was warm beneath the stream of water from the showerhead. You heard Caleb suck in a harsh breath, one that told you he was uncomfortable, but it just pushed you more.

You pressed a lip against his metal shoulder before nuzzling at it with your cheek. Perhaps it was too much, but you wanted him to see what you really thought of this limb Caleb seemed to be too scared to touch you with. You wanted him to know you did not share that same fear, therefore he shouldn’t either.

His head turned towards you and your eyes connected, you were stunned at the emotions in his violet gaze. The pain tore at your insides and the shame gouged out your insides. He was so beautiful, so whole, but in that moment, you saw how he truly felt. 

You saw the hatred. Not at you. He could never hate you. So you knew that was all aimed at himself, at the appendage you were currently hugging to your body, practically holding it hostage.

“Caleb,” you whispered, having to swallow as tidal waves of words tried to spill out. You wanted to call him stupid for thinking you could ever fear him, even just one small part of him. You wanted to tell him he was the most beautiful man you’d ever seen, that he had always been the pinnacle of attractiveness for you, you’d come to this realisation as a hormonal teenager and that hadn’t changed now that you were both adults, that hadn’t changed now that one particular part of him had been replaced. 

You wanted to demand he touch you back, to grip your breasts in those cold steel hands, to pull on your nipples with his fingers, to strum at your clit and play your body anyway he wanted because you trusted him, all of him.

But before any of those words could come out, Caleb had blinked away his shame. He shook his head before gently tugging at his arm. You tightened your grip on instinct.

Reaching out, he pressed his other hand against your cheek, stroking your skin with his, ever-so-brave with that touch whilst his other arm layed like dead weight in your hold. “I was just finishing up, you finish your shower and I’ll go cook us some food.” 

He wasn’t even going to talk about it, was just going to move on, just acted like everything was normal.

With a press of his lips against your forehead, he pulled his arm out of your hold and exited the shower, leaving you all alone with your thoughts, with your sadness, with your rage.

Caleb always told you that were his, always made sure you knew that every part of your body belonged to him. Why was this not the same for you?

Why did he get to keep a certain part of himself away from you?

For your protection? No, that was ridiculous, you knew without a shadow of a doubt that Caleb’s arms were the safest place in the world for you. 

As you finished your shower, scoffing every ten seconds at the nerve of your boyfriend, a plot began to load up inside your mind. 

You’d play the dutiful girlfriend tonight, the innocent friend who didn’t push too far, who laughed and smiled, who gave and didn’t demand too much. That was clearly what Caleb needed tonight and you wouldn’t push him more than he’d already been pushed by whatever fight he’d had.

But after that, you were through with this game.

Morning light slipped through the cracks in the blind, illuminating your partner who was spread out like a starfish on the bed with you on top of him, his left arm wrapped around you, holding you to his chest like you were his favourite stuffie.

You’d woken up a few seconds ago and had just watched him, your plan that you’d prepared for the night before helping get you wide awake as the excitement began to gurgle at the bottom of your stomach. 

After double checking that he was definitely asleep, you reached out towards your bedside table, sliding out the top drawer so you could reach in and retrieve the handcuffs you’d snuck in there last night when Caleb had been getting in his pajamas.

You kept your movements slow, not wanting to jar your partner awake. 

Reaching out, you wrapped one of the hand cuffs around the headboard. That was step one of your plan complete.

Looking down at Caleb, a sleeping beauty in his very own right, you couldn’t help but reach out and smooth a finger between his eyebrows. Even asleep, he seemed to be worried about something. 

Leaning you down, you pressed a kiss to his forehead. Then his cheek. Then his lips.

As you sprinkled these little kisses, you felt something nudge against your thigh. Step two had been achieved and it was just as easy as you’d thought it would be. Even without Caleb fully awake, you could always count on one part of hiM being wide awake for you whenever you needed it.

“What are you up to, pip-squeak?” Your boyfriend grumbled, his voice all sorts of rough from sleep that your thighs automatically pressed together in reaction. You pressed another kiss to his lips, pleased when you felt him pressed back.

Reaching down with one hand, you began to rub at his dick through his boxers. Damn, you really hadn’t been wrong about him always being wide awake for you down there at least. He was already hard, the heat melting through the fabric into your hand. It was enough to make you dizzy. Luckily, you were a trainer hunter, so even the very tempting prize between his legs wouldn’t be able to pull you away from your plan of action.

Satisfaction rolled through you as he gasped at your unsuspecting touch, his hips canting slightly, trying to force more pressure from your hand onto him. 

“I just wanted to wish you a good morning,” you whispered as you moved your lips over to his ear, letting your tongue trace his jawline before tugging gently on his earlobe with your teeth. All the while you slipped your hands under his boxers, touching flesh to flesh, which had him letting out the dirtiest moan.

You almost moaned back yourself. It wasn’t often you had Caleb this out of control, this raw. It was a heady feeling you could get addicted to. 

And exactly what you’d been hoping for. He began to move his hips more, desperate to get a feel of your hand which you kept just above his cock, not making the move to grab it more firmly just yet. 

Whilst his focus was completely taken with trying to achieve that satisfaction only you could give him, you slid your other hand down his left arm, joining your hands together and then easily moving his arm above his head. He didn’t seem to care what you were doing, his only thoughts on getting you to touch him more firmly.

You did notice that his right arm, his metal arm, was still away from you. His fingers were curled up in the mattress, and you couldn’t tell if he was gripping it because of the feelings you were gifting him, or because he was doing all he could to keep from gripping you.

The sight of his metal arm stretched out away from you cemented the plan in your mind and kept you from getting distracted, even as the most delicious whine escaped him.

You pulled your hand out of his boxers and locked the handcuff around his arm as quickly as possible, your partner didn’t seem to even notice until the click echoed in the room, still bucking his hips slightly. 

His eyes finally opened, though they remained half-lidded, revealing violet rings wrapped around blown pupils. “What are you doing?” He asked, panting.

“I want to play a game, baby,” you explained in your most playful voice whilst positioning yourself better around him. “Won’t you play with me?”

You’d moved so you were laid on top of him, your hips above his crotch. The covers had been pushed back revealing his solid, naked, chest whilst you were still wearing your silk nightgown. You’d purposely worn his favourite, just to add another level of resistance. Plus, the shoulder straps might as well have been paid actors as they slipped down your arms on accident, allowing the tops of your breasts to be revealed.

He’d certainly noticed as his eyes went to your globes first, then they went down to your crotch which hovered just above his, the barest of space keeping you from settling down on his cock. Then, eventually, his eyes flicked up to glance at the handcuff you’d wrapped around his wrist. He gave a tug, as though to confirm that, yes, they really were handcuffs. Then after no time at all, his eyes returned to you, carrying with them a glare that had your playful nature purring even more. 

“What’s the game?” He questioned, cocking his head to the side.

Caleb was always in control, so you weren’t surprised to see him trying to grasp it back under his control even whilst you were holding him hostage. It was kind of hot, but no, you needed to stay strong and continue on with the plan.

One look at his arm which he’d somehow stretched even further away from you after you’d moved cemented this even further in your mind.

Gently, you laid more of your wait on top of him, pressing your slit against the hotness in his underwear. Satisfaction shivered up your body as you rolled your hips ever so gently, your clit pulsing in time with your movements. 

He reacted exactly as you wanted to, barely able to hold onto his control, just like you. His lips parted and his eyes shut again, his head bent further into the pillow and it took everything in you not to go back down to bite at his neck. 

Never one to make you do all the work, Caleb met your rolling hips with assertive thrusts of his own, working a gasp out of you as he followed your teasing movements with his demands. “The game, baby, what is it?”

“I need you to touch me,” you revealed in a gasp. Feeling drunk on power, you reached out with both hands, pressing them on the peaks of his chest. His nipples fell between your fingers and you couldn’t help but close them, pinching at his nips, earning an unexpected response as he growled.

You saw in your periphery as he lifted his metal arm, moving closer towards you before he seemed to tighten his fist and rested it back down on the bed. 

Well, that just wouldn’t do, would it?

You took one hand off his chest, leaving one to continue playing with his nipples, and reached back into his underwear. You pulled out his cock, feeling the weight of it, hot and thick, resting in the palm of your hand as you pressed it to the very centre of your clothed slit.

You moaned out and bent your head back. That wasn’t part of the game, you just couldn’t help your reaction to him, not when he was so close. 

“If you want me to touch you, then you have to take off the handcuffs, baby.” You could hear his teeth grinding whilst he spoke, and you knew in that moment he’d caught on, especially when he made a point to drag the metal arm back from where it had instinctively gone to.

You stopped all movement, still keeping his dick pressed against you, letting it twitch torturously against your clit. “You know that’s not the rules, touch me with your right arm Caleb.” He shook his head again. “Do it, baby, please.”

“Can’t.” He grunted out, tugging uselessly with his left arm. He was proving you right, you knew he couldn’t resist touching you, the same way you couldn’t resist touching him. He was just being stubborn, letting whatever silly worries he has control him. You just needed to push him more out of control.

You let go of his dick, watching it slap against his stomach, leaving a trail of pre-cum that you wouldn’t have minded licking up. Maybe later.

“Look at me,” you ordered as you slowly pushed up the silky nightgown revealing inch after inch of skin. You might not have been the most confident of people, but you were at least confident of Caleb’s feelings about your body. You weren’t disappointed when his eyes followed every movement, mouth agape and eyes drunk with lust. Once the outfit was off, you reached out to touch your breasts, shoving them together and pulling on your nipples. The pulsing between your legs was an earthquake, demanding you slip onto his cock and take what was yours, but you couldn’t do that yet. Not yet. “Please touch me Caleb, I need you, so badly.”

Another grunt came out of him as he tugged harder on his arm, more beast than man in that moment. He managed to sit up, managed to get his mouth so close to the peak of your breast but you pulled away at the last second, leaving mere inches between your tip and his lips. You felt his hot breath lavish your skin and a moan crested out of your mouth unbidden. This might have been your mission, but you were just on edge as he was.

Reaching out you wrapped your hand into his hair, tugging on the strands slightly until he raised his head and met your eyes once more. “Touch me with your hand Caleb.”

“You handcuffed it, baby.”

“You have two hands,” you countered teasingly, but the mere mention of his metal arm had his expression shutting down and his head shaking once again. “Please, you won’t hurt me.” You’d abandoned the husky voice you’d been using beforehand, matching his honesty with your own pleading version. “You won’t.”

His head fell onto your chest but there was nothing sexual about the touch, not with his shoulders sagging. “I wouldn’t, not on purpose, but-”

“But nothing,” you cut him off whilst running your fingers through his hair. “It is physically impossible for you to cause me physical harm, nothing I wouldn’t want anyway.”

He didn’t respond, but you didn’t think he was ignoring you. It was clear as day that he was going through a battle, and as his partner, you needed to join this fight. Tentatively you reached out for his metal arm that was still throttling the quilt in a tight grip, the moment your fingers pressed on the back of his hand those fingers opened up. 

He wasn’t pulling away immediately, that was progress.

“If I lost my arm and got a prosthetic, would you think differently of me?” 

“Of course not,” he lifted his head up immediately, abhorring the thought that you might ever doubt how much he cares for you.

“Would you not let me touch you with that arm? Would you fear it?” Your fingers snaked in his and you brought the hand closer until it was resting between your stomach and his chest. Again, he just shook his head. You could see his jaw working, teeth clenching. He saw your argument, and he couldn’t exactly refute that you were making sense. You brought the hand further up, beginning to press your fingers between each knuckle. “I do not think differently of you because of your prosthetic. I will let you touch me, wherever, with your hands. I do not fear you, I love you, every inch inside and out.”

Like an animal bearing its neck to a predator, you unravelled his fingers before placing his palm around your throat.

His eyes watched every movement intensely, spellbound, and you watched second by second as that doubt grew dimmer and dimmer. Something else began to sparkle in his eyes, something familiar, the same something that was pulsing between your legs.

“My baby needs me to touch her?” He spoke so softly, you felt yourself melt a little bit more. You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak at that moment. “Show me where, baby, show me where and let me take care of you.”

Your skin was practically vibrating, his gentle dominance petting you into submission, a place only Caleb could get you to fall into. Because you only trusted Caleb to this extent. Trusted all of him.

Grabbing his hand once more, you lowered it down, letting his fingers trail over your breasts. Whilst that felt good, you needed him somewhere else far more. You let him give your nipple one small tug before pushing his arm back down further, as you got to the spot between your legs, you released him, showing him that you trusted him to take care of you exactly the way you needed.

He didn’t disappoint. His metal things were cold, the change in temperature a sharp change to the heat coming from your body, you couldn’t help but coo as he slipped them further into your wetness.

“Oh, my poor baby,” he hummed, “so wet and needy for me, I’m sorry I made you wait.”

“It’s okay.” Your hips moved forward automatically as the tips of his fingers pressed against your clit, touching you exactly where you needed to feed that demanding pulse between your legs. He went slow at first, beginning to speed up as he leant forward once more and captured your nipples in his mouth. You hadn’t even realised you’d moved closer to him. You moaned out again, the satisfaction of his touch only making your body demanding for more. “Please.”

“You want to cum baby?” His fingers moved with expert precision, his thumb taking the place of his fingers as they went exploring. One finger slipped inside of you, stealing all air from you before a second one joined it, air gasping out of you with your moans. “You want to cum for me, yeah?” He asked again.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you chanted out as his fingers plunged deeper into you, reaching a spot that had lights dancing behind your closed eyelids. Then, he froze, his fingers still inside of you.

Opening your eyes, you were met with your boyfriend wearing an expression that was oh-so-deliciously Caleb. His eyes were alight with mischief, a smirk on his lips that you wanted to kiss over and over again. Gone was the man afraid to touch you with his hand. 

“Prove it,” he whispered out huskily, “make a mess on my fingers, pretty girl.”

He was asking you to prove a lot more than how much you wanted to cum on his fingers, which was a lot. Thankfully, you were up for the challenge. You began to move your hips, using his hand to get yourself off. All the while, you maintained eye contact. Letting him see how you fell apart at his touch.

“Keep going,” he encouraged, leaning forward once more to press kisses against your breast. When you fell even closer against him, desperate to feel all of him, he used this as an advantage to lick across your collarbone before biting down on the spot where your neck and shoulder met. “Good girl, keep going. Make a mess for me.” He groaned out.

“Do you hear that?” He whispered, not wanting to speak out the schlick that escaped every time you pushed his fingers back in your body. You were definitely soaking the bed, but you found it hard to care about anything other than just how good he felt. “So lewd, baby, but you just can’t help yourself can you?”

You shook your head, whining as you struggled to get out a word. 

“Can’t help yourself, need all of me, my dirty girl,” his breath was coming out with pants, his eyes laser focused now on where his fingers pushed into you. “It’s okay, it’s okay, I’m yours baby, all fucking yours.” With those last couple of words he gave you everything, pushing his fingers in and out of you at a rabid pace, satisfaction rolling through him like a tsunami as he watched your wetness coat his entire hand, falling onto his lap where his cock stood at attention, hard and twitching, waiting for a chance to get in your hole.

“Fuck, Caleb!” You held onto his shoulders, worried you’d collapse on him as your hip thrusts became messy. All sensuality was lost, just an all-consuming need to cum. Caleb would provide, he always would. He’d always give you everything you needed. 

Every kiss against your neck, every growl that escaped him, was his solid vow that that would never change. 

“Cum for me pretty girl, give me what’s mine, give me it.” He hadn’t even finished before you were coming apart on his fingers. Your moans were cut off as a wave of pleasure rocked your body so harshly that you collapsed fully on top of him, body shaking with the aftershocks of the glorious orgasm he’d just gifted you. 

Caleb watched unblinkingly, taking in every shudder, every breath you made. Taking note of everything so he could never forget this moment, could never forget how easily he’d played with your body, with the one part of his he’d never believed could be used for such soft things. 

He pulled his arm out, wrapping his arm around your waist so he could keep you close. He saw his arm, witnessed his fingers splayed out on your back, so large they took up the entire middle and then some. He might not be able to feel you from his fingers, but he wasn’t scared, for the first time since he’d gotten that forsaken arm, he wasn’t afraid. He knew how you felt, how soft and how strong your body was against his. 

A giggle broke out of you after a few more seconds of heavy breathing, your mind catching up with what you’d done, and what Caleb had finally done. 

You lifted your head up, looking into his violet eyes with the biggest smile on your face. “I told you, you could never hurt me.” You said each word with such utter confidence that Caleb was left speechless. Instinct was running the show for him, and for the first time ever, he wasn’t forcing himself to play safe. You were right, he could never hurt you, his instinct was only ever to protect you, to keep you safe, to make you happy.

And he was only halfway through with that last part.

He pulled his metal hand back from around your waist, slipping the fingers into his mouth and sucking on each digit that had been inside you. 

Once he was done, he brought the fingers up to your mouth. “Suck,” he ordered, and like the good girl you were, you did as he said. You let him push his cold metal fingers into your mouth, let him explore the inside of your mouth with those digits.

“Is this what you wanted all along, baby girl?” He asked. “Wanted to unravel me?”

He took his fingers out of your mouth, letting you answer his question. “I wanted you to see you the way I see you.”

He cocked his head to the side, “and how’s that?”

You leaned forward, letting your lips rest against his as you spoke your next words. “Completely and utterly mine.”

The next couple of things that happened, occured within the blink of an eye.

His metal hand reached up to the handcuff, snapping it with ease and releasing his other hand. Both hands wrapped around your body as he spun the two of you around until he was on top, his waist pressing against the apex of your thighs. His cock rutting once, twice, against your clit which in turn had your hip stuttering with the overstimulation. His left hand, warm and soft, pressed down on your hip, keeping you in place, whilst his other rested against your throat, the fingers curling and pressing down on your pulse points. Not hard enough to cut off air, just hard enough for you to be incapable of ignoring their presence.

Despite the rough way he’d handled you, he followed up these actions by pressing three gentle kisses against your lips. “Always.” Another kiss. Far more demanding, teeth grazing. “Always have been.” His tongue plunged into your mouth, dancing across yours before he sucked it into his mouth. Another barely contained growl escaped him as he rutted against you more.

You just couldn’t help yourself. You’d got him to the very edge of control, and you wanted to see him lose it. 

Pulling back you bit down hard on his lip, gathering what little attention he had left which wasn’t completely taken by the wet warmth cradling his cock. 

“Prove it.” A demand, no, a challenge. The final stab at his control that pulled forth the beast.

Both hands moved beneath your thighs, pushing them against your chest so your pussy was completely open to him. Glistening under the few rays of sunlight that peaked into the room, as though trying to glimpse at the display of ravenous lust you were putting on. Caleb could understand why, you’d never looked so beautiful to him, spread open and soaking down your thighs, your hole twitching as though begging to be filled.

His poor baby. You didn’t need to beg anymore.

With ease he placed his dick against your hole, slipping in with barely any force because of how slick you were. 

Home. That’s what your pussy felt like to him.

The both of you groaned out, a cacophony of moans that he could listen to for days on end without ever growing sick of the tune. 

“I’ll prove it to you, pretty girl.” His voice was rough and hoarse as it fell from his lips, though he wasn’t sure anymore if it was from being tired, or because of all the moans he’d let escape. “You’ll never doubt me again, never doubt that your mine.” Each word was followed with a deep thrust, his cock reaching places you never knew existed until he’d explored them. 

He fell on top of you, surrounding you. You couldn’t see anything but him. Feel anything but him. Hear, smell, taste anything but him. 

His thrusts turned harder, quicker, every stab of his cock a lightning bolt to your senses.

You lost yourself, mouth opening with silent cries as your eyes stared unfocused on his face. Any time you closed them, he’d respond with a harsher, sharper, thrust of his hips. Even without words, he was in complete control of you.

“You need this, need me,” he told you in between grunts. You could only nod. Too drunk on the pleasure to tell him that he needed you too. He knew. He knew he needed you more, that’s why he was never going to let you go. “You need to cum all over this cock, need to make a mess, give it to me, pretty girl.” 

Your legs were pressed so deep into your chest you weren’t sure if you were breathing, but it didn’t matter, all that mattered was his thick cock dragging in and out of your pussy. Pulling pleasure from you with each thrust.

“Give it to me, and I’ll give you my cum.” He promised, and oh, your pussy clenched tightly around him, liking the sound of that far too much. An almost sinister laugh came from your boyfriend as he felt it too. “Oh,” he hummed, apparently just as surprised as you were by that reaction. His thrusts slowed, but they seemed to turn longer, somehow going deeper than ever before. “You want my cum baby? Want me to fill you up until your overflowing with my seed?”

When you moaned in response, he knew he had his answer.

“Yeah, sweet girl? You need me to give you all my cummies? Fill you up? Give you my babies?” Another clench had him slamming down into you. “Want that too pretty girl. Want to see you full of me, knowing you’re filled with me, knowing everything who sees you will know what I did to your dirty little pussy.”

“Fuck.” Both hands wrapped around your thighs tightened to the point of bruising, but that was exactly what he wanted, to mark you in every possible way. And he could, because he was in control. “Fucking take it, pretty girl. Fuck, good girl. Good fucking girl.” 

His words were drowned out by each slam of his hips against yours. You knew you’d be hurting later but you were past the point of caring, you wanted every single thing he’d just promised you. 

Through heaving breaths, you managed to squeak out a hoarse ‘please’ and that was his undoing. His thrusts stuttered until he pressed as far into you as possible and then you felt your insides being flooded. 

It almost felt unreal, there was so much. You felt every corner of your insides being covered and then the knot inside you released with him, your pussy tightening almost instinctively around him, trying to keep his essence inside of you.

“Good girl,” he continued to praise, throwing out little phrases of admiration as you both rode out your orgasms.

Then, when the final wave crested and fled, he released your legs from his hold. His hands stayed steady, controlling how they fell around him, making sure you didn’t move too quickly just in case. His fingers caressed your soft skin, massaging at your thighs where most of the strain had been.

He moved so most of his weight wasn’t on you but he was still hovering over you. Pressing a gentle kiss on your forehead, he left his lips to rest there as he mumbled out an almost reverent, “thank you.”

A/N: Hope you enjoyed it! I’ve been thinking about doing a part two where Caleb gets revenge and handcuffs the reader, let me know if you’d be interested.

[afterglowsainz]

hoax | charles leclerc, alexandra saint mleux

pairing: charles leclerc x reader x alexandra saint mleux

summary: your relationship with charles and alexandra is affected when they want you to move to monaco with them but you just can’t leave new york

fc: gianna caldera

request: here

a/n: so similar to we used to have more i have this fic called the prophecy and i’ve been thinking about expanding on that plot idea for a while and then i got the request above and it all just kind of fell into place in my head so i hope you enjoy this mix of my original idea plus the anon request!

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liked by charles_leclerc, alexandrasaintmleux and others

yourusername my lovely nyc 🩷

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username the topppp 😮‍💨

username everything she wears istg i’m omw to buy it

username most stylish wag (and alex ofc)

username i love the city girls vibes

username belongs in a museum

charles_leclerc pretty girl 😍

yourusername 😚

username y/n in the paddock again whennnn

username fr i need MORE of her paddock outfits

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alexandrasaintmleux when in monaco 🍷

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username oh she came to serve

username the chanel earrings iconicccc

username how can you not say mother

username alex or the most gorgeous woman???

yourusername miss youuuu🥹 ly

alexandrasaintmleux my loveeee🫶🏽 we miss you too

username y/n and charles won frrrr

liked by lilymhe, lissiemackintosh and others

yourusername nights out🍸

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username i love her but i wish she was at the race :(

username no honestly her boyfriend races in her country three times a year and she can’t even attend ONE race?

username not a good look tbh

username theee nyc girlie

username no one new yorks the way y/n new yorks

username my daily inspo posted 🥰

username bestie take a plane to texas rn i’m begging!!

username serving face while eating pasta is the dream

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charles_leclerc an evening in cota ❤️

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username CONGRATS CHARLES 🥳🥳

username such a lovely drive 🥹 completely deserved!

username YESSSS A WIN IN COTA

username so happy for him! wished his gf was there

username alex was literally right there?

username girl you know we’re talking about y/n

username fr her boyfriend wins and she can’t even show up 🙄

scuderiaferrari il predestinato 🫶🏽

liked by francisca.cgomes, flavy.barla and others

yourusername favourite place on earth 💚

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username ahhh parents are finally together 🥹🫶🏽

username so stylishhh

username the most fashion throuple

username you dropped this bestie 👑

username this DIVA 💜

username omg did she move to monaco? 🥺

username girl i HOPE

username nooo my nyc girlie dream 😭😭

username on the bright side, she would finally be closer to charles and alex 🥰

liked charles_leclerc, jade_distinguinn and others

alexandrasaintmleux i might just stay here🌴🌺

tagged yourusername

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username the prettiest

username i love when hot people date each other

username the complete sideline of charles 😭😭

username he is NOT the face of the relationship

username but can we talk about y/n finally going to a grand prix 🥹

username MOTHERS🫶🏽

charles_leclerc mon dieu 😩

alexandrasaintmleux 😚

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f1gossip ferrari wag y/n y/l/n has unfollowed and deleted all her pictures with couple charles leclerc and alexandra saint mleux leading to the rumor of a breakup. charles and alexandra have not unfollowed her back neither have they deleted posts with her from their social media.

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username don’t even joke lad

username i refuse to accept this misinformation. (it’s true i just checked😩)

username absolutely not

username wtf happened they were just together in mexico 😭

username i’m not recovering from this anytime soon

username i’m going to pretend i didn’t see this and go on with my day

username jail time f1gossip this news had to be delivered to me a lot more nicely

f1gossip sorry we didn’t hold your hands when we said this 😔

liked by francisca.cgomes, arthur_leclerc and others

yourusername favorite place on earth🩷

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username mother came back 😭

username divorced this time

username not her saying this about charles and alex a few months ago 😭😭

username she is INSANE why would she use the same caption 😩

username so she didn’t even moved to monaco huh

username arthur liking this lol

username unrelated but i’m obsessed with all the winter outfits

username she ate with those

username i am not handling the breakup well and i’m not even her

username you will be missed in the paddock pookie 😔

[bunnwich]

This is altogether random, but I feel you might appreciate the idea: since Leona is doing his internship with a mining company in Sunset Savanna, I like to think if he were to propose to his partner, any ring would have a stone he found himself (then or years later) that made him think of them, because they’re worth the effort.

No, I love this so much and this actually inspired to think of some HC for Leona and Yuu's engagement!! So pardon me as I use this as an excuse to yap/draw.

🧡Leona x Yuu Proposal

🧡Engagement:

I picture Leona and Yuu would be together a while time before he worrys about marriage. Leona as we know is not traditional by any means. And the two are so used to just…being there for each other, lives intertwined like a braid. 

At this time after NRC I see Leona having his hands in a few things, but mostly just there as support for Yuu and even Ruggie as they navigate graduating. After his internship he currently sits as a member of the Board of Environmental Utilization.

I think they would already live together in a somewhat isolated place near the edge of the Outlands and Sunrise City. Leona originally helped get it for Yuu to have a forever home but now he finds himself there more and more. It's a bit of a fixer-upper, reminding Yuu of the Ramshackle.

I imagine their house has a revolving door policy and often has uninvited guests, Ruggie comes to visit a lot and uses it as a place to crash when he's in town to see his Granny. And then there's Cheka (who is now a teen rebelling against his parents.)

Often the two take late-night drives in Leona’s jeep to get away from the craziness of all. Leona struggles trying to adapt to a more humble living situation and lifestyle. (he still can't work the microwave for a damn), but he tries enjoying the quiet life he has with Yuu. Yuu is still figuring out how they will fit in in their new homeland as a Sunset Savanna citizen.

I feel Leona’s family would be hassling them about marriage for years but neither are too keen on the idea of it liking their private life. However, Leona knows it’s the easiest way to protect Yuu and make sure they always have a home and inherit the house they fixed up together. (Should anything ever happen to him.) Plus, it would give them full citizenship in his homeland. 

So one day, he decides that it's time to make it legal. Of course, he already knew a long time ago that they belonged to one another, this is so cemented in his mind and he’s not even that nervous about it. At this point, they’ve been through so much together they live together, they are one. So, he does it in his Leona way.

On one of their sunset drives together he pulls out a special ring his sister-in-law helped him design with Yuu's three favorite stones that he’d sent them in their time apart. He had two requests when he had it made: it had to have a moon for Yuu and a stone for both of them.

Leona during his internship would often collect stones he would find in the mines, finding some to send to Yuu. He knew that they liked that sorta stuff even if he didn't care for it. And he didn’t mind writing down little geological facts for them. 

“So…ya wanna be married to me?”

Yuu would honestly not expect it. And he said it so casually too! Smug bastard. But as usual, he was…right, their lives were so connected they couldn't imagine not seeing his cocky face every day or hearing his soft words of encouragement then loud ass snores every night.

“Okay.” They say with a shrug, and Yuu would be crying for both them. He was right, it just made sense. Besides, what would the lion do without them?

After putting the ring on their finger he'd wrap his arms around them, intending to never let go after that. He can’t help but get teary too. He never thought that he’d have someone like his brother did, to be by his side always.

“Well, now, yer stuck with me.”

“That’s okay.”

🧡Wedding:

As for a wedding, I KNOW Falena and Sis-in-law would press for a big, fat traditional Sunset Savanna wedding. There is a bit of controversy among some old-fashioned council members that Leona is marrying an outsider and a few murmuring that Yuu is a human too. But Leona’s favorability in the kingdom has always been so divided that some take an apathetic view, expecting this behavior from the second prince anyway.

Being a “spare heir” works in Leona’s favor this time, as there is not as much pressure for an arranged marriage for him as his brother had. Though there’s still some pushback. They were fine viewing Yuuta as a fling but it’s tradition for royal family members to have political marriages.

It’s a bit of strain on their relationship during this time with the stress of the capital’s spotlight on them. Since Leona told no one about it until after he proposed to Yuu. But, because a few on the council are fond of Yuu already, (as well as the queen regent), it all works out eventually! (Leona threatens to take Yuu and run away so many times.)

It is an…adjustment getting this much attention for Yuu. But, because the house they chose is already out of the prying eyes, the two compromise by agreeing to a true royal wedding…

This doesn’t last long. The two get fed up and…elope a few months later in the middle of the night. Cheka/Ruggie sneak out to be witnesses. Falena and the queen are pissed and make them promise to get married again in a few years publicly.

🧡Traditions:

Rings are a bit more of a modern marriage tradition in the Sunset Savanna as other countries' cultures melded with theirs over the years. Leona has never been one for traditions anyway and he liked the idea of matching rings, made out of the same ore and gems.

An old tradition of Sunset Savanna marriages is that of permanent bracelets, braided by hand by the officiating party. They are meant to stay on til death. Often colored beads are added to represent each personality. The braided hemp itself represents an eternity together in this life and the next. Through the circle of life, they are connected from then on out. 

[kiwriteswords]

Hotch and Reader are both in love with each other and have been for years but are both too professional and care too mcuh about work and ruining things so they dont get together but they end up getting together finally. its angsty and delicious!! with a happy ending ofc! (bonus if smut is added at all!?!?!)

I love you in a place where there's no space or time

Masterlist || Ao3

AN: So sorry this one took so long to share, anon! I hope it's all you hoped for! xx

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader

Word Count: 13.6k

Tags/Warnings: Canon-typical violence, canon-typical themes, hurt/comfort, jealousy, fluff, angst, feelings un-acknowledged, canon-typical injuries, language, fade-to-black smut, sexual themes, friends with benefits, friends with benefits turned relationship, slow burn, family dynamics, intimacy with feelings, proposal, talk of marriage.

Sypnosis: Aaron Hotchner has always been a man of order and control, carefully compartmentalizing the demands of his work and personal life. But when a long-standing partnership with a member of his team—you—begins to blur the lines between professional and personal, he’s forced to confront feelings he’s buried for years.

Aaron Hotchner had always been good at compartmentalizing. It was a skill he'd honed over years of leading the BAU, of balancing the chaos of his work and the fragile peace of his home life—or what passed for home these days. And you? You were a complication he never anticipated but somehow couldn’t imagine his life without.

You’d been with the team for years, carving your place with sharp wit, unwavering competence, and a sense of humor that could soften even the darkest days. Somewhere along the way, your partnership had morphed into something more. Late nights at the office became late nights at his apartment, pouring over files as Jack played in the living room. Work dinners turned into shared takeout meals, laughter filling his kitchen. And the tension—the chemistry between you both—it became a thread stretched taut, always on the brink of snapping.

But neither of you ever said a word.

Hotch couldn’t pinpoint when it had started, exactly. Maybe it was the time you showed up with a Batman figurine for Jack, just because he’d mentioned liking the character once. Or the way you sat with him on the couch after Haley’s death, saying nothing, just being there when he needed it most. Or the way you touched his shoulder during a case, grounding him when his anger threatened to boil over.

It didn’t matter. What mattered was that now, you were a constant in his life, and he had no idea how he’d let you become that. Friends with benefits, the team might have called it if they weren’t too polite to say it out loud. But it wasn’t just the sex—though that was undeniable. It was the quiet moments. The way you fit seamlessly into his life, into Jack’s life. Like you belonged.

Like you were family.

Hotch watched you now, sitting cross-legged on his living room floor, a game controller in hand, as Jack giggled beside you. You feigned frustration as Jack’s character beat yours on the screen, throwing your hands up dramatically.

“You’re cheating,” you teased, pointing an accusatory finger at Jack, who grinned up at you.

“I am not!” Jack protested, his voice full of glee. “You’re just bad at this.”

“Bad at this?” you gasped, clutching your chest as if he’d mortally wounded you. “I’ll have you know I used to be the reigning champion at this game.”

Jack tilted his head, squinting at you skeptically. “When? Like, a hundred years ago?”

Hotch couldn’t hold back a laugh from the couch, shaking his head as he sipped his coffee. “Careful, Jack. She might just ground you for that one.”

You spun around, pointing the controller at Hotch like a weapon. “Oh, don’t you start with me. You’re supposed to be on my side.”

“I’m on Jack’s side,” he said smoothly, the rare smile tugging at his lips, softening the tease. “He’s clearly the underdog here.”

Jack beamed, puffing out his chest. “See? Dad gets it.”

“Traitors,” you muttered, shaking your head dramatically before turning back to the game. “Fine. But if I win the next round, you both owe me ice cream.”

Jack laughed harder, leaning against you as if you’d always been there. “You’re not winning,” he declared. “And even if you do, I pick the flavor. No weird ones.”

“No weird ones? Jack, I have excellent taste. Mint chocolate chip is a classic.”

“Mint chocolate chip is gross,” Jack said, sticking out his tongue.

You gasped in mock outrage. “Okay, now you’ve gone too far.”

Hotch set his mug down, leaning back into the couch as he watched the scene unfold. This was his favorite view: you and Jack, a picture of domesticity he didn’t dare name.

The ache in his chest was familiar by now. Warm, heavy, and terrifying all at once.

Later, after Jack had gone to bed, Hotch found you in the kitchen, drying the dishes. It was a quiet ritual you’d fallen into over time, one neither of you had ever acknowledged aloud. The hum of the dishwasher and the soft clinking of plates filled the space between you, but it was far from silent. The weight of everything unspoken lingered, just like it always did.

Your shoulder brushed his as you reached for a glass, the simple contact sending ripples of awareness through him. It was ridiculous, he thought, how something so small could affect him so much. But that was how it had always been with you.

“You don’t have to stay,” he said softly, though he already knew the answer.

You glanced at him, a hint of amusement in your expression. “You know I don’t mind.”

Of course, you didn’t. You never minded. Whether it was a case of collapsing into bed together after a high-stakes day or nights like these—quiet, uneventful, and free of tension—you always stayed. It wasn’t just about the times the chemistry boiled over; it was about all the moments in between. The ones that felt effortless.

Hotch set the last plate on the drying rack and turned toward you, wiping his hands on a towel. “Jack really likes having you here,” he said, his tone conversational but deliberate. “He talks about you all the time.”

“And you?” you asked lightly, with a teasing lilt that tried to downplay the weight of your question. “Do you like having me here?”

His brow lifted, a rare smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “Why wouldn’t I? You help with chores and keep Jack entertained. I’m getting the better end of the deal.”

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head as you bumped your shoulder lightly against his. “Deflect all you want, Hotchner. I know you’d be lost without me.”

He allowed himself a small chuckle, one that softened the sharp edges of his usual demeanor. “I wouldn’t go that far,” he replied, though his voice held more warmth than his words. “But I like having you here. More than I probably should.”

That caught you off guard for just a moment, but you recovered quickly, the teasing smile returning to your lips. “Good,” you said simply, returning to dry the last dish.

By the time the house had settled into silence, Hotch found himself in the bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed as he unwound from the day. He heard your soft footsteps before you appeared in the doorway, your presence familiar and steady. You didn’t pause or hesitate, instead crossing the room to climb into the bed—his bed, though it had long since stopped feeling like just his.

You always stayed, and it had become a routine neither of you commented on. The guest room was just there for show, untouched and unnecessary. Some nights, the pull of tension between you snapped, leaving no room for words or space. Both of you would end up breathless and wanting in bed. Other nights, like this one, were quieter. Still, you stayed.

“Are you just going to sit there all night?” you asked, your voice low and tinged with humor. You were already lying on your side, propped up on one elbow, as you watched him with a curious gaze.

Hotch smirked faintly, shaking his head as he joined you, slipping under the covers. “I thought you might enjoy the peace and quiet,” he replied, his tone dry.

“I don’t think you’d know what peace and quiet were if it hit you in the face,” you shot back, though your words held no bite.

He settled beside you, his arm coming around you instinctively as you shifted closer. It was a gesture that felt as natural as breathing now, one neither of you ever acknowledged, but both seemed to rely on.

“You know,” you murmured, your voice soft against the stillness of the room, “it’s kind of funny how we never talk about this.”

“This?” he echoed, though his hand lightly tracing circles on your back betrayed the calmness of his tone.

“This,” you said, gesturing vaguely to the two of you. “Me staying. Us… whatever this is.”

Hotch was quiet for a moment, his brow furrowing slightly as he considered his response. “Talking about it might ruin it,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

You smiled at that, the kind of smile he couldn’t see in the dark but could feel in the way your body relaxed against his. “Maybe.”

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable. It was full of the things neither of you dared to say aloud. And as you shifted closer, resting your head on his chest, Hotch allowed himself the brief indulgence of pretending that this—your warmth, your presence—was something permanent. Even though he knew it wasn’t.

Your company was appreciated and needed more than Hotch knew, even at work. The case was brutal. A family annihilator who preyed on vulnerabilities, using twisted logic to justify his violence. Hotch could feel the weight pressing down on him, but he didn’t have to carry it alone. You were there, as you always were, your presence steadying him.

When the unsub was in custody, and the team returned to the precinct, you lingered in the corner, watching him. He could feel your gaze like a physical touch as if you were daring him to break the silence that stretched between you.

“You okay?” you asked finally, your voice soft. Never prying. 

He nodded, but the truth hung in the air, unspoken. He wasn’t okay. Neither were you. But that was the deal, wasn’t it? To keep moving forward without acknowledging the things that could break you.

That night, back at the hotel, the weight of the day lingered on Hotch’s shoulders, pressing harder with every passing moment. Cases involving families always hit him differently, carving into the parts of himself he worked so hard to protect. But tonight, something else tugged at him—a sharper, deeper ache he couldn’t shake. It was you. It was always you.

He’d known you’d come. You always did on nights like this, when the line between partner and something more blurred into nothingness. The knock on his door was soft but unmistakable, and when he opened it, there you were, leaning casually against the doorframe as if this wasn’t an unspoken ritual.

“You weren’t going to sleep anyway,” you said, your voice low, tinged with exhaustion but still carrying that edge of teasing familiarity.

“Neither were you,” he replied, stepping aside to let you in.

The door closed softly behind you, but the tension in the room was anything but quiet. It filled the space between you like a storm waiting to break. You shrugged off your jacket, tossing it onto the chair in the corner, and Hotch couldn’t stop his eyes from lingering on you—the curve of your shoulders, the set of your jaw, the flicker of vulnerability in your expression you probably thought he wouldn’t notice.

“Rough day,” you said, breaking the silence as you turned to face him.

He nodded, his jaw tightening. “They always are.”

You crossed the room, your steps slow and deliberate, until you were standing just in front of him. “But this one was worse,” you said softly, your voice lacking the teasing edge it usually carried. “For both of us.”

Hotch didn’t answer, because he couldn’t. The words caught in his throat, the weight of everything unsaid pressing harder than ever. But you didn’t seem to need his response. You looked at him for a long moment, your gaze steady, searching, and then you moved closer.

It happened all at once and yet not at all suddenly, as though it had been building for hours. His hands found your waist, gripping you tightly as his lips crashed against yours. The kiss was fierce, almost desperate as if he was afraid you might vanish. And you let him, meeting his intensity with your own, your fingers threading into his hair, holding him as tightly as he held you.

It wasn’t just adrenaline from the case or the pull of attraction that neither of you could deny. It was the unspoken understanding that this—whatever it was—was the only way either of you knew how to deal with the weight of the lives you led. It was raw, honest, and utterly consuming.

You tugged at his tie, loosening it with practiced ease, your movements steady but charged with purpose. His breath hitched as your hands brushed against his chest, unbuttoning his shirt with a deliberate slowness that had his pulse racing. His own hands mirrored your urgency, sliding under the fabric of your blouse, feeling the heat of your skin against his palms.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his voice rough but soft, his forehead pressing against yours as he paused just long enough to look into your eyes. The question wasn’t about this moment—it was about everything. About stepping closer to the line, you both swore you wouldn’t cross but had already blurred so many times.

You didn’t answer with words; instead, you pulled him back into a kiss, which was softer this time but no less consuming. Your lips moved against his in a way that spoke of trust, of understanding, of a desire too strong to deny. His hands cupped your face, his thumbs brushing your cheekbones as he deepened the kiss, pouring everything he couldn’t say aloud into the way he held you.

When you pulled away just enough to whisper against his lips, your voice was low and steady. “I’m here, Aaron. Always.”

His name on your lips sent a shiver down his spine, and something inside him gave way. He guided you toward the bed with a gentle but unwavering urgency, his hands never leaving you. The soft glow of the room’s lamp cast warm shadows across your features as you looked up at him, your expression a mix of vulnerability and certainty that made his chest tighten.

The rest of the world disappeared as you both surrendered to the moment. Every touch, every kiss, every whispered breath was a testament to the connection you shared—a connection that went beyond words, beyond labels, beyond anything either of you could easily explain.

When you reached up to touch his face, brushing your fingers against the faint stubble along his jaw, he leaned into your touch instinctively. “Aaron,” you said again, his name a quiet anchor pulling him further into you.

He tilted his head down, his forehead resting lightly against yours. “You don’t know what you do to me,” he murmured, his voice low and raw, the words escaping before he could stop them.

“I think I do,” you replied softly, your hands moving to rest on his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your palms. “Because it’s the same thing you do to me.”

The admission hung between you like a fragile truth, one neither of you had dared voice before. But instead of shattering the moment, it only seemed to deepen the connection that pulsed in the quiet space between your bodies.

Hotch’s hands found the hem of your blouse, his movements deliberate as he slid it up and over your head. His fingertips brushed your skin, the contact sending sparks of warmth that spread through you. You reached for the buttons of his shirt, your touch steady despite the tremor of anticipation that hummed in the air.

When you finally settled on the bed, his weight pressing into the mattress beside you, the world outside the walls of the hotel room ceased to exist. The past, with all its heartache and shadows, faded away, leaving only the present—this moment, this connection, this intimacy you both shared.

Hotch leaned over you, one hand bracing himself beside your head, the other trailing along the curve of your side. The way he touched you was reverent like he was committing every inch of you to memory. His lips found yours again, the kiss softer this time, more deliberate, as if savoring the quiet intensity of the moment.

But there was something else beneath that tenderness—a tension he could no longer hold back. His lips pressed harder against yours, the kiss deepening with a newfound urgency. His hand slid from your side to your thigh, gripping it firmly as he pulled you closer as if closing the space between you would somehow quiet the storm raging inside him.

When you gasped softly against his mouth, he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze. His dark eyes, usually so controlled, were filled with something raw, something unguarded. "Tell me if it’s too much," he said, his voice rough, the words both a request and a warning.

Your answer came not in words but in the way you hooked your leg around his waist, pulling him closer, your hands gripping his shoulders as if daring him to let go. “It’s never too much,” you whispered, your voice steady despite the flush of heat in your cheeks.

That was all the permission he needed. His hand slid up your thigh, his grip firm but not harsh, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. His lips found yours again, but this time, the kiss wasn’t soft—it was demanding, consuming, as though he was pouring everything he couldn’t say into the way his mouth moved against yours.

Hotch’s other hand tangled in your hair, tilting your head back to give him better access as he trailed kisses down your jaw and neck. He paused at the hollow of your throat, his breath warm against your skin. When his teeth grazed just enough to make you shiver, he chuckled softly, the sound low and rich. “Still okay?” he murmured, though the way his hands gripped your waist betrayed his struggle to hold back.

“Yes,” you breathed, your voice barely audible as you arched into him. “Don’t stop.”

He didn’t. The restraint that usually defined him seemed to unravel as his kisses grew rougher, his hands exploring with a certainty that left no room for hesitation. He shifted, guiding you further back onto the bed, his body pressing into yours, solid and unyielding. The way he moved, the way he touched you—it was as if he was trying to claim you, to prove that this moment, this connection, belonged to both of you and no one else.

As his lips returned to yours, his hands found yours, pinning them gently above your head. His weight and the intensity of his gaze sent a shiver of anticipation through you. "You’re mine tonight," he said, the words rough but filled with a quiet reverence that made your breath hitch.

“And what about tomorrow?” you teased softly, though your voice trembled with the weight of the moment.

Hotch’s grip on your hands tightened just slightly, his expression darkening with something that looked dangerously close to vulnerability. “Let me have tonight first,” he murmured, his lips brushing against yours, and at that moment, nothing else mattered but the way he made you feel—seen, wanted, and completely his.

The rest of the world disappeared as you both surrendered to the moment. Every touch, every kiss, every whispered breath was a testament to the connection you shared—a connection that went beyond words, beyond labels, beyond anything either of you could easily explain. Times like this, when cases were especially bad, it was a little rougher than tender, but neither of you seemed to mind.

The silence in the room was heavy but not uncomfortable. It was the kind of quiet that came after something unspoken had been shouted without words. Hotch’s chest rose and fell steadily beneath your head, your fingers idly tracing patterns on his skin, grounding both of you in a moment that felt suspended in time. The storm of the night had calmed, leaving in its wake a raw, unfiltered intimacy that neither of you could explain—or acknowledge.

But then you shifted.

The movement was subtle at first, just a slight pull away from his side, but it was enough to snap him out of his haze. He felt your warmth leave him as you turned, sitting up on the edge of the bed. He watched as you reached for your clothes, your movements slow but deliberate, your back to him.

“You’re leaving?” The words came out gruffer than he intended, his voice low and edged with something he couldn’t quite define—something dangerously close to vulnerability.

You hesitated, your fingers pausing on the fabric in your hands. “I should,” you said quietly, though your tone lacked conviction. “We both need sleep. It’s been a long day.”

Hotch sat up then, the sheet pooling around his waist as he leaned forward. “You usually stay,” he said, his voice softer now, but still carrying the weight of a question he wasn’t sure he wanted the answer to.

You glanced over your shoulder at him, your expression guarded, but your eyes betrayed you. They always did. “It’s different tonight,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

He frowned, his brows drawing together. “Different how?”

You stood, pulling on your shirt as if the action might shield you from the conversation you were both teetering on the edge of having. “I don’t know,” you said finally, shaking your head. “It just… it feels too close. Like if I stay, it’ll mean something.”

Hotch swung his legs over the side of the bed, planting his feet firmly on the floor. He reached for your wrist, his grip gentle but firm enough to stop you. “It already means something,” he said, his voice steady despite the turmoil swirling in his chest.

Your breath hitched, but you didn’t turn to face him. “We don’t talk about this, Aaron. That’s the deal.”

“I know,” he admitted, his grip loosening just enough to let you pull away if you wanted. “But tonight—” He paused, the words catching in his throat. “Tonight, I don’t want you to go.”

That stopped you. You turned slowly, your eyes meeting his, and for a moment, the weight of everything you both refused to say hung between you. You looked at him like you were trying to decipher some unspoken truth, but he didn’t flinch under your gaze. He couldn’t. He needed you to understand.

“I don’t know if I can,” you said finally, your voice wavering.

“Yes, you can,” he said, standing now, closing the space between you. His hands found your shoulders, grounding you just as yours had grounded him earlier. “Just for tonight. Stay.”

Your walls were up; he could see it in the way your jaw tightened, and your shoulders tensed. But he could also see the crack in your resolve, the way your lips pressed together as if to keep from saying something you might regret. You nodded slowly, and his hands dropped from your shoulders, relief washing over him in a way he didn’t entirely understand.

“Okay,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Hotch stepped back, giving you space even though every fiber of his being wanted to pull you closer. You climbed back into the bed, your movements slower this time, less certain. When you finally settled beside him, he wrapped an arm around you, his hand resting lightly on your back.

Neither of you spoke again, but the silence was heavy with understanding. He didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, and he didn’t know if either of you could keep pretending this wasn’t something more. But for now, it didn’t matter.

You were here, and that was enough.

The room was quiet again, save for the rhythmic hum of the hotel’s air conditioning and the faint sounds of life beyond the walls. You were back beside him, though the space between your bodies felt heavier than before, as if the rawness of what had just happened was an invisible barrier neither of you wanted to cross.

Hotch’s arm rested lightly on your back, his hand brushing the curve of your shoulder in slow, deliberate motions. He could feel the tension in your body, the way your breathing was steady but shallow, as though you were trying to keep your emotions at bay. He didn’t push; he never did. But tonight, the weight of everything unspoken was almost suffocating.

“You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to,” he said finally, his voice quieter, less firm than it had been when he asked you to stay.

You shifted slightly, turning your head to look at him, your expression unreadable in the dim light. “Do you want me to go?” you asked, and there it was—your defense, sharp and ready, a shield to deflect the vulnerability threatening to surface.

“No.” The word came out before he could stop it, his tone firmer this time, leaving no room for ambiguity.

Your eyes softened just slightly, but you quickly masked it, shifting to lie flat on your back, staring at the ceiling. “This feels… different,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “It’s not like the other times.”

Hotch turned to face you, propping himself up on one elbow. “It is different,” he said, his gaze steady on you. “But I think it’s always been different. We just don’t say it.”

You let out a breathy, humorless laugh, turning your head to meet his eyes. “We’re not exactly great at saying things, are we?”

His lips twitched into a faint smile, though there was little humor in it. “No, we’re not.” He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face, his fingertips lingering for a moment longer than necessary. “But that doesn’t mean it’s not there.”

You closed your eyes briefly, as if trying to absorb his words without letting them take hold. When you opened them again, there was something softer in your gaze, something that looked a lot like surrender. “You scare me sometimes,” you admitted quietly. “Not in the way you think. Just… the way you make me feel.”

Hotch’s chest tightened at your words, his hand moving to rest against your cheek. “You think I don’t feel the same?” he asked, his voice low but steady. “Because I do.”

The air between you shifted then, the tension softening into something quieter, more vulnerable. For a moment, neither of you moved, your gazes locked as though daring each other to break the silence. Then, slowly, you reached for him, your hand finding his and lacing your fingers together.

“I’ll stay,” you said softly, almost as if reassuring yourself as much as him. “But just for tonight.”

It was always more than just tonight. 

Hotch nodded, his lips pressing into a thin line as he leaned down to kiss your forehead—a gesture so tender it felt almost out of place between the two of you. “Just for tonight,” he echoed, though the way his hand tightened around yours betrayed the truth.

You shifted closer to him, your head resting against his shoulder, and for a while, you both lay there in silence, the unspoken words still hanging in the air but no longer suffocating. Whatever this was between you—messy, undefined, and terrifying—it was enough for now. It had to be.

Aaron Hotchner prided himself on control. In his work, in his demeanor, in the way he navigated the chaos of the BAU—it was a skill he had honed to perfection. And yet, when it came to you, control felt like a slippery thing, something he grasped at but never fully held.

The days following that night settled back into the rhythm you and Hotch always maintained—something hovering between routine and denial. At work, you were as efficient and professional as ever, the picture of a seamless partnership. You exchanged clipped updates about cases, worked in sync during briefings, and traded subtle glances across the room that said more than words ever could.

Outside of work, the lines blurred more than ever. You still joined Hotch and Jack for movie nights, helped Jack with his homework, and shared quiet dinners that felt far too domestic for two colleagues who claimed not to be anything more. You fell back into bed together on those nights when the tension boiled over (and many nights when you both were just too tired not to just be), and yet neither of you ever spoke about what it meant. That was the unspoken agreement: not to name it because naming it would make it real.

It worked. Until Beth.

She had been kind, warm, and direct in a way that took him by surprise. Meeting her at the park had been pleasant enough—a chance encounter during one of his runs training for the triathlon. She’d struck up a conversation easily, and before he realized what was happening, she was smiling at him in that way, the kind of way that left no question about her intentions.

“I-I could use some tips--if you’re not busy?” she’d asked, her tone light but confident.

For a moment, Hotch froze. His first thought, inexplicably, was of you—how you’d look at him if you knew, the slight quirk of your brow, the teasing edge in your voice. And yet, beneath that, there was something else. Something heavier.

“I—” He hesitated, shifting uncomfortably. “I just don’t know my schedule. I’ll think about it.”

Later that night, as you sat on the couch in his apartment, flipping through a case file while Jack played nearby out of hearing, Hotch broke the silence.

“Someone asked me out today,” he said, his voice calm, almost too casual. 

You didn’t look up immediately, your focus still on the file, but he caught the way your hand stilled on the page. “Oh?” you said lightly, though the tightness in your tone betrayed you. “Anyone I know?”

He shook his head, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “A woman I met at the park. Beth.”

“Beth,” you repeated, setting the file down. You finally looked at him, your expression unreadable. “And what did you say?”

“I said I’d think about it.” He paused, studying your reaction closely. “It felt… strange.”

You tilted your head, your lips curving into a wry smile. “Strange how? Like you haven’t been asked out in a while? Or…?”

Hotch sighed, his gaze dropping to the floor. “Like it would be wrong. Like I’d be… cheating.”

The word hung in the air between you, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. Then you laughed, though the sound was hollow. “Cheating? Aaron, we’re not—” You stopped yourself, the words catching in your throat.

“I know,” he said quickly, his jaw tightening. “But it still felt that way.”

You leaned back against the couch, your arms crossed over your chest. “How would you feel,” you asked after a long pause, “if someone asked me out?”

The question was quiet but sharp, cutting through the space between you. Hotch’s eyes snapped up to meet yours, and for a moment, he didn’t speak. His first instinct was to deflect, to downplay it, but the truth was already clawing its way to the surface. His eyes darkened at the thought. 

“I’d hate it,” he admitted finally, his voice low. “I’d hate it, and I’d probably want to throw a punch.”

Your eyes widened slightly, his uncharacteristic bluntness catching you off guard. But instead of teasing him, you leaned forward, your elbows resting on your knees as you mirrored his posture. “Really?” you asked, your voice soft but steady.

“Really,” he replied, and then, after a pause, he sighed and ran a hand over his face. “There was a time… that officer in Seattle, the one who wouldn’t stop hitting on you.”

You blinked, clearly startled by the shift in the conversation. “The one who called me ‘darlin’’ every five minutes?”

Hotch nodded, his jaw clenching at the memory. “I had all I could do not to step in. Every time he touched your arm or found some excuse to be near you, I—” He stopped, shaking his head as if trying to will away the irritation that still simmered beneath the surface. “It wasn’t professional.”

A slow smile tugged at the corners of your mouth, and you leaned back against the couch, crossing your arms. “You were jeal-ous.”

“I wasn’t—” he started to protest, but the sharp look you gave him cut him off.

“You were totally jealous,” you said, your smile widening. “You hated that someone else even thought about getting near me.”

Hotch shifted in his seat, his expression stern but not quite able to hide the faint flush of his cheeks. “I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.” You tilted your head, your gaze playful but laced with something warmer, deeper. “You know, it’s kind of hot.”

“Stop,” he muttered, his voice tinged with exasperation, though the way he avoided your eyes betrayed him.

You laughed softly, the sound lightening the tension between you. “Fine. But admit it—you wouldn’t like it if someone else was interested in me.”

“No,” he said simply, his voice quiet but firm. “I wouldn’t. Because…” He sighed, fidgeting, running a hand through his hair. “Because it would mean someone else has something I want but won’t let myself have.”

The confession hung between you, raw and unfiltered. You looked at him for a long moment, your expression softening, though there was still a hint of sadness in your eyes. “Aaron…”

“I know we don’t talk about this,” he interrupted, his tone firm but not harsh. “But you asked, and that’s the truth.”

You leaned back again, your arms wrapping around yourself as if for protection. “I don’t think I’d like it much either,” you admitted quietly, scrunching your nose at the thought. “If someone else had what I already think of as mine.”

Hotch’s breath caught at your words, and for a moment, the weight of what you’d both said seemed too much to bear. But then you looked at him, and something in your expression shifted—a quiet resolve that mirrored his own.

“We’re really bad at this, huh?” you said, a faint, self-deprecating smile tugging at your lips.

“Terrible,” he agreed, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly despite himself.

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable. It was heavy, yes, but it was also full of understanding. Neither of you had the answers, and maybe you never would. But for now, the truth was out there, raw and unspoken, just like everything else between you. And somehow, that was enough. For now.

Life fell back into its strange, unspoken rhythm. You and Hotch continued your routines, the moments that felt too much like a relationship carefully tucked away, ignored but ever-present.

Hotch had made his decision about Beth without much thought, declining her offer politely but firmly. He told himself it was because his life didn’t allow for complications like dating, but he knew the real reason. 

He didn’t bring it up again, and neither did you. But sometimes, when you caught his eye across the bullpen or during a quiet moment at his apartment, there was a weight in your gaze that mirrored his own. It was easier not to talk about it.

The unsub had been cornered, a desperate man with nothing left to lose. Hotch could see the wild look in his eyes, the way his hand twitched around the gun. You stood a few feet away, crouched behind a car door, your gun trained on the suspect.

“Put it down,” Hotch commanded, his voice steady, calm, despite the adrenaline coursing through him.

The unsub didn’t move, his eyes flickering between you and Hotch like a cornered animal. Then, in an instant, he shifted his aim—toward you.

It happened so fast that Hotch didn’t think, didn’t hesitate. He moved before the shot rang out, his body blocking the line of fire as he tackled you to the ground. Pain flared in his shoulder, sharp and searing, but he didn’t let it stop him. He rolled to shield you as Morgan and the local PD took the unsub down, disarming him within seconds.

“Aaron!” Your voice was sharp, filled with anger and panic as you shoved him off you, your hands immediately moving to his shoulder. “Are you—damn it, you’re bleeding!”

“I’m fine,” he said gruffly, though the pain in his voice betrayed him.

“No, you’re not fine!” You glared at him, your hands pressing against the wound to stem the bleeding as the medics approached. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“I was thinking I wasn’t going to let you get shot,” he snapped, his tone sharper than he intended. Your jaw tightened, but you didn’t argue as the medics came to his side. 

Hotch sat in the back of the ambulance, his jacket discarded and his shirt pulled down over his good shoulder to expose the wound. The paramedic worked efficiently, stitching up the graze with practiced precision. He barely winced, his focus not on the pain but on you.

You were pacing a few feet away, your arms crossed tightly over your chest as you muttered to yourself. He could tell by the sharpness of your movements and the tension in your jaw that you were furious. He also knew it wasn’t just anger; it was fear, worry, and something else neither of you would admit.

“Does she know you’re okay?” Rossi’s voice broke through his thoughts. Hotch turned to see Rossi and Morgan standing at the back of the ambulance, their expressions a mix of amusement and exasperation.

“She knows,” Hotch replied curtly, his tone dismissive.

“She doesn’t look like she knows,” Morgan said, nodding toward you. “She looks like she’s about to tear you a new one.”

Hotch sighed, his hand clenching briefly at his side. “She’ll get over it. She’ll be fine.”

“Will she?” Rossi asked, his tone pointed. “Because from where I’m standing, this whole act the two of you have going is starting to wear thin.”

“What act?” Hotch asked, though he already knew the answer.

Morgan raised an eyebrow. “The one where you two pretend you don’t have feelings for each other. It’s getting old, Hotch. And frankly, it’s not doing anyone any good.”

Rossi crossed his arms, his gaze steady on Hotch. “You put yourself in the line of fire for her, Aaron. We all would have done it, but you didn’t think twice. That’s not just leadership. That’s something else.”

Hotch’s jaw tightened, his eyes flickering briefly to you before he looked back at them. “It’s not that simple.”

“Of course, it’s not,” Rossi said, his voice gentler now. “But ignoring it doesn’t make it go away. You’re not protecting her by pretending it doesn’t exist. You’re just making it harder—for both of you.”

Hotch didn’t respond, his gaze dropping to the floor of the ambulance. The paramedic finished the stitches and stepped back, leaving him alone with his thoughts and the weight of Rossi and Morgan’s words.

When he finally looked up again, you were still pacing, your anger radiating off you in waves. And for the first time, he wondered if maybe, just maybe, Rossi was right.

The atmosphere back at the BAU was tense, the usual hum of activity muted by the weight of the recent case. Hotch moved through the bullpen with his usual efficiency, though the stiffness in his shoulder and the dull ache radiating from the stitches served as a constant reminder of how the day had started.

You were another reminder.

Since the moment he got out of that ambulance and was cleared to finish the case, you’d been snapping at him—sharp comments about his paperwork, curt responses to his questions, even a pointed remark about his “reckless heroics” during the case. It was all thinly veiled anger, but it wasn’t lost on anyone. Rossi shot him a knowing glance as he passed; Morgan smirked but wisely stayed out of it, and even JJ looked like she was holding back a comment. He’s pretty sure he even heard a scoffing laugh out of Emily at one of your brattier comments. 

“Hotch,” you said sharply, interrupting his conversation with Reid about a case update. “If you want those reports done before midnight, you might want to clarify what you actually need. Or is guessing part of the job now?”

Reid froze mid-sentence, his wide eyes darting between you and Hotch. The tension in the room was palpable, and Hotch’s patience, already worn thin by the soreness in his shoulder and the mental fatigue of the case, snapped.

“Y/N,” he said, his tone firm but controlled. “My office. Now.”

You opened your mouth to retort, but before you could get a word out, he reached for your elbow and guided you firmly toward his office. The rest of the team watched with varying degrees of curiosity and amusement as you allowed yourself to be led, though the fury in your eyes was unmistakable.

Once inside his office, Hotch closed the door behind you, the sound louder than it needed to be. He released your arm, his hand lingering for only a second before he stepped back, his dark eyes locking onto yours.

“What the hell was that?” you demanded, crossing your arms over your chest. “You just dragged me in here like I’m fucking child.”

“You’ve been snapping at me all day,” he shot back, his voice low but sharp. “What do you expect me to do? Let you keep undermining me in front of the team?”

“Oh, so now I’m undermining you?” you said, your voice rising. “God forbid anyone have a reaction to you throwing yourself in front of a bullet.”

“I did what I had to do,” he said, his tone clipped. “It’s my job to protect the team.”

“You’re not invincible, Aaron!” you snapped, your voice breaking slightly on his name. “You can’t just—do that, and then act like everything’s fine. Like we’re all fine.”

The room fell silent, the weight of your words hanging heavy in the air. Hotch pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a slow breath as he tried to keep his frustration in check. He was tired. Tired from the case. Tired from the injury. Tired of the running.

“I wasn’t going to stand there and let you get hurt,” he said finally, his voice quieter but no less firm.

“And what about you getting hurt?” you fired back. “Do you think any of us would be okay with that? Do you think I would?”

Hotch froze, the intensity in your voice cutting through his fatigue and frustration. For a moment, he didn’t know what to say. The raw emotion in your eyes, the way your shoulders shook slightly as you tried to keep yourself composed—it was almost too much.

“This isn’t about the case, is it?” he asked, his voice softer now, though there was an edge of steel to it. “You’re not just angry about what happened.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but no words came out. Instead, you turned away, your arms tightening around yourself as if to create some kind of barrier.

Hotch took a step closer, his tone steady but tinged with something softer, something almost pleading. “Talk to me.”

You turned back to him, your eyes blazing with anger, but beneath it, he could see something else—fear, worry, hurt. “Why should I? We never talk about anything. Not really.”

The words hit him like a blow, the truth in them undeniable. And for the first time, he didn’t have an answer.

Hotch stood still, every muscle in his body taut as he let your words settle in the air. The frustration and fire in your voice cut through him, but it was the vulnerability underneath that made him pause. He had always prided himself on reading people, on staying composed no matter the situation, but you had a way of stripping him bare, of making him feel exposed in ways he wasn’t prepared to handle.

“You think I don’t feel it too?” you demanded, stepping closer, your voice trembling with restrained emotion. “Every time you step in front of danger, every time you put yourself in harm’s way for me—it eats at me. And then you have the nerve to act like it’s just another day at the office, like it doesn’t mean anything.”

“I don’t act like it doesn’t mean anything,” he said, his voice sharp, cutting through your words. “But we can’t afford for it to mean what you think it does.”

“And why is that?” you snapped, crossing your arms tighter over your chest. “Because it might make you feel something real? Because it might mean admitting that this—whatever this is—actually matters?”

Hotch’s jaw tightened, the words catching in his throat. He wanted to argue, to say that you didn’t understand, but the truth was, you understood better than anyone. “Because if something happens to you,” he said finally, his voice low but cracking at the edges, “it would destroy me.”

Your breath hitched, but you didn’t back down. “And you think it’s any different for me? You think watching you throw yourself in front of a bullet didn’t tear me apart? God, Aaron, don’t you get it? You don’t get to make that choice for me.”

He turned away, running a hand through his hair, his composure fraying with every word you spoke. “I’m trying to protect you.”

“From what?” you demanded. “From being hurt? From feeling? Because if that’s your plan, it’s not working. I’m already hurt. I’ve been hurt for years because we refuse to deal with this.”

“You think it’s that simple?” he asked, spinning back to face you, his voice rising. “That we can just talk about it and everything will magically be fine?”

“No,” you shot back, your voice rising to match his. “But pretending it’s not there isn’t fine either. Ignoring it doesn’t make it go away—it just makes it worse.”

The room was suffocating now, the air thick with all the words neither of you had said for years. Hotch’s mind raced, every argument, every excuse colliding with the raw truth you had thrown at him.

“This job…” he started, but his voice faltered. He took a steadying breath and tried again. “This job demands everything. It doesn’t leave room for mistakes, for weakness.”

“And you think this is weakness?” you asked, your voice trembling now, the anger giving way to something quieter but no less intense. “Do you really think what we feel—what we’ve built—is a liability?”

Hotch’s shoulders slumped slightly, the fight draining out of him as the weight of your words pressed down on him. He opened his mouth to respond but found himself struggling to find the right words.

“I don’t know,” he admitted finally, his voice raw. “I don’t know how to do this, how to balance it. I don’t know how to protect you and still let myself have you.”

You stared at him, the raw honesty in his voice cutting through your defenses. But it wasn’t enough—not yet.

“You can’t have it both ways, Aaron,” you said, your voice soft but firm. “You can’t keep me close enough to feel everything and then pretend it doesn’t exist when it gets too hard.”

“I know,” he said, his voice cracking under the weight of his admission. “I know I can’t. But I don’t know how to do this without risking everything.”

“Neither do I,” you said, taking a step closer, your voice trembling. “But the risk of losing this, of losing us—aren’t we worth figuring it out?”

Hotch closed his eyes, the tension in his shoulders finally breaking as your words sank in. He couldn’t argue with you, not when everything you said mirrored the storm that had been raging inside him for years. He opened his eyes and looked at you, really looked at you, and for the first time, he let himself feel the full weight of what you meant to him.

The silence between you stretched, heavy and electric, the air in the room thick with everything you’d both left unsaid for far too long. Hotch’s gaze flickered to yours, searching for something he couldn’t name but desperately needed. His own words had fallen short, his admission incomplete, and he could feel the weight of it pressing down on him.

But then you spoke, and it hit him like a tidal wave.

“I can’t keep doing this, Aaron,” you said, your voice trembling but strong, each word deliberate and cutting through the fog of tension. “I can��t keep being someone you make love to, someone you fuck when it gets to be too much. Someone you play house with when we’re with Jack. You can’t look me in the eyes and expect me to pretend I’m not already part of your family.”

He flinched, the raw honesty in your voice slicing through the walls he’d spent years building. “You are part of my family,” he said, the words spilling out before he could stop them.

“Then why do we keep acting like I’m not?” you fired back, your tone sharper now, anger laced with pain. “Why do you let me stay, let me take care of Jack, let me sleep in your bed—let me love you—but we act like it doesn’t mean anything?”

Hotch’s breath caught, his chest tightening as your words hit their mark. He opened his mouth to respond, but you weren’t done.

“You jumped in front of a bullet for me, Aaron,” you continued, your voice breaking slightly. “And you expect me to believe you’d do that for anyone else? That I’m just another member of the team? I’m not stupid. I know what this is—what we are. But I can’t keep pretending it’s nothing.”

He stepped closer, his hand twitching at his side, but he didn’t reach for you. “You think I don’t know that?” he asked, his voice low and rough. “You think I don’t feel it every time I look at you, every time I hear Jack ask about you when you’re not there? You think I don’t know how much it means to me that you’re part of my life?”

“Then we have to stop running from it!” you exclaimed, your voice cracking as your arms fell to your sides. “Stop pretending it’s safer to ignore it, because it’s not. It’s killing me, Aaron. I’m so in love with you, it hurts. And it’s killing me to keep living like this, to keep pretending we don’t already know the truth.”

The words hung in the air, raw and unfiltered, leaving him breathless. He felt like the ground had been ripped out from under him, like the armor he’d spent years perfecting had finally crumbled to dust. He didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to make sense of the storm inside him.

You shook your head, stepping back slightly, though your eyes never left his. “I need you to decide,” you said softly, but the steel in your voice was unmistakable. “Because I can’t keep doing this—loving you like this—if you’re not willing to let yourself love me back.”

Hotch’s throat felt tight, the weight of your ultimatum pressing down on him like a physical force. But as he looked at you, at the pain and determination in your eyes, something inside him shifted. He couldn’t lose you. Not like this.

He stepped closer, his hand reaching for yours, his grip firm but gentle. “You’re right,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper but filled with conviction. “I’ve been running. I’ve been terrified. But I can’t lose you—not like this. Not ever.”

Your breath hitched, your eyes searching his, and for a moment, the room was silent, the tension between you finally giving way to something else. Something undeniable.

“I love you,” he said, the words raw and unpolished, but no less true. “I don’t know how to do this, but I want to try. With you.”

Tears welled in your eyes, but you didn’t look away. “Then stop pretending I’m anything less than yours.”

“I won’t,” he promised, his voice steady now. “Not anymore.”

The air between you shifted, the weight of everything unsaid finally lifting as you stepped into him, your arms wrapping around him as his enveloped you. It wasn’t a resolution, not entirely, but it was a beginning. A chance to stop running, to stop pretending, and to finally face the truth you’d both been avoiding for far too long.

The embrace lingered, grounding them both in a moment of quiet resolution. Hotch could feel your heartbeat against his chest, the tension in your body slowly melting away as his arms tightened around you. For once, the silence between you wasn’t filled with unsaid words or guarded emotions. It was calm. Real.

But the calm couldn’t last forever.

As you stepped back slightly, your hands still resting on his chest, Hotch caught the faintest hint of a smirk on your lips. It was subtle, but he recognized it immediately—the way your mouth twitched just before you said something that would almost certainly drive him up a wall.

“You know we just gave the entire team front-row seats to our meltdown, right?” you said, tilting your head as you looked up at him. “They’re probably out there placing bets on how long it’ll take us to come out of this office.”

Hotch sighed, the corner of his mouth twitching as he fought the urge to smile. “I’d imagine Rossi’s leading the pool.”

“Of course he is,” you replied, stepping back fully now, though the warmth in your voice remained. “He’s been waiting for this for years. Probably thinks he’s some kind of love oracle.”

Hotch allowed himself a quiet chuckle, shaking his head as he rubbed the back of his neck. “We’ll have to face them eventually,” he admitted, his tone resigned but not without a trace of humor. “It’s not like they’ll forget about it by morning.”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms as you leaned back against the edge of his desk. “Oh, they won’t. They’ve been watching us like hawks for years. I wouldn’t be surprised if Morgan starts calling us ‘Mom and Dad’ the second we walk out of here.”

Hotch froze for a moment, his brow furrowing slightly. “What do you mean, ‘Mom and Dad’?”

Your grin widened, and you shrugged nonchalantly. “You didn’t know? The team’s been referring to us as Mom and Dad behind our backs for ages.”

He blinked, his lips parting slightly as he tried to process your words. “They… what?”

“Oh, come on, Aaron,” you said, your tone teasing now. “You’ve seen how they act around us. Morgan and Reid bicker like siblings, and JJ’s always trying to keep the peace. They’ve practically assigned us roles in their little BAU family.”

Hotch sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he shook his head. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it?” you asked, your voice laced with amusement. “Because it makes a lot of sense when you think about it. I mean, you are kind of a dad to everyone, and I—” You stopped abruptly, the teasing edge in your voice faltering for just a moment before you continued. “Well, I guess I’m just always around.”

Hotch looked at you then, his gaze softening. “You’re not just always around,” he said quietly, his voice steady. “You’re part of this team. You’re part of my life. And, apparently, the team’s ‘mom,’ whether we like it or not.”

The warmth in his voice made you smile, and for a moment, the tension from earlier felt like a distant memory. “Well,” you said, pushing off the desk and straightening your posture, “if we’re going to face them, we might as well lean into it.”

Hotch raised an eyebrow. “Lean into it?”

“Sure,” you replied, a mischievous glint in your eye. “Let them think they’ve been right all along. It’ll make their day.”

He sighed again, though the faint smile tugging at his lips betrayed his amusement. “You’re enjoying this far too much.”

“Maybe,” you said, moving toward the door. “But it’s not every day we give them this much to gossip about. Might as well embrace it.”

As you reached for the door handle, you turned back to him, your expression softening slightly. “You ready?”

Hotch straightened, his shoulders squaring as he stepped forward. “Not even a little.”

Your laugh was soft but genuine, and as you opened the door, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief. Whatever was waiting for the two of you on the other side, you’d face it together. And that, at least, was something he could hold onto.

The weeks that followed were, on the surface, remarkably unchanged. You and Hotch still worked side by side at the BAU, the same unspoken rhythm of partnership guiding your every move. Your routines remained intact—late nights at his apartment, dinners with Jack, quiet moments stolen away from the chaos of your jobs. But now, there was something new woven into the fabric of it all. Something quiet and steady: the acknowledgement of what you were to each other.

It started small. He would brush his fingers against yours when no one was looking, or you’d linger in his office just a little longer than necessary, your smiles softer, your words laced with warmth. And the words “I love you” slipped into your conversations as naturally as if they’d always been there.

One night, after a particularly grueling case, you both returned to his apartment, the comforting routine of shedding your workday as familiar as ever. Jack was already in bed, the soft glow of the living room lamp casting a warm light as you both settled in.

Hotch disappeared into his home office for a moment, returning with a folder in his hand. He handed it to you without a word, his expression unreadable.

You took it, raising an eyebrow as you opened it. “What’s this?” you asked, flipping through the pages.

“Employee relationship disclosure paperwork,” he said simply, his tone neutral but his lips twitching with the faintest hint of amusement.

Your head snapped up, your eyes narrowing as a slow smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. “Employee relationship paperwork?” you echoed, setting the folder on the coffee table. “What exactly are we calling this, Aaron?”

Hotch paused, clearly caught off guard by your question. “What do you mean?” he asked carefully.

You leaned back, crossing your arms as you looked at him with mock seriousness. “I mean, if we’re filling out forms, that means we’re officially labeling this, right? So, what are we? Is this… a relationship?”

His brow furrowed slightly, as though the question confused him. “Of course it’s a relationship,” he said, his voice steady. “It has been for a long time.”

You tilted your head, your lips quirking into a teasing smile. “Oh, really? Because last I checked, we’ve been playing house without acknowledging anything for years. So what’s the label, Hotchner? Are we ‘dating’? Am I your ‘girlfriend’?” You said the words with a playful lilt, but there was a genuine curiosity beneath your teasing tone.

Hotch hesitated, his jaw tightening as he considered your question. “I don’t think ‘girlfriend’ really fits,” he said finally, his tone thoughtful. “It feels… juvenile.”

You couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled out of you. “Juvenile? Aaron, you sound like you’re 100 years old. What would you prefer? ‘Lady friend’? ‘Companion’?”

He shot you a pointed look, though the warmth in his eyes undercut his irritation. “I’m serious.”

“So am I,” you replied, still smiling. “If ‘girlfriend’ doesn’t fit, what does? You could’ve at least asked me to go steady or something.”

That earned you a quiet laugh, and Hotch shook his head as he sat beside you on the couch. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re old-fashioned,” you shot back, nudging his shoulder with yours. “But seriously, what is this? What are we calling it?”

Hotch turned to face you fully, his expression softening. “We don’t need a label,” he said after a moment. “But if you want one… yes, you’re my girlfriend. My partner. Whatever word you want to use.”

Your smile widened, your teasing demeanor giving way to something warmer. “Your girlfriend, huh? Never thought I’d hear you say that.”

He smirked, leaning back against the couch. “You make me say a lot of things I never thought I’d say.”

You reached for his hand, lacing your fingers through his. “I like the sound of it,” you said softly. “But you know, if this is going to be official, you’re going to have to deal with the team making fun of us.”

“I’ve dealt with worse,” he replied, his voice steady but tinged with amusement.

Hotch felt the faintest tug of a smile on his lips as your fingers threaded through his. The warmth of your touch steadied him in a way few things ever could. He tilted his head slightly, his gaze resting on you with that quiet intensity he so often wore, but this time there was a softness beneath it.

“You’re going to have to deal with it too,” he added, his voice quieter now, almost teasing. “You think Morgan’s not going to have a field day the second he hears about this?”

You chuckled, leaning back against the couch and letting your head rest on his shoulder. “Morgan’s going to call me ‘Mom’ for the rest of my career,” you said with a grin. “And don’t even get me started on Rossi. He’s probably already planning the toast for our wedding.”

Hotch groaned softly, though there was no real frustration in the sound. “Rossi thinks he knows everything,” he muttered.

“Well,” you teased, “he was right about this.”

He didn’t respond right away, his gaze drifting down to your intertwined hands. He knew the rest of the team would have plenty to say, but for once, he didn’t feel the usual tension that accompanied such thoughts. Instead, there was a quiet acceptance, a sense of inevitability that, despite his usual resistance to change, felt strangely comforting.

Your voice broke through his thoughts. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever actually said it out loud.”

“Said what?” he asked, tilting his head slightly to look at you.

“That you’re my boyfriend,” you said, the word tumbling out casually, but the way your lips curled into a playful smile told him you were testing it, savoring the way it sounded.

Hotch blinked, his brows lifting slightly. “Your boyfriend,” he repeated, the word feeling foreign but oddly fitting on his tongue.

“Yes,” you said, your tone mockingly serious now. “You know, boyfriend. Partner. Significant other. Lover—”

“Stop,” he interrupted, though the faintest hint of color crept into his cheeks as he shook his head. “I get it.”

You grinned up at him, clearly pleased with his reaction. “I think it suits you.”

“I feel ridiculous,” he admitted, though there was no heat in his words.

“Ridiculously lucky,” you corrected with a smirk.

Hotch sighed, though his lips twitched upward in a reluctant smile. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you love it,” you shot back, your tone light but laced with something deeper, something unspoken that now didn’t need to be.

He leaned back against the couch, letting out a quiet hum of agreement. “Maybe I do.”

“See? You’re getting the hang of this already, boyfriend,” you said, your grin widening.

He shook his head, chuckling softly as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “You’re going to drive me crazy.”

“Good,” you replied, settling into his side. “That’s half the fun.”

Hotch’s lips twitched as he let your words settle, your playful tone doing little to mask the deeper warmth behind them. He tilted his head, watching the way you fit so effortlessly into his side, your teasing smile lighting up a part of him he rarely let anyone see.

“‘Boyfriend,’” he repeated softly, tasting the word again like it was foreign but not unwelcome. “I think I still prefer something more… permanent.”

You lifted your head slightly, your brow arching in curiosity. “Oh?” you asked, your tone laced with amusement. “What would that be? Partner? Spouse? Or—” You grinned, the mischief returning to your expression. “Are you saying you’re more interested in ‘husband’?”

Hotch didn’t flinch, though the faintest flicker of color touched his cheeks. He met your gaze, his expression steady, though his lips quirked in a faint smirk. “If we’re being honest,” he said, his voice calm and deliberate, “that does sound like it fits better.”

Your jaw dropped slightly, your mock surprise more playful than genuine. “Aaron Hotchner, did you just casually suggest skipping the whole dating phase and jumping right into wedded bliss?”

He shrugged, leaning back against the couch with an air of calm that was entirely deliberate. “Considering we’ve been acting like we’re married for years already, it doesn’t seem like that big of a leap.”

You laughed, the sound bright and genuine as you swatted his chest lightly. “You are ridiculous. You’re not even my fiancé, and you’re already talking about being my husband.”

“Like I said,” he replied, his voice soft but steady, “I prefer more permanent labels.”

Your grin softened, your eyes searching his as the teasing edge in your tone gave way to something quieter, more reflective. “You’re serious, aren’t you?” you asked, the question almost tentative.

Hotch nodded slightly, his gaze unwavering. “I don’t take things lightly,” he said simply. “Not with you. I never have.”

For a moment, the air between you was heavy again, but not with tension. It was filled with the weight of everything you’d both been building for years, every unspoken truth and every quiet moment of connection that had brought you here.

You smiled, leaning into him again, your voice soft but teasing as you murmured, “Well, if that’s the case, boyfriend, you’re going to have to start calling me ‘your wife’ in front of the team.”

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “One step at a time,” he said, though the warmth in his tone left little doubt about where his mind had already wandered.

Life fell back into its natural rhythm after you and Hotch filed the paperwork. The team made their comments, as expected—Morgan’s teasing was relentless, and Rossi’s smug satisfaction was borderline insufferable. But beyond the ribbing, nothing really changed in the day-to-day. You and Hotch continued your routines, slipping seamlessly between work and home as if the acknowledgment of your relationship had always been there.

Except now, there was an ease to it. A clarity.

The shift became apparent not in how you treated each other, but in how the rest of the world seemed to see you. It started small—another parent at Jack’s school, someone Hotch didn’t recognize but who greeted you both warmly at pickup one afternoon.

“Oh, you must be Jack’s mom,” she said, smiling at you before turning to Hotch. “He’s such a sweet boy. It’s clear he gets it from you two.”

You both had opened his mouth to correct her out of habit, but then he stopped you. What was the point? It felt right. Natural. So he’d smiled politely and said, “Thank you.”

Later, as you walked back to the car with Jack skipping ahead, you nudged him lightly. “Jack’s mom, huh?” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

“You didn’t correct her either,” he countered, his lips twitching with amusement.

You shrugged, your smile soft. “Didn’t feel like I needed to.”

It was one of those rare sunny Saturday mornings when Hotch found himself not at the office but at the local community park with you and Jack. The three of you had fallen into an easy rhythm—Jack running ahead to the swings while you and Hotch strolled behind, coffee cups in hand.

As usual, you and Jack had dragged him into this outing, insisting he needed a break. He wouldn’t admit it aloud, but watching Jack’s laughter echo through the park and seeing the soft smile on your face made him realize how much he needed mornings like this.

While Jack climbed the jungle gym, you leaned against the railing near the benches, brushing a stray hair from your face as the breeze picked up. Hotch stood beside you, close enough that your arm brushed his when you reached for your coffee.

A voice interrupted the moment. “Aaron Hotchner, is that you?”

Hotch turned to see a woman he vaguely recognized approaching, her face lighting up as she drew closer. It took him a moment to place her—one of Haley’s old acquaintances from a distant social circle.

“It is you,” she said warmly, stopping in front of you both. “Wow, it’s been years. How are you?”

“I’m doing well,” Hotch said politely, offering a small smile. “It’s good to see you, Claire.”

Her eyes flicked to you, curiosity plain on her face. “And this must be…?”

“My wife,” Hotch said without hesitation, the words slipping out so naturally that he didn’t even think to correct himself.

You blinked, your lips twitching with amusement as you extended a hand to her. “Hi,” you said, your tone friendly but neutral. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Claire’s smile widened as she shook your hand. “It’s so nice to meet you too. And Jack! Oh, he’s grown so much,” she added, waving at him as he climbed the monkey bars.

Hotch nodded, his gaze following Jack for a moment before settling back on Claire. They exchanged a few pleasantries—updates about mutual acquaintances and polite questions about work—before she finally excused herself, leaving you and Hotch alone again.

“You told a lie,” you said after a moment, your tone casual but laced with quiet amusement.

Hotch turned to you, his brow furrowing slightly. “About?”

You raised an eyebrow, your lips curving into a faint smirk. “About me being your wife.”

He paused, the realization settling over him, and then shrugged, his expression unbothered. “Didn’t feel like I needed to call you anything different.”

“Really?” you asked, your smile widening. “Is this what we’re calling it now?”

Hotch glanced at you, his dark eyes steady but soft. “It’s what it feels like,” he said simply. “It’s what we are.”

Your breath hitched slightly, and for a moment, you said nothing, your gaze searching his. Then you let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. “Well, I guess I should get used to it, huh?”

“You’re not opposed, are you?” he asked, his voice low but tinged with amusement.

“Not in the slightest,” you replied, taking a sip of your coffee before looking up at him with a grin. “But if you keep calling me your wife in public, you’re going to have to follow through at some point.”

Hotch chuckled quietly, his lips twitching with a faint smile. “Noted.”

Jack’s shout from the swings broke the moment, and you both turned to watch him wave enthusiastically for your attention. Hotch gave a small wave back, his hand brushing against yours as he lowered it.

And just like that, the conversation shifted back to the simplicity of the morning, but the weight of what had been said lingered in the air. Neither of you felt the need to correct it. After all, it was the truth—whether there was paperwork to prove it or not.

The next instance came at work, during a meeting with another department. A young agent had introduced herself and, glancing between you and Hotch, asked, “So, you and your wife—do you find it hard balancing work and home life at the BAU?”

He didn’t miss the way your eyes flicked to him, your expression unreadable. But he also didn’t hesitate. “It’s a challenge,” he said smoothly, his tone professional but warm. “But we make it work.”

After the meeting, you leaned against the edge of his desk, your arms crossed as you smirked at him. “Wife, huh?”

“Again, would you prefer I said ‘girlfriend’?” he asked dryly, hating the juvenile label, though the corner of his mouth quirked upward.

“Not at all,” you said, tilting your head thoughtfully. “But you do realize you’ve been calling me that a lot lately.”

He shrugged, his gaze steady. “Feels accurate.”

Your smile softened, and you reached out to brush your fingers against his. “Feels accurate to me too.”

It wasn’t until one afternoon in the bullpen that the team finally confronted you both. Emily leaned against Morgan’s desk, her arms crossed as she watched you and Hotch exit his office together. She raised an eyebrow as the two of you exchanged a look and parted ways—Hotch heading toward the coffee station and you to speak with JJ.

“Alright,” Emily said, her tone laced with curiosity as she approached Hotch. “Are you and Y/N married? And don’t try to brush this off—I’ve heard you call her your wife at least three times this week.”

Hotch turned, his brow furrowing slightly. “No, we’re not married,” he said, his tone even.

Emily’s eyes narrowed, skeptical. “Then why do you call her your wife?”

He hesitated for only a moment before answering. “Because it feels more honest than calling her my girlfriend. That doesn’t seem to cover what we are.”

Emily blinked, clearly taken aback by the straightforwardness of his response. “Okay, fair point,” she said slowly. “But what’s stopping you from actually getting married?”

Hotch opened his mouth to respond, but the words didn’t come. What was stopping them? He knew it wasn’t fear or hesitation—it hadn’t been for a long time. And the thought of marrying you didn’t fill him with apprehension; it filled him with the same sense of certainty he felt when he called you his wife without a second thought.

“I—” he started, but before he could finish, you appeared at his side, holding a file.

“What’s this about?” you asked, glancing between them.

Emily grinned, her eyes flicking between the two of you. “Just asking your husband here why you two aren’t actually married yet.”

You raised an eyebrow, clearly amused, before turning to Hotch. “Well?” you asked, your voice teasing but your expression curious.

Hotch met your gaze, and for a moment, the world seemed to quiet around him. “That’s a good question,” he said, his voice steady. “What do you think?”

Your smile widened, your eyes softening as you leaned just slightly closer. “I don’t think either of us have a good reason not to,” you said, your tone light but meaningful.

Emily rolled her eyes but grinned. “Well, when it happens, let us know. Rossi’s already planning your wedding toast.”

As Emily walked away, you and Hotch exchanged a glance, your smiles matching. And for the first time, the idea of making it official didn’t feel like a question of if, but when.

The idea had been with him for weeks, lingering in the back of his mind as he watched you move through your life together. It wasn’t a sudden realization or a dramatic epiphany. It was quiet, steady, and inevitable, much like the way you’d become the most important person in his life. He didn’t need to overthink it because he already knew the answer. You were his partner in every way that mattered, and it was time to make that official.

But Hotch being Hotch, he planned every detail. Not something grand or ostentatious—that wasn’t either of you. Instead, he wanted it to be personal, grounded in the quiet, meaningful moments that had always defined your relationship.

It was a Friday evening, the end of a particularly grueling week at the BAU. You and Hotch had fallen into your routine, picking up Jack from soccer practice and grabbing takeout on the way home. The three of you sat around the dining table, laughing as Jack recounted a story about his coach’s dramatic attempt to demonstrate a bicycle kick. Hotch caught your eye during the meal, the warmth in your gaze settling something deep within him.

After Jack went to bed, you lingered in the living room, curled up on the couch with a blanket draped over your legs. Hotch joined you, sitting close enough that his knee brushed against yours. The room was quiet now, the only sound the faint hum of the dishwasher in the kitchen.

“You look tired,” you said softly, your hand reaching out to rest on his knee.

He smiled faintly, his hand covering yours. “Long week.”

“You don’t have to tell me that twice,” you replied, your lips curving into a small grin. “But at least we survived it.”

“We always do,” he said, his voice steady, though there was a weight to his words that caught your attention.

You tilted your head, your brows furrowing slightly. “What’s on your mind, Aaron?”

He hesitated for a moment, the weight of the moment pressing on him. But then he reached into his pocket, his movements deliberate but calm, and pulled out a small box. Your eyes widened slightly, and you sat up straighter, your hand still resting on his knee.

“I’ve been thinking about this for a while,” he began, his voice low but steady. “About us. About what we’ve built together. It’s not just a routine or a habit. It’s a life. And it’s a life I want to share with you—not just in words or assumptions, but in every way that matters.”

You stared at him, your lips parted slightly, but you didn’t interrupt. He opened the box, revealing a simple, elegant ring. It wasn’t flashy, but it was perfect, understated in the way he knew you’d appreciate.

“I’ve called you my wife more times than I can count,” he said, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Because that’s what you are to me. It’s what you’ve been for a long time. And now, I want to make it real.”

His dark eyes met yours, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Aaron Hotchner let every wall fall away. “Will you marry me?”

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward or tense. It was full of the gravity of the moment, the quiet weight of a decision that neither of you had to think twice about.

Your lips curved into a smile, your eyes soft as they brimmed with unshed tears. “Of course I will,” you said, your voice steady but full of emotion. “Yes, Aaron. Yes.”

Relief and joy washed over him, a rare, unguarded smile breaking across his face as he slipped the ring onto your finger. You leaned forward, wrapping your arms around his neck, and he pulled you close, his own arms circling your waist.

It wasn’t flashy or elaborate. It was simple, quiet, and utterly perfect. Just like the life you’d built together.

Aaron Hotchner had never been a man who dreamed of grand gestures. His life had taught him the value of simplicity, of finding solace in the quiet moments that others often overlooked. And as he sat with you on the couch that night, your hand resting in his, the weight of the ring now on your finger, he realized that this was everything he’d ever wanted. No fanfare, no spectacle—just you, him, and the life you’d built together.

The days that followed felt much the same, yet somehow entirely different. There was a new ease between you, a sense of certainty that replaced the unspoken tension that had once lingered. At work, the teasing from the team was relentless but good-natured. 

But it was at home, in the moments away from the chaos of the BAU, that the shift was most palpable. You’d catch Hotch watching you with a quiet intensity as you helped Jack with his homework or laughed over a shared joke at dinner. And when you teased him about it, his response was always the same—a faint smile and a simple, heartfelt, “I’m just happy.”

One evening, as you sat curled up on the couch together, Jack asleep in his room, you glanced down at the ring on your finger and then back up at him. “So, husband,” you said, the word rolling off your tongue with a mix of playfulness and warmth, “how long do you think it’ll take before Rossi starts making bets on when the wedding will be?”

Hotch chuckled softly, his hand brushing against yours. “If he hasn’t already, I’d be surprised.”

You grinned, leaning into him, your head resting against his shoulder. “Do you ever think about how far we’ve come? How all of this just… fell into place?”

He turned slightly, his arm wrapping around you as he pressed a kiss to your temple. “It didn’t just fall into place,” he said quietly. “We built it—one step at a time. And I wouldn’t change a single moment of it.”

You looked up at him, your eyes soft but filled with that familiar spark of mischief. “Not even the part where the team found out and started calling us ‘Mom and Dad’?”

He smirked, his hand trailing absently along your arm. “Not even that.”

The two of you sat there in the quiet, the glow of the lamp casting a warm light over the room. It was a life neither of you had expected, but one you’d fought for in your own way. And as Hotch held you close, the future felt less like an unknown and more like a promise—a life you’d continue to build together, one quiet, meaningful moment at a time.

Tag List:

@zaddyhotch

@estragos

@todorokishoe24

@looking1016

@khxna

@rousethemouse

@averyhotchner

@reidfile

@bernelflo

@lover-of-books-and-tea

@frickin-bats

@sleepysongbirdsings

@justyourusualash

[kleopatra45]

Ascendant in the D9 Chart

The Navamsa chart, also known as the D9 chart, is a vital tool in Vedic astrology that delves into the deeper layers of your soul, your spiritual path, and especially your marriage and partnerships. The Ascendant (Lagna) in the Navamsa chart is crucial in understanding how you evolve over time, particularly in the context of your relationships. It reflects the qualities you develop in your marriage and how your personality matures.

Aries

With Aries as your Navamsa Ascendant, you approach marriage and long-term relationships with a sense of vigor and initiative. Aries brings a pioneering spirit, making you eager to lead and take charge within your partnership. You may have a dynamic, assertive approach to resolving issues, and you value independence within the marriage. The relationship is likely to be filled with excitement and action, as you prefer to keep things moving forward. Personal growth for you comes through developing courage, assertiveness, and learning to balance your own needs with those of your partner.

Taurus

A Taurus Navamsa Ascendant indicates that stability and sensuality are paramount in your marriage. You seek a relationship that provides comfort, security, and a sense of permanence. Taurus brings a nurturing, patient, and grounded energy, making you someone who values consistency and loyalty in your partner. You might express love through material support, affection, and creating a beautiful, harmonious home environment. This placement suggests a marriage that is likely to be steady and enduring, with both partners investing in the long-term well-being of the relationship. Personal growth comes through cultivating patience, resilience, and an appreciation for the finer things in life.

Gemini

With Gemini as your Navamsa Ascendant, communication is the cornerstone of your marriage. You crave intellectual stimulation and enjoy a relationship where ideas, thoughts, and conversations flow freely. Gemini brings a versatile and adaptable energy, making you open to changes and eager to explore different facets of your partnership. You’re likely to seek a partner who is curious, communicative, and capable of engaging you on a mental level. This placement can bring a lively, playful, and sometimes dual nature to the marriage, where both partners enjoy learning from each other. Growth in your relationship comes through embracing adaptability, effective communication, and maintaining a sense of curiosity.

Cancer

A Cancer Navamsa Ascendant suggests that emotional depth and nurturing are at the heart of your marriage. You seek a strong emotional connection with your partner, often playing a protective and caring role in the relationship. Cancer’s energy is deeply intuitive and compassionate, making you sensitive to your partner’s needs and feelings. You’re likely to create a home environment that is warm, secure, and filled with love. This placement often leads to a marriage where family and home life are central, with a focus on mutual support and emotional bonding. Personal growth comes through developing empathy, emotional resilience, and a deep sense of belonging within the relationship.

Leo

With Leo as your Navamsa Ascendant, you bring a sense of pride, passion, and generosity into your marriage. You seek a relationship where you can express your creativity, love, and leadership qualities. Leo’s energy is warm, enthusiastic, and often grand, making you someone who desires recognition and respect from your partner. You may take on a protective or guiding role in the relationship, ensuring that both you and your partner shine together. This placement suggests a marriage filled with love, loyalty, and shared joy, where both partners support each other’s growth and self-expression. Personal development comes through embracing your leadership qualities, cultivating generosity, and finding ways to share the spotlight in your relationship.

Virgo

A Virgo Navamsa Ascendant indicates that you approach marriage with a strong sense of duty, practicality, and a desire for improvement. You value order, cleanliness, and efficiency in your relationship, and you’re likely to be focused on making things better for both you and your partner. Virgo’s energy is analytical and service-oriented, making you attentive to the details of your marriage and keen on creating a harmonious and functional partnership. You may be drawn to a partner who shares your work ethic and desire for self-improvement. Personal growth in your marriage comes through learning to balance criticism with compassion, embracing imperfection, and finding joy in the little things.

Libra

With Libra as your Navamsa Ascendant, balance, harmony, and partnership are central to your marriage. You seek a relationship that is fair, equal, and filled with mutual respect and understanding. Libra’s energy is diplomatic, charming, and relationship-focused, making you someone who values cooperation and strives to maintain peace within the marriage. You’re likely to be a considerate partner who enjoys the social aspects of marriage, such as spending time together and engaging in shared activities. This placement suggests a marriage where both partners are invested in each other’s well-being and are willing to make compromises for the sake of harmony. Personal growth comes through cultivating balance, developing strong communication skills, and nurturing the bond of partnership.

Scorpio

A Scorpio Navamsa Ascendant indicates that your marriage is likely to be intense, transformative, and deeply emotional. You approach relationships with a sense of passion and a desire for profound connection. Scorpio’s energy is powerful, mysterious, and often driven by a need for emotional depth and intimacy. You may experience significant transformations within your marriage, where challenges lead to growth and a deeper understanding of each other. This placement suggests a relationship that is not afraid to confront difficult issues, with both partners evolving together through shared experiences. Personal growth comes through embracing vulnerability, developing trust, and navigating the complexities of emotional intimacy.

Sagittarius

With Sagittarius as your Navamsa Ascendant, you bring a sense of adventure, optimism, and exploration into your marriage. You seek a relationship that allows for personal growth, freedom, and shared experiences. Sagittarius’s energy is expansive, enthusiastic, and philosophical, making you someone who values intellectual and spiritual connection with your partner. You’re likely to be drawn to a relationship that encourages exploration, whether through travel, learning, or new experiences. This placement suggests a marriage where both partners inspire each other to grow and explore new horizons. Personal development comes through embracing optimism, fostering mutual growth, and maintaining a sense of adventure in the relationship.

Capricorn

A Capricorn Navamsa Ascendant indicates that you approach marriage with a sense of responsibility, discipline, and a long-term perspective. You value stability, structure, and commitment in your relationship, and you’re likely to be focused on building a secure and enduring partnership. Capricorn’s energy is ambitious, practical, and determined, making you someone who is willing to work hard to ensure the success of your marriage. You may be drawn to a partner who shares your goals and values, and who is equally committed to building a solid foundation together. Personal growth in your marriage comes through developing patience, embracing responsibility, and striving for mutual achievements.

Aquarius

With Aquarius as your Navamsa Ascendant, you bring a sense of uniqueness, intellectual connection, and humanitarian values into your marriage. You seek a relationship that is progressive, free-spirited, and built on a strong mental connection. Aquarius’s energy is innovative, unconventional, and often focused on the collective good, making you someone who values individuality and freedom within the partnership. You’re likely to be drawn to a partner who shares your ideals and is open to unconventional approaches to marriage. This placement suggests a relationship where both partners support each other’s independence and contribute to a shared vision. Personal growth comes through embracing innovation, fostering intellectual connection, and supporting each other’s individuality.

Pisces

A Pisces Navamsa Ascendant indicates that your marriage is likely to be compassionate, spiritual, and deeply intuitive. You approach relationships with a sense of empathy, sensitivity, and a desire for emotional and spiritual connection. Pisces’s energy is dreamy, creative, and often focused on the emotional and spiritual dimensions of life, making you someone who values emotional depth and soul connection in your marriage. You may be drawn to a partner who understands and shares your spiritual or creative inclinations. This placement suggests a marriage where both partners seek to transcend the ordinary and connect on a deeper, more spiritual level. Personal growth comes through embracing compassion, developing spiritual awareness, and nurturing the emotional bond within the relationship.

©️kleopatra45

[rosenclaws]

the trials of fate (red string AU) || Worst!Logan Howlett x Reader

summary: You and Logan were connected, soulmates. Destined to be together. Then he got sick and then he died and now you're alone and the string that connected you is gone. When Wade brings back a new Logan things get complicated and you want nothing to do with him.

warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, reader digs their nails into their face once, swearing, reader drinks a lot, no regard for the fox timeline sorry!

wc: 4k

a/n: Okay my soulmate au is here!! I love Logan angst and I just couldn't help myself and I had to write this soon. My birthday is soon so I should still have that other fic up on my birthday? May be late sorry!! But either way I hope you enjoy this.

The Red String of Fate dates back to ancient Chinese mythology. The idea that people are connected by an invisible red cord. At the end of your cord is your true love, your soulmate. Destined to be together through space and time. The string and tangle, bend, stretch, but never break.

You know this to be true because you can see them.

Not everyone can, in fact it’s very very rare. One might think of it as a gift but to you it’s a curse. You found your soulmate, you had him. It took a while to find him but you did. Your string led you straight to Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters. To a man named Logan. You never tried to follow your string, allowing him to come into your life naturally. You felt the tug of your string the moment you walked through the doors.

You were a mutant yourself and though your powers weren’t meant for combat you were happy to come and teach. The cord pulled and pulled until you found yourself in front of the history classroom. You looked down. Your red string was tied around your wrist and your eyes followed till you reached the end. Around his pinky was the end of your string tied in a bow.

"Can I help you?" He had asked in a gruff tone.

The moment he looked up from his desk was the moment you knew it was real. Like they would write in books where you meet eyes and the whole world stops. He was tough, angry, loved to drink and yet he was everything you could have asked for. Love didn’t come easy to him and he made it clear. Still you wouldn’t give up, a thread may connect you but you fell in love with the man standing before you. He was a good man, whether or not he believed it. You always thought he was a good man.

He loved you, he loved you the best way that he could and you loved him. He made mistakes, a lot of them but he always came through in the end. Promising that he’d love you no matter what, that you two were truly meant for each other. That he would belong to you and you to him.

So through it all you were by his side. Charles seizures, El Paseo, Laura. Even as he was slowly dying he did everything for you, for Charles, for Laura Up until his last breath he spent it protecting those he loved.

When he died you felt that piece of you die with it. The legend claims that the strings don’t break but you saw it first hand. The color faded from your cord and it unraveled itself. Falling to the floor unceremoniously, like it was nothing. Like your love was nothing. Your heart ripped in two. You tried to stay strong for the children and though you offered to take them back they declined. You shared a heartfelt conversation with Laura and they were off.

You sat by his grave for who knows how long. Staring at the X shaped marker. The man below the ground was your everything and how he’s gone. Your wrist felt empty. You couldn’t stop rubbing the spot where the string once sat. You were lost, your whole family was gone. So you packed up what little you had, got into the beat up truck, and drove as far as you could. You drove and drove until you approached the familiar woods of Westchester New York.

The mansion was still there. The doors creaked open as you pushed through them. Immediately you were overwhelmed by memories of you and Logan in this place. You thought you were done with tears but somehow you keep crying. Maybe this was a mistake. Coming back to this place. It was painful to even look into his room. But this was all you had. So you sucked it up and slowly started to put the mansion back together. Eventually people found you again. Mutants who needed shelter from the world and you let them stay.

It wasn’t a school anymore but it was a place to sleep. Years passed and eventually you met Wade. God was he annoying. So fucking annoying and still he managed to weasel his way into your life. A friend. He would say stupid shit and make plenty of ill timed jokes but you found yourself growing to like the guy. Then he went quiet for a little bit, giving up the superhero life for something more mundane. Not that you could really blame him. You wish you had done that.

Selfish? Yes but if you had disappeared then maybe Logan would still be alive. The two of you could have had a peaceful life. Sometimes you dream of him. Of what a life would have been like. The dreams are nice. Then you wake up and you have tears streaming down your face. A phantom tug of your wrist that only reminds you again and again that he’s gone.

Then one day Wade calls. Cheerfully telling you he has a surprise for you and invited you over for dinner. So you accepted. When you walked through his door though, you didn’t expect his so-called surprise to be Logan. 

“You made it!” Wade hugged you but you remained limp. Eyes glued to the man standing by the window talking to Laura of all people. You shove Wade off of you and shut your eyes. Is this another dream? Maybe a nightmare.

“No no no no.” You mutter to yourself as you dig your nails into your face. When you open them he’s still there. Standing there with this stupid smile and stupid face and stupid hair.

“What the hell Wade!” You hiss as you drag the man to the kitchen.

“The cat distribution system chose me! I couldn’t leave him, he was too lonely.”

“God can you ever shut the fuck up!?” You want to strangle him so bad. How could he so casually bring you here. Did he think you’d jump for joy? That seeing the ghost of your dead husband would fix it all? No. It doesn’t.

“Don’t you see what this means? This is prime sequel material. Give you the Disney princess, I can say that legally now, ending you’ve always deserved.”

Every bone in your body tells you to punch him but you can’t bring yourself to. He meant the best, even if he had a really fucked up way of going about it.

“Just. Keep him away from me.” You push past Wade straight to the alcohol. Needing anything to keep your mind off the man on the other side of the room. The dinner drags on too slow, you barely eat your food as you keep hearing his voice. People are talking on either side of you but you can only hear his voice. God he sounded the same. You sneak a glance and he’s sitting, laughing with Laura.

Oh god she’s gotten so big. Would she hate you for leaving her? What happened? You kick yourself over and over, you should have protected her but you were caught up in your own grief. You thought she’d be okay on her own.

As dinner winds down you find yourself outside, the cold air feels good as you sip on your drink. How many beers have you had already? Eh, Who cares?

“Hi.” You flinch when you hear her voice. You turn around and see her. Tears well up in your eyes as you take her in. She’s grown up so much.

“Laura,” You brush a strand of hair out of her face.

“It’s good to see you again.” She says. You wrap your arms around her tightly.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry I left. I should have gone with you guys.” You let go and hold her by the shoulders.

“What happened?” She sighs and sits down on a nearby bench. You sit close as she starts to tell you the story. Growing up, the TVA, the void, and then how she met Logan and Wade. It sounded unbelievable but you couldn’t help but smile at points. She’s still the same badass girl she always was.

“I should have been there.” You say guilty. She shakes her head and rests her head on your shoulder.

“I got to live my life, find myself because of you. Because of him. I wouldn’t change anything.” She’s much younger than you but she seems to be the one with her life together. You’re happy for that. Wishing nothing but the best for her.

“Have you talked to him?” She asks. You don’t answer.

“He’s…different. Mean, angry, but he showed up. Helped save the world.” You listen to her talk.

She’s bonded to this Logan and you can’t fault her for that. They talked all night. But you can’t push aside everything that easily. So you stand up, give her one last hug, and tell her she can find you anytime. Your doors are always open to her. Without another word you walk away from Wade’s apartment and back to your own little world.

You thought that would be the end of it, you really hoped it would be. That you would never have to see him again. A part of you longed for it. To hold him. To feel him. But he’s not yours. Your wrist remains bare and while everyone else seems to be happy, you’re still stuck in the past. You avoided Wades calls and kept to yourself.

Choosing only to spend time with Laura when she asked. Usually it was lunch but sometimes it was just coming over to watch a movie. It was nice, you really did miss her. It was supposed to be lunch today but she was late.

Finally she knocks at the door and you get ready to tease her for being late. Instead when the door opens you see him. The words die out in your throat as you stand frozen.

“Can I come in?” He asks but you don’t really hear him. You get it, he’s standing here and he’s Logan. But it feels like you’re staring at a ghost. His voice doesn’t sound real. This doesn’t feel. Real. He places a hand on your shoulder, a worried look on his face. The moment his hand meets your shoulder you jump back. Hissing like it burns. He jerks his hand back.

“What the fuck?” You rub your shoulder and finally find the words to say anything.

“What are you doing here?”

“Laura can’t make it, she sent me over here to tell you.” He says flatly. He’s lying. Looks like he’s got the same tell. You scoff and narrow your eyes.

“She has my number, she could have called me.” Logan shifts on his feet. Clenching his jaw slightly as he sighs.

“Fine. I wanted to come. I needed to see you.” He confesses.

“Look I don’t know who I was in your universe but I’m not them so I think you should go.” You try to close the door but he pushes it back with ease. He walks into your apartment, slamming the door behind you.

“What the fuck Logan.” You huff as he steps closer to you.

“I’m sorry okay but I saw you at Wade’s and you didn’t even spare me a look all night.”

“Sorry that I wasn’t jumping into the fucking arms of a man who looks like my dead husband.” You spit harshly.

"Oh and seeing my dead soulmate is easy for me?” He spits back. His eyes flashing with anger for a second before he tries to calm himself down. Which isn’t easy but this is important.

You soak in what he said. So you were soulmates in his universe too. And you were dead. Maybe you have more in common than you thought. He takes a deep breath and starts again. There’s more vulnerability to him this time. It’s peeking through his tough exterior as he tries to explain it all.

“I know that, we’re not the same people and I would have left you alone if it wasn’t for…” He looks down at his thumb and rubs it along his other fingers.

“What?” You don’t understand what he’s talking about. Logan looks up, confusion on his face.

“Logan what are you-” You cut off as the realization sets in. No. No. No. NO. You look down at your own hands and see nothing. You shut your eyes tight as you clench your fists.

“Sweetheart..” “No! Don’t call me that.” You shove his chest harshly.

He’s not your soulmate. He is not your Logan. This is a cruel cruel fucking world apparently. As if you haven’t lost enough in your life now it’s taunting you with. With this.

“There’s nothing.”

“You couldn’t see it in my world either.” Logan tries to talk but you glare at him.

“Well I can in this world and I’m telling you there’s nothing!” You yell.

The feelings you’ve pressed down and down were bubbling to the surface. God you hated it, the heartbreak, the pain, the grief. You couldn’t even stand to look at him right now. He’s a reminder of everything you’ve lost. It could never be the same.

“Get out.” Your voice starts at a low growl but Logan hears it loud and clear.

“If you would just-”

“No. I mourned you. I watched you die and I watched our connection, our cord fall off like it was nothing. I can’t do this. So just Get. Out!” You scream.

An uncomfortable silence settles and Logan relents. He has so much he wants to say to you but you it's not the time. So he leaves. You wait for a second after the door clicks closed before you let it all out. Sobs wracking your body as it feels like you’re reliving that terrible day.

Logan stands on the other side of your door. Hearing every whimper and cry. It breaks his heart. He could break down this damn door and scoop you up in his arms. Hold you close. You’re his soulmate, the love of his life. But he just can’t. Time, that’s what you need. So even though it pains him, he walks away. He won’t give up on you though, he swears. 

-

Life after your little conversation with Logan fucking sucked. You stopped talking to Wade, to Laura. Kept to yourself in your apartment all day. All night. You ignored the calls, the knocks at the door. You just stopped everything. Drinking away the pain until it lulls you to sleep. The only peace you get. Even then the nightmares don’t stop. Every moment of your life is torture.

The worst part was that sometimes, you swear you feel it. That tug. That sign that there’s someone on the other end. But the man for you was 6ft under. You wonder if it was really there. If this Logan wasn’t lying. Even if he could see it, that didn’t mean you wanted it. How could you? Would this Logan die just like yours? Would you have to watch his slow painful death again? You couldn’t, you just couldn’t.

Eventually it all became too much. Like just being in the same city was too close. You needed to get far away. As far as you fucking could. Away from everyone who knew you as you are now. You pack your clothes, leave a note for Laura and get into your car and drive. It all feels too similar. Driving away until you couldn’t anymore. Ignoring the tugs on your thumb. Telling yourself that it wasn’t real. That your brain was tricking you.

Finding some cheap motel deep in some random town. This could be good. You’re far from anyone who knew you, knew Logan. It was good. The bed creaked and there were roaches in the bathroom but still. This is for the best. 

-

Logan knew something was up the moment you had left. He could just feel it. He watched the string get tight and tighter, stretching beyond its limits. Still it didn’t break. He barged into your house and found you gone. He swore and nearly took Wade's head off when he opened his mouth. He didn’t waste any time. Stealing Wade's car without a second thought. He didn’t know where you went but he just drove. All he knew is that he lost you once. Somehow the universe decided he would get another chance and he was not losing you again. 

He followed his gut as he drove through different states and towns. None of them felt like the right place. The cord on his thumb tugged and tugged. Like it was guiding him right to you. Finally he rolled into some old town in the middle of fucking nowhere. There was nothing in this town. A store, a gas station, and a bar.

Guess that’s all people really need around here. Still something inside of him tells him to stop. He pulls up to the dusty bar lot. Feet heavy as he stomps through the doors. His eyes scan the patrons and he realizes why he came here. There you were, sitting at the bar alone. You looked tired, exhausted really. But you looked like the empty shell of who he knew. He can’t stop himself as he walks over to you. What does he even say? I tracked you for days and now I’m here. No, that's not right. You don’t even notice he’s there. Too wrapped up in your head. So he sits and orders a drink. Still mulling over what to say he decides on something short. Just one word.

“Hey.”  You shoot up in the seat. Eyes wide as you look over to see him. What the actual fuck.

“You left.” He says like he’s confused on why you did. Was it not obvious? You stare at him in disbelief.

“Fuck this.” You mumble to yourself.

You throw down some money and slip off the seat. If you were lucky this was just a really bad dream or hallucination. If you weren’t lucky, which you never were, then he tracked you down and somehow fucking found you.

“Wait.” Logan pays for the drink he didn’t even touch and follows you out.

“Go the fuck home!” You yell as you hurry towards the motel. He’s hot on your tail, not letting you out of his sight.

“No, we need to talk.” He follows you all the way to your motel room. You open the door and try to slam it closed but he’s too quick. 

“Running isn’t gonna fucking help. Trust me.”

“Oh give me a fucking break. Of all the people to preach that to me it’s not going to be you.” You hiss as you try to push him out.

He’s like a fucking wall as he stands in the way. You hit his chest over and over but he won’t budge. He grabs your wrist and pushes you into the room. Pushing you against the door.  Stopping you from going anywhere.

“Get the fuck off me!”

“No, just listen to me for fucks sake.” He growls. You let out a frustrated scream and finally relented. 

“I lost you, in my world I lost you and I was never the same. I know how you feel, I really do. Fuck I held your cold, lifeless body. You say you watched your cord break well. I basically snapped the cord myself. Walking away, letting you die.” His head drops as he seems to relive it all over again. His grip on your wrists loosen, your arms sliding down to your sides.

“Then I show up here and I wake up and this is here.”: He lets go of one of your wrists to show you his hand. His thumb is still bare to you but he sees it. It’s connected right to yours.

“I’m not the same man, I’ve done some terrible things and I regret them every day but it made me the man I am now. I know that means jack shit to you but it means a lot to me.” He cups your face, letting your hands free. If you were to leave he couldn’t stop you but you find yourself planted to the ground.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve this, but you’re my soulmate. We’re meant for each other. I’ll belong to you forever.” You tense up as you recall your Logan saying those very words. It’s too much. You can’t, you just can’t. “

Stop please,” You beg. Tears starting to fall from your eyes.

“I can’t do this Logan, watching you die killed me inside. I loved you, I still love you but, I can’t. I’m scared.” You cry and he wipes away the tears. He keeps you close, knowing the pain, the fear.

“I read a lot about soulmates, you were always jealous I could see cords and you couldn’t.” There’s a hint of a smile as he recalls his life with you.

“You made me read those books. In them they say that two people are connected forever. Through time and space. Maybe through universes too.” He tilts your head and leans closer, his lips ghosting yours.

“I know you’re scared, I am too. But I promised to love you, to take care of you. We’re not the same but we can learn to love each other as we are. Broken, tired, full of baggage.”

You look at him, he’s got the same eyes. The fear of losing him again still fills your heart. Could this really be destiny? Were you meant to find each other? Fate is a funny thing isn’t it.

“Kiss me.” You whisper and he does. Smashing his lips onto yours with a ferocity that takes your breath away. He’s hungry, desperate as he moves you from the door to the bed. The bed creaks loudly as the two of you fall onto the bed. Your hands run through his hair as his arms wrap around your body.

“Logan..” You gasp as he bites your lip roughly, allowing him to deepen the kiss.

It feels so right, so perfect. Being in his arms is everything you need. You pull away breathless, foreheads resting against each other as you catch your breath. He sees the vulnerability in your eyes. The walls you’ve built up start to tumble down and Logan proudly holds the hammer.

“I love you, I’ll always love you.” He caresses your cheek as he stares into your eyes.

“I love you too.” You close your eyes and pray when you open them he’ll still be there.

You feel the tug on your thumb and this time you don’t ignore it. Slowly opening your eyes you look down and see it. You can actually see it. It’s a different shade of red and now it’s on your thumb tied in a bow. You follow the string and it leads right to Logan.

“I see it.” You whisper in awe. Logan smiles, tightening his hold onto you as you keep your eyes on the cord. It’s a little worn down but so are the two of you. It’s perfect.

“Let me take you home.” Logan says, burying his face in your neck. Kissing every spot he can.

Home. You hadn’t thought of any place as home in a long time. But now you have one. A home with Logan, with Laura. Even with Wade and Al and Peter.

But what home really is, is right here in Logan's arms. You feel a weight off your chest as you melt into his arms. Letting yourself be happy, finding yourself in a situation you never thought you’d get to be in again. 

Somehow, through space and time, through all of the multiverse. It doesn’t matter how or when. You two were destined to be together.

Forever and Always.

[charmedreincarnation]

I shifted and manifested with your Morphics challenge !!!!!

I am sharing this on an alternate account because I don’t feel comfortable posting on my main account. I want to continue using my main account so, I hope that’s okay.

I’ve been in the LOA community for a while and have consumed every piece of information. You know how it is.. I had a Reddit and TikTok shifting account and was literally helping people shift with my advice. But aside from maybe slightly hearing or seeing my DR, I had never succeeded, and even that was years ago.

I’ve gotten lazier yet more somehow ambitious since 2020 when I first started this journey, which is insane because you know how when you first find out about shifting, you have a lot of symptoms and almost do it, but then months and years pass, and you’re more desperate yet doing the same useless things. It was like that. I was enlightened; I could spew every method to you backwards, studied many years from teachers like Neville Goddard, Joseph Murphy, Florence Scovel Shinn, Wayne Dyer, Earl Nightingale, Louise Hay, Esther Hicks (Abraham-Hicks), Albert Einstein, Thomas Edison, Ralph Waldo Emerson, Wallace D. Wattles, Rhonda Byrne—okay, everyone and their teachers. I also spent so much money on paid subliminals, meditations, teacher personal subscriptions, witch spells, lucid dreaming supplements, etc., but there are some things money can’t buy, so really, don’t waste your money lol.

I’m not here to be wise and do nothing with that wisdom, so I realized maybe instead of trying to do everything so mighty and intricate and be pretentious in my intelligence, let me try something so simple I would be shocked if it worked. Then I came across a post that was like, "Everyone is going to shift in September," and I almost cried because I have been trying for almost 5 years. I’ve given everything, and I was starting to think LOA is a cult because, let’s be real, it checks off all the things of a cult:

1. Charismatic Leaders: Many LOA teachings are popularized by charismatic figures who attract devoted followings, similar to leaders in cults.

2. Promised Benefits: LOA often promises significant personal benefits, like wealth and happiness, which can be enticing and lead to strong adherence.

3. Community and Belonging: Followers of LOA often form tight-knit communities, sharing experiences and supporting each other, which can resemble the communal aspect of cults.

4. Us vs. Them Mentality: Some LOA teachings might create a divide between "believers" and "non-believers," fostering an exclusive mindset.

5. Simplistic Solutions: The idea that simply thinking positively can solve complex life issues might be seen as an oversimplification, similar to some cult ideologies.

It’s almost religious, but most people are religious, and you know what? Without faith in something, people might have probably just (TW) killed themselves. Everyone has some kind of cult behavior—religious, politics, loyalty to family who don’t love or respect them. At this point, if it was a cult, I guess I was okay with that. Hopefully, the belief would at least give some sort of false comfort. Because having awareness and enlightenment and still suffering is even worse. Ignorance is bliss, as they say.

Then I came across your challenge, and tbh I had tried every subliminal, meditation, binaural beat, etc., so at first, I thought, how will this be any different? But then I saw the LOA Bella success story, and I just felt this was my calling because I had never related to a success story so much. I wanted to cry because it felt like a sign.

This isn’t a very exciting or good story, but all I did was:

Morning
https://youtu.be/gOpZAPo8VvU?si=FA2oxWQkR6l2KU_M

During the day (together)
https://youtu.be/67T-wX2iqfM?si=-f-TvsYyQ_D-od1L
https://youtu.be/xwaSBZFucGg?si=8-XLLROuoIypBSu0

Overnight
https://youtu.be/uBHMmHbQwa0?si=h01rp0Ngdl7Xhv9C

Basically I had a lucid dream and woke up in my waiting room because I had used lucid dreams to get into the void state, but they were also fake voids, and it was annoying to think, "Wow, I’m going to wake up with my dream life," and then fail. So I was taking no chances. I had a dream I was at work, and this lazy girl was being lazy as usual but an actual nuisance. We were outside, and I was like, "Wait, I don’t work outside," and then I got too excited, so I started jumping around and did a backflip because I heard that helps stabilize the dream. Then I commanded my annoying coworker to take me to a portal, and she did. I envisioned my waiting room and set the intention that when I close my eyes and enter the portal, I would wake up in my WR. I walked through, and then I fell. I was scared to open my eyes, so I affirmed just in case as I fell, and I heard the beach waves, and I knew it was there.

I only did this for manifesting purposes because then I intended to shift back to the same reality but where I had my dream life and master shifting abilities and void ability.

Honestly, I was so depressed at that point I didn’t particularly have any dreams or aspirations, so I didn’t know what would make me happy, as sad as it sounds. But I just slid into my WR bed and set the intention because I knew anything is possible in my WR and fell asleep. When I woke up, I woke up in a brand new house with a brand new family in a beautiful room.

Now, like I said, I didn’t have any intentions, so for the last few days, I’ve been having so many surprises and things happening that I now realize, of course, I would want this. I am just very happy, and I can’t believe it was so easy after almost 4 years.

I don’t have any stupid enlightenment advice that I would have thought I would have when I finally succeeded. As stupid and cult-like as it sounds, don’t give up—something will click.

That's amazing! I'm so happy for you and your success :)) and I am even more happy that you’ve found happiness when you don’t even know what you wantedand that it worked out.

I had a very similar experience and what I took from this is to be open to experimenting with different methods because what might not work today could be the key tomorrow and it can seem random.

I wish you the best with your dream life and I hope you continue to find happiness in different ways

[mokulule]

Flickering Stars

Dead on MAYn day 5 Prompt: Soulmates

Jason had very carefully not asked if Phantom would join the Titan mission, when Tim had asked for his assistance, but judging by Tim’s knowing look Jason had given in too easily. He pretended at grumpy as he waved Tim off, even Tim being obnoxiously knowing couldn’t quell the excitement building in his chest at getting to see Phantom again. Probably. He would probably see Phantom again. He hadn’t confirmed with Tim, that Phantom would be there, he wasn’t a permanent fixture on the Teen Titans. But with the look Tim had sent him it was pretty likely the case.

Checking to make sure Tim had left - he had - Jason finally gave into the urge and groaned loudly. He rubbed his face. 

Fuck, he was so gone it was stupid.

This wasn’t part of the plan. Phantom had never been part of the plan. Jason had never imagined- He sighed. It wasn’t like he was unused to his plans for his life going awry, but this particular dream was one he’d clung to longer than most. He covered the mark on the inside of his left arm just below his elbow with his hand, feeling the slightly raised skin: his soul mark.

For as long as he could remember he’d had that little grouping of stars slightly raised and pink. His mom, his real mom, Catherine, who’d raised him and not just supplied DNA had told him what it meant with a bittersweet smile. That he was one of the lucky ones. That out there was a soulmate for him, his match in every way. Someone who would love him more than anyone. 

As he’d grown, he learned it wasn’t as simple as that. Not all soul matches were even romantic in nature. Not all soulmates ever met each other. The world was vast and sometimes even if they did meet, they just had a scant few years together before one died. But those that did meet they mattered, always. 

The idea of his soulmate out there had kept him going even as his mom slipped deeper into the drugs (she loved him, but not enough to stay with him). Even as he was on the streets fending for himself, that little grouping of stars gave him hope that some day, he would find love and belonging.

For a short while, he’d thought he had that even without meeting his soulmate. He had Bruce and Alfred, sometimes Dick. He had Robin. For a while he’d thought he might get to be the one to offer his soulmate something other than himself, but that life, that dream had been violently cut short (and maybe Bruce loved him, but not enough to avenge him). When Jason had become lucid again after his return, he’d found his mark faded to gray; his soulmate died. He’d cried for the soulmate he never met, and death of the dream he’d had of finding them. He’d been too late, just another tally in the statistics for those who never found each other.

After that he didn’t look at the mark for weeks. It wasn’t hard, he was busy training. He had a plan to enact, a goal. He wore long sleeved shirts. It wasn’t until he caught a glimpse of it after a shower as bright and healthy pink as ever he near had a heart attack.

He checked the mark regularly after that. Sometimes it was grey, sometimes pink. Was his soulmate sick? Teetering at the edge of proper dying every day? Or had Jason’s death messed with their connection? Had Jason’s soul not come back whole with him and now he could only get a spotty signal through like broken radio.

Privately Jason thought it was the last one. He had come back wrong, Bruce’s personal nightmare. Death had changed him irrevocably. It made sense his soulmate didn’t match him as well anymore.

Still, part of him had hoped to one day meet them regardless. But he didn’t look for them, there was a fear clutching his heart when he thought of it - what if they rejected him? The very thought ached. Being rejected by his soulmate… He couldn’t think of anything more damning. Jason had enough raw wounds over rejection. He didn’t need to add more. 

These days he and Bruce were only just barely civil. Any time some criminal was found dead, Jason could feel the old bat’s eyes linger on him the next time they saw each other. It was enough to make Jason wonder why he even bothered trying to make nice, he was much better at blowing things up. 

Still, anytime he considered just saying screw it all, he was reminded by someone else that they cared. Be it Alfred or the multitude of siblings and not-quite siblings. Sometimes the old Bat himself even had a moment.

It was enough to keep him in the fold and sometimes at his most cynical he wondered if that was the point, to keep him just close enough to keep him on the narrow, but never truly part of the family.

Tim asking for assistance on a Titan’s matter some months ago however, that had been a clear sign of how far the two of them had come. Even Jason’s paranoia couldn’t argue with it. Tim would have never let Jason come anywhere near his friends if he didn’t trust Jason.

Jason had done the necessary brotherly grumping and bartering, but both he and Tim had known he couldn’t say no.

And then he’d met Phantom.

Tim’s friend Phantom, a ghost, who had more death jokes than even Jason. Who, unlike Tim’s other friends wan’t the least bit wary of him. Phantom whose hair shimmered like starlight and whose sharp smile set Jason’s heart pounding in excited anticipation - for what he hadn’t known, but he hadn’t been disappointed when things finally went down on the second mission.

Phantom was a heavy hitter, and something about the power he exuded set every nerve of Jason’s alight with energy and he’d never he’d never felt so alive. He’d been breathless and weak with the bewildering desire for Phantom to manhandle him.

Jason couldn’t even really recall what the mission had been about precisely. He knew he’d done his part, but the memory paled next to Phantom.

It would have been fine if this was all a matter of sexual attraction, but Jason had fallen hard and fast for Phantom. He didn’t even know or care if Phantom, as a ghost, corporeal though he seemed, had any interest in anything sexual. He just wanted to spend time with him and get to know him better, figure out if Phantom was as interested in getting to know Jason as he was Phantom. 

Some things pointed towards that. Like after that second mission and Phantom had found him in the hallway before he’d left. Jason could still feel his cool gloved fingers tracing the scar down his cheek, and that cute little frown. He vividly remembered the way his green eyes had flicked down to Jason’s lips and lingered there for more than a casual glance. Jason had felt so certain Phantom would kiss him - until Tim had interrupted.

That had been two months ago.

Jason hadn’t had a reason, an excuse, to see Phantom since. They didn’t run in the same circles, Phantom was Tim’s friend, not Jason’s. And when it came down to it Jason didn’t even know what he wanted from Phantom.

His nails dug painfully into his skin. He gasped and released his hand from where it covered the mark - it was grey currently. He hadn’t noticed when he’d started gripping his arm instead of just holding it. 

He had a soulmate, he could be sick and here Jason was falling in love with someone else. Who knew when the mark would turn to grey permanently and Jason would have missed his chance.

Not that Jason had anything to offer his soulmate but a load of baggage. 

It still felt like betrayal.

Oo o oO

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Phantom said with a huff as he pushed Jason to sit down on the cot. “I’m a ghost, I could have just gone intangible.”

Jason bit back a groan when Phantom grabbed too close to the wound below his shredded jacket. Phantom quickly moved his hand further down on his left arm as he peered at the bloody mess of his shoulder area.

“Looks worse than it is,” Jason assured leaning his head back against the wall of the infirmary. He watched Phantom, eyes half lidded behind his domino. He felt a bit woozy from the blood loss and it was nice sitting down, but he was not about to concede the argument. “I’ve seen you take a hit before when you were distracted.” Phantom scowled at him. “Okay yes, but I’m durable. More so than you.” The scowl turned worried as his gaze slid back to the mess.

He picked gingerly at the soaked fabric for a moment before huffing through his nose.

“This might feel weird.” Then he pulled Jason’s jacket off by pulling it through him. A shiver went up Jason’s spine at the cold liquid feeling. Jason blinked owlishly at his jacket suddenly hanging from Phantom’s hand. His cheeks warmed as his thoughts suddenly turned in a very different direction due to Phantom’s apparent ease at divesting him of his clothing. 

He looked away and coughed to get his voice under control. 

“Didn’t know you could do that.” Phantom grinned at him. 

“I don’t advertise my abilities, sometimes they surprise even myself.” Jason couldn’t help but chuckle at that. He watched Phantom as he poked cool hands at the wound. The bleeding had mostly stopped. The jacket and his suit had truly taken the brunt of it, but it had had time to seep through everything.

“Gonna have to take the suit off too, at least by your arm. How much is it connected to? I can’t make it just part intangible, so it it’s a one piece suit, that’s not a good option.” “If you can just help me peel it off my upper body that’s fine.” He found the zipper and pulled it down to his belt. He wore a tank top underneath. Things would be perfectly decent. No reason to get excited. Not that blood loss for conducive to that sort of excitement anyways.

Phantom took care when he gently pulled the enforced fabrice over his shoulder, but it still started bleeding fresh when places where the fabric had dried to his wounds were removed. The other arm was easier.

Phantom grimaced at the sight. Jason had to agree. There were several gashes. Phantom flew away and returned with a bottle of saline and a cloth. The cloth he held against Jason’s arm as he started to rinse the wounds to absorb the worst of the liquid - still, it dribbled onto the cot. The gashes didn’t look too deep, thankfully. 

When Phantom was satisfied the wounds were clean and without fabric threads or dirt, he fetched gauze swabs to dab it dry. He was so intent on his work, Jason could just relax and watch. His shoulder ached fiercely, but every cool touch was like a balm. After Phantom had set the third well-made stitch, Jason had to know:

“Why would a ghost learn to do stitches?” Phantom looked up at him through his lashes and sent him an impish smile.

“Because he forgets to dodge.”

Jason shook his head, couldn’t help but smile at the reference to their earlier conversation, even as the idea of Phantom knowing because he’d had to stitch himself up settled uneasy in his stomach.

Phantom continued his work, until finally he covered the area with a large bandage. He smoothed it over the area and Jason sighed in relief as the cold from his hands seeped through numbing the pain.

Phantom smiled at him. “Good?” “Yeah.” He watched through half-lidded eyes as Phantom considered him, then came to a decision. He left his right hand on the bandage, then moved the other to cup Jason’s face. Jason’s breath hitched. 

“Good?” Phantom asked again. “Yeah,” Jason whispered hoarsely. His skin tingled where Phantom touched his cheek. He rubbed his thumb gently over the bruise on Jason’s cheekbone, and he could feel the cold seep in just there reducing the swelling. 

He slid his hand down to a not yet healed nick on his throat, it was a few days old, rested it there for a moment before moving on, smoothing the hand over his right shoulder. There was a bruise from last week, it wasn’t swollen anymore just a bit achy if touched. His hand lingered on scars as if he could soothe old hurts. He reached his hand, took it and lifted it up to inspect. He brushed his thumb over Jason’s rough knuckles and then the calluses on his palm, soft and careful.

All the while Jason felt like he had forgotten how to breathe. He didn’t get soft. He didn’t get careful or gentle. Yet here Phantom was being exactly that.

Phantom moved to the other hand, the left one, then his wrist. Too late Jason realized where his gaze would go next and he was too late in covering his soulmark.

Phantom looked at him eyes wide and sad, “You had a soulmate?” Had. Jason hadn’t looked, but that had to mean it was grey right now. Jason felt his eyes prickle at the reminder. One look, one touch from Phantom and he forgot all about having a soulmate at all. To think he was that fickle. 

“Have.” Jason corrected. Even if maybe their connection was frayed because Jason was wrong now. “Have?” Phantom asked bewildered. 

“Yeah,” Jason said mouth dry, Phantom deserved to know if they started something. “It changes, from pink to grey and back, has done so for years. They might be sick.” 

There was no way Jason would admit his personal fear out loud.

Phantom stared at him eyes wide and mouth slightly open as if he was the one seeing a ghost. Then frantically he pulled Jason’s hand away from the mark. Jason was so startled he let him. Phantom then looked from him to the little stars of raised skin and back again.

“I-“ He said. “I never-“

He shook his head in… disbelief? Awe? Clearly he couldn’t find words. Then there was a bright flash, but more than that sudden warmth bloomed up his arm from his mark to his chest.

Desperately Jason blinked the stars out of his eyes only to see blue eyes instead of green, black hair instead of white. Skin pale and not glowing, human. Alive. 

Bare hands touched his skin, calloused fingers brushed his soul mark and sent another wave of warmth up his arm.

“What?” Jason tried desperately to catch up to what had just happened, as he looked from Phantom’s bare hands to his face to the fact he was not clad in a nasa t-shirt and jeans instead of the black and white suit.

“Hood,” Phantom said intently, then gestured with his eyes at Jason’s soul mark which was now pink, framed by Phantom’s living hands.

“Hood,” Phantom repeated a helpless half smile on his lips when Jason met his eyes, “my superpower is dying on command.”

Dying on command.

Jason’s mouth fell open.

Dying on-

Rapidly events caught up to him. Phantom was dead, Jason’s soulmark grey. Phantom was alive, Jason’s soulmark pink. Phantom could die on command. 

Laughter, ridiculous laughter bubbled out of his chest. All his worry, thinking he came back wrong (he did, but not that much, not enough that he didn’t fit his soulmate), and it was just because of Phantom’s powers. He’d been torn about falling for Phantom when he was his soulmate all along.

He laughed and laughed and laughed.

He laughed until he cried.

“Fuck,” he cursed. He couldn’t even wipe his eyes because of the stupid domino.

“Hey,” Phantom said, holding his hands out, clearly unsure about touching him.

“Did you ever consider how it would look to your soulmate?” Phantom withdrew his hands and hunched his shoulders. He didn’t look at Jason as he said quietly, “I did die, to gain my powers. I was the only one who could deal with the ghosts who attacked my hometown. And besides,” Phantom looked up and met Jason’s eyes with grief, “my mark was grey after my death. I didn’t know if my soulmate had died or it was because I had died. For about six months my mark was grey, before it somehow came back alive, by then I was in too deep. Figured any soulmate must have given up on me.” “I was dead,” Jason said quietly. “I know, I can sense it.” Phantom managed a smile at that, “Tim was tired of hearing me wax poetic about you.” “What?” That teased out a laugh.

“Yeah, how you’d died like me. How you avenged those in need, freeing their spirits. Your thighs.” Jason spluttered.  

Phantom tilted his head, hand going to his chin and stroking it in mock consideration. “Now that I think about it, it was probably the thigh talk that convinced Tim to introduce us, he always looked so disturbed.”

Jason laughed shortly. Phantom grinned pleased for a moment but then his smile fell.

“Hood?” Phantom said quietly, and Jason met his gaze. “I really, really like you. This-“ he held out his left arm where his own mark depicted an open book- “it doesn’t actually change anything. And it doesn’t mean you have an obligation to like me back.” Jason stared incredulously.

How in the world could he think Jason didn’t like him back?

Then, he grabbed Phantom and pulled him into his arms, careful to mainly use his right arm and not ruin Phantom's work. Phantom yelped in surprise, but quieted immediately once Jason got him settled in his lap. His face was quickly turning red.

“You. Are an idiot.” Jason said sternly and leaned his forehead against Phantom’s temple. He proceeded to ignore the insulted protest and said, “I like you.” 

That shut him up. 

They could save love for later.

Oo o oO

Okay I might be getting cavities here, I hope ya'll feel they deserved the happy ending. I need to work on something proper angsty next to compensate XD

[weasleysbliss]

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰 | 𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐲

pairing: ron weasley x fem!reader

summary: while spending the summer at the burrow, you and ron are forced to share a space. between playful bickering and quiet moments, you realize love might be closer than you thought.

word count: 2k

➽────────────────❥

At last, exams were over, school was done, and you couldn’t wait to start your summer break. But this summer wouldn’t be like the others.

Your parents were traveling abroad, leaving you home alone. However, they didn’t trust you to spend two months on your own, so they insisted you stay at one of your friends’ houses for the time being.

Ginny was kind enough to consider the idea and propose it to her mom. Thankfully, Molly Weasley was more than happy to take you in. She already had seven children of her own, so having her only daughter's friend stay for two months was no trouble.

A few hours before you moved in, your nerves started to settle. You were still processing the fact that you’d be spending two months with a group of people you barely knew—excluding the parents. Though you went to school together and were in the same house, you’d never really had the chance to befriend them—except for Ginny.

She helped you pack your belongings, and together, you both walked to the Burrow. On the way there, Ginny went over a few house rules, explained their usual routines, and warned you about Fred and George. The twins were known for their mischievous pranks, always causing trouble. Nonetheless, you felt ready for the next few months.

When you arrived at the doorstep, Ginny unlocked the front door with her wand, and you were greeted by Molly and Arthur. "Oh, Y/N dear, how wonderful to have you here!" Molly exclaimed, pulling you into a warm bear hug—a gesture you hadn’t received in a long time.

"Good to see you, Y/N!" Arthur greeted, extending his hand for a handshake, which you accepted. "Thank you so much for allowing me to stay, I really appreciate it." You said, while giving them a heartfelt smile. "Oh no worries dear, you're welcome here any time. We've heard so many great things about you from Ginny!" Molly cheered. You and Ginny locked eyes, sharing a sincere look of happiness.

As Arthur carried your bags to your new room, you saw four familiar faces coming down the stairs. "Y/N, I’m sure you already know who they are, but let me re-introduce you so you feel welcomed," Molly said, pointing to each boy in turn. "This is Percy, Fred, George, and Ron." "Bill and Charlie both moved out," she added, "which is why they aren’t here now."

All four boys offered you soft smiles, welcoming you for the summer. "Alright, boys, go on. Ron, stay," she ordered. Ron swallowed, assuming he’d done something wrong. Was he really going to get scolded in front of the new girl right now? But before he could worry too much, his mother’s next words cleared up the situation. "Ron, if you don’t mind, would you please help Y/N settle in? I left her belongings in your room; you’ll both share the space."

Ron’s eyes widened at the statement, and for a moment, yours did too. You had assumed you'd have your own room, and the idea of sharing one with someone you hadn’t spoken to yet left you feeling uneasy. It can't be that bad, you thought. You and Ron exchanged weak smiles when your names were mentioned.

At this point, Ginny went upstairs, and Molly and Arthur went to work in the garden, leaving you and Ron alone. An awkward silence hung in the air until he finally spoke. "Well... shall we start getting you settled?" he asked.

"Yep!" you replied, relieved that your journey here had officially begun.

Before leading you to your shared room, Ron briefly pointed out the main rooms in the house—such as the kitchen, bathroom, and other essential spaces. Finally, it was time to see the room, which you figured you’d be spending most of your time in anyway. As you both walked in, you took in the details.

The room was fairly small, with most of it scattered with spell books, Chudley Cannons posters, Quidditch gear, chess sets, and various family hand-me-downs. In the corner stood a bunk bed—the spot where the two of you would sleep. The room had a strong aura of warmth and coziness, a stark contrast to your own room, which had a sleek, modern vibe.

To your surprise, you actually liked his room. Despite the mess, it felt like home—though not your own home. This was a new home, one you would adapt to over time. "I know it's not much, but—" Ron started, but you cut him off. "No, I love it. This place is awesome. I reckon I’m going to like it here." You glanced around again, taking in every detail and piece of decoration. "Well, I’m glad you like it. I usually spend most of my time here anyway," Ron said. "Oh yeah? I would too, I might as well," you replied, making eye contact with him. "Y’know, you seem like you’d be a pretty decent roomie." His words made you blush slightly, but you quickly hid it. You were already beginning to appreciate his company.

A month had already gone by, and everything was going splendidly. You were familiar with the house now, knowing where every room was, and you had gotten along with everyone—especially your new roommate.

Every so often, Molly would ask you to help with the gardening, and Ron would join you. He’d also lend a hand with making dinner and setting the table. Though you and Ron didn’t talk much during school, moments like these made you wonder how your friendship might have turned out if you'd befriended him sooner.

Despite the good times, you and Ron still bickered quite often—but always in a playful way.

"Y/N! Did you take my shirt again?" Ron yelled from his bedroom. You could hear him clearly from the kitchen.

"No!" you shouted back, glancing down at the shirt you were wearing. It was, in fact, Ron’s. His shirts had a particular scent, one that charmed you. The smell was like warm vanilla, with a hint of ground cinnamon. It smelled so good, it was hard to resist.

It felt strange wearing your now-best friend and roommate’s shirt, but you couldn’t help being drawn to his scent.

"Then where the bloody hell is it?!" Ron continued yelling, now coming down the stairs and spotting you in his shirt.

For a moment, he didn’t even register that you were wearing it. Instead, it was your figure that caught his attention. The way your shorts and shirt accentuated your shape made him feel as though he were gazing at a divine being. Your hair, your face, your body—everything about you captivated him. Who knew you could look so good in his shirt?

"Merlin…" he thought, before snapping back to reality. "I knew you were lying! That’s my shirt!" he shrieked, charging towards you and playfully tackling you onto the couch. You couldn’t escape his embrace—his strong arms held you firmly in place, giving him full control over you.

You laughed as he whined, "Y/N, I’m not letting you go until you give me my shirt back." It was amusing to see him so desperate over a simple piece of clothing.

"Oh, piss off, Ron! And I noticed the way you looked at me when you first saw it. You bet it’s not coming off," you said, emphasizing the word bet.

"You’re not going anywhere then," he replied, still holding you close. You felt the back of your head hit his chest before responding, "That means you aren’t either."

You both chuckled and sat in silence for a few moments, processing the tension. Eventually, you both dozed off on the couch, still in the same position.

While you and Ron were sleeping, Fred and George noticed and exchanged a 'we’re never gonna let him forget about this' kind of grin. But this time, they decided to spare Ron the embarrassment and let him continue sleeping with you.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

𝐅𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

And just like that, summer was nearly over. In a week, you'd be back at Hogwarts—away from your new home and the one you'd nearly forgotten. The Burrow had given you a new sense of what 'home' truly felt like, and you loved it dearly.

The last thing you wanted was to be away from the Burrow, knowing it would leave you feeling empty. This summer made you realize just how lucky every one of Molly’s children was to have such loving parents, and despite the house not being fancy or immaculate, it truly felt like home. Everything about it was comforting.

Your mind was in a scramble, the thought of leaving clouding your thoughts. To blow off some stress, you decided to visit a spot you’d discovered during your first few weeks at the Burrow—a nearby pond. It was especially beautiful at night, with the stars in the sky and the moon reflecting its light on the water.

You sat down on the grass and let out a deep sigh until you heard footsteps behind you. Turning your head, you saw your red-headed roommate. "Not interrupting anything, am I?" he asked. "Not at all," you replied. Although you had hoped for a peaceful moment, you didn’t mind his presence.

The sound of crickets and night owls, along with the view of the moonlit pond, was breathtaking. You both sat in silence, taking in the beauty. It was rare for you and Ron to have a quiet moment like this; you were usually either bickering or laughing your heads off. But something about this moment felt magical. Unlike anything you had ever experienced with anyone.

You glanced over at Ron, trying not to make it obvious. You hadn’t realized how beautiful his features were—his perfectly upturned nose, soft orange locks of hair, and the way the moonlight reflected in his crystal blue eyes. He was just as breathtaking as the view you had been looking at moments ago.

Your eyes darted back to the pond, but made their way back to Ron as he said your name. "Y/N, it was really nice having you here at the Burrow this summer. I never really wanted a roommate, but you turned out to be the best one ever. Honestly, you made this whole experience so much better." Ron shyly spoke.

"You were a very good roommate too. I’m really gonna miss this. This place felt even better than my actual home; it’s so much more lively here. A-and frankly, I don’t know what it’ll be like without it," you said, your breath shaking. Hearing the tremor in your voice, Ron threw his arm around your shoulder and moved closer to you. You missed being this close to him. You missed his touch.

"You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me," he said. Your eyes widened—such a bold statement. Did he really enjoy your company that much? You glanced at him, still processing what he’d just said.

You didn’t know where to look. You couldn’t focus only on his eyes, not when you suddenly craved every part of his face—especially his lips.

You could see he was doing the same; his eyes shifted to your lips. Oh gosh, you couldn’t hold back any longer. You couldn’t go another second without tasting him.

As if he read your mind, Ron inched closer, closing the gap between you, until your lips finally met.

Your lips moved in sync, tasting each other’s mouths. This was what you’d been craving, and you finally had it.

His arm slid off your shoulder and landed on the grass, supporting his upper body. His other hand found its way behind your head, gently tugging at your hair, earning a small whine from you.

Still not breaking the kiss, you straddled onto his lap, one hand tangled in his hair while the other rested on his cheek. It’s safe to say you’d earned yourself a boyfriend for the upcoming year at Hogwarts.

This had been your best summer ever—summer at the Burrow.

[dorabellingham]

Comeback

warning: none

characters: jude x reader

summary: when after a while he scores the first goal of the season

may contain spelling and translation errors!

The tension was in the air. It was a decisive game in La Liga, and all eyes were on Jude. It had been a while since his last goal, and the silence from the fans regarding his name was starting to weigh on you. You knew that this goalless streak had been bothering your boyfriend, even though he had been trying his best in every training session and match. You saw how dedicated he was, but you knew he was anxious to break this streak. And now, there, in the Real Madrid stadium, you were rooting with all your might for that day to come.

You were sitting in the stands, your eyes fixed on him, with that deep feeling that everything was going to work out this time. Your heart was racing, your hands were cold from nervousness, and you were barely breathing with each of his plays. For you, each move was like a leap, a quick climb to the top of a mountain and then a plunge back to reality. Every moment felt like it was your match too, cheering for him with all your soul.

Then, it happened.

In a spectacular move, Jude found a space between the defenders, received the ball and, without hesitation, kicked it with precision. The ball went straight into the corner of the goal, passing the goalkeeper with a quick and precise movement. The stadium exploded in cheers of joy, and the energy of the crowd seemed to almost bring down the stands, they were so excited. You stood up, your hands covering your mouth in pure shock and euphoria. Your face lit up with a smile that you couldn't control -the smile of someone who had just seen the person they love do something extraordinary.

Jude, with the most radiant expression in the world, ran towards the fans, and when he got close to the stands, he raised his arms, opening them in a gesture that had already become his trademark. It was at that moment that his eyes met yours, and you, without thinking, imitated the gesture, opening your arms in the same pose as his, in a connection that seemed to cross the field and the barriers. It was as if, in that moment, the two of you were one.

The crowd noticed and started to scream even louder, the fans around you applauded the scene, as if they were witnessing a unique and intimate moment between the player and the person who supported him so unconditionally. You couldn't hold back your laughter, infected by the happiness that radiated from Bellingham, and he, from the field, couldn't stop looking at you, also laughing, both of you absolutely overcome by the joy of that moment.

Your eyes shone with pride and admiration, and Jude could feel, even from a distance, how happy you were for him. After a difficult period, he had finally broken that silence on the field, and seeing you there, supporting him, encouraging him and celebrating with him, made it all worthwhile. He felt that he wasn't just playing for him, but for the two of you, for that beautiful story you were building together.

When the game ended, with the victory assured, Jude went to the edge of the field to find you, who was already waiting for him with the sweetest and proudest smile in the world. He pulled you into a tight hug, and you whispered in his ear:

—I knew you could do it, I knew your moment would come.

He laughed, his face pressed against yours, still breathing fast and his heart racing.

—That goal was for you, babe. Always for you!

You caressed his face, your eyes filled with emotion.

—I’m so happy for you, Judie. You have no idea how much.

You stood there, still hugging each other, with the applause of the fans in the background and the rest of the players approaching to celebrate. But for Jude and you, that was a moment that belonged only to the two of you, a shared victory, where the goal, the fans and the noise of the stadium seemed to fade away, leaving only the loving and happy look you shared.