#though who's to say how long it takes her to do all of that

[themineknight]

My mother was a woman who would, when asked, sit you down to explain a concept you didn't understand, in ways she hoped you would understand. And even though she worked a full-time job while my dad was abroad for several years for work, when she got home, she was a beacon of warmth, and comfort, and understanding. My father was not. When he came home, he was overwhelmed. Burned out. Angry. I know now that none of it was ever malicious, but even so: My dad was not the rock in my life he could have been. Whenever any of my siblings, or me, had an issue, we would go to my mom. She would fight tooth and nail for us to be safe, would never condescend our curiosity, never balk at questions, only say that to answer them would take too long... but she'd always get back around to it. When she made a promise, she would keep it, come hell or high water. My dad came around, eventually. He learned how to corral his children, how to play with us, how to help us, support our curiosity, support us when we needed him. He became, at the end of the day, an amazing father, and is to this day one of the only people I would ever trust with my entire being. But even so... my dad is still terrifying. I trust him, and I love him... but despite having come to understand, forgive, and process everything over the years, the scars of being a tiny human too scared to talk to one of her parents may never fully go away. By scaring your children, all you do is create people who will go to great lengths not to be scared anymore. Not to be hurt again. Not to let anyone down again. Not to be different. They will forever carry that fear with them, will forever feel like they have somehow failed to be the best people they could have been... will forever feel like they might somehow, sometimes, or maybe always, be unworthy of truly being loved. Do not scare the tiny humans. Be the people they can rely on to teach them how to navigate the world. Be the people to show them that they can always rely on you if they need someone. Bring them the safety they need, be ready to fight the battles they may not be able to... and they will forever be thankful for having lived a wonderful childhood.

[classjezter]

Y'know, everyone's talking to Baby OP and giving him illicit treats, but how's everyone else managing? We saw all the initial reactions, and know about their dynamics with sparkling Optimus, but how are they holding up? Optimus becoming a baby during wartime is probably rough for having to shift responsibilities on top of hiding and taking care of a tiny child. They could probably all use some goodies too

Hi! I like you videos btw :) as to your question:

The Autobots are stretched thin. They were already in a full-scale war before and now they have a troublemaking sparkling to take care of. To manage both their duties and taking care of baby Optimus, they take shifts watching him (takes a village to raise a child put literally). There’s always at least one Autobot on ‘Optimus duty’ while the rest keep up with patrols, defenses, and battle strategy.

More about every specific bot below cut cause this got a bit long

Elita was a strong leader even before the war, but now she’s been forced to take on Optimus' responsibilities while also keeping him safe. She’s stressed, constantly dealing with managing the Autobot faction, and Decepticon attacks (all while making sure nobody outside their small circle discovers the secret). Still, she loves Optimus no matter what, and seeing him like this makes her fiercely protective over him

Outwardly, Wheeljack acts like his usual self, making jokes, keeping up with his work, taking sparkling duty like a champ and definitely not acknowledging the guilt eating at him (This mess is partially his fault, not intentionally of course, but that doesn’t make the weight on his spark any lighter) But when he’s alone, it gnaws at him. Every time he sees Optimus being adorable, being so vulnerable, it’s just another painful reminder. He’s overcompensating by throwing himself into work, trying to fix the problem while also building safety measures for their tiny leader

Jazz is really good with Baby Optimus. His easy-going nature and energy make him a great playmate for the kid (although he sometimes struggles with the actual taking care of him part, but he tries). That doesn’t mean Jazz isn’t aware of how much trouble this is. He knows they’re barely holding it together. The Decepticons will notice eventually, and when they do? They’ll probably be in serious trouble. But until then, Jazz just focuses on keeping the kid happy, and keeping morale up for the team

B-127 adores Baby Optimus. He’s always been close to Prime, and now that Prime is small, Bee has kind of become his big brother. They play together, and he loves carrying OP around, but sometimes he misses the real Optimus. The one who led them, who reassured them, who always had a plan. This tiny version of Prime is sweet and fun, but it’s just not his Optimus. He never says this aloud, though. Instead, he focuses on keeping Optimus safe and happy, hoping that one day, they’ll get him back to normal

Ratchet, as not only a medic but the Autobots' chief medic, has seen a lot in this war, but this? This is a whole new kind of problem. Ratchet spends half his time while on sparkling duty running scans on Optimus, making sure the transformation into a sparkling didn’t do any permanent damage. Despite his grumpiness and wariness, Baby Optimus has got him wrapped around his tiny finger, he loves the kid and constantly gives him treats. But deep down? Ratchet worries not just about Optimus, but about all of them. If the Decepticons ever find out, they’ll be completely vulnerable

Prowl is all about strategy, discipline, and efficiency. So, at first, Prowl treats Baby Optimus like a tactical problem. Keeping up a war effort and hiding a baby Prime? Nearly impossible. And it doesn’t help that Optimus refuses to stay out of trouble. He didn’t want to get attached, just solve this situation as soon as possible, but of course Optimus eventually won him over. Despite everything, Prowl is doing his best to keep things running smoothly. He knows they can’t afford to fall apart, if they do, the Autobots are doomed. He’s keeping them together through sheer force of will. But Primus helps him, if he catches Optimus stealing another one of his datapads, he’s may lose it

No one expected Ironhide to be good with sparklings. Even as one of the oldest miners he never really had much interaction with sparklings, at least not ones this young, but somehow things just clicked for him. At first, he wasn’t sure how to handle this. Optimus is his leader. His commander. The best Prime Cybertron has ever had probably. And seeing him as a helpless little sparkling messed with him. Despite this (after some light research) he becomes a great caretaker, he knows how to take care of a sparkling: He instinctively rocks Optimus when he’s fussy, he knows how to hold him properly (unlike others, Jazz knows what he did), he keeps track of feeding cycles, etc. And if anyone even thinks about hurting Optimus, they’re getting the biggest cannon in Ironhide’s arsenal to the face. No one messes with his little charge

In summary, they’re all struggling a bit lol, they need energon goodies too sometimes

[myth1cs]

Obedience Through Discipline (Myoui Mina x M!Reader)

Smut; An officer not listening to their superior is a clear sign of disobedience. Luckily nothing a bit of discipline can't fix. Word Count: 3,021

The hard part was already over. Now that you've finished the training phase now you could finally start doing some actual work. You were assigned to officer Myoui Mina. She was the best officer at the station though many people felt bad for you which you didn't understand why at first.

It didn't take long for you to figure out why. She was always someone who was very stuck up about following the rules. Every mistake you made was followed by a scolding by Mina on why what you did was wrong. While yes you did believe that this line of work didn't have room for mistakes you still felt like she was being too harsh on you.

Things only got worse when she became a sheriff only after a few months since you were partnered with her. Even though time after time she had clearly expressed her disdain for you she never made an attempt to get you fired. In fact ever since she became sheriff it felt like she was keeping a closer eye on you. And you'd be lying if you said it wasn't making you nervous.

During your break you were sitting in your patrol car alone since your partner Nayeon decided to have her break inside. While you were eating your lunch you heard a knocking on your window. You looked up and saw that it was none other than sheriff Mina.

You rolled down your window and greeted her. "Hello sheriff Mina. Can I help you with anything?"

"You know about the parade happening downtown next week right?"

"Of course, what about it?"

"Well Ryujin got injured in the line of duty yesterday and the doctor said she wouldn't be fit to come into work for the next 2 months. So now I need someone to replace her for patrolling the area around the parade. I'm guessing you can see where I'm going with this."

This was a surprise to you. Why was she asking you anyway? There were officers who have been serving longer in the police force which she respected more that would be available to take over Ryujin's shift.

"With all due respect sheriff I believe others may be more qualified than me. Why not try asking officer Kyujin or-"

"I don't think you understand Y/N. This isn't a request, it's an order. You WILL be the one patrolling the area during next week's parade."

You let out a sigh knowing that there was no debating this with her. Once Mina makes up her mind her decision is final.

"Alright sheriff."

You rolled back up your window and Mina walked back towards the station. "Damn brat, who does he think he is trying to tell me how to do my job? Tsk, it's my fault for letting his disobedience go on for too long. I'll have to do something about that."

Breathing a sigh of relief you were glad that the encounter went rather well. Usually she would scold you for trying to talk back for at least half an hour but this time she didn't. Though you wondered if this truly was a good thing or if there was another reason behind Mina's actions. But you didn't ponder on that idea for too long. It was silly to think otherwise... or so you thought.

The week flew by in a blink of an eye. Before you knew it it was the day before the parade. You had to attend a meeting about where everyone would be stationed at the parade and what protocols to follow. You weren't really paying attention to Mina's speech though. Not like your role was rather complicated. Just simply patrolling the perimeter, if you see anything suspicious you were to report it.

"Y/N! Y/N!"

Mina's yelling took you out of your thoughts.

"Wh- what happened?"

The whole room had gone silent. Everyone simply stared at you without saying a word. Mina walked towards you and you felt your heartbeat fasten. You felt like your heart was going to explode or that you would faint from nervousness at any moment.

"You think you're too smart for this huh?" Mina said with a mocking tone.

"N- no I would never-"

"Meet me at my office."

Mina walked back to the front of the room. The tension was thick in the air. Everyone paid attention to Mina, everyone was too scared to look away from Mina.

The meeting wasn't supposed to go on for too long. But it felt like it went by in just a few seconds while also feeling like it went on for 5 hours. Everyone avoided you as they left the room. You followed Mina to her office, hands sweating, and your heart was beating so loud you thought everyone in the building could hear it.

Mina unlocked her office door and walked in. Your legs didn't want to move forward. Was it fear? But what were you afraid of? Losing your job or was it something else?

"What are you waiting for Y/N?"

"Pardon me."

You walked in. Mina closed the door behind you and locked it which made you more nervous. "Sit down." Mina commanded as she pointed at a chair. You obeyed and sat down.

"You know what you did wrong?"

"I uhm-"

Mina sat down on her desk crossing her legs. She reached down to grab your chin and lifted it up to make you look at her.

"Look into my eyes as you say it."

"I wasn't listening."

"Say it with your full chest Y/N. I can't hear you."

"I wasn't listening!"

"Not listening to your superior are you Y/N? How troublesome indeed, will I have to punish you for this?"

"No sheriff, I'll behave from now on."

"Good to hear Y/N."

Mina's voice suddenly dropped.

"Cause this is your last warning."

Mina got off her table and went to sit down on her chair behind her desk. "Now get out."

Without hesitation you got up from your chair and made your way out of her office. As you left her office you breathed out a sigh of relief.

You went to your car to drive home but you suddenly bumped into your partner, Nayeon, in the parking lot.

"So Y/N were you fired?"

"What kind of question is that?! No I wasn't fired!"

"Relax Y/N I just had to know. So what did Mina talk to you about?"

"She just told me that this was my last warning."

"Well if that's all then I guess that's rather tame then."

"What do you mean?"

"Come on Y/N I don't think I need to spell it out for you. Mina doesn't take things like this very lightly. If it was anyone else I'm sure she would've fired them already. And don't you think that she's been scolding you less recently?"

"Yeah I kinda picked up on it. Maybe this is a sign that she's turning over a new leaf."

"We can only hope so. Still the aura I get from even being in the same room as her is terrifying. I swear she gives off nothing but "Look at me the wrong way and I'll kill you" vibes."

"I swear she's knocked a few years off my life already."

"I feel that, anyways good luck with patrol duty tomorrow."

"Good luck to you to Nayeon."

-

The day of the parade came and you, along with a few other officers, were assigned to patrol the parameter and told to report anything deemed suspicious.

The area you were currently paroling didn't have many people. A few people passed by but nothing suspicious was happening in particular.

As you were walking you saw two people in an ally way. It seemed like they were committing an act of vandalism. While you were ordered to report things this wasn't any suspicious activity it was just people being stupid so you decided to just quickly deal with the situation.

Vandalism isn't something that you would arrest someone for in all honesty it was just a small misdemeanor but realized these were the same people you've had run-ins with these people before. At this point they were just begging for a prison sentence. The sentence for something like this was only up to a year so you didn't feel too bad.

-

Mina put Hwi in charge while she went on her break. For some reason she couldn't shake off the feeling that even though she told you that you were on your last warning you would still not listen to her. She made her way to where you were stationed.

"What the- I give him ONE job and he can't even follow that."

She pulled out her phone and called you. It only rang a few times before you picked up.

"Yes Mina?"

"Where are you?!"

"I'm driving these two people to the station-"

"Damn it you're supposed to report things! Do you even listen to me when I speak to you?!"

"Mina I-"

"I don't want to hear it! Meet me at my office the minute you're off the clock."

"But-" Before you could rebuttal Mina had already hung up.

You knew you were about to lose your job.

-

Once you got back to the parade Mina assigned someone else to stay by your side to make sure that you wouldn't deviate from your job.

The rest of the parade went fine. Nothing major happened that was worth noting. But you couldn't help but wish that it wouldn't end. You weren't prepared to be yelled at by Mina and get fired.

To your dismay the parade ended and so did your shift. You got a good look at yourself in your uniform before you walked to Mina's office knowing this was the last time you would be wearing it.

You had to pull yourself together and muster all your strength and courage to walk to Mina's office. Now you were standing in front of her door and you prepared for the worst.

Putting your hand on the handle and turning it you fully opened the door. Mina was sitting behind her desk sorting some paperwork.

Unsure what to do, you stood at the doorway simply staring at Mina. After a few minutes she looked up and made eye contact with you.

"Are you just going to stand there or are you going to come in and take a seat in front of me?"

Without saying a word you walked in and closed the door before you went to sit down in front of Mina not daring to make any sort of eye contact with her.

She looked at you for a few seconds before she went to type something on her computer. It seemed like she was just doing work for the sake of it but you couldn't tell.

Eventually she got up and walked up to her board where she had pinned a few documents. You glanced at the clock and saw that it was about time where most people were headed home. Most officers working at this hour were patrolling the downtown area.

Mina sighed and turned to face you. "It's impossible for you to listen. So what should I do with you?"

Was it a rhetorical question?

"I'd much prefer if I could keep my job, sheriff."

"You're almost at your one year mark. And this marks my third month of having to deal with you as sgeriff. So..."

"Please don't fire me."

"That's not what I asked so I'll ask again, What should I do with you?"

"Uhm"

"Ran out of excuses have you?"

"I never made excuses sheriff."

Mina took a deep breath.

"Do you know why I'm stringent with the rules Y/N?"

"Because this line of work doesn't have room for failure?"

"Well that's not my main reason. Do you know the main reason?"

"I don't, sheriff."

"It's because I don't want to see people hurt." Mina walked over to you towering over you. "Or maybe I should be more specific. I don't want to see you hurt."

Mina reached behind her back and grabbed handcuffs. She danged them in front of you. "But I can't just let this slip by. I'm going to punish you."

The situation seemed to develop so fast you didn't register what Mina just said until she was handcuffing you.

"Sorry I leave the fuzzy handcuffs at home so we'll have to make do with these."

Part of you was hoping she was joking. Was this really happening, were you about to do it with Mina?!

"Don't do this Mina. Th- this isn't right!"

"Don't speak back to me you filthy brat!"

Mina's sudden outburst scared you and made you quickly shut up not daring to try to speak out of term.

"Now be a good boy for my Y/N. Just sit here and accept your punishment."

Mina got down on her knees and started to undo your pants. There wasn't anything you could do but simply watch. Once she took off your pants she ran her fingers along your thigh.

"P- please stop."

"You want me to stop darling? But your body is reacting so eagerly to my touch. Are you sure you want me to stop?"

She wasn't lying, you were yearning for her touch as much as you wanted to deny it. Before you could respond Mina smacked your thigh. It wasn't too harsh but it stung a little.

"But darling, I thought I told you not to speak out. Don't make me remind you again okay?"

"Ow fuck-"

She smacked you again.

"Drop the language."

"Y- yes ma'am."

Mina kissed your thighs while her fingers were rubbing against your clothed aching cock. You wanted this to continue but you knew this was wrong. It's not like this is standard protocol and she didn't even ask if you were okay with it. Yet you still couldn't help but be turned on by the given situation.

Even though you denied it your body knew what it really wanted. Shivering every time she ran her finger on your body to your cock hardening it was all too obvious.

She could tell you wanted to say something. "If you want to say something then I'm granting you this opportunity to say it."

"Please"

"Please what darling? Use your big boy words now."

"Suck me off Mina please I'm begging you."

"Begging now are we? Well I'm not entirely convinced yet, maybe you should beg me some more and I'll consider listening to you."

"Mina please, I really want you to fuck me until I can't walk. I want to lose all senses and be at your mercy."

Mina giggled at your statement. "Oh darling if you think that's enough to get me to listen to you you're going to have to try a little harder than that I'm afraid."

"Please fuck me Mina! I only crave your touch, I swear I'll listen to every order you give me!"

Mina rubbed her nose against your clothed cock. "That's more like it darling. However since you've been so disobedient then you'll have to make me cum before I give you any pleasure."

She proceeded to stand up and take off her clothes. Mina made sure to take her sweet time taking off her clothes. She knew it was driving you crazy and you wanted to get up and take her clothes off for her but your hands were handcuffed to each other.

Eventually she stripped down to her bra and underwear. Both were the same colour of pink. Mina sat up on her desk and started to rub her pussy using one of her fingers.

Low moans fell out of her mouth as she pleasured herself. You couldn't do anything but watch. You felt yourself get turned on by watching the scene unfold in front of you.

"What are you waiting for darling? Come and make me cum!"

"My hands are tied."

Mina laughed at your comment "Of course you are darling. But I didn't put a gag on you did I?"

When you realized what Mina wanted you leaned forward and used your mouth to take off her underwear.

"Just like that darling, make this a learning experience!"

You buried your face onto Mina's pussy and shoved your tongue deep into her. Mina wrapped her legs around you tightly cutting off your air supply. "If you want to breathe then make me cum. Or else you'll suffocate between my thighs. Though I'm guessing you'd be okay with that wouldn't you darling?"

Fastening your pace you licked every inch of Mina's delicious pussy. Part of you wished your hands weren't tied so you could grab her boobs. But the current situation would do.

Though you tried desperately you felt yourself losing consciousness and before you knew it everything went black. "Aw did you pass out already?"

Mina unwrapped her thighs that were around your head and started to finger herself. Wet sounds filled the room as she shoved her fingers in and out of herself while her other hand was on her clit.

You were suddenly woken up by the feeling of something splashing on your face. When your eyes adjusted you realized it must've been Mina's cum.

"Oh your awake again darling?"

"Mina what-"

Another smack was given to you.

"What did I say about speaking out of term? And to think I thought about letting you cum. Since you seem to suck at making me cum and suck at listening to orders then I'll let you sit here and think about your actions."

Mina got up and put her clothes back on and you didn't do anything but watch as she started to leave the room.

"Don't worry darling I'll come and get you early in the morning. Till then think about your actions and I might let you cum first thing in the morning!" Mina said as she left the room closing the door behind her leaving you handcuffed to the chair to think about your actions that lead you to this moment.

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

Sorry for not uploading even though I said I would get back on schedule. In my defense I've been reading a really good Lux/Jinx fanfic.

Starring: You Mina, Nayeon (TWICE) Ryujin (ITZY) Kyujin (NMIXX) Hwi (TNX)

[littlelamy]

can you make a series where rafe and reader broke up 3 years ago, but she comes back to Outer Banks only now she has a daughter(who looks just like Rafe) and a husband (Whom she doesn't really love) and rafe still loves her.

notes: part 1; once i have more time ill create a whole masterlist and moodboard 🤍

you should’ve known it wouldn’t be that easy.

leaving the beach that day, gripping your daughter’s tiny hand like a lifeline, you told yourself it was just a coincidence. a cruel twist of fate. but deep down, you knew better.

rafe cameron never let go of things that belonged to him.

and you? you were his biggest unfinished business.

so when you see him again, it’s not a surprise. but that doesn’t mean you’re ready for it.

it’s late, your daughter is asleep in her room, and the quiet hum of the television does little to calm the storm brewing in your chest. your husband is still at work, leaving you alone with your thoughts—until a knock at the door sends a jolt through your spine.

you freeze, heart hammering.

you don’t have to open it to know who it is.

but you do anyway.

rafe stands there, leaning against the doorframe like he has every right to be here. his hair’s messier than before, shirt slightly wrinkled, like he’s been running his hands through it all night. his eyes flicker past you, scanning the house before landing back on you.

"you weren’t gonna call me, were you?" his voice is low, rough.

"rafe—"

"don’t lie to me." he steps closer, and you instinctively grip the door, as if that’ll keep him out. as if you could ever keep him out. "we need to talk."

"there’s nothing to talk about," you whisper, even though you both know that’s not true.

he scoffs, shaking his head. "you really think you can just pretend I don’t exist? That she doesn’t—"

"don’t." your voice is sharp, cutting through the air between you. you swallow hard, glancing over your shoulder, but your daughter’s still asleep. "please, rafe. not here."

his jaw clenches, and takes a long exhale through his nose. "but we’re not done."

before you can stop him, he steps inside, pushing the door shut behind him. his presence fills the space instantly, suffocating, electrifying. he smells the same—cologne and salt and something distinctly rafe. something that used to make your head spin in the best way. now it just makes you dizzy with memories you’ve spent three years trying to bury.

"so this is your life now?" he murmurs, eyes sweeping over the modest living room, the framed photos of a life he wasn’t part of. "picket fences and a husband who works late?"

your fingers tighten around your arms, nails pressing into your skin. "it’s a good life."

"bullshit." he steps closer, gaze burning into you. "you’re a good liar, but not with me. never with me."

your breath shudders, your resolve cracking. "rafe, please—"

"please what? leave? forget? pretend that kid doesn’t have my eyes?" his voice is bitter, his anger barely restrained. "because i fucking can’t."

you shake your head, but the words won’t come. because what is there to say? he’s right. she does have his eyes. and he was never meant to see her.

he sighs, running a hand through his hair, frustration rolling off him in waves. "i’m not here to ruin your life," he says, quieter now. "but i’m not walking away either. not this time."

your stomach twists. you should fight him on this, tell him to leave, slam the door in his face. but you don’t. because a part of you—the part that still remembers how it felt to love him, to be loved by him—wants to hear what he has to say.

and that scares you more than anything.

taglist: @namelesslosers @maybanksangel @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @rafesheaven @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @rafesangelita @sstargirln @rafedaddy01 @soldesole @bakugouswaif @skywalker0809 @vanessa-rafesgirl @evermorx89 @outerhills @ditzyzombiesblog @slavicangelmuah @alivinggirl @rafesgreasycurtainbangs @rafesbabygirlx @drewsephrry

[cornliastreett]

BED CHEM ⎯⎯ chapter seven

drew starkey x singer!reader

NAVIGATION !

BED CHEM MASTERLIST !

PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

001. NOTE

🤭🤭 don’t have anything to say but enjoy

i haven’t proof read this chapter so apologies for any mistakes but i really wanted to get this up today

yourusername posted a photo !

liked by rudeth, zendaya and 1,073,278 others

yourusername went to some industry events

view all 5,073 comments

user let’s hope she sees drew again 🤭

Y/N DIDN'T OFTEN EXPERIENCE DEJA VU, OR EVEN AT ALL. But when she locks eyes with Drew at yet another event, she feels it, causing her to almost irrupt into a fit of giggles. Was the universe trying to tell her something? Was there a reason it kept pulling her and Drew together?

He didn't approach her straight away, as he was in conversation with somebody else but he smiled, almost a smirk, before his eyes averted away. Meaning he didn't see the deep blush take over her face. She felt like she was back in High School. What was this man doing to her? Y/N needed to get it together before somebody caught on to the effect he had on her. Or before he caught on.

Little did she know, Drew was feeling the exact same. How could a girl he'd met no more than three times have such an effect on him? He'd locked eyes with Y/N, then looked away, but he couldn't stop thinking about her. The way her eyes sparkled when she saw him, the sound of her giggling at his pathetic attempts of flirting with her and the way she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. Drew Starkey could not get Y/N Y/L/N out of his head, no matter how much he tried. Not that he was trying too hard.

After a few more minutes, Y/N had made her way over to the bar. She had brought Paloma along with her but she was long gone, Y/N assumed she was around somewhere trying to see who the most famous person she could talk to that night was. But Y/N didn't mind, not when she knew Drew was around somewhere.

The glass of her drink had barely reached her lips when a familiar voice spoke from behind her. "Well, well, well, fancy seeing you here." The voice spoke with a hint of amusement, causing her to smile. She placed her glass back on the bar and turned around.

There he was. Blue eyes staring into her own. "Hey, Starkey." Y/N teased, leaning back on the bar behind her. Her eyes quickly detoured down him, trying to covertly check him out but Drew saw, as clear as day.

"Oh, is that how it is? Not even first name basis." His eyebrows raised at Y/N’s words, teasing her. "I'm hurt, Y/L/N." Drew held his hand up to his chest. His chest that was covered in a black button up. Y/N noticed how he'd ditched the jacket, there was no tie, and the first three buttons had been disregarded. Showing off the top of his chest. Was he trying to kill her?

Unbeknown to her, she wasn't the only one focused on what the other one was wearing. Drew felt as though he couldn't breathe. Y/N looked unbelievable and he couldn't stop his eyes from dropping down. Who wore leather to an industry event anyway? But he wasn't going to complain.

Y/N frowned in a teasing way. "Drew isn't even your first name anyway." She pointed out before raising her own eyebrows.

"How do you know that?" Drew laughed, had she been Googling him?

"Maddie told me." Y/N shrugged her shoulders. It wasn't a big deal that her and Maddie were talking about him, right?

"You've been talking about me with Maddie?" Drew's face had unknowingly lit up.

Y/N felt her face heat up again but she tried to brush it off. "Maybe." She reached for her drink to distract Drew from her flushed face. "So, Joseph, are you following me or what?" Y/N then changed the subject, they didn't need to discuss that she was talking about him with Madelyn.

"You wish." Drew laughed, crossing his arms over his chest, trying to act cool. But all Y/N could focus on was how his shirt tightened around his biceps when he did that.

Her eyes went back up to his face, and Drew expected her to laugh but she didn't. "Maybe I do." She wasn't going to lie.

"Oh yeah?" Drew smirked and Y/N's body reacted in a way she had never felt before.

"Yeah." She mirrored his smirk.

And that was it for the rest of the night. The two were glued to each other. Y/N and Drew had migrated over to the very end of the bar together, sitting opposite each other on two bar stools. Y/N hadn't even noticed but every time one of them had stood up, their stools seemed to get closer and closer together. Till their knees were slotted in between one another's. Y/N's left leg was slotted firmly between Drew's, meaning she could not move away. Luckily, she hadn't wanted to.

That had also meant Y/N was in perfect reaching distance of Drew. So he could place his hand directly onto her knee, casually without being too obvious.

The first time he did it, she had noticed. Although she had been wearing leather trousers, his hand felt as though it was burning a hole through them. The next few times he did it, she hadn't noticed as much. Then in the end, he hadn't even moved it away. Drew's hand stayed there till they had left that night.

There was laughing, and giggling from Y/N, flirting and teasing. If anyone was in earshot of the two, it would've been plastered all over the news the next morning. But nobody was really paying attention to either of them. Which was nice. Y/N didn't have to worry about what anybody would say.

The only person who really took notice was Paloma, who had circled back around to find Y/N. But when Paloma saw who Y/N was with, she decided to stay away. She hadn't seen her that happy in a while.

After an hour, or maybe two, of talking, Y/N was maybe tipsy enough to be braver than she usually would. Their last conversation had ended. Drew's hand was still resting on Y/N’s knee but now her hand was with his, fingers running over his own and over his rings. She hesitated before she spoke but meant every word. "Would it be totally inappropriate to ask you if you wanna get out of here?" Y/N said, eyes flickering up to meet his. She smirked, running her fingers around his own and holding them. The tension between the two was becoming too much for them both.

"Absolutely not, let's go." And Y/N had never seen Drew move so fast. Although he didn't let go of her hand, he used the other one to down his drink and he stood up, taking Y/N with him.

She had started to giggle at his eagerness but found it oddly attractive. "Okay, slow down." She said in between laughter leaving her mouth. She brought his hand closer to herself, gaining his attention.

"You want me to slow down?" Drew raised an eyebrow at her as he placed the glass back down on the bar.

Y/N paused, staring up into his eyes. Did she want him to slow down? "No, not really." She said softly, before letting Drew practically drag her out of the building.

A taxi took them back to Y/N's apartment. Only because it was closer. Y/N had also texted Paloma while in the taxi, telling her she'd left with Drew and that she'd pay for a taxi for her back to her apartment. She felt awful for ditching her friend but she knew she wouldn't mind, Paloma wasn't that kind of person.

The taxi ride was filled with Y/N's giggles as Drew whispered things into her ear. They couldn't keep their hands off each other as Y/N found herself unbuttoning more buttons on Drew's shirt. Her nails tracing patterns into his skin. Her touch was electric and Drew knew he wouldn't be able to stay away from her now.

When they got dropped off at her apartment building, Y/N led Drew inside. He followed behind her as she made her way over to the elevators. Y/N pressed the button and felt Drew press himself into her from behind, wrapping his arms around her waist softly. Drew's lips then found her neck, and her collarbone, and her shoulders. He only stopped when the doors opened in front of them.

The two adults stumbled inside, more laughter leaving Y/N's mouth. She pressed her back against the wall of the elevator, after pressing the right floor number. Drew stood in front of her, towering over her small frame. Y/N slowly wrapped her arms around Drew's shoulders, bringing herself closer to his face. They didn't move any closer, although there wasn't much room between them anyway. As they stared into each other's eyes. Y/N slowly moved her hands up to the back of his neck, stopping before bringing him any closer.

"If you kiss me right now, I am not going to be able to stay away from you." She admitted, eyes glancing down at his lips.

Drew wanted to laugh, was that supposed to make him want him to stop? "Maybe that's exactly what I want." Drew told her before he closed the distance between them himself.

Y/N had never had a first kiss so electrifying. She'd never had one that made her body feel on fire and so calm at the same time. It just felt right.

But unfortunately, it was short lived as the sound of the elevator doors opening forced the two apart. Y/N grabbed hold of Drew's hand, dragging him along behind her to her apartment. She dug her keys from her bag, fumbling with them as she tried to unlock the door. When she finally did, Drew followed her inside and into her kitchen, where Y/N threw her phone and bag onto the side.

"Do you want a —" She attempted to ask Drew if he wanted a drink, trying to occupy herself as she wasn't really sure what was about to happen next and didn't want to just assume why Drew had accompanied her back to her apartment. Although the reason she assumed, she really hoped was the reason.

Luckily for Y/N, she didn't need to assume as Drew spun her around and pressed her against the kitchen counter. Drew's lips found Y/N's again, but this time it was more forceful, more passionate. It meant more than a hesitant, slow kiss in an elevator. This one was leading somewhere.

The kiss became faster, like they were afraid the other would disappear. Drew's hands found a place on Y/N's waist, gripping the leather covering her skin. Y/N's had found place on Drew's jaw, giving her a sense of control. They continued, till Y/N needed to catch her breath. She pulled away, keeping her hands on Drew's face but Drew had other plans. His mouth attached itself to Y/N's jawline, making it's way down to her neck and even further.

The sounds of Y/N's breathing filled the room as she attempted to fill her lungs again but Drew was making it awfully difficult. Her empty fingers found space in his hair, nails scratching his scalp. Drew had lightly nipped the skin above her collarbone, eliciting a soft moan from Y/N's lips. "You have no idea how much I have thought about this since meeting you." Drew's words were muffled, not wanting to remove himself from Y/N.

Y/N found herself smiling, even though Drew couldn't see. "I think I have a slight idea."

Finally, Drew had removed his face from her neck. His face was red and his lips were swollen but Y/N had never been more attracted to him. "God, you're so beautiful." His 6 foot 2 frame towered over her 5 foot one. "I can die a happy man now."

A laugh escaped Y/N's lips as she shook her head at the man. "You're ridiculous."

"Is that why you're blushing?" He smirked, leaning his head back down but stopped before their lips touched.

"Just stop talking and kiss me."

"Yes, ma'am."

BED CHEM TAGLIST !

tags: @esquivelbianca @ts1mp0ne @fruitcakerafe @anothertimegirl @soincredible @ursogorgeous13 @drewsephrry @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @hypnotizedstarkey @harrys-housewife @st8rkey @lyannesworld @bxbychxrry @midnight-and-books @dontknow3m @amel1ee @preyperch-blog @dreamybabbyy @lolasangelz @nai12 @drewstarkeysbabe @blog-luvdance @darlingstarkey @chillgal135 @blushmimi @fveapplestall @rlalliehayes @moonssyrup @pamwired @kissesandmartinis @sereneera @imtalkinnonsense @starkeybae

[kheprriverse]

I mentioned Volga’s family at the end of this post and wanted to get into it a little more, it just took a LONG time to finish the refs I needed for it. But now I think I got what I wanted done. There are a few I maybe wanna work on in the future but for now… Volga family/lore dump!!!

I like lore-dumping through him since he's Ares's way of learning about dragons. It's not often you'll get a fire dragon willing to share his experience with you and I like making Ares the know-it-all mouthpiece.

I mentioned he was born from a clutch of 6 eggs. The eldest is his sister, Scorn, who is also the largest and most fierce.

I want her to make an appearance eventually, relating to this post funnily enough (I’m actually reworking when this meeting even takes place so while that post will still be sorta relevant to their relationship it’ll have nothing to do with Scorn). He knows the most about her which... is not much tbh. Usually after dragons migrate away from families they'll likely never see each other again.

The second oldest are his sisters Blitz and Blaze, twins born from the same egg. He doesn't know much about them aside from what Scorn would tell him in the future. That they continue to be inseparable, insufferable, and downright wacky. They rule their territory together and don't have (or don't want) mates, unlike Scorn who had her own family at one point.

He knows his three other siblings; Flare, Sear, and Burn, all of which are female. He knows of them, but doesn't know what they've been up to since they all migrated. He's the youngest, the runt, and funnily enough (one of) the most odd. He's had to exaggerate just about everything about him in order to keep his siblings from treating him like he's weak, which happened to play into his current arrogant and prideful self now. Though, sometimes he lets that facade fall when alone with Ares.

They're in no way the only hatchlings their parents had, but Volga wouldn't know any of them outside of his clutch.

Then there's his parents: his mother Smolder, and his father Gargoyle.

He's not exaggerating when he says they're the largest dragons someone could meet. They've lived and ruled their territory for many years unchallenged. Though he does make an off comment about Smolder being bigger than Hyrule Castle sometime in a future conversation, but he never makes it clear to Ares if he's truly joking or not.

Fire dragons don't leave their eggs, nor do they leave their hatchlings out to survive on their own unless there's some crazy exception that would make them think abandoning is the best choice. Could be from the current situation being unsafe, like having just been driven out of territory (in Scorn's case) for example. Or it could be the hatchling has some mutation or is too weak. Though not every fire dragon will abandon their hatchlings unless they think there's no other choice.

They're raised for about a year, taught what's important (how to hunt, how to breath fire properly, how to defend oneself and fight, what is honor and how to have an honorable fight, territory and what it means, how to hoard, social cues, etc). After that initial year the hatchlings, now fledgling dragons, will migrate to claim their own territory or challenge another dragon for theirs.

Volga was actually going to have a snide comment at the end here like "not anymore at least". This is just snippets from a storyboard so it may or may not appear in the future.

Some instances, dragons may stay with their parents and help defend the nest and hunt for future siblings. I'm sure if Volga ever went back to his birthplace he'd maybe see a few siblings still, but it doesn't always happen. Sometimes they'll stay on the off chance that they can challenge their parents for their territory when they're older, but Smolder and Gargoyle aren't really dragons you wanna challenge.

Volga chose a rather dangerous route when migrating and that was over the Great Sea. Likely to prove a point to his family. The ocean is much too large for a 1-year-old dragon, especially his size at the time, to fly over. But he managed to do it anyways, whereas the rest of his siblings likely stayed within reach of their parents, or each other, or even just within the same continent.

His decision to migrate across the ocean likely caused his family to believe he probably died before he got to the other side because of how difficult it is to get across. Which is something I plan for Scorn to point out when they finally reunite. if I ever get to drawing it.

He arrives in Hyrule when its already established, but manages to keep himself hidden long enough to find Eldin Volcano -- the perfect home for a fire dragon. But before he can become comfortable he meets another fire dragon! An old one even, burrowed deep within the volcano with its hoard of monster bones and jewels, and a large community of lizardfolk working for it while it sleeps.

The dragon is much too old to fight, and Volga at the time is much to small to challenge anyone. So he ends up blending into the lizardfolk and bringing the elder food, though its likely the dragon knew he was there. It would be a couple years of Volga running random errands the lizardfolk give him before the older dragon finally leaves its burrow and makes himself known; Obsidian, as the lizardfolk would call him.

Volga was pretty lucky the dragon was so old. He had built up the territory for multiple centuries, had a deal with the gorons and lizardfolk, but was having difficulty keeping peace with the rito and newly settled hylians. Because of his age, Obsidian didn't see a need to feel threatened nor threaten the 3-year-old fledgling, instead he found potential in Volga and decided he'd be a good successor. So he took the smaller dragon under his wing (haha) and its been history since.

Volga learned much of his prowess from Obsidian and many of his current techniques as well. Many fire dragons have potential to shift into an alternate form and this is who Volga learned and perfected his from. It wasn't until this ability was practiced to perfection before Obsidian decided Volga was ready to challenge him and take his place.

Often times when fire dragons are trying to find territory and encounter another dragon, they much "challenge" the current dragon. Challenges are done honorably, either ending in death or when one of the opponents forfeits. When a dragon challenges another, they unfold their wings and hang their head high to make themselves look larger before letting out a "challenge roar". The fight starts when the second dragon initiates.

Volga has kept his word to Obsidian to keep the peace between the gorons and lizardfolk, as well as repair the relationship with the hylians and rito, and keep the territory running for the rest of his life. And a dragon's word is unbreakable.

[vbecker10]

What Were You Going to Ask Me?

Pairing: Bucky x female reader (Y/N)

Summary: Sam & Steve push Bucky to ask you out on a date but every time he tries to ask you, something or someone interrupts him. After several failed attempts to find out what Bucky needs to ask you, he acts as if he forgot his question when he mistakenly thinks you have a daughter and husband.

Sam rolls his eyes as he turns on the lights in the empty gym, "Okay seriously Buck, I'm tired of hearing about Y/N. Can you give it a rest for like ten minutes?"

"Why? What's wrong with Y/N?" Bucky asks defensively, following Sam over to the boxing area.

"Nothin'..." he explains with a sigh. "But you haven't stopped talking about her for a solid week."

"I don't talk about her that much," Bucky argues, folding his arms across his chest as he drops his gym bag at his feet.

"It's literally all the damn time," Sam insists. "I mean come on, I know how Y/N takes her coffee and her favorite pizza place-"

"It's good pizza," Bucky interrupts.

"That's not even close to my point," Sam opens his bag and digs around for what he needs.

"I hate to say it but Sam's right," Steve joins the conversation finally, putting his gym bag down at the end of a row of punching bags.

"Really man?" Sam asks as he takes offense to Steve's comment. "I'm right pretty often."

"Yeah, like when?" Bucky counters with a smirk.

"Stop it, we're getting off topic," Steve says in his Captain America tone before Sam can start an argument with Bucky. "Look Buck, we both know you like Y/N, it's painfully obvious."

Bucky kneels down and unzips his gym bag, pulling out a long wrap for his hand. Keeping his head down, he ignores Steve who continues to talk with Sam. He really thought he was hiding his growing feelings for you better than this. If his friends noticed, were you able to tell too? Maybe you did know and you didn't feel the same and that's why you never brought it up.

"Dude really?" Sam stands over the super soldier and finally gets his attention.

"What?" Bucky looks up then stands slowly.

"Would you please just ask her out already?" Sam asks desperately.

Before Bucky can explain all the reasons why that's a bad idea, his oldest friend puts his hand on his shoulder, squeezing it lightly and looks him straight in the eyes. "If you don't ask her by the end of the day, I'm doing it for you," Steve says. "You're driving me nuts Bucky."

After training, Bucky goes back to his apartment to shower then heads straight for your office before he loses his nerve or worse... Steve makes good on his threat. He knocks on the door and waits anxiously on the other side.

You sigh, looking up from your screen as you pinch the bridge of your nose and close your eyes tightly. You had spent the last two hours training the new SHIELD intern but you have a feeling he didn't retain a single thing you told him. That better not be Josh with more questions already, you think.

"Come in," you call with as little annoyance in your voice as possible. Picking up your cup, you finish your second lukewarm coffee of the day as the door opens. "Oh, hi Bucky," you say cheerfully as soon as you see the super soldier walk into your office. He smiles at you and you immediately forget how aggravated you had been only seconds ago.

"Hey Y/N," he smiles back as he closes the door, his nervousness easing slightly by how excited you are to see him. He takes a seat across from you, his eyes leaving yours momentarily to take in the tall stack of case files and two empty coffee cups. "Busy day?"

"Always is," you shrug and you notice his smile fade slightly which is the last thing you want. You can't explain how much you love to see him happy, it gives you butterflies anytime he smiles, especially when you are the one who caused it to happen. "I always have time for you though. What can I help you with?" you ask. "I didn't think you had any up coming missions, did I miss one?"

"Uh, no. I actually have a question for you," Bucky replies. He shifts on the chair and runs his metal fingers through his hair.

"Oh, okay. What's-" you start to ask what he needs but your attention is pulled away from Bucky to your phone ringing. You groan when you see who it is, "Sorry, I need to get this, it's Agent Hill."

He nods and gets up to leave. "It'll just take a second, you can stay," you tell him but he's already out the door.

At lunch you decide to go looking for Bucky, still curious about what he wanted to ask you. You head up to the Avengers living quarters and make your way to the kitchen. He's standing with his back to you as he digs through the fridge for something to eat, when he turns and sees you behind him a smile spreads across his face.

"Hey," he says, carrying the ingredients for a sandwich over to the island.

"Hi again," you smile back and walk closer to him. "I was hoping I'd find you here." That was only a little lie, you knew you would find him here. Bucky always eats lunch in the kitchen unless he's on a mission or stuck in meetings.

"You were looking for me?" he asks as he assembles his lunch.

"Yeah, I was wondering what you wanted to ask me before," you explain.

"Oh, umm..." his cheeks redden and you can't help but wonder if he's blushing or if you're seeing things. "Well I was wondering if-"

Tony walks in and Bucky's mouth clamps shut tightly which only makes you more curious. "Hey," Tony greets you both as he makes his way to the fridge to grab a drink.

"Hi," you respond but keep your eyes on Bucky who suddenly seems overly focused on his lunch. He gathers the remaining ingredients and quickly puts them away. "Oh, did you still need to talk?" you ask Bucky, hoping he won't leave yet.

"Yeah, maybe later. I'll come by your office in a bit," he says without looking at you as he walks past Tony and heads towards his apartment with his plate.

"So that was weird even for him," Tony says when you two are alone.

"It was right?" you ask. You're tempted to follow him but before you can leave the kitchen your phone alerts you that you have a meeting starting in fifteen minutes. With a sigh, you head back to your office.

Two hours later, you've completely given up on the idea that Bucky will come visit your office and finally ask you his question. The fact that he didn't want to talk about it when Tony was there just makes you even more curious. It obviously doesn't have anything to do with work so what the heck is it?

You bite your lip and just as your mind begins to wander, your phone vibrates. The initial disappointment you feel when the call isn't from Bucky vanishes when you hear your sisters voice on the other end of the line.

You check your watch to make sure you're not late while the coffee maker works on your third cup of the day. You need to be down in the lobby in the next ten minutes or so.

"Hi Y/N," Bucky's voice fills the previously empty kitchen.

"Oh, hey," you give a small wave and your smile brightens when you see him, Steve and Sam. "I've got a few minutes until I need to do something, can we talk about whatever your question was?"

"You didn't ask yet?" Sam looks at Bucky as you reach for the sugar in the cabinet above you. Your back is turned to the trio so you miss the disappointed look Steve gives his friend but not the sound of Bucky smacking Sam's shoulder to quiet him.

You laugh, "I've been trying all day to find out what the heck he needs to ask me."

"Yeah, about that-" Bucky starts, shoving his hands deep in his pockets.

Your phone vibrates and you take it out to check the new message. "Sorry Bucky, I need to head to the lobby," you interrupt him.

"Right," he nods. "I'll uh... I'll ask you later."

"Come with me," you tell him. "You can ask me on the way. I'm dying of curiosity here."

He laughs nervously, "Yeah, sure." Steve pats his back hard as he walks past his friends and follows you.

The elevator is crowded with people leaving to go home for the day and you frown knowing Bucky won't even give you a hint as to what his question is. On a more positive note, the cramped elevator means your back is pressed against his chest for the duration of the ride down. This is as close to the super soldier as you've ever been, you've thought about giving him a hug once or twice before but you always held back.

Bucky closes his eyes, keeping his hands in his pockets to ensure he doesn't reach out without thinking to hold you tighter to his body. His mind wanders briefly as he wonders if you'd let out that adorable giggle of yours if he kissed your cheek or put his arms around you.

When the elevator reaches the lobby, you hear what sounds like Bucky sighing in relief behind you. You bite your lip at his reaction and take as big of a step away from him as you can while you wait for everyone else to get out.

Bucky follows you, curious about who you are meeting since he had been so wrapped up in his own thoughts he forgot to ask. Maybe one of your friends? Hopefully not a boyfriend, you hadn't mentioned one but there was a lot he still didn't know about you. He stops walking and his heart sinks when a little girl runs over to you, hugging you tightly as you kneel down to greet her. You stand up, holding the child then walk a few steps closer to a man Bucky fears is your husband as he's obviously the girls father. He hands you a small backpack and kisses the little girls head which makes her giggle. The sound reminds Bucky of you and he does his best not to let his emotions show on his face as he watches you.

"Say bye to daddy," you tell the girl and she waves as he leaves through the front doors. You turn back to Bucky with a smile. "Ready to go back up?"

He doesn't answer, his mind swimming. He thought for sure you were flirting with him but maybe you were just being nice. Had he read the whole situation completely wrong?

"Bucky?" you ask to get his attention.

"Bucky," the girl repeats and giggles.

"Yes, that's Bucky," you put her backpack over your shoulder and wave at him. The little girl copies you.

Bucky wiggles his metal fingers as he waves back which you find far too adorable. His bright smile returns and he pushes the button for the elevator as he takes the pink unicorn bag from you. "Hi there, what's your name?" he asks.

"Lucy," she answers with a wide smile, showing off a missing front tooth.

"It's nice to meet you Lucy," Bucky tells her as you follow him onto the elevator.

"Okay, so what did you want to ask me?" you ask and laugh a little. "Sorry we keep getting distracted."

"Oh, I forgot what it was," he shrugs. "I guess it wasn't important."

"Seriously?" you ask not believing him. "All day I've been trying to figure out it and that's all I get?"

"Sorry," he responds, his eyes focus on the elevator buttons and he remains quiet until you reach the common floor.

"Oh my goodness, who is this?" Nat smiles when the three of you enter the kitchen. Sam and Steve sit across from her, their discussion about what to order for dinner coming to an abrupt end.

Lucy bites her lip, looking at all the new faces and turns in your arms, hiding herself against your shoulder. "Aww, are you feeling shy?" you say to her gently.

She nods and Bucky rubs her back slowly which takes you by surprise. Lucy looks up at him and he smirks, "Don't be shy, everyone's so excited to meet you. Want to show them your missing tooth?"

She giggles excitedly and smiles wide as she faces your friends, pointing to the little hole between her teeth.

"Wow," Sam says. "You get a dollar from the tooth fairy?"

Lucky nods quickly as you set her down now that she seems more relaxed.

"Y/N, she looks just like you," Nat states, looking from you to Lucy.

"Right?" you laugh. "I always thought that was funny cause my sister and I don't really look alike."

"My brother-in-law got called into work early and my sister got stuck in a late meeting so I told them I could watch her for a few hours," you explain.

Bucky nearly drops the backpack when he goes to place it on the island and the sudden slip doesn't go unnoticed by the spy or his friends. You, however, don't notice as your preoccupied watching Lucy wander over to Bucky.

"Wait, so she's not your daughter?" Steve asks, his tone a mix of confusion and surprise.

You laugh again, "What? No, I'm on aunt duty tonight." Looking around, you see Bucky's mouth hanging open and Sam shrugging at Steve. "Wait, did you guys really think I had a daughter I forget to tell you about?"

"No, of course not," Steve says quickly.

"Absolutely not," Sam says at the same time.

Bucky remains quiet but you see the smile return to his face and wonder if that's why he had been so awkward in the elevator. "The three of you are idiots," Nat shakes her head, voicing your thoughts perfectly.

"Well yeah, but I just thought..." Bucky's thought trails off when Lucy grabs onto his pants leg and tugs to get his attention. "Hi," he smiles down at her.

She giggles up at him and reaches her arms up, "Bucky."

"I don't mind," he smiles as he sways a bit back and forth. "I think someone is tired."

"You tired of me already?" you pretend to pout but it doesn't get her attention, she continues to smile up at him and he kneels down to be at eye level. "Oh I get it, you just want to tall, handsome, soldier to hold you?" You blush when you realize you said that last part outloud and you can tell by Nat's expression and the way Bucky's head snaps in your direction that they all heard it.

Bucky gently lifts her up with his right arm and she cuddles against his chest. "You don't have to..." you tell him.

"Are you ever going to tell me what you wanted to ask me?" you look up at him as the elevator doors close, leaving you alone and him with no way to escape the question that's been following you around all day.

"I-" you try to process a question that wasn't anywhere on your list of possible topics. He bites his lip as he watches your brain slowly catchup. "Yes! Yeah, yes I'd love to," you giggle and notice his smile returning but then yours fades. "Ooh no... I can't, I'm sorry."

"Now seems as good a time as any," he says with a nervous smile. He clears his throat, "I was wondering if you'd like to go on a date this Friday?"

"What? No, I mean, yes I still really want to but just not this Friday. I promised I'd watch Lucy so my sister and her husband could go to a wedding," you explain quickly before he thinks you aren't interested in him.

His smile disappears completely, "It's okay, I'm sorry. I knew I shouldn't have asked."

He nods, putting his hands in his pockets. "Maybe next weekend?" he suggests with a shrug almost as if he's not sure he believes you.

"Or you could come over and help Friday?" you counter and he looks at you curiously. "Please? She already loves you and I get really bored after I put her to bed. I really want to spend more time with you. We could watch a movie or something."

"Sure," Bucky relaxes and you grin happily. "You think your sister will be okay if I come over?"

"I don't think she's going to mind an Avenger watching over her kid while she's out," you tell him.

"Fair point," he takes a step closer to you as the doors open. "Its not quite a date, but I'm looking forward to it."

"Bucky!" Lucy screams excitedly when your sister opens the door and sees you with the super soldier.

"Wow, I'm forgotten about already," you say trying to sound overly hurt when you close the front door.

"She's been talking about him coming over since you called," Rachel laughs and gives you a hug as Bucky picks up your niece.

"Can we braid your hair?" the little girl asks with a smile as she pulls his hair gently.

"Maybe," he says with a smile that very obviously means yes.

"Glitter?" Bucky repeats nervously and you giggle with your sister as she puts on her coat.

"Oh and decorate your arm?" she asks as she reaches to play with his metal fingers.

"You going to make his arm pretty?" you joke with your niece who takes your question very seriously.

She nods, "Glitter."

"No glitter," your brother-in-law thankfully steps into the conversation. "Be good for aunt Y/N and Bucky okay sweetheart? We'll be home before you wake up."

She nods quickly, "I'll be good daddy." Bucky sets her back down so she can hug both her parents goodbye.

He leans over to whisper to you, "If I see one piece of glitter, I'm picking the movie and what we're doing on our date tomorrow."

"That was the worst threat ever," you smile back at him as the front door closes. "So, where's the glitter Lucy?"

I hope you liked this!! Please like, share and comment if you did 💙💙 Please let me know if you want to be added to my taglist!

@soubi001 @lokiswife-dark-fox-queen @animnerd @cabingrlandrandomcrap @icytrickster17 @mjsthrillernp @holdmytesseract @lulubelle814 @alexakeyloveloki @siconetribal @ash-muses @loz-3 @firedrakegirl @wolfsmom1 @sabspoetic @peaches1958 @catsladen @michellewgrt @crimson25 @jaidenhawke @mochie85 @itscomplicatedx

[winterscaptain]

professional courtesy.

...or berry hill (aaron's version) Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader

a/n: hello it’s me from beyond the veil i’m sorry i haven’t updated this in three years, but enjoy! i figured i’d warm up from my hibernation with a long-requested installment. (i dont want to hype myself up too much but the discord girlies about died)

words: 17.3k (damn) warnings: language, a far less vague mention of aaron’s anatomy (masturbation in the shower, nothing too extreme), alcohol, the vibe is self-loathing, catholic guilt™

summary: “i go itchy with want, thin on sleep. i feel her fingers in mine. the way we could be both hard and soft on each other. her sandy voice calling out as i climb one exposed cliff after another. ... all night this all goes through me, the four hours of sleep i get.” - kawai strong washburn, sharks in the time of saviors. december 6th-12th, 2010

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It’s way too late and you both know it, but Jack is still on his annual winter vacation with Jessica and the rest of Haley’s family, so there’s simply no incentive to leave. Aaron sits back in his chair, a soft smile on his face as he watches you kick back in one of the chairs in his office, your feet on his desk like you own the place. 

The Montana case wrapped up neatly, and any remaining or incoming paperwork this week is light. If Aaron were an honest man, he’d have a few problems. The first, though, would be how much he missed JJ. He, of course, knows and understands the importance of her role, but he didn’t anticipate that losing her to the State Department would feel more like losing a limb. He knows you feel similarly - he’s seen the way you look up in the office and in the field, the ghost of her name on your lips. 

That aside, he’s in the middle of a story - one that took place just before Jack left for the lake. “...And then I found the actual writing on the wall.” He clarifies, seeing your furrowed eyebrows. “He drew on the wall.”

“What do you mean he drew on the wall?” You say through a laugh, popping a grape in your mouth. “Are we talking like a crayon mark here and there or a full on mural?”

He loves the way you love his son. It’s palpable to anyone who sees the two of you together - the love that Jack has for you and the fierce, consuming love you have for him in return. 

If he thinks about it too hard, he can imagine how seamlessly you could fit into their lives, how faithfully and seriously you would step into your role in Jack’s life. If he thinks even harder, he can imagine sleepless nights beside you, caring for the children you share. 

So he doesn’t think too hard. 

“Multi-media mural - glue, paper mache, markers, crayons, you name it and it was there.” He laughs and he takes a grape from your bowl, kicking his feet up on the desk - mirroring you. “I have no idea how he managed it. I was in the house the whole time.”

“Oh my God, he’s a terror!” Before Aaron can agree, your phone starts ringing. You pick it up, smiling as you see the caller ID. “Hey Dean!” You stand and give Aaron a ‘sorry, just a second’ finger and step out of the office, leaving the door open behind you. 

Aaron watches you go, taking another grape. He can’t hear what’s said on the other line, only your reply.

“Oh, not at all. I’m still in the office with Hotch getting some work done.”

Aaron raises his eyebrows, catching your eye. “Work?” he mouths. You shrug playfully, pulling a face, a light, lovely smile just for him. He smiles when you turn your back.

You’re doing anything but work right now. 

Work was over…

He checks his watch. 

…Nearly three hours ago. 

Is it that late already?

“So what’s up?”

There’s a pause while your friend speaks. When you reply, you sound defeated. Aaron’s brow crumples and his feet come off the desk. He sits forward, not really meaning to eavesdrop, but he is anyway.

I hope everything’s okay…

“It’s okay. I get work stuff, trust me.” 

He watches as you tip your head up to stare at the ceiling. He can hear the tears in your voice. “Yeah, I’ll figure it out. None of them knew to ask off work, so if we have a case I’ll be on my own regardless.” 

Oh no.

“It’s okay,” He hears you say. He knows it isn’t, but you’re a good friend. The last thing you’d want is for someone to feel bad on your behalf. 

Too damn bad and too damn late. 

Aaron starts to think. Time off work could be for anything - it sounds like an event? He got (and approved) your leave request ages ago. Maybe a vacation? 

Maybe I could… 

No. Don’t go there. 

There’s something in his head screaming danger! danger! danger! at the possibility that you and he could be somewhere alone for an extended period of time. It’s not that he doesn’t trust himself (really), but he’s not sure he’s that good of an actor. 

“Okay.” You heave an uneven sigh. “I’ll talk to you then. Really - don’t worry about it, it’s fine.” You hang up quickly and rest your forearms on the railing. Aaron watches your head hang, watches you swipe at your face and take a deep breath. 

He watches as you fruitlessly try to maintain the frivolity and decadence of the moment before, sitting in your same chair with your feet up and a cluster of grapes in your hand. 

It doesn’t work. Aaron sees right through you. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” but your voice breaks. You clear your throat and blink a few more times. 

He squints at you. “What’s wrong?” 

“Oh, you know.” You sniff, and gesture vaguely as you continue. “My best friend from college was supposed to be my date to a friend’s wedding next week, and the friend getting married also happens to be someone I dated in college so I was really hoping Dean could come with me, and now…” You trail off. He can see there’s more to say, but you’re holding back. 

It’s more than you’ve ever shared about your time in college, certainly more information than he’s ever had about your dating history. You’ve been through so much together, Aaron almost finds it odd that he’s never asked, but his curiosity is squashed by guilt. 

It’s been years…and he’s never asked. 

All those moments you’ve shared, the horrors and the joys, and he never thought to ask about something as simple as a college boyfriend? 

Maybe because it’s inappropriate, Hotchner. Ever think of that? 

He’s never asked Derek about his college flames, or Emily about her first kiss or anything of the sort. Why does it feel so odd with you? 

He knows. He just won’t admit it to himself. 

“Do you want someone to go with you?” He watches you chew on your lower lip. A long time ago, he decided there was nothing worse than seeing you upset. 

This is the least you can do, Hotchner. First personal weekend in nearly four years, you can at least do what you can to make it suck less. He reasons with himself, but he can’t help the sly thought that sneaks in on the tail end. Being a backup is better than being nothing at all. 

That’s enough. 

You scoff, still trying to shake it off. “Well, yeah. Obviously.”

He smiles a little. You completely missed his point.

The smart choice is to let it go—to offer some reassuring sentiment about how you’d be fine on your own, that you are more than capable of handling an awkward situation. And yet, he can’t ignore the weight behind your words, the way your shoulders have drawn just a little tighter, how your voice cracked when you first answered his question. His instinct to protect, to ease whatever discomfort you’re feeling, is strong—always has been. But it’s tangled up in something else, something quieter, far more dangerous. His fondness for you, his respect, his attraction — lines that had once been clear but have blurred over time into something he wasn’t sure he can still call professional. His ability to hold those boundaries is tenuous at best, these days, and this would only make it worse. But then you exhale, soft and resigned, the fight to downplay your disappointment slipping away. 

And, really, what was one more bad decision?

“If you wanted…” He hesitates, debating how to phrase it, but you beat him to it.

“Oh, God, Hotch.” You cover your face with your hands. “Please don’t feel like I’m trying to guilt you into anything. I’ll be fine.”

He huffs a quiet laugh. “You’re not guilting me into anything. I’m offering.”

Your hands fall away from your face, eyes searching his. He keeps his expression even, waiting.

“Really?”

“Really. I can get the weekend off—things are pretty slow around here. Where is it?”

You look a little stunned. “It’s, ah—it’s down at Berry Hill Resort, right by the North Carolina border.” You hesitate. “It’s about a three-and-a-half-hour drive.”

He nods, pulling out his phone to check the route. “If we leave early, we can switch in Richmond. I’ll start, if you’d like.”

Your smile is small but genuine. “Hotch, you’re the best.”

Warmth spreads through him at the ease of your acceptance—at the way you don’t second-guess his offer, don’t try to talk him out of it like he was making some grand sacrifice. You’re just… happy. Glad to have his company. And that shouldn’t mean as much as it does, but it settles somewhere deep in his chest, steady and certain.

He clears his throat, nodding as he glances back at his phone. “If we get on the road by seven, we’ll have plenty of time to stop if we need to.”

You hum, thoughtful. “You’re gonna regret offering when I make you stop for coffee every hour.”

He laughs a little, shaking his head. “I think I can manage.”

+++

He hits send on his brief email to you (no subject, just a come see me when you can - ah) and leans back for a moment, rubbing a hand over his jaw. It’s the middle of the day, but it already feels much later. 

Hotch’s desk phone rings, the director’s name flashing on the tiny screen. He sighs before answering.

“Hotchner.”

“Aaron,” the director greets, his tone brisk. “I wanted to go over the paperwork from your last case. I received your after action report and the folks down at records supplied the rest.”

Hotch straightens. “Of course. Was there an issue?”

“Not an issue, exactly,” the director hedges. “But there are a few inconsistencies between your initial report and the final case file. I need clarification before this goes any further.”

Hotch exhales slowly. “I assume this is about jurisdictional oversight.”

“In part. There’s also a discrepancy in the timeline of the suspect’s apprehension and when the local PD filed their report. It’ll need to be accounted for.”

He had anticipated as much. A minor issue, more bureaucratic than substantive, but one that requires correction nonetheless.

There is a knock at his door before you swing in, one hand gripping the doorframe. Your movement is easy, familiar—Hotch is thrilled that you never hesitate in his office, never second-guess your place here. It’s a good quality. Confidence without arrogance.

Stop it. 

Hotch lifts a hand, beckoning you inside. You step in and close the door behind you, waiting patiently near the couch on the far side of his office.

“...No, sir, that won’t be an issue. I’ll review the reports and send the necessary adjustments this afternoon.”

The director says something else he’s not really listening to with any depth, distracted by the way your eyes wander out the window, the sun catching your face in the light…

Stop it!

A pause. The director said something nice, something he needs to respond to as soon as he pulls his head out of his ass. “Understood. And I appreciate that. I’ll pass that along to the rest of the unit.”

“Thanks, Hotch. Have a good night and get home safe.”

“You too, sir.”

He sets the phone down, lacing his fingers together as he regards you. “Question.”

You drop into the chair across from him, resting your elbows on his desk. “Answer.”

Hotch levels you with a flat look, but his eyes betray his amusement. He can’t let your ability to make him laugh go to your head. “Funny.” You smirk, but he ignores it, pressing on. “I’m not sure if it matters to you, but I have an absurd number of ties. Color preference?”

A short huff of laughter leaves you. “You called me in here to ask whether or not I want to have a color scheme?”

“Yes,” he says, as if it were the most logical thing in the world. “A united front, or at least a coordinated one, seems like the best strategy, right?”

The reasoning is sound—practical. Coordination suggested cohesion, something seamless and intentional. It’s a subtle but effective advantage. He had seen juries make unconscious associations based on far less.

That was the only reason he asked. Definitely no ulterior motives. 

+++

Aaron descends the stairs from his office, phone pressed to his ear, the steady hum of the bullpen grounding him in the familiar rhythm of the day. Outside, the snow is falling in thick, lazy flakes, dusting the base in a quiet hush. Jack had launched into a continuation of the story he’d started earlier in the call—something about a rabbit nearly the size of his backpack darting across the backyard. He had, apparently, spent the better part of the afternoon watching from the window, hoping to see it again.

“You’ll have to tell me if you see it tomorrow,” Hotch says, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Maybe it’ll come back looking for more crumbs.”

Jack hums thoughtfully. “Maybe I should put out some carrots.”

Hotch chuckles, “That might work. Just don’t be too disappointed if it doesn’t come back. Wild animals don’t always stay in one place for long.”

“Yeah,” Jack sighs, clearly unconvinced. “But it was really cool.”

“I bet it was,”

Jack hums his agreement, then shifts gears, asking to speak to you. Hotch is already on his way toward your desk.

You’re in the middle of a consult with Ashley, walking her through your approach with the same steady patience Emily once used with you. Hotch’s hand comes to rest on your shoulder, and you glance up at him.

“Yeah?”

He pulls the phone from his ear just long enough to say, “Jack wants to talk to you.”

Your expression softens, a small smile playing at your lips as you shake your head. With an apologetic glance toward Ashley, you take the phone from his hand.

“Hey, kiddo,” you greet easily. “How’s Grandpa’s house?”

Hotch can’t hear Jack’s response, but he doesn’t need to. The way your face lights up told him everything he needs to know. He catches a few words here and there—aunt, snow—but mostly, he hears the warmth in your voice, the way you so easily match Jack’s enthusiasm.

“Aw, bubba, I miss you, too.” You assure him. “You’ll be home really soon, and when you get back we’ll go out to ice cream and you can tell me all about your visit.”

Another pause, then your voice, quieter, almost absentminded, as if the words had slipped out on their own. “I love you too.”

You hand the phone back without looking at Hotch, refocusing on Ashley as if nothing had happened. “So, like I said, Hotch prefers to—”

Hotch takes the phone, walking back toward the stairs.

Jack’s voice calls out as soon as Aaron greets him again. “Bye, Dad!”

Hotch feels a quiet pang of affection as he lifts the phone back to his ear. “Bye, Jack. Let me talk to Aunt Jess.”

There’s a shuffle on the other end, and then Jess’s voice comes through, bright and teasing. “Well, he’s having the time of his life, if that wasn’t obvious.”

Hotch huffs a quiet laugh. “That’s good to hear.”

“He’s been an angel,” Jess continues. “Which, honestly, is shocking, considering my family has zero faith in your parenting skills.”

Hotch lets out a real laugh at that, not bothering to argue. “I think that has more to do with you and—” He catches himself, shaking his head. “With the people he has around him.”

Jess hums, but doesn't press. 

+++

The crystal decanter clinks softly as Dave pours a generous measure of scotch into Aaron’s glass. He slides it across the polished wood of his desk, then leans back in his chair, swirling his own drink with the practiced ease of a man who has lived (at least part of) his life in leisure.

“So,” Dave begins, his voice laced with amusement. “You gonna pretend we’re just drinking in companionable silence, or are you finally going to tell me what’s going on?”

Aaron inhales slowly, lifting the glass to his lips. He knows Dave isn’t asking about the Orioles game yesterday. “Nothing is going on.”

Dave scoffs. “Oh, please. I’ve known you for too long to believe that. Tell me.”

Aaron shakes his head, gaze fixed on the amber liquid in his glass. “There’s nothing to tell.”

Dave leans forward, resting his elbows on the desk. “Uh-huh. And that’s why you look at her like she hung the moon?”

Aaron’s jaw tightens. He doesn’t need to ask who Dave’s talking about.  “She’s a valued member of my team. Just like you, or Morgan, or Prentiss, or Reid.”

“She’s also someone you’re clearly crazy about.” Dave takes a sip of his drink, watching Aaron with knowing eyes. “I mean, come on, Hotch. You really think I haven’t noticed?”

Aaron stays silent.

Dave smirks, using his hands now for emphasis. It’s absurd. “Let me paint you a picture. She walks into a room, and suddenly, you’re not the unshakable, unflappable Aaron Hotchner anymore. You’re—what’s the word? Present. Engaged. Maybe even happy, if I squint.”

Aaron sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. “Dave.”

“I’m just saying,” Dave continues, undeterred. “If there’s nothing there, then I’m a damn fool. And we both know that’s not the case.”

Aaron hesitates, then, almost reluctantly, admits, “Maybe there’s something.”

Dave grins like he’s just won a bet. Maybe he has. “Knew it.”

Aaron shakes his head again, but the small smile tugging at his lips betrays him.

“So what’s the problem?” Dave presses.

Aaron takes another measured sip before answering. “Jack, for one. It’s too soon after Haley. I have to be careful about—”

“Careful about what?” Dave interrupts. “Being happy? It’s been two years, Aaron.”

Aaron shoots him a look. “About how this affects him.”

Dave softens slightly, nodding. “Fair. But have you considered that maybe she’s already a part of his life? That maybe Jack — God forbid — actually likes having her around?”

Aaron doesn’t respond.

Dave tilts his head. “And let me guess — your other concern is her?”

Aaron lets out a slow breath. “There’s fourteen years between us, Dave.”

“Oh, give me a break. You were born in November—that’s practically thirteen years.” Dave waves a dismissive hand. “You’re acting like you’re twice her age.”

“She has a career to think about,” Aaron continues, ignoring him. “A reputation. If there were even a whisper of inappropriate behavior… or a conflict of interest, the whole team would get torn apart. Just imagine what Strauss—”

Dave groans. “Aaron, you are the most upstanding man I’ve ever met. If anyone tried to imply something inappropriate, they’d be laughed out of the room.”

Aaron still doesn’t look convinced.

“And as for the age thing,” Dave goes on, “she’s a grown woman. A brilliant, capable woman who—let’s be honest—doesn’t take crap from anyone, including you.”

That earns him a faint smirk from Aaron.

“She’s not some kid with a crush,” Dave says. “She knows exactly who you are, baggage and all. And let me tell you something—you might be able to fool yourself into thinking this is just one-sided, but I’ve seen the way she looks at you.”

Aaron stills, his lowball glass touching his lips. He recovers, taking a sip in what he hopes is a nonchalant fashion.

Dave raises an eyebrow. “Yeah. Thought that might get your attention.”

Aaron shakes his head, exhaling sharply. “Even if you’re right, it doesn’t mean it’s a good idea.”

Dave studies him for a long moment, then leans back with a sigh. “Hotch, let me ask you something. When’s the last time you let yourself want something just because it made you happy?”

Aaron doesn’t answer.

Dave nods knowingly. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.” He takes another sip of his drink, then points at Aaron. “At some point, you have to stop talking yourself out of the good things in your life. Otherwise, you’re gonna wake up one day and realize you let something incredible slip away.”

Aaron looks down at his glass, turning it slowly in his hands.

Dave smirks. “Just think about it, is all I’m saying.”

Aaron sighs, shaking his head. “You’re relentless.”

“That’s why you love me,” Dave says, raising his glass.

Aaron huffs a quiet laugh and clinks his glass against Dave’s, but he says nothing.

Dave takes a slow sip of his scotch, eyeing Aaron over the rim of his glass. Then, as casually as if he were asking about the weather, he says, “So… Any plans to spend time together outside of work?”

Aaron sighs, already anticipating where this is going. “She asked me to go to a wedding with her next weekend.”

Dave’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh?”

“As a favor,” Aaron clarifies, setting his glass down with a firm clink. “Nothing more.”

Dave makes an exaggerated show of nodding. “Ah. A favor. Because obviously, of all the people she could have asked, she just happened to land on you.”

Aaron gives him a look. “It’s a professional courtesy. And I was right there, so it was probably just convenient.” He leaves out the part where you didn’t ask outright, knowing his offer is damning evidence that would only prove Dave’s point.

Dave outright laughs at that. “Oh, that’s rich. Hotch, if this were any other woman in your life, you would’ve given her some excuse about being too busy with Jack or the job. But you didn’t.” He points a finger at Aaron around his scotch. “That means something.”

Aaron shakes his head. “It doesn’t.”

“Sure it doesn’t,” Dave says, smirking. “But since you’re doing this grand, selfless favor, tell me—what’s your game plan?”

“My what?”

Dave leans forward. “Your approach. This is the perfect opportunity to figure out where she stands, and you’re not about to waste it, are you?”

Aaron sighs. “Dave—”

“Nothing untoward, of course, nothing unprofessional,” Dave interrupts. “Just a little fact-finding mission. See how she responds to being close to you—seizing the opportunity to dance, for example.”

Aaron exhales through his nose, unimpressed. “I’m not—”

“Why not?” Dave cuts in. “It’s a wedding. It’d be weirder if you didn’t.”

Aaron pinches the bridge of his nose. “This is ridiculous.”

“What’s ridiculous,” Dave counters, “is pretending there’s nothing there when it’s obvious to everyone else. Just consider it—see how she reacts to you in a setting that isn’t life-or-death. Give yourself permission to look for the signs.”

Aaron doesn’t respond right away, and Dave knows he’s planted the seed.

After a moment, Dave smirks. “At the very least, you get to have a nice weekend out with a beautiful woman. Not exactly the worst way to spend a few evenings.”

Aaron sighs, finishing off his scotch and repeating, “You’re relentless.”

Dave grins. “So you’ve said.”

+++

Aaron sits alone in his armchair, an ill-advised finger of bourbon in his glass. He’s sure he’s had more to drink this week than in the previous five years combined.

There’s something, even now, that leaves him feeling unsettled when he’s in his apartment alone. Maybe it’s PTSD, maybe something less pathological, but it’s nevertheless uncomfortable. 

Maybe you don’t like to hear yourself think. That’s an option, Hotchner. 

The voice that narrates his thoughts isn’t always his. When it’s critical or snide, it’s almost always his father. 

Maybe he should work on that. His mouth twists and he takes another sip, letting the liquor roll across his tongue before warming his chest. 

Drinking bourbon is an art form at the most, a learned skill at the least. He’s almost certain it was a required item for law school, but he couldn’t quote the statute. 

He’s stalling, avoiding both his (far too reflective) thoughts and the phone call he needs to make. It’s just you. Why is he so nervy all of a sudden?

All of a sudden. Right. Like I haven’t been that way this whole time. 

There is some irony in creating artificial distance between him and the one person who can reliably calm him down. What, then, happens if you’re the thing freaking him out?

No. Aaron Hotchner does not freak out. Become subject to the whimsy of his neuroses, sure. Fine. Let’s call it that. 

Neurotic. Sure. 

He exhales, rolling the tension from his shoulders. The house is quiet now, still—a stark contrast to the nerves humming under his skin.

It’s just a wedding. A favor for a friend.

And yet, as he reaches for his phone, he knows that’s not the only reason he’s calling.

The line barely rings twice before you answer. “Yeah?”

The tightness in his chest eases immediately and he feels even sillier for putting it off. “Hey, it’s Aaron.”

“Ah, my saving grace,” you say, a smile in your voice. “Calling to cancel on me, after all?”

His lips twitch. “Not even close. Is 6 a.m. still good to come get you?”

“It’s so early.” The dramatic whine earns an actual chuckle from him, surprising even himself. “But yes, that’s fine. That gives us enough time even if we hit some traffic out of the District and into Richmond.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

A pause, then: “You’re still okay with this, right? I know I couldn’t grab that extra hotel room for you, and I don’t want you to feel pressured or—”

He doesn’t let you finish. “Enough,” he says firmly, calling you by name. “I offered, remember? I’ll see you at six. Bring a pillow so you can sleep in the car.”

There’s a beat of silence, then a quiet, “Thanks, Aaron.”

He knows you’re not just thanking him for the reminder.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” you add, after a beat of silence.

“Of course.” He hesitates, then adds, “Sleep well.”

The call ends, and he stares at his phone for a moment before shaking his head and setting it down.

He doesn’t sleep much that night, either.

+++

At 5:55 a.m., he pulls up to your driveway expecting to have to knock, maybe even call. Instead, you’re already outside, standing on your porch with a pillow under one arm and a travel mug in hand.

He blinks.

You look only mildly worse for wear, but you’re ready. And you have coffee.

His mouth twitches. “You’re awake.”

“Barely.” You step forward, holding out the travel mug. “Thought you might want this.”

He takes it—along with your suitcase, because he won’t let you carry it. “Thank you. Jump in.”

You don’t argue, sliding into the passenger seat and immediately wedging your pillow between your head and the window.

Aaron tosses your bag into the trunk before getting behind the wheel. He glances over as he starts the engine, and his chest does something strange at the sight of you, curled into yourself in an oversized sweatshirt, already half-asleep.

He shakes his head, exhaling as he backs out of the driveway.

Just a wedding. Just a favor.

Aaron has always been good at compartmentalizing. It’s a necessity in this line of work, the only way to keep from drowning in the weight of it all. But this morning, he finds it harder than usual to box up his thoughts and shove them aside.

He blames Dave.

"Any plans to spend time together outside of work?""This is the perfect opportunity to figure out where she stands.""Seize the opportunity—see how she responds to being close to you."

Ridiculous. This—the drive, the wedding, the whole weekend—isn’t about that. It’s a favor, nothing more. You need a date, and he is more than capable of stepping in.

So why does it feel like something else entirely?

Aaron lets out a slow breath, glancing to his right. You’re curled against the window, your pillow wedged beneath your head, still fast asleep. Your sweatshirt is too big for you, the sleeves bunched up where your arms are tucked close to your chest. Your face is relaxed, peaceful in a way he rarely sees when you’re awake.

Something shifts in his chest.

Would he have offered this to anyone else?

Emily? Maybe. JJ? Possibly, depending on the circumstances. But would he have gone out of his way to clear a weekend, to ensure they didn’t have to face something alone?

No.

He knows the answer, even if he doesn’t want to.

He knows you’re different, and that frustrates him. Confuses him.

Would it really be so bad to… pay attention? To see if Dave is right?

His hands tighten around the steering wheel. It doesn’t matter. There are too many reasons this is a terrible idea.

Jack. The team. His own grief, still lurking beneath the surface, no matter how much time has passed.

A year and change, almost two, has passed since Haley’s death, but there are still mornings when he wakes up gasping for breath. Jack still has nightmares, too. He knows you would always pick up if he called—no matter the hour.

And he has called. More times than he can count.

You never hesitate. Sometimes you talk to him about anything and everything, filling the quiet until his mind settles. Other times, you simply read to him, your voice a low, steady thing in the dark.

You understand in a way no one else does. You have been there. You have seen him at his lowest, taken Jack from his arms when he couldn’t stop shaking. You know what haunts him.

And yet, you stay.

You murmur something in your sleep, shifting slightly. He could swear it was his name. Aaron glances over, watching as you burrow deeper into your pillow, a small smile tugging at your lips.

His fingers flex against the steering wheel. That warmth—the one he has been trying to ignore—stirs again.

He shakes his head, looking back at the road.

And then there’s you.

The age gap isn’t something he’s ever consciously thought about, but now that Dave has addressed it, he can’t help but consider it. Would it even matter to you? Would it matter to anyone else?

That’s not the only thing that concerns him. You have worked hard to build a career in the Bureau, and despite your talent and intelligence, it has taken you longer than it should have to be taken seriously. You once told him that being a young woman in this line of work often feels like a battle you never really win—only survive.

And what would people say if there was suddenly something between the two of you?

He exhales sharply through his nose. Not that it matters, because there isn’t.

Still, he keeps his hands firmly on the wheel, afraid that if he loosens his grip, that warmth might spread beyond his control.

The car slows as he takes an offramp, the change in speed pulling you from sleep. You lift your head, blinking sluggishly as you look around.

“Are we in Richmond already?”

Aaron glances at you, his lips quirking slightly at your sleep-heavy voice. “Not yet, but I figured you hadn’t eaten yet.”

You tip your head, still shaking off sleep. “I could eat.”

He gives you a knowing look. “You should eat.”

You huff a small laugh, rubbing at your eyes. “You take your supervisory duties very seriously.”

He only shrugs. “It’s my job.”

You smile at him, still soft around the edges from sleep, and something in his chest tightens.

Aaron looks back at the road.

Dave is wrong.

This isn’t a fact-finding mission.

Unfortunately, he already has enough facts to know he’s cooked.

+++

Aaron refuels the SUV and makes sure you’re settled with food before pulling back onto the highway. The morning settles into a comfortable rhythm—quiet, but not stiff. But then again, it’s always easy with you.

When you offer to take over driving, he shoots you a look before shaking his head. “If you drive, I don’t get to pick the music.”

You frown, still shaking off the last bit of sleep. “I thought shotgun picks the music.”

“That’s Morgan’s house rule, not mine.”

You hum in consideration, eyes narrowing slightly. “Okay, so what are your house rules?”

He lets a smirk tug at the corner of his mouth. “Driver picks the music and critically considers any suggestions made by shotgun.”

You groan. “So, what I’m hearing is that we’re listening to the White Album.”

Aaron flips through his playlists, selecting the album in question without a word. The familiar opening chords of Back in the U.S.S.R. fill the car, and he glances at you just in time to catch the way you bite back a smile.

You might tease, but he knows you like it. Or maybe you like that it’s his favorite. It’s a thought he doesn’t prefer to dwell on.

The road stretches out ahead, and for the first time in a while, he feels something close to ease. The usual tension in his shoulders dulls, the steady hum of tires on asphalt lulling him into a rare sense of contentment.

“Why is this one your favorite?” you ask suddenly.

He considers the question for a moment. No one has ever really asked. Maybe no one has thought to.

“I’m… not sure,” he admits. “I think it might have something to do with my mom. She bought the record a couple of weeks after I was born, and when I got my own record player in college, she made sure I had a copy.” He shrugs, fingers tapping lightly against the steering wheel. “It’s been around just as long as I have, and there’s something a little— I don’t know— comforting about that.”

You nod, thoughtful. “I get that.” A pause. Then, with a wry tilt to your voice, “Grease 2 came out the year I was born, so I can’t say I share a similar affinity for the pop culture phenomena of my birth year.”

Aaron lets out a low whistle. “That film really was awful.”

Your laughter is immediate, warm. He finds himself waiting for it before continuing, “I saw The Who on their final tour that year.”

You turn in your seat, brow furrowed. “Weren’t you, like, barely in high school?”

He nods. “We snuck out—some friends and me. It was really stupid, and we got in a lot of trouble, but it was fun.” A nostalgic smile plays on his lips. “I have no idea how we managed to get all the way into the District, let alone find tickets, but everything was a little less complicated back then. Buses ran on time, people read maps and paid in cash, and parents didn’t all have cell phones.” He smirks, glancing over at you. “But of course, that’s before your time.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “Oh, come on. I’m not that young. I remember the world before the mainstream internet and 9/11 and all that pre-Patriot Act shit. I remember when the Berlin Wall came down, at least.”

That gets a real laugh out of him. “Fair enough.”

The conversation slows after that, the easy quiet of the road settling in again.

Every so often, he reaches a hand toward the center console, and without prompting, you pass him a fry from the fast-food bag. It’s a small thing, but it makes something in his chest feel steady.

Aaron keeps his eyes on the road, but he knows you’re watching him. You always notice things—little things no one else pays attention to. Like the way his fingers move in time with the music, a habit so ingrained he barely thinks about it. Until now.

“Hotch, do you play guitar?” There’s something in your tone—amusement, curiosity, maybe a bit of disbelief.

He shrugs. “I played a little when I was younger. I guess you could say I know how, but I don’t claim to be decent at it.” A short exhale, a shake of his head. “Sean’s always been better at those kinds of pursuits.”

That isn’t untrue. Sean has a natural talent for things Aaron has always had to work at. Music, art, charming the hell out of people. But that isn’t why Aaron stopped playing.

After a moment, you ask, “Have you and Sean always butted heads?”

Aaron lets out a short laugh. “Yes.”

That’s the simplest way to put it. There’s silence for a moment. 

“My dad was right-handed, so I play right-handed,” he admits, voice quieter than before. It’s a non-sequitur, but he suddenly itches to share something with you, something he rarely talks about. “When he taught me, it never occurred to me to try the left-handed way.” A beat passes, then a wry smirk. “He wasn’t exactly the type to entertain the idea of doing something differently just because it might’ve been easier.”

That’s putting it mildly.

He sees you nod, filing the information away in that sharp mind of yours, but you don’t push. Instead, you say, “I’d like to see you play sometime.”

He huffs a quiet laugh, unsure if you mean it or if you’re just being kind. It’s been years since he picked up a guitar for anything more than a few absent-minded chords. Longer still since he played with any real enjoyment.

Then you say, almost absently, “You have a Gibson in your office at home.”

His grip tightens on the wheel for half a second before he forces himself to relax. “It was my dad’s Les Paul.”

He doesn’t know why he keeps it. The guitar is a relic of a man he has no desire to remember and is worth well over ten grand, yet there it sits, leaning against the bookshelf. The same man who once took a young Aaron by the hands and taught him his first chords is the same man who turned those hands to violence. And yet, Aaron has never been able to bring himself to get rid of it.

Maybe it’s proof that his father was once something more than a monster. Or maybe it’s just another burden he carries because that’s what he’s always done.

He doesn’t look at you, but he feels your attention shift—feels the moment when you connect the dots, understand the weight behind something as simple as a guitar in the corner of a room.

You don’t say anything.

And for that, he’s grateful.

Instead, you let the silence settle, let the music fill the space between you. And slowly, as if nothing has happened, his fingers resume their absent rhythm against the steering wheel, tapping along to Happiness is a Warm Gun.

+++

Aaron listens and participates quietly as the conversation drifts between you both. He’s used to the silence that comes with long drives, but he knows that when you have something on your mind, you don’t always jump straight to it. After a while, though, the air feels thick with unsaid things, and he finally asks, “So, who is this guy?”

He glances at you quickly, the question hanging in the air. He can already tell you’re hesitating, unsure whether to share more detail with him. But he isn’t expecting anything specific. His job has taught him that people open up when they’re ready, not when they’re pushed.

You sigh, tipping your head against the seat, clearly reluctant to dig into old memories. “Ugh. You really want to know?”

Aaron shrugs, keeping his eyes on the road. “Of course. Isn’t it protocol to brief the team before arrival?”

“Yes, sir,” you reply, sounding almost mockingly formal, and he can’t help but smile more at that.

You begin to tell him, your words flowing easily now. “His name is Austin. We met in some random general education class and became fast friends. Then we started dating. We were talking about marriage, kids... the whole thing. We were together for two years.”

The weight of it all hits him—he can tell it’s not easy for you to talk about, and yet you’re doing it without hesitation. He listens, letting you pace yourself, because he knows that’s what you need.

You pause for a moment, and Aaron glances at you, catching the small frown forming on your lips. “Then I went abroad for a semester… When I came back, I found out he’d been seeing someone else the whole time I was gone.”

The shift in your tone makes something twist in his chest. He knows that feeling of betrayal too well. But he doesn’t interrupt. You need to get it out.

“It’s kind of cliché, I know, but it broke my heart in half,” you finish, your voice a little shaky but hiding it behind humor. Aaron doesn’t push. He knows it’s still there, the hurt, even though it’s been years.

“You handled it better than I did,” he says, keeping his voice soft.

You continue, telling him about how you’ve tried to remain civil with Austin’s family, keeping in touch through other people over the years. Your words drift back to the wedding invitation. “I think his mom sent it. I mostly accepted because I wanted to see her and Austin’s little sister. I miss them the most.”

The warmth in your voice when you talk about them catches Aaron’s attention, and he finds himself focusing more on the things you miss, the parts that matter.

“What are they like?” he asks, genuinely curious.

You smile as you tell him. “Allison is funny—always putting more cream than coffee in her mug. And their mom—she is the best. She had great taste in books. She still sends me copies of her favorites, even now. It’s nice to get something from her every once in a while.”

Aaron can’t help but admire how you’ve managed to keep that connection alive, even after everything. He knows what it’s like to try and maintain ties, even when it’s difficult. He appreciates that you haven’t let it all go, even when it would’ve been easier to cut the ties for good.

“It was good of you to keep in touch,” he says quietly, a genuine respect in his tone. You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for, but he doesn’t need to tell you that. You already know.

You shrug. “I guess. I mean, I know it’s different, but you have Jess.”

The comparison catches him off guard. His relationship with Jess has never been about choice. He loves her because she’s family, because she took care of Jack when he couldn’t. But if Haley were still here, would he have made the effort?

The difference, he decides, is that you’re kinder, more patient than he is. Jess would hardly be in his life at all if Haley were still here. He had a hard enough time keeping up with Haley’s family when they were married. Keeping up with them after the divorce? There’s no way to know, but he can’t remember much affection between them even before Haley’s father decided to hold him personally responsible for her death.

He’s a little startled when your hand reaches out, resting lightly on his arm. Your hand is a little cold, but it’s nice, almost refreshing. Your thumb traces softly over the skin of his bare forearm. The simple gesture unravels something in him.

“It’s different now, and it would have been different then,” you say, gentle but certain. “There’s no right way to do anything.”

Aaron exhales in a huff, unsettled by how easily you know him. How you always seem to.

“I spent almost twenty-five years knowing Haley,” he says. “You know that.”

“I do,” you reply. “I also know you spent longer than twenty-five loving her. And probably won’t ever stop.”

Aaron feels the weight of your words settle into the quiet between you. There’s no hesitation in the way you say it, no pity—just an understanding and acceptance that feels too easy, too natural. It catches him off guard.

He knows you pay attention, but this is different. This isn’t just observation. This is something deeper, something that makes him feel more seen than he’s comfortable with.

He thinks about deflecting, about making some comment on profiling, turning it into a joke to lighten the moment. He considers arguing, telling you that love like that doesn’t last forever, that people move on, that they have to. But he doesn’t believe that—not really.

Instead, he wonders if he should correct you, if he should remind you that love isn’t what it once was, that time has reshaped it into something quieter, something lonelier. But that isn’t entirely true either.

So many things come to mind, but none of them feel right.

So he exhales, leans onto the center console, and settles on the only thing he can say.

“How do you know everything?”

You rest your head against the seat and adjust so your body is angled toward him. A small smile crosses your face as you take in his profile.

“I dunno. I guess I just pay attention.”

+++

Aaron watches as you exhale, shoulders sagging the moment you step into the room. His eyes flicker to the lone king-sized bed before returning to you, gauging your reaction. He registers the way your breath hitches just slightly, your posture going momentarily stiff. He understands immediately—it’s not what you expected.

It’s not what he expected, either, but it’s fine. There’s a couch, if it comes down to it. He adjusts quickly, out of habit, but beneath that practiced ease, something unspoken lingers—something that makes the space between expectation and reality feel impossibly small.

But years of practice, of adapting to the unexpected, have conditioned him to recover faster. He doesn’t hesitate. Instead, he moves toward the left side of the bed, the side closest to the door. That instinct runs deeper than thought. It’s the side that gives him the fastest access, the clearest vantage point. It’s the side that lets him place himself between any unknown variable and you.

As he sets down his bag, something flickers across your expression, something just shy of startled realization. You follow his lead, wordlessly taking the opposite side, unzipping your suitcase in tandem with him. It doesn’t escape him how easily the two of you move in sync.

He files the thought away before it can settle.

Your small, satisfied smile doesn’t go unnoticed. Neither does the way it vanishes just as quickly, as though you’ve chastised yourself for it. Aaron doesn’t linger on it, though. Instead, he unzips his garment bag and retrieves the suit he had set aside for the occasion.

The moment you look over, he senses the shift in your focus.

“Mind if I take up some real estate?” you ask, holding up a handful of hangers.

Aaron shakes his head, wordlessly making space for you. He notices the way you glance over his suit again as you hang your things. It’s a suit like any other for him, part of the uniform of his life, but this one is particularly well-tailored, undeniably expensive. Maybe you hadn’t expected that. 

When you both finish, he watches as you sit on the bed, sinking down with the weight of exhaustion. 

“What time is our first obligation?” he asks, more to get a read on your energy than anything else.

You huff a small laugh. “5pm Cocktails at the hotel bar for everyone who arrived today. Rehearsal dinner after that is wedding-party-only, thank God.” You glance at the clock, confirming, “We basically have the day to ourselves until then.”

Aaron nods, considering the hours ahead, then meets your gaze. “How do you feel about a nap?”

Something flickers across your expression too fast for him to catch. But whatever it is, it makes his lips curve slightly, his body instinctively seeking relief at the idea of rest. He’s running on fumes. He knows it. 

And yet, there’s something in the way you immediately agree, something in the easy way you say, “I feel great about a nap,” that makes something in his chest loosen.

He doesn’t let himself analyze it.

Instead, he reaches for a pair of flannel pajama pants from his bag, retreating into the bathroom. He changes quickly, splashing cold water onto his face, gripping the edge of the sink as he studies his reflection. 

This is fine. You’re just tired.

He takes a steadying breath before stepping back out.

The room is dim now, the blinds drawn to a gentle shade, leaving a soft hush in the air. You’ve already curled up under the covers, body relaxed, breath slow. He stops just short of his side of the bed, gaze drawn to you despite himself.

Your brow, usually furrowed with thought, is smooth in sleep. Your hands rest loosely in front of your face, fingers curled slightly. He watches the way your breath moves evenly past the curve of your lips, steady and undisturbed.

Something in his chest tightens.

He knows he should slip under the covers properly, let himself rest. But the thought of shifting the bed, of disturbing whatever delicate balance exists in this moment, makes him hesitate. Instead, he carefully places his jeans back in his duffle bag and stretches out on top of the covers beside you.

His body is heavy, exhaustion pressing into him, but his mind refuses to still.

He lets his eyes close, but sleep does not come immediately. Instead, his thoughts remain preoccupied—not by the case files in his briefcase, not by the endless to-do lists or the weight of responsibility.

But by the quiet phenomenon beside him, the simple, inexplicable comfort of your presence.

This should not feel as natural as it does.

Eventually, exhaustion wins. But even in sleep, he drifts toward you, drawn by something he isn’t ready to name.

+++

Aaron stirs, the warmth of your hands grounding him before he even fully wakes. His fingers are curled around yours, your hands clasped together between them, the smallest space between your foreheads. Not touching, but close. Too close.

There is no memory of how this happened. No recollection of seeking your hand, of the moment skin met skin. Either he has reached for you, or you have reached for him. He doesn’t know which possibility unsettles (or excites?) him more. A small shudder goes through him.

Of course, this isn’t the first contact you’ve ever made, but it feels different. Hair ruffles and shoulder squeezes and hugs for comfort are one thing, but this is entirely another.

His first instinct is to move, to create distance, to restore the boundaries that have served him so well. But he doesn’t. Instead, he listens—to the even cadence of your breath, to the way his own heart hammers in his chest, an erratic counterpoint to the quiet, and the things that heart says. He tells himself you are still asleep, that you don’t know what is happening, that you won’t wake up and see him like this, so weak and subject to the strength of his feelings and impulses.

And then he watches as your hand shifts slightly, as if in response to his own. You are awake.

A slow exhale escapes him, measured, careful. He releases one of your hands, feeling it drop onto the coverlet, fingers relaxed. He should roll away. He should sit up. But his body betrays him before his mind can stop it.

His fingertips skim the arch of your brow, tracing downward, barely brushing your skin. He follows the slope of your nose, the curve of your lips. He tells himself he is committing your face to memory, as if it is something fleeting, something he will lose the moment he lets go.

His hand moves lower, tracing the line of your jaw, lingering for half a second before he pulls away. His fingers wrap around yours again, grounding himself in the simplest touch. And before he can think better of it, he brings your hand to his lips, pressing the faintest kiss to your knuckles before tucking it back against his chest.

His eyes close, but sleep does not come easily. He is too aware.

Of you.

Of the way his body angles toward yours.

Of the way his heart beats too fast in his own ears. It takes time, but eventually, his breath evens out.

But you don’t sleep.

Your eyes open, and you look at him, really look at him. He can feel it. The quiet study of your gaze, the slow path of your fingers as you trace the angles of his face.

He fights the instinct to react. He knows what this is—knows because he did the same to you only moments ago. He remains still, perfectly still, even as a shock of adrenaline spikes through him.

You know.

You know how he feels about you.

And worse—you know how you feel about him.

His chest tightens, his grip on your hand nearly faltering before he forces himself to stay still. The truth is too much, too soon. He isn’t ready. You aren’t ready.

This is temporary, he tells himself. It has to be. There is no space for this, no space for you in the life he has only just started to rebuild. His time belongs to his son. His efforts belong to his healing.

But even as he tries to convince himself, something inside him wavers.

The new normal is the hardest thing to find, his therapist once told him.

He’s been so sure he could find it on his own. He isn’t sure anymore, especially as your finger rests on the hollow under his nose, just above his mouth. He can hear your breath catch.

It takes everything in him to stay still as your fingers card through his hair at his temples. His breath remains steady as he resists the urge to lean into your touch like a cat, deeply comforted by your gentle touch.

You pull away first, slipping your hand free from his and rolling onto your back. He tells himself the loss of contact is a relief. He tells himself he doesn’t miss it.

You check your phone, the early afternoon light filtering through the drawn blinds. He forces himself to move, inhaling deeply before stretching, shifting onto his back as if he is only just waking up. He laces his hands behind his head—it’s a play at casual, but he mostly just needs to occupy them.

When you turn to look at him, your expression is composed. Normal. Too normal.

“Good afternoon,” you say, and he almost smirks at how carefully neutral you sound.

He lets a small smile play at his lips, refusing to betray what he knows. “Good afternoon.”

You shift, pushing forward before anything can slip between the cracks. “So, tonight.” Your voice is casual, almost too casual. “Do you just want to be ‘work friends,’ or do we want to lean into the whole ‘let’s ruin Austin’s life’ thing?”

Aaron laughs, the sound breaking the tension like the first crack in ice. “I’m comfortable leaning in if you are.”

+++

The cocktail hour isn’t as horrible as Aaron anticipates. He stays close to you, your right hand resting lightly in the crook of his arm, a small tether between you. You hold a glass of wine but he hasn’t seen you drink much, if at all, your fingers idly twisting the stem as you navigate the room.

When your name is called from across the space, he tips his head down to listen as you whisper a quick debrief—names, relationships, a crash course in shared history. It’s impressive, really, the way you move through social circles with ease, offering him just enough to fall seamlessly into step beside you. The person he knows at work—put together, capable, confident—is here, but this version of you is just a little different. A little more put-upon, a little more deliberately engaged.

You’re performing. Just a little.

Which version of you is closer to the truth?

If he were profiling you in this moment, he’d see someone who knows how to navigate a crowd, someone who controls the conversation with quiet grace. But he also knows you’re nervous. He admires the effort you’re making to connect, to meet these people where they are after years apart.

As expected, he plays his role well. Warm, charming, a careful observer, taking his cues from you. He listens as you catch up with old classmates, some you remember fondly, others whose faces don’t stir a single memory. He’s proud when he can recognize the momentary blank look on your face when you don’t remember someone, but you always cover neatly. He nods at the right times, adding the occasional comment where it makes sense, content to exist in your orbit.

“How did you two meet?” The question comes from a woman whose name he catches (Leslie)  but you did not. He resists the urge to smirk at your near-imperceptible pause before you answer.

“We’re in the same department at work.”

The man beside her—Carson, apparently, based on the murmured correction from someone else—tilts his head. “Where is that, again? I can’t remember where you landed after your internship.”

“DoJ, in Quantico,” Aaron supplies helpfully.

“FBI,” Leslie interjects before Carson can fumble through another half-formed thought. “Keep up.”

“No shit!”

A small group gathers now, drawn into the conversation, and instinctively, you shift closer to Aaron. Without thinking, his arm slides around your waist, his stance adjusting to keep you securely within his personal space.

Protective. Steady. Natural.

It makes sense. You have moved closer, and he has responded accordingly. That’s all.

“Shit,” you say, bumping him playfully with your shoulder. “We don’t have our creds on us tonight, so if you get arrested, you’ll have to bail yourselves out.”

“We also don’t have jurisdiction even if we did,” Aaron adds smoothly, his voice low and even, laced with quiet amusement. “So keep it high and tight, and we’ll all do just fine.”

He feels the tension in your body shift—not quite a flinch, but something subtle and telling. A second later, you take a longer sip of your wine than necessary, as if to mask a reaction.

Shouldn’t have said that.

Not with his hand where it is, his chest just barely against your back. Not with how easy it is to stay close to you, to let the boundaries blur just a little too much.

But, again, it’s for the show. A natural response. Just acting.

“There he is!”

The exclamation shatters the moment, and he feels you tense before your head whips around so fast you nearly lose your balance. His grip adjusts instinctively, a steady hand at your shoulder keeping you upright.

That, at least, isn’t acting. Just reflex.

“Thank you,” you murmur, just for him.

He hears you. Of course he does. And before he can think better of it, he presses a light kiss to your temple.

Too much.

“Always.”

Unnecessary.

It sells the image, sure, but it also crosses the line. He justifies it easily—you’re nervous, you need reassurance, and this is the most natural thing to do.

The instinct isn’t for the act, but the justification certainly is. How much more can he get away with, without taking advantage or being gratuitous? You don’t seem to mind, and that’s good enough for now. 

Austin approaches, looking more polished than Aaron expects, with a stunning fiancée at his side and an easy, practiced smile.

Aaron lets you go just as Austin pulls you in for a hug—longer, warmer than necessary. He uses the moment to assess, his gaze sharp as it flicks over the man’s expression. Austin’s focus lingers on you, but there’s something calculating, almost judgmental in his eyes when they finally land on Aaron.

He introduces his fiancée—Madeline—and you, in turn, introduce Aaron.

“Austin, this is my…” You hesitate.

Aaron’s fingers curl gently around your waist, a silent reassurance, a quiet prompt. He’s just as interested in what you’re going to say as Austin appears to be.

You let the implication settle before making a light recovery.

“Aaron.”

That works. 

The smirk threatens at the edge of his lips, but he suppresses it as he extends his free hand. His grip is firm, unwavering, just a touch longer and more of a squeeze than is entirely necessary. He watches as Austin’s expression falters, his jaw tightening briefly before he lets go and flexes his fingers.

“Pleasure,” Aaron says. “Congratulations.”

Austin gives a slightly forced laugh, shaking out his hand. “Thanks. We’re really glad you both could make it. Mom will be really happy to see you.”

Aaron simply nods, his hand settling back at your waist, his touch light but deliberate.

Just to sell it, that’s all. 

+++

“That could have been so much worse.” You shuck Aaron’s blazer off your shoulders and hang it in the closet as he passes behind you. He’d passed it to you when you shivered slightly at the bar, and it wasn’t even a point of conversation. Just instinct. Draping it over you, placing a hand on your back. He’d barely thought about it, but now, watching you slip it off, he kind of wishes you’d kept it on a little longer.

It is both shocking and uncomfortable how much he likes to see you in his clothes, even if it is just stuffy outerwear.

“Thank you for enduring the mayhem down there.”

Aaron sits on the bed and slips off his boots. “I can’t remember the last time I went to a social event that didn’t directly affect my career trajectory.” He looks up at you, and the way you smile at him—soft, easy—makes him feel a little looser than he should. His buzz from two drinks hasn’t quite worn off yet, and he lets himself enjoy that.

You shake your head, walking past him to retrieve your pajamas and toothbrush. “Do you ever want to move up the chain at all?”

“Not really. Something big would have to change to get me to leave the BAU.” He looks at you over his shoulder. “We tried that, remember?”

He had tried, during one of the most trying periods of his life. With every incentive and push, he tried. And it hadn’t stuck. The BAU was grueling, consuming, and unrelenting, but it was also the work that made him feel most like himself. The thought of stepping away—leaving behind the team, the purpose, the sheer necessity of what they did—felt impossible. He knew he wasn’t built for desk work, wasn’t made for a role where he wasn’t in the thick of things, reading people, preventing the worst. Every time he’d thought about moving on, the idea had crumbled under the weight of what he’d be giving up. 

“I do, actually.” At his chuckle, you continue. “I can’t say that’s something I’d like to relive anytime soon.”

You move easily around each other, and he takes more notice of that than he probably should. There’s a comfort here. A rhythm. Changing into pajamas, brushing your teeth, the little rituals of getting ready for bed. He’s seen you like this before, sure—late nights at his house with Jack asleep in his room, movie credits rolling—but this is different. It’s just you and him. No cases, no responsibilities, no excuses.

He catches his own reflection in the mirror, rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt, letting the fabric stretch over his shoulders as he pushes his hair back. He shouldn’t be encouraging anything, but if you’re looking, he won’t stop you.

Lost in thought, he stares into space for a moment before coming back to himself, preparing everything he needs for bed. 

Eventually, you throw back the covers and crawl in without thinking about it too much, while Aaron lingers in the bathroom doorway, still in his slacks, his shirt untucked, barefoot. 

“I really can take the couch.”

You look at him and pointedly turn off the lamp resting on your side table. “We’re adults. I don’t mind it if you don’t. And for that matter, if either one of us is sleeping on the couch it’s me.”

“Oh?” He asks, amused. “Why’s that?”

As you answer, he reaches for the fresh t-shirt he set aside earlier, slipping into the bathroom and pulling the door while he changes. The motion keeps him busy, gives him something to focus on besides the knowledge that he will be sharing a bed with you–again–this time, separate from the team, independent of necessity and absent professional boundaries or inconveniences. You’re here, with him, settling into bed like it’s normal. 

He hoped, probably somewhat irrationally, that you would let him sleep on the couch. This is an unfair temptation of his ability to repress his feelings. He’s good at it, but he doesn’t know how much longer that skill will hold up to continued stress before something snaps.

“Because as you so astutely pointed out earlier, I am significantly younger than you, and I think my back will fare better than yours after a night of lumpy cushions.”

The bathroom light flips off, and he scoffs in the dark. “Never once did I say significantly younger.”

“Well, Aaron, ‘before your time’ is rife with implication.”

He chuckles as he moves toward the bed, sitting on the edge and putting his socks on. He’s stalling. The king-size bed feels small, almost claustrophobic. 

“You know what? Nevermind. I forgot who I was talking to, and I would hate for you to go full-tilt lawyer on me.” You curl up, bringing the covers to your chin. He laughs, and he knows, in that moment, that if he let himself, he could get used to this.

He flips the covers back and forces himself to lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. He’s rigid, his hands resting lightly on his chest. He makes an effort to unlock his knees, but it takes some work. 

Don’t get comfortable.

Why not? She’s right here.

Because she’s your friend. Because this is temporary.

You’re both quiet for a little while, listening to each other breathe in the dark. Then a sigh—yours. He catches it too late to figure out what it means. 

“Are you okay?” His voice is softer in the dark and he turns on his side, facing you. You nod. He can hear your head move against the pillow, but he’s not sure if you’re being honest. “I know this isn’t easy for you.”

You pause, then, carefully, “Yeah, I’m fine. I just—I really can’t tell you how grateful I am that you’re here with me this weekend.”

That shouldn’t hit him the way it does. He reaches out, tentative, and when your hand finds his, he lets himself hold on.

“Of course. I’m glad I can be here for you.” He means it. You trusting him like this, being this open, it’s something he won’t take for granted. “Thank you for letting me come.”

I’d like to let you come—

Jesus Christ.

What?

Read the room.

He swallows the thought and keeps his voice steady. “With that in mind,” he continues, “I’m really proud of you. And not in a ‘I’m your boss and you’re making significant progress’ way. As your friend, I’m really proud of you.”

Your friend.

That’s what he is.

That’s what he needs to be.

That’s what you expect.

He can hear the fondness in your voice when you reply, “Goodnight, Hotch.”

Hotch.

Not Aaron.

He takes a deep breath. He doesn’t correct you. “Goodnight.”

He belatedly realizes you’ve avoided accepting the compliment. 

+++

Aaron wakes slowly, the weight of his arm around your waist both grounding and comforting. For months now, he’s woken from these moments with a lingering sense of peace, only for reality to rush in and steal it away. He hasn’t dreamed of Haley in months. It’s you. It’s always you. And he’s long since stopped trying to deny what that means.

It’s always like this in the best dreams.

He exhales slowly, nuzzling in. His breathing matches yours, slow and steady, as the warmth of your body sinks deeper into his, and the scent of your skin fills his senses. There’s something about this moment, the way you fit against him, the way you’re tangled up with him, that feels like the best part of every dream he’s ever had.

His eyes flutter open, and for a moment, everything feels like it’s been pulled from the world he visits in his subconscious. But then something shifts—the warmth beneath his palm, the way your fingers brush against his in sleep. And the realization hits him like a punch to the ribs. The softness of your skin against his, the quiet rhythm of your breathing, the way your hair smells like something impossibly familiar—he’s not imagining it. He’s not dreaming.

For a brief, disorienting moment, he doesn’t recognize where he is, but it all comes back to him fast enough. You’re tangled together—his knee between your legs, his face buried into your shoulder. He feels you breathe, slow and even, your body molded against his like you belong there.

The feeling sends a wave of warmth through him, and the last vestiges of sleep fade. His first instinct is to pull away, afraid that you’ll wake and find him draped over you like some kind of ridiculous backpack. 

But as his mind clears further, reality sets in with an almost physical weight. He’s not sure how he’s gotten here. Last night feels like a blur of quiet conversation, laughter, and unspoken tension, but here you are, wrapped in his arms as if you’ve done it a thousand times before.

God, what am I doing? 

The thought is sharp, cutting through the haze in his mind. He tries to pull away, but he can’t. His body refuses to listen to the voice that tells him to stop—to retreat, to keep the distance between you that’s always been there.

This is wrong, he tells himself. But the longer he stays, the more that little voice feels like a lie. He’s wanted this—wanted you—long before he ever admitted it. You’ve been there in his dreams, in his thoughts, in places he never thought he’d let anyone reach. But now, with you here, so close, it feels too much like something he’s been afraid to face.

You’re here because you want to be, he tells himself, even though the thought makes his chest tighten. The last thing he wants is to ruin this by overthinking it. But how can he not? He’s tangled up with you, wrapped around you in a way that feels natural, but still entirely new. Your breath on his skin is soothing, but it’s also a reminder of how close you are. The thought shakes him, unnerving in its simplicity. 

You, with your vibrancy, your youth, your life ahead of you... how could you possibly want someone like him? He’s older, with baggage that comes with the territory - a dead ex-wife, a son, an irreconcilably difficult relationship with his work. He’s seen the toll of his career on his own soul, and he’s no fool—he knows he can’t give you the things someone your age deserves.

And yet... he can’t picture a life without you. Whenever he looks ahead, you’re there. You’re part of it.

You shift in your sleep, and the movement makes his body react in ways it shouldn’t, as if it’s betraying him on purpose. Morning wood was always inconvenient, but he can’t deny that his body has a good reason for reacting the way it is, this morning. He can’t rightly blame his body or his brain for this one, but he can mitigate the issue. He swallows hard, trying to keep his thoughts in check. This is foolish. He’s being foolish. But the pull of you, the way you trust him enough to let him in this close, it’s all too much.

Quit while you’re ahead, Hotchner. 

He tries to shift away, slowly, gently—careful not to wake you, though your soft protests make it clear you’re not fully asleep. The last thing he needs right now is a reminder of how real this moment is.

A shower. That’s what he needs. Something cold. He picks up his toiletries and makes his way to the bathroom, locking the door behind him for some semblance of space, of control. He starts the water and palms himself, trying to relieve the uncomfortable pressure insistent and painful between his legs. 

Hotch braces a hand against the cool tile, his other already wrapping around himself with a practiced ease that borders on shameful. The heat of the water is nothing compared to the warmth of your body still lingering in his mind, the phantom press of your back against his chest, the way your fingers had laced so easily with his in sleep. He bites back a groan, jaw tightening as his strokes fall into a familiar rhythm, one he knows too well. This isn’t new—he’s had years of practice burying his want for you in moments like this, years of pretending that letting it out like this will make it any easier to ignore in the daylight.

But this time, it’s different. This time, it’s not just a fantasy. This time, he has the memory of you in his arms, your scent in his nose, the knowledge that, even unconsciously, you reached for him just as much as he reached for you. His chin falls down to his chest, breath stuttering as he pictures what it would be like if you weren’t just beside him in sleep but in this, too—if it were your hand, your touch, your voice whispering his name in the quiet. He grits his teeth, trying to hold back the rush of it, but it’s no use.

The release comes fast, sharp and overwhelming, and for a moment, it’s everything. But then it’s gone, leaving him panting under the spray, the guilt creeping in at the edges like it always does. He lets the water scald his skin for a moment longer, trying to drown out the truth of it.

He’s fucked. He’s completely, hopelessly fucked.

He takes another breath and turns the spray to a shrinking cold. Serves him right. 

When he finally emerges, he’s grateful for the cold that follows, the chill of the bathroom driving out the last of the thoughts that have been clouding his mind.

He doesn’t expect you to be awake when he returns, but he hears your soft chatter and typing before he even opens the door. He’s aware of your presence, as always, and of the tension in your voice as you speak to someone on the phone. He leans toward the door, his fingertips pressing with the lightest of touches to hold his weight as he eavesdrops. 

He can’t even bring himself to feel a little bad. 

And then he hears your voice.

“…he’s just here because he likes to owe me favors.”

Hotch pauses, and huffs out a quiet laugh. He can’t even be annoyed because, honestly? That’s funny.

He can’t hear the response, but he does hear you when you say, “My God, Em. Would you quit?”

Ah. So it is Emily.

“I’m not going to do anything about it because there’s nothing to do anything about...Don’t give me that...You have absolutely no proof...I don’t care if you’re a profiler or not, there is no way you can say with any definitive certainty—”

Your voice drops, too low for him to catch the rest over the hum of the bathroom fan.

With a frustrated huff, he ties the towel around his waist and ventures out, entirely aware of his state of undress.

And if he enjoys the way your voice falters at the sight of him, well—he doesn’t owe Emily a damn thing.

The sight of you, trying to pretend you’re unaffected, makes something in him tighten.

You’re not as unaffected as you’d like to think. Neither of you are.

He catches the faintest hint of a smile as you try to recover, but it’s gone before it fully forms, replaced by the distraction of your laptop, your fingers flying over the keys.

“Yeah, for sure,” y0u reply, still determinedly typing with a little more force than necessary.

Hotch smirks to himself as he pulls on his shirt, taking his time with the buttons. He may not be able to hear Emily’s exact response, but your reaction tells him everything he needs to know. The sharp click of your typing, the force behind your words—he’s spent enough time reading you to know when you’re flustered. And if Emily is pressing you, it means she knows it too. She reacts to sexual tension like a shark with blood in the water. 

Emily must say something in reply, as you retort, “Emily, you know I’m not going to dignify that with a response.” 

He’s not blind. He knows he’s at least somewhat attractive for a man in his early forties—he keeps in shape (his mile time and bench max are better than they were in his 20’s, in fact), his suits are finely tailored, and he’s been told more than once that the whole “stern FBI unit chief” thing works for him. But knowing you think he’s attractive? That’s something else entirely.

And it’s more than enough of an ego boost to wash away any lingering guilt from his… activities in the shower. Because really, can he be blamed? When you look at him like that, wide-eyed and breathless, struggling to pull yourself back into focus?

No. No, he absolutely cannot.

He bites back a knowing smile as he reaches for his tie, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. You’re still determinedly avoiding looking at him, fingers flying over your keyboard like it’ll somehow drown out the conversation entirely.

Poor thing.

He almost feels bad for you. Almost.

In the bathroom, he decides to forgo the tie until it’s time to leave for the ceremony, leaving the top two buttons of his white dress shirt undone. He notices that something on your computer must be riveting, because you don’t look up at all as he returns to the suite. 

+++

Austin's family had clearly spared no expense for the ceremony or the reception. The moment he and you had walked in together, arm-in-arm, he could feel the weight of the event pressing down on you. You’d chosen seats near the back, on the groom’s side.

He knows this is strange for you—this wedding, this man who was once supposed to be your future. But you aren’t sitting beside Austin now. You’re sitting beside him.

Aaron doesn’t miss the way your eyes flick over him when you think he’s not looking, the warmth in your gaze when he adjusts his tie—the tie that matches your outfit, as promised. He had seen the way you watched him put it on earlier, how you’d ducked your head with that little smile you always tried to hide. He pretends not to notice, pretends it doesn’t stir something in him, but it does.

The ceremony itself is a blur. He follows the motions—standing, sitting—but what he notices most is you. You rest your head on his shoulder, playing the role. But when you take a shaky breath, he knows it’s more than that.

You don’t love Austin anymore, not even close. But he recognizes that look in your eyes—the quiet ache of knowing time keeps moving, that you are married to nothing but work. He knows because he’s felt it himself.

“Are you okay?” he asks, voice pitched low enough that only you can hear.

You nod. “Yeah. Just thinking.”

“About?”

You shake your head, pressing your temple deeper into the fabric of his jacket. “Later.”

For a moment, just a moment, he lets his cheek rest against your hair. He isn’t worried, not exactly, but he’s never seen you like this before—existentially untethered. It unsettles him, not because he doesn’t understand it, but because he does. And there is nothing he can do to make it easier for you.

+++

At the open bar, you snag a glass of wine for yourself and two fingers of whiskey for him—good whiskey, because of course you would—when an older woman embraces you with unmistakable warmth.

Aaron watches as you break into a genuine smile. “Hey, Laurie,” you greet her, embracing her with an ease he doesn’t often see from you. He knows exactly who she is—Austin’s mother, from the ceremony. He doesn’t need to hear your words to know that she means something to you.

He doesn’t eavesdrop, exactly, but he can tell the woman is pressing you for information. When she gestures toward him, he schools his expression into something neutral, waiting for you to answer.

With a long-suffering sigh, you grab the drinks and make your way back to the table, the woman in tow. Aaron watches your approach, the amusement flickering behind your carefully composed expression.

“Aaron,” you say, placing the whiskey down in front of him, your hand resting briefly on his shoulder.

He turns, catching the way you glance at him before stepping aside. He stands, extending his hand. “SSA Aaron Hotchner. Thank you for having us. I’ve heard so much about you and your family.”

“Oh no, that can’t be good.” Laurie laughs lightly and takes his hand in both of our own. “Laurie Miller. As I’m sure you know, I have a great amount of love for this one here.” She releases Aaron’s hand and tucks you into her arms again, kissing your cheek. You laugh. Aaron smiles. 

“C’mon, Laurie. You don’t have to lie for my benefit.”

Aaron takes his seat as Laurie settles across from him, and you lean forward on your elbows, watching as he answers her questions. He doesn’t talk about their work often, not outside the team, but here, away from the weight of the job, he lets himself. He tells stories—ones that won’t bring the room down—and watches as Laurie hangs onto his words.

When he glances at you, he sees something shift in your expression. Something that almost makes him forget what he was saying.

“...Preventing loss of life is always rewarding, and our team is a family.”

Laurie nods, clearly enamored. “It’s so lovely you have so much fondness for each other. I imagine it makes everything much easier.”

He doesn’t hesitate. “It does.” He lets the words sit between you for a second longer than necessary before your phone buzzes, pulling you away.

You excuse yourself with a hand on each of their shoulders, your touch lingering on his just a second longer than necessary. He watches you step away, lifting your phone to your ear. “Dean, you bastard!”

Aaron huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he turns his attention back to Laurie. He picks up where he left off, but his mind stays on you, lingering at the edges of his thoughts.

Her expression shifts, her gaze turning knowing as she studies him. “So,” she says, resting her chin on her hand. “What exactly are your intentions with her?”

Aaron exhales a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. “We’re just colleagues,” he answers honestly, though he knows that’s not the whole truth.

Laurie tsks, tilting her head as if she’s seeing straight through him. “I beg to differ. I’ve been watching you two. The way you look at each other.”

He doesn’t quite squirm, but he feels a warmth creep up his neck. “She’s important to me,” he admits carefully.

“Of course she is,” Laurie agrees, her smile soft but pointed. “I just think you should consider how important she is to you. And in what way.” She pauses. “Just don’t break her heart and you’ll do just fine.” She smiles a cheeky, knowing smile. There’s a little pain behind it. “Trust me, I know.”

Aaron doesn’t have a response to that, and Laurie simply pats his hand before shifting the conversation elsewhere. But the thought lingers, settling somewhere in his chest as he watches you, framed by the doors to the balcony. 

+++

When the dancing starts, Aaron’s anticipation reaches his nervous system in a way it hasn’t in a long time. He finds himself chuckling when Signed, Sealed, Delivered (I’m Yours) starts to play. He thinks of what Dave said earlier, about letting himself have a little fun, and for once, he’s inclined to listen. Maybe he will seize an opportunity tonight. 

Old dog, new tricks?

With a confidence and certainty that only feels partially for show, he stands and offers you his hand. There’s no hesitation when you take it, and only after does it seem to dawn on you what he’s doing.

“Hotch, you can’t be serious.” You stop in your tracks, and he tightens his grip just enough to keep you tethered to him. There’s amusement in his eyes as he looks back at you.

Of all the things to say to me, of all people…

“When have you ever known me to be otherwise?” He tugs you forward, and you fall into his arms with an exasperated huff. “Humor me. Just one, and I’ll leave you alone for the rest of the night.”

Your skeptical look is well-earned. “Why don’t I believe you?”

“Because I’m lying.”

You give in, and when you do, something shifts. He keeps you both to one side of the dance floor, mindful, careful. The push and pull of movement is familiar, natural, and his grip on your waist is steady, grounding without constraint. There's laughter—his, yours, mingling with the music—and the ease of it catches him off guard. He hadn’t realized how much he missed this, the quiet joy of sharing something simple, something good.

Your tension eases gradually. He notices the way your fingers stop gripping his shoulder so tightly, the way your steps become more fluid. He catches sight of Austin across the dance floor and, in an instant, recognizes the way your eyes dart away.

“Hey.” His voice is low, nearly teasing.

Your eyes snap back to his. “What?”

“Relax.”

“You’re one to talk,” you scoff.

With a smirk, he spins you out, then pulls you back in against his chest. “I’m plenty relaxed. You, however, are tense.”

Aaron's heart pounds in his chest, and he's sure you can feel it. Whether it's from exertion or something else, he's not sure. He’s pushing the line now, taking liberties. 

In for a penny…

You sigh, relenting. "It just feels weird."

“What does?” He turns you again, your hand landing lightly over his heart as he pulls you close once more. His hands are politely centered on your back. Now that is a liberty he’s not going to take.

“I just—” You hesitate, then push through. “I don’t love him in that way anymore, but it’s strange to think I ever did. That I thought he was it for me. And now he’s with someone he loves, and both of our lives just… kept going after we split, you know?”

He nods. “I do.”

And he does. The memories of Haley—of their love, their pain, their loss—never truly leave him. But right now, for the first time in what feels like forever, those thoughts aren’t heavy. They don’t weigh him down. Instead, there’s just this—just you, warm in his arms, laughing as he spins you under his arm. The sound of it tugs something loose in him, something he hadn’t even realized was so tightly wound.

When you return the favor, spinning him under your arm, he lets out a surprised laugh, bright and uninhibited. The song shifts into something slower, and he doesn’t let you go. Doesn’t even consider it.

Your head comes to rest against him as you sigh, exhausted and content.

“Thank you for being here with me.”

The words settle in, warm and unexpected, and something in him softens. When he speaks, it's quiet, but certain. “Of course.”

Nowhere better. 

+++

By the time you both retreat upstairs, Aaron feels something he hasn’t in years—genuine lightness, unburdened by the usual weight he carries. His suit jacket had long since been abandoned, leaving him in rolled sleeves, a loosened tie, and an altogether uncharacteristically unkempt appearance. He carries it slung over his shoulder, holding onto the collar with a single finger. He leans against the wall, his ankles crossed. He’s the picture of ease.

“You look positively rumpled, Agent Hotchner.”

The teasing lilt in your voice makes him laugh, a sound he’s only now realizing has come freely tonight. “It’s past my bedtime.”

“You don’t have a bedtime.”

And it’s true—he hardly sleeps on cases (or at home, for that matter), and you’ve seen him function on nothing more times than you can count. But here, in this moment, he feels the kind of exhaustion that doesn’t come from stress or overwork, but from something simpler, something warmer. Something that could actually inspire him to sleep soundly, for once. 

You turn away to sort through your belongings, and Aaron watches for just a second longer before disappearing into the bathroom to shower.

When he returns, his hair damp, you’re already asleep—curled up on top of the covers, out like a light. He exhales softly, flicking off the last of the lights before making his way to your side of the bed. Carefully, he peels back the covers, shifting your legs beneath them, then your torso. You stir, your fingers curling around his wrist before he can pull away.

His breath catches, his eyes closing for just a moment. Then, gently, he slips his hand from yours.

And when he finally slides beneath the covers, you instinctively curl into his side, your leg hooking over his. He doesn’t fight it. Doesn’t move away. He only lets out a quiet sigh and allows himself, for once, to enjoy the comfort of something good.

+++

Aaron watches you sleep, your face tucked against his chest, your breath warm and steady against his skin. He should wake you soon—checkout isn’t far off—but he doesn’t move. He doesn’t want to. His arm tightens slightly around you, as if that will keep this moment from slipping away.

Your body is curled into his, trusting and unguarded. He tells himself it’s just the circumstances, that you’d be this way with anyone who made you feel safe. But something deep in his chest twists at the thought, and he wonders if he’s being selfish, holding onto this feeling for just a little longer.

The morning light filters through the curtains, catching in your hair, casting soft shadows across your face. You shift slightly, murmuring something he can’t quite make out, and he freezes, barely daring to breathe. But you settle again, your fingers lightly curling into the fabric of his shirt. He lets out a slow breath, relief and something else washing over him in tandem.

He wishes he could have this every morning—waking up warm, wrapped in quiet moments before the world intrudes. But joy like this isn’t for men like him. He knows better than to reach for things that aren’t meant to last.

Still, he lingers, allowing himself just a few more minutes in this fragile peace before reality calls you both back. He tips his head back against the headboard, letting himself fall into the fantasy where this is his every morning, waking up with you in his arms. 

Get over it already. Jesus. 

He’s still looking at you, memorizing the peace on your face, when your eyes crack open. Your eyes flicker up, meeting his with a surprise that doesn’t seem all that unwelcome. 

“Good morning,” he says. 

Best to start simple. 

You tuck your face back into his chest. He takes the opportunity to pull you closer, hold you a little tighter. “I’m sorry - I’m clingy when I sleep.” 

His laugh sings over the crown of your head. “It’s alright. I don’t mind.” 

Too much? He freezes for a moment, but you haven’t pulled away. 

“What time is it?” You crane your neck and look at the clock on his bedside table, but he’s sure his arm is blocking the eyeline. He’s not inclined to move, so he just answers. 

“Just before nine. We have an hour before checkout. Want to get packed, grab some breakfast, and head out? I’ll drive.”

“You drove here.” You shove at him and sit up. He lets himself fall back as you leave the circle of his arms. He’s not imagining it–you’re much readier to make contact now than you were before. Sometime during the weekend, the contact became less taboo. 

The zings of electricity that jump through his skin when you touch him haven’t stopped though. He hopes it never does. 

He shrugs and tells the truth. “I like driving.” 

I am also a control freak. But you knew that. 

“I won’t argue with that.” 

You sigh, stretch and stand. You miss the way Hotch’s brow crumples as a sliver of your skin becomes visible as your arms stretch above your head. He very purposefully keeps his back to you as he gathers his things, tidying up and hiding the rather unfortunately timed hard-on. While you’re in the bathroom, he changes with practiced haste, using a trick he hasn’t needed since college - the old flip into the waistband move. Minimizes adjustments, maximizes suffering. Especially in jeans. Serves him right.

You switch places, letting him brush his teeth and shave. He takes your zipped suitcase in one hand, his roller bag in his other. 

“Meet you downstairs?” He asks. 

You nod, smiling. “Checkout should be taken care of, but I’ll check at the front.” 

“Bill me if it’s more than five dollars,” he says with a wink, already halfway out the door.  

He meets you outside, sunglasses on, the sun baking his dark hair. It is rather pleasant outside, even if it is the beginning of winter. “Ready?”

You snap back to attention and give him a wide smile. “Yes, sir!” 

He finds himself loving the side of you unlocked by this trip–the shameless silliness and easy laughter. He hopes it can stick around when they get home. He hopes a lot of this can stick around when they get home, but he knows the magic of being ‘out of context,’ as it were, for a weekend can’t last.

Breakfast is an eventful affair. As soon as you sit down, you get a call from Penelope. 

“Hey, Pen, what’s up?” You look across the table at Hotch with amusement in your eyes, and he smiles, still digging into his eggs benedict. He is starving, the ver corner of a hangover at the edge of his eyeline. He only had two or three drinks, but his metabolism isn’t what it used to be. 

“Oh, well we’re just at breakfast,” you say, “almost on our way back. My laptop is in the car, can I take a look at that for you when I get home?” 

He studies you behind his sunglasses. There’s something intangible that changes in your demeanor when you’re omitting something - he’s seen it in the interrogation room. He’s almost certain Penelope wants you to spill. 

There’s a small part of him that idly wonders how many details you shared in advance of this weekend. 

With a laugh at Penelope, you reply, “Of course. You know, it might be easier if you just stop by - I’ll text you when I get home and we can do dinner or something.” You push your food around your plate. 

Is that… disappointment? 

For what, though?

You put your phone away as Penelope appears to abruptly hang up and shake your head. “She’s very predictable.” 

He nods, looking at you from under his brows. “Indeed.” 

You both continue to dig into your food, not realizing how hungry you are from all your antics the night before. His phone rings next, and it’s Jack. 

“Hey bud!” 

“Hi dad!”

God, he loves that boy. He has no idea (okay maybe some idea) of how he turned out so great so far. 

“You having a good weekend?” He asks. 

“Yeah! I saw that rabbit again!” 

Aaron smiles. “I’m glad buddy.” 

“What’s all that noise?” 

Aaron looks up, finding a dog barking on the sidewalk, a leafblower going strong across the street, and the sounds of the hotel valet drivers tossing keys and getting people checked out. “We’re at a wedding this weekend, remember? We got to go to a big party last night, and we’re driving home today.”

“Did you have fun?” Jack asks in that polite way only children can. 

“Yeah,” he looks at you, “we did have a lot of fun.” You smile, crinkling your nose at him. He smiles back. “I’m so glad you had a good time with Aunt Jess and the Brooks cousins this weekend.”

“I did! We ice fished, too!”

“You got to go ice fishing? That’s so exciting! Did Grandpa take you?

“Yeah. He showed me how to put bait on and everything.”

“Awesome, bud.”

“I gotta go, Dad. We’re leaving to go…” Jack must have pulled the phone away from his mouth, because all Aaron hears is ambient noise of an entire house getting ready to leave. 

“Sounds good,” he says uselessly. “I’ll call you when I get home, okay?”

Jack returns to the receiver. “Love you Dad!”

“I love you too.”

When he puts his phone away, you ask, “How’s he doing?”

“It’ll be a fight to get him home, that’s for sure.” 

You take another bite of your food. “How are things with Haley’s family? Any better?”

Isn’t that the question of the hour. “Not at all. I’m not sure there’s much I can do, at this point. Jess does what she can, but her dad is...not a fan of mine.” 

Aaron vividly remembers the cold fury in Roy’s eyes at the funeral, the icy conversation they had after the service. Roy’s feelings about the whole affair–Haley’s murder, his role in it–is clear. Aaron’s responsibility for her death is one of the few things they agree on, these days. But even that isn’t enough for a functioning relationship. 

Like you can read his mind, you say, “I know you know this, but none of this is your fault.” He can tell just by looking at you that you mean it, which is very kind of you. 

Kinder than he deserves, surely. 

He doesn’t want to get into it with you again, so he just says, “Thank you.”

+++

Hotch lets you pick the music on the way home, and doesn’t say a word when you sing along (sometimes good, sometimes bad). He secretly enjoys your karaoke-esque abandon in the car. He catches himself smiling more often than not. 

At a certain point, you turn the music off and sit back in your seat. 

Uh oh. 

This feels like a preamble to something.

“Yes?” He asks. 

“I know I keep saying this, but thank you for coming with me this weekend.” Your body shifts toward him. He can see out of the corner of his eye that your attention is glued on him. If he didn’t like it so much, it would be unnerving. 

“You’re welcome.” He glances at you before looking back at the road. “Thank you for trusting me not to embarrass you in front of people you haven’t seen in almost ten years.” 

You smile a kind of lopsided sort of smile. “You could never embarrass me.”

He frowns playfully. “That’s not true.” He’s sure he has, in fact, on multiple occasions. 

“You are exceedingly upstanding, and you just got your hair cut, so the odds are in my favor.” 

“Hey!” He self-consciously runs a hand over the back of his head. He did get a haircut before this weekend, but he was sure you hadn’t noticed. You reach over to shove at his shoulder and he laughs, letting himself get jostled. 

“I’m kidding! I like it long, though.” You look over fondly at him. Something grows warm in his chest and his lips turn up at the corners, almost without his permission. “It was longer when I first met you, remember? You started keeping it shorter after the div - well, after.” 

He quirks his brow, the corners of his lips upturn just the smallest amount. “Nobody ever accused you of being unobservant.” 

And ain’t that just the coldest truth. 

You grin widely at him and turn the radio back on. 

+++

Aaron has never been more reluctant to pull into a driveway in his life. Yours, specifically. He slows more than he needs to, as if delaying the inevitable might somehow change the outcome. But real life is waiting for both of you, and pretending otherwise is just another cruelty he’s allowing himself.

He turns off the ignition, and for a long moment, neither of you move. He can feel the weight of everything left unsaid hanging between you. Maybe you don’t realize it, but he does. He knows the exact shape of it, the way it’s been growing, pressing in at the edges. And still, he sits in it, selfishly, because soon he won’t have the luxury.

You sigh, and it feels like a cue. He follows you out of the car, circling around back without thinking. He should just let you take your own damn suitcase, but he doesn’t. Carrying it is another excuse—one more fleeting moment before the goodbye he doesn’t want to say.

At your doorstep, you fumble with your keys, and he thinks, just for a second, that if you never got the door open, he wouldn’t have to go. He sets your suitcase down, but his hands don’t leave it right away. They ache with restraint. You get the door open and take a few steps inside. 

Then, before he can stop himself, he reaches for you. Covers your hands with his own. He shouldn’t, but he does. He shouldn’t lean in, but he does. The kiss he presses to your cheek is light, barely there, but it lingers between you all the same.

“Thank you for inviting me.” It’s not what he wants to say. Not even close. What he means? 

Thank you for letting me love you, like I would. Like I want to.

But it’ll have to do for now.

You nod, but your smile is tight, your lips pressed together. You feel it, too, don’t you? This thing neither of you are naming. He swallows and lets you create distance. He can scarcely allow himself to hope. It’s not fair to hope. 

He’s not sure if it’s more unfair to you or to him.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” He steps back because he has to. Because if he doesn’t, he’s not sure what he might do.

Something regrettable, no doubt.

“Bye, Hotch.” Your voice is steady, but he knows better. “Thanks again.”

He turns before he can look too long at the way you watch him. He pulls on his sunglasses, a weak shield, and opens the door, looking at you over his shoulder. “Anytime,” he says, and it’s the biggest lie he’s told in years.

He is proud that he only looks back once, to see you waving with the tips of your fingers, peeking out behind the door, as he follows the stone path back to the driveway. The walk feels miles long, the distance between you stretching like a reflection in a funhouse mirror.

You disappear inside when he reaches the edge of the poured concrete. He waits until the door closes before he exhales, before he rubs a hand over his face and forces himself back into the driver’s seat. He doesn’t start the car right away. He sits there, gripping the wheel, knowing that for the first time in a long time, going home doesn’t feel like relief. It feels like loss.

Fuck.

+++

tags: starting fresh! hit up the spreadsheet if you want to come back to the taglist :)

[luveline]

Jade I’ve entered my Fred Weasley era and a special friend owns me. Almost finished with my second read through and will probably immediately roll into my third. From the bottom of my heart, it hits different. I was wondering if you’d do one where ghostie gets overwhelmed in the shop and spontaneously decides to take a walk to clear her head. And Fred assumes she’s just stepping out for a moment to get air and promptly freaks out when he sees she’s gone? Doting, overprotective Fred makes me melt 🥹

The Weasley’s do three for two on Thursdays, drawing a large crowd without fail and despite a sore lack of their most common demographic. The school kids, often too overwhelmed with their schoolwork to mail in, and too far away to come in person, send their parental gophers with lists and good intent. 

“And, uh…  Genovian powder,” the white-haired woman says, peering at you through a pair of wonky glasses. Behind one green half moon and a purple star lense, spider-leg lashes blink slowly. 

“Peruvian?” you offer nervously. 

“No, don’t think so.” 

“We have Peruvian Darkness Powder, or there’s Calesthian Dragon Powder, but if there’s a Genovian one here I haven’t seen it,” you say with an apologetic frown. “But I can ask George.” 

“Who’s that?” 

“One of the Weasley’s. I’ll be right back, okay?” 

Working like this as someone to help and appease customers makes you cringe at yourself. Hearing how you talk to people. It’s not as though there’s shame in giving the customers patience or working, but there’s definitely something to be said about how fake it feels on you. Your poor attempts at being easy-going can make your chest ache in slow, overdue regret hours after you’ve turned the OPEN sign to CLOSED. You’re still worrying at your cheek when you find George where you’d suspected him, demonstrating firecracker poppers disguised as hair ties to a crowd of frowning parents. 

He thankfully abandons the task quickly when he notices you waiting. “What, ghost?” 

The nickname is said without thought. Anyone listening won’t get it, but it doesn’t matter. You feel a little bit better when he says it because getting it marked the first time anyone ever noticed you enough to care, and whenever they use it now, it’s reinforcement. Like a reminder that you’re their ghost, whatever that is (a too long definition). 

“Genovian powder?” you ask. 

“No, not us. Calesthian–”

“I asked her, she’s sure it was Genovian–”

“They’re all bloody sure until you show them the box–”

“I know, but I don’t think she’ll believe me–”

“She’ll bloody well believe me, then,” George says, giving your arm a shake before he rounds you. He spots the woman and her Technicolor glasses immediately, jumping into a spiel they give about the Darkness Powder as he goes. 

“Can you show us the Pygmies?” someone asks you. 

Pygmy puffs, fake love love potions that explode in your face when you try to use them, help with a return, bathroom break, tight jeans with a stiff zipper, bruise on your elbow from the back door, customer doesn’t know where the stairs are to get to the second floor, you’re on the second floor, a flash of lovely Fred by the till, his loving smile, encouraging, his huff and the hair on his forehead ruffling about. 

You nod toward the door. Fred nods back, hurried, It’s fine. 

The second you’re through the door you can take a breath. The further you get from the shop, the looser your chest feels. You hurry down the alley past the dragon popcorn machine and just keep walking. Some of the other shopkeepers are around and greet you quickly, but there’s barely anyone to see. Everyone must be in the Weasleys’. 

You spot a few sturdy looking boxes down the side of the Magician’s Tree pub and sit down hard. Your face feels greasy and itchy, your hands are aching from the Pygmies, a scratch running in a road line down your wrist. You feel at it with your thumb nail. It looks like you could’ve done it on purpose. 

What if Fred thinks you did it on purpose? 

You scratch at the thickest part, which isn’t any wider than the edge of a nail, not even deep enough to scab. It’s just two lines one after the other where whatever hurt you must’ve been jagged. It’s a scratch. It isn’t– you couldn’t have done it with intent, and Fred will know that. You picture his worrying and feel sick to your stomach suddenly, dropping your head back against the wall to take deep, cold breaths. He won’t mind the scratch, and he’ll believe you when you tell him it wasn’t you, but he’ll worry first. 

You aren’t sure where you are for a little while. Eyes slipped shut, someone else’s hand on the wheel. 

He’ll worry, you think insistently, standing up. 

You make your way back to Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes and shoulder open the door. 

The displays are a mess. A stack of potions that promise to turn your skin a modern, appealing green have come down. Ones come unstoppered, leaking a bright yellow liquid in an oval across the floor. You think vaguely that you should clean it and kneel beside it, pulling the slight of your wand from your back pocket. “Tergeo,” you whisper, curling your wrist. 

The potion disappears. 

Standing, you hold your arm wide and pull, thinking a meagre moving spell that deigns to work, upping the display and shuffling each potion back onto its shelves. 

You hadn’t thought you were gone so long as for it to be closing time, but perhaps it was nearly the end of the day. You give most things a clean with quick magic or elbow grease, closing the shutters and locking the door. You go up the staircase to the second level and do the same, before retreating back to the ground floor and heading past the tills to the stairs to the flat. Fred and George will be making dinner, or George might’ve gone home already, though he usually says bye first. Yesterday he stole a sideways hug and disappeared a half a step away from you, clothes whipping in his wake. Fred called him a prat, and a few seconds later George had apparated back, sure that Fred had said something cruel. I know you were, brother mine. Their freaky twin sense knows no bounds. 

The boys aren’t in the flat. The door to the bedroom is open wide and there’s an obvious lack of them —if Fred were here, you’d hear him. Humming or mumbling or making the bed. 

A slip of white fog slams its way into the room in a swoop from the kitchen, a hurried magpie curling around your shoulders to hold itself, flapping pearly wings an inch from your face. GHOST, it whispers, WHERE ARE YOU? MEET ME AT THE FLAT, NOW. 

You blink at it. “I’m here,” you say, startled again when it disappears in a burst like sand. 

A minute later and there are footsteps barrelling up the stairs. You let your wand fall back into your hand and point it at the entrance through doorways, not actually sure what you’d do if it were an intruder. 

The logical part of you knows that it’s Fred, but the relief doesn’t come until he’s opening the door and stopping short. “Oh,” he says, sounding as cracked in half as he can be while still physically whole. His lips part again as though he’s got more to say, but he crosses the flat to you in four big strides and wraps his arms around you instead. He squeezes you hard enough to make the bones in your back click. 

“What happened?” you ask worriedly. “Are you okay?” 

He says your name, again like he means to keep on. 

“What?” you ask. 

“Are you alright?” he asks, pulling away to take your face into cold hands, missing nearly all of his usual tenderness. This is the touch of lingering panic, slowly melding itself into love. “Are you? Where did you go?” 

“I went– just went past the Magic Tree. Did you close?” 

“When I couldn’t find you, yes, I closed. I looked up and down the alley twice, I didn’t see you.” 

“I– sorry–”

“No, it’s okay, it’s fine if you’re alright.” He gazes at you imploringly. “Are you?” 

“I don’t know,” you admit, a little diffident in the face of all this worry. You hadn’t thought of whether you were alright or not, you’d just walked off, and now you’re not sure you were fully you when you came back. The longer he holds you in his palms, the worse you feel. The pinch of his mouth brings tears to your eyes. 

“Are you hurt?” he asks quietly. 

Obviously you aren’t. You show him the scratch anyway. 

“Ow,” he murmurs, sympathetic as his hands fall from your face to hold your elbow and wrist instead. It seems deeper while he looks, longer, and it stings as he presses his thumb to an edge. “Shall I mend it?” 

“Yeah. Yes.” 

Fred pulls your arm to kiss the crook of your elbow, and then the cut is healing, from red to pink to purple to white, a second and then gone, his non-verbal cut-mending charm practised, perfect. Tomorrow, you won’t be able to see the scar. 

He smiles at you. “See that? Magic kiss.”

“That was good.” 

“They’re all like that, you know,” he says, which is as much warning as you want or need as he ducks in to kiss you. Kisses twice, a third time, nose tapped into yours and breath warm as it skims your lips, your Cupid’s bow, and your soft cheek. 

“Fred.”

“Ghost, I thought you were going to have a sit down outside of the shop like you do, but you– why’d you go all the way to Magic Tree?” 

“I didn’t mean to walk that far.” 

You can see his tongue behind his lips, running against the line of his teeth. He’s frowning without meaning to, deeply, his eyebrows drawn and his usually gentle eyes dark, like he’s angry, or he could be, but it never turns itself on you. 

“No?” Fred asks, his voice dropping in register, “Where’d you mean to go?”

“I didn’t mean to go anywhere.” 

“You don’t have to cry,” he says under his breath. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I’m not,” you say back, because you don’t want him to worry, because you’re not sure if you’re gonna cry or not and it wouldn’t matter if you did, only you don’t think you can stand the look on his face now, like you’ve accidentally hurt yourself and he feels sorry for you, like you could be sitting in the hospital wing at school right now waiting for a verdict. 

“What happened?” he asks. 

“The scratch?” 

“Everything, lovely.” 

“I cleaned up downstairs.” 

He nods. “Okay. Thank you.” 

Fred guides you wordlessly to the sofa and waits for you to sit before sitting right next to you, not a lick of space between you as he bunches an arm around you and presses your forehead to his mouth, but he doesn’t kiss it. He hugs you, occasionally adjusting against you like you’re slippery, and he doesn’t speak. 

“I scared you,” you croak. 

“Yeah, you did.” 

You feel a sob like a bubble in your throat. You squeeze your mouth shut and press your face into Fred’s shoulder, nonplussed by your own emotion, hating to make a show of things. Fred shushes you gently, already waiting to rub your back as the tears start, and when they won’t end. “It’s okay,” he says, twice, three times, until it’s one word. “S’okay, you’re okay, it’s alright, Y/N. It is.” 

You don’t make a sound that isn’t sucking in air or the worst kind of whine at the back of your throat. You don’t sob out loud. You don’t try to say sorry. 

Eventually, you scare Fred worse. “Baby,” he says into your forehead, more touch than sound, “you need to calm down. You’re gonna make yourself sick.” 

You nod emphatically and cling to him, worried he’ll move. He stays where he is, humming approvingly when your tears begin to slow. You must sniffle into his shoulder for a quarter of an hour without his complaint, an odd relief in his hand as he rubs circles against your upper back, like this is a good thing. A part of you thinks he must be furious and annoyed to have to do it, but the reality, and that you’re familiar with, is that Fred just loves you, so he doesn’t mind. 

You don’t say sorry. You won’t try. It’ll upset him more. 

“Alright?” he asks. 

“Yeah.” 

“Want a drink or something?” 

“No.” 

“Sure you’re okay?” 

“I don’t know what’s wrong.” 

“You don’t have to know,” he says, pulling away to rub a nice finger down your cheek. He dries salt tracks and carefully, carefully brushes the last of your tears from your eyelashes with a pale fingertips. His cheeks are blushed from your hugging. His freckles are like paint flecks wet against his skin. “We can have a cup of tea, or hot chocolate or coffee. I can make you cream of chicken, if you want. It’s about dinner time.” 

“I don’t want anything. Do you want something?” 

He smiles. Endeared. 

“No,” —he follows the bridge of your nose with a fingertip— “I don’t need anything.” 

“Okay,” you say, more to yourself than him, paying a great deal of interest to your lap. 

“Are you feeling at all better?” 

“Yeah, I’m okay.” 

He draws a line across your jaw, past your chin to shy of your ear. “It’s okay if you don’t feel better.”

“Do you want me to?” 

“Feel better? Of course I do.” 

You let yourself sink into his lap. Shuffling and collapsing, his hand falling to the small of your back.

Fred holds you for a long time. After, he makes dinner, and you get misty eyed at the table, and he can’t pretend he doesn’t notice, and you struggle through every bite and ask him if he was really, truly scared, and he says he was. He doesn't protest when you ask to go to bed while the sun is still up, only closes the curtains and casts a charm to keep the light out, only tucks you in, only rests his weight against you with his hand held lightly across the bottom of your face. You kiss his palm. He lets his index finger brush under your nose, like he’s looking for a seam.

[jiminjeongsoldier]

ᯓᡣ𐭩 MAKE YOU MINE

PAIRING : friend! karina x fem! reader

GENRE : fluff, gl, friends to lovers

SYNOPSIS : you have feelings for karina (your best friend) since a while, but you still don’t know how to confess to her. as you invited her for a sleepover, you thought that it was the good moment to tell her your feelings, but karina decided otherwise…

———————————————————————

you just thought that it would be an ordinary day like the others when you invited karina for a sleepover at your place; as always, you guys will watch a movie, maybe “scream” for the thousand time and everytime karina will be clinging onto you because of how scared she is, you’ll be blushing like an idiot to her touch, and then you two will sleep together on the couch

well, this time, you wanted to take the lead; you wanted to confess to her, even though you’re not the type of girl who’s comfortable about sharing her own emotions and feelings, and karina knew it really well

it was already 8pm when you were preparing the blankets and snacks on the couch when you heard the bell ringing; and you immediately froze as you knew well that it was karina

this time, you were more stressed than usually since you planned to tell her about your feelings, and for the occasion, you tried your best to dress elegantly: you’ve put this white long dress that karina gifted you for your birthday, your hair in a half ponytail and your lips covered with this red dark lipstick that you loved so much. was it too much? well, maybe, but you wanted to do everything for karina to notice all the efforts you’ve put in in honor of such a special night like this one

after taking a quick glance at your reflection in front of the mirror of the hallway, you take a deep shaky breath when you hold the wrist of the front door, before you finally open it as you’re greeted by karina, you give her this soft smile of yours as always but quickly, you notice that something’s off, she isn’t like usual: you can sense how nervous she is and you can see this embarrassed smile on her lips, and it makes you worrying about her. what’s going on? why is she like that?

but you decided to not comment it and just come and hug her softly as you say: “i’m so glad to see you, come here!” after you move away from her embrace, you can see her simply nodding at your words and you swear that you could see her cheeks being flushed, and you can’t help but find her absolutely adorable

you take her hand and lead her to the living room where you prepared everything for tonight: the matching pink and purple blankets, her fav snacks put on the coffee table, the garlands of lights positioned around them on the ceiling and finally, a little red box positioned on karina’s blanket. at the sight of it, you can’t help but feel your heart about to explode from your chest. you thought that it was totally too much, and you even thought that it looked like a date. you were waiting for karina’s reaction, and her reaction made your heart flutter away

you can see her eyes sparkling as she sees the living room and how you decorated it, and she of course noticed the little red box on her blanket on the couch, which makes her heart skipping a beat. she smile softly at the sight of it before she suddenly comes and hug you tightly as she puts her arms around your waist, which causes you to blush so much but you quickly hug her back tightly and ask in a soft tone: “do you like it?”. as you asked this, she move away a bit of your embrace as she looks at you in the eyes while she still has her arms around your waist and chuckle a bit before she replies with this adorable smile of hers: “of course i do, that’s absolutely… fabulous y/n”

as she says these words, you can’t help but feel your heart beating faster and your cheeks burning, and all you could do is just chuckle softly as you thanks her before she moves away definitely from your embrace and sit on the couch, on her blanket, where the little red box is that she already has in her hands, and you could clearly tell that she is wondering what’s inside

so you follow her and sit on the other side of the couch, on your blanket, as you could hear your heartbeat from your ears because of how nervous you are. after few minutes, you finally decided to pronounce in a soft tone: “you can open it”

as you say this with a smile, you see karina looking at you with a mix of excitement and happiness as she open the little red box, and you could clearly see her eyes sparkling but also her cheeks flushing a bit when she sees what’s inside: a necklace with a red heart, simple yet so significant for you

“let me help you” you say in a soft tone as karina land to you the necklace in your hands and put herself on the couch so you could face her back as you gently put the necklace around her neck. as you attach her necklace around her neck, you could feel how close you are and it makes your heart beating faster

on karina’s side, she can feel your soft breath against the back of her neck as you attach her necklace around her neck, and it makes her whole body shivering. she tries her best to calm down by saying with a smile from ear to ear: “thank you y/n, that’s best the gift someone has ever given to me.. that’s so pretty”

as she says these words as you finished to attach her necklace, you can’t help but feel your cheeks burning again, and you can’t help feel your smile growing at her words, as she turns around so she is now facing you on the couch, you stare at the necklace around her neck, and you can’t help but smile again before you say: “that’s right, you look even prettier with it”

when you says these words, you can see karina’s smile growing bigger and you could definitely see her blushing as she looks at the necklace you gave her and start to fidget it gently, and you can’t help but find her absolutely adorable this way

after this soft moment, karina and you are actually on the couch, blankets on both of your bodies, close but yet not that close, as you both are watching a romantic movie. should i have to mention who’s idea it was from? well, it was karina’s idea. usually, you would’ve watched “scream”, karina’s favorite horror movie, but this time, she decided to watch something more romantic, and sincerely, how could you refuse?

as the movie goes on, you can feel your body froze when suddenly a scene of sex shows up. you can feel your body heating at the sight of it, and you immediately felt embarrassed. as you take a quickly glance at karina, you are surprised to see her being at the same state at you; she has her cheeks completely flushed and you could sense how embarrassed she is

when you were about to turn your head back to the movie, you see karina’s eyes meeting yours, and you suddenly feel like the whole world stopped around the both of you. you felt a sudden strange tension between you two, and you could feel your heart beating like crazy

you feel your breath hitching in your throat when you see karina coming closer to you, so close. her face was straight in front of you, and you can’t help but bite your lower lip because of how nervous you feel right now. but you feel your heart about to explode from your chest when you notice karina’s eyes looking at your lips

as she pulls herself even closer to your face until your lips were just mere inches away from each other, you can’t help but stare at her own lips as she continues to move her lips closer to you as you slowly start to panic and let out a shaky breath before you ask in a soft yet panicked tone: “w-what are you doing ‘rina?”

at the same moment, you can see karina’s lips turning into a soft smile before she presses her lips against yours, and it’s like the whole world stopped spinning around you. you hesitate for few little seconds before you finally kiss her back and melt into the kiss. the kiss was slow yet soft, very tender. as karina deepen the kiss, you put a hand on the back of her neck gently for pulling her closer, as you crave for more, crave for feeling more of her lips against yours

to your contact, karina can’t help but sigh softly against your mouth as she deepens the kiss and start to put her tongue at the entrance of your lips, asking for permission, what you absolutely give her. you let her tongue entering your mouth as she starts to explore every little corners of your mouth

after few minutes of hesitation, you finally decided to do the same and start to dance with her tongue gently, and you let out soft sighs as the kiss continues because of how good it feels

right after this unforgettable kiss, you move away gently from her lips as you gasp for air; as you paint a bit, you have your arms wrapped around her neck and karina’s arms around your waist. you can’t help but smile softly at her before you finally say in a soft tone: “i love you ‘rina”

at your words, she smiles softly back at you as she also gasp for air and say: “i love you more y/n, you have no idea”

as she said this, she leans closer to you again and pull you again into a soft and gentle kiss full of passion, and you both will continue to kiss and cuddle each other the whole night..

₊˚⊹౨ৎ ₊˚⊹ ₊˚⊹౨ৎ ₊˚⊹ ₊˚⊹౨ৎ ₊˚⊹ ₊˚⊹౨ৎ ₊˚⊹ ₊˚⊹౨ৎ ₊˚⊹

[maskedcrawford]

Permanently Yours

G-Dragon x Reader

Summary: You surprise Jiyong with a tattoo that only makes him more obsessed with you.

Warnings: Pure fluff

A/N: Anon, feel free to let me know if this wasn't what you wanted! I hope you enjoy this sweet story, it was so fun to write!

Requests are OPEN

You walk out of the tattoo parlor with the fresh ink on your skin, examining the art work. You had gotten a few tattoos before after hearing how Ji raved about them. But he knew about those, and they were special to you but this one was going to be special for both of you.

You look at the artwork of a dragon once more in the mirror when you got home. A dragon with the date of your relationship stamped above it. A lot of people told you it was risky to get it because what if you and GD break up? It’s kinda permanent, but you loved the man so much you wanted to put some kind of claim on your body that you were his, even though everyone knew.

“Babe? You here?” you hear him call out. You carefully slide your shirt over your body again to hide the artwork. You had a photoshoot tomorrow for Vogue and wanted to surprise him there with it.

“Hey, jagiya,” he smiles as he see’s you walk out of your shared room. He jogs over to you and wraps his arms around your back, right where the fresh wound is still healing. It’s not like it was a small tattoo, it spanned the space of your back almost completely. He notices you wince before he goes in to give you a hug.

“What? Did I hurt you? Are you ok?” he goes to move around you like he wants to inspect you but you take his hands in yours and bring him back in front of you.

“I’m sore, from a work out today, is all.” You smile as you lie right through your teeth and give him the usual welcome home kiss. You wake up the next morning carefully making sure to clean and moisturize your new art piece. Ji-yong loved art in general and you were sure the masterpiece on your back would get his attention.

“Babe we have to go, I’ll be late,” you giggle as Jiyong fusses with a button on his shirt.

“Here,” you say as she drops his hand like a frustrated child.

“Now you look perfect,” you kiss his nose and he once again places his hand on your back putting unwanted pressure.

“Oh, shit,” he quickly removes his hand, “It’s ok.” You have to practically restrain yourself to not scratch at it.

At the studio you’re getting dressed and Ji is waiting patiently. You fill the photographer in on the plan of how you want to unveil the surprise back piece. He nods in approval, as long as he can use it for the shoot which you oblige.

You take the first few shots, moving in different poses and you notice the look of pride on Ji-yong’s face as you do.

“All right, lets get her changed,” a costume designer shouts and you can barely contain your excitement. Ji-yong sits on his phone on a nearby bench.

“So you can get his reaction right?” you whisper to the photographer who assures you it’ll look great. You walk back to the set with a large towel covering your back. They get you set up and you take a deep breath.

“Ji-yong,” you call over your shoulder. He looks like clearly lost in his phone.

“Come here,” you motion for him. He walks over to you looking concerned.

“We’re gonna have you stand here,” the photographer positions him where he needs to be to be in the shot.

“What, I’m not,”

“Just hold still,” the man says, “3.. 2.. 1.. drop the towel,” he says and you let the towel drape off your back and you turn your head to look over at your boyfriend.

His eyes are wide and his mouth slightly open. He walks up to you, getting a closer look at the dragon.

“What did, babe,” is all he can say before you let out a giggle.

“You like,” you question with the biggest smile on your face.

“I fucking love it! Holy shit that’s so sexy!” He keeps his hands above the tattoo so you don’t have to wash it again.

“This is why you’re back hurt yesterday?” he says partly questioning and partly knowing. You nod your head, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. He goes around to your front and gives you the biggest kiss. You finish the photo shoot for the day and all your boyfriend can talk about is the tattoo.

“I’m glad you like it, Oppa.” He looks at you like a prized possession. As soon as it’s healed he can’t keep his hands off it, constantly dragging his finger tips across it, and you, as much as he can.

“Its just, you’re really mine now,” he breathes after again staring at it.

“I was yours beforehand.”

“Yeah, but now it’s permanent, no removing me from your life. Not completely.” He smirks.

“I mean, tattoo removal has come a long way,” you tease. He looks genuinely offended for a moment.

“Don’t even joke about that. Now everyone that see’s this knows your mine and that’s how it’s going to stay,” he cups your cheeks giving you a sweet kiss. You smile against his lips happy that he loves the artwork.

When the magazine comes out he practically frames the cover. It’s a picture of you looking over your shoulder with the tattoo clearly visible.

“Right above the bed!” he shouts and you laugh at his child like enthusiasm.

“OH man, and this one needs its own frame,” he starts tearing out all the pictures from the magazine.”

“Babe, I wanted to read those!” you chuckle.

“Here, I got two. One to read and or take with me on the road, and this one is to hang up in our room, proudly displayed. We need something for the living room,” he pauses, “Oh, we’ll do our own little shoot at home,” he wiggles his brows as he gets his camera. You take multiple pictures as he makes sure to capture you in the best positions and lighting, he can, even taking you outside and to shops snapping pictures.

“Babe, I think we have enough,” you say as you sip on the warm beverage in your hand with a heartwarming smile.

“Just one more, hold the cup to your lips, yeah like that,” he takes one last picture and smiles proud of himself.

“Perfect.” Once your home he starts mapping out the areas of where he wants to place the pictures and you can’t help but love how artistic and excited he is.  

“I’m glad you find it so appealing, nae sarang.” You whisper as you put your arms around his waist and hug him from the back.

If you enjoyed and want to support me, buy me a coffee

“A work of art must be treasured. And you my dear, are more priceless than the Mona Lisa,” he compliments with a sweet, deep kiss before turning back to the walls to map out where he wants each picture.

[thebluediner]

BROKEN HEARTS AND BROKEN MINDS

you know you shouldn't. the relationship was over months ago you should be over it by now but you're not and that was the reality of it. you told yourself you were never in love with her anyway it was just attachment but the more you think about her the more your heart aches.

the more your mind tortures you with memories of you together the more you realise how heartbroken you are. you try to push it way and focus on someone else but it all makes you feel desperate. which in truth is what you are .

you were still bitter about the relationship ending because how could someone break up with you because they think you deserve so much better ? why would they make a decision for you and let you go when all you ever wanted was them? why would they talk about your elaborate future together if they were going to leave you ? why couldn't they become the person you deserve?

why would billie do that to you. you didn't understand.

and when she reached out a few days ago about how she wanted to atleast talk to you it ruined your day. your heart started beating hard against your chest ,your eyes feeling the hot tears roll down you cheek and your skin breaking out in a sweat.

why is that the first thing she says to you after months of not talking or seeing each other. why hadn't she reached out to you sooner ? why didn't she beg for you to come back ? you had blocked her but why couldn't she try through email or something?

fuck. you've been told how gut wrenching first queer breakups can be but you didn't think that would be you. but now it was you.

you missed her . you were desperate to feel her eyes on you again. you were desperate for her to touch you and embrace you again. you were so desperate to be in her presence again.

your mind and heart kept fighting over what to do. your heart wanted to run to billie as fast as it can but your mind shamed you for wanting somebody who dumped you. your mind constantly reminded you how you're unwanted by her so why would you go crawling back ?

your mind was clouded you didn't know what to do. what you did know though it how much you wanted her regardless of anything else and that angered you.

so when you grabbed your phone dialing the familiar number and waiting as it rang you weren't suprised. you needed something to calm you down or atleast take your anger out on and if it made you seem desperate then so be it.

"y/n?" her voice calls out over the phone echoing in your dark apartment . you sniffled, your eyelids pressed harder letting your hot tears flow down your cheeks just by hearing her voice after so long.

"y/n speak to me please " billies voice tremors with anxiety over the silence on your end.

"fuck you " the words spat out of you mouth followed with cries that you couldn't even hold back so she heard them.

she heard the pain in your voice and the hopelessness in your cries. knowing she was the cause your cries broke her inside.

she was immature and she knew that. she was fucked up and she knew that. she would apologise to you for years for those things but both of you knew she wouldn't change, atleast not for you. it's not that she couldn't she didn't want too.

all her coping mechanisms that landed her in the hospital or left her high out of her mind or disappearing for weeks she would never leave not even for you.

so when her heart felt heavy and her guilty conscience was eating her up all she could mutter were useless apologies.

she triggered all the emotions you've burried and convinced yourself weren't there and she knew it. she knew you. billie knew what your heart was aching for but at the same time she had the capability to think further and assume your brain stopped you from all those desires.

"fuck baby i'm sorry i really am" she says through a strained voice caused by the huge knot chocking her. her nails dug deeper into her skin to restrain herself from coming over to you. tears dropped hot from her eyes and landed on the floor cold.

she never wanted this but too bad she was the cause of it all.

a/n :@miss-oconnell wasn't what you expected huh? i'm saving your ask for a sexy onee tho dw (⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)

[meritski]

freezing the moment • kinich x gn!reader

“It never snows in Natlan. Does that mean nobody will experience love here?”

It started with a silly sentence you read in a silly book. One’s first love is the person with whom one experiences the year’s first snow, it said.

It was indeed stupid. Your question, and the statement itself.

Yet, when Kinich thought about his mom and dad— he found himself thinking that it might be true after all. 

It was either right or what he longed for wasn’t love. Because the situation at home clearly was not what he desired.

Noticing how the usually quiet boy remained silent, you sighed. Was he bored? Okay, you can try to change the subject a little bit.

“I’ve never heard anyone have a Cryo vision either. Does that mean since we are in the nation of war, there is no place for love…? Ah, Snezhnaya must be a wonderful place. That's probably why it snows a lot there, right, since it's the land of love? I am so jealous.”

That finally made him speak, to your delight. If he hadn't, it might have flustered you— though since it was Kinich, you wouldn't have minded too much.

Or maybe you would have. He was so good in your eyes that you wouldn’t want to be an embarrassment next to him.

“A rumor says that someone named Granny Citlali from Night Wind’s has a Cryo vision.”

Ah, okay! A new topic, one that he chose to talk about too. You can work with that.

“Do you think she would make it snow if we asked? For fun?”

Seeing your excited eyes and hearing the curiosity in your voice, he paused just for a second before shaking his head.

“They say that she is super scary as well.”

Boo! 

“I’ll make her like me then, trust!”

His gaze lingered on you longer than it should. Though you were so busy talking about a character in your book that came off scary, just like the said elderly, but was a huge softie instead— you didn’t notice how his eyes softened.

He trusted you, without any doubts.

Because before you met him, he too had been perceived as intimidating and scary.

So yes, you could definitely make her like you.

Just like you had with him.

As you both grew older, you realized that you had been too carefree back then.

Because now that he was a saurian hunter— no, on top of that; now that he bore the name ‘Malipo’ you didn't see him around much.

Nothing changed between the two of you, of course. But the environment itself changed, unfortunately. And that made a huge difference. Because now your time with him was ten times more precious, maybe a hundred, which means that even every millisecond you spent together should be cherished.

Now, today, it was by pure luck that you guys ran into each other while doing commissions today. It was a rare sight, not that you minded, of course. You truly missed him over the past few days.

Although it was work, you were minding your business, and you knew Kinich was also doing the same. Fitting. The one who wasn’t minding their own business was Ajaw, apparently. Very fitting, indeed.

“Ugh, how long is this going to take? Might I remind you that I have places to be!”

Well, here we go again.

“Oh yeah, what places?”

Kinich's tone made you crack a smile, it was endearing seeing him like this. Since you two never bickered, their odd dynamic always was full of surprises.

While Ajaw was talking about his fans and Kinich reminding him that they are nonexistent, you simply enjoyed the moment.

And it was good while it lasted, you must say— until a hidden domain you stumbled upon ruined the moment.

The wind wasn’t like the warm breeze at the top of the mountains during the sunset; it was cold.

Natlan was never cold. Never.

As soon as Kinich noticed the change of the air, the jacket that had been loosely wrapped around his waist suddenly found its place on your shoulders. His expression was indifferent.

You, on the other hand, were caught off guard. Flinching slightly at the sudden weight, the warmth quickly crept up to your cheeks. To your displeasure, Ajaw noticed this, he mumbled a quiet ‘disgusting’ and vomited some rainbows. (Spoiler: You might want to deal with him once and for all today.)

Kinich wasn’t known for his words; his actions always spoke louder.

It was his silent way of showing he cared, you noted. He really didn’t change, after all. 

While you two walked through the domain, the chilly demeanor of the domain grew even cooler. Well, if you want to look at it from the bright side, the distance between you and the saurian hunter nearly vanished. His arm brushed against yours from time to time. Though both of you were cold, his skin felt warm— weirdly warm.

When you noticed how his nose was a little bit reddish too, you decided to joke about it a bit. He looked cute, you wouldn’t see the famous Malipo like this often. Why waste the chance to play around a little?

Well, the universe had different plans, just as you were going to comment about it; you slipped. Slipped? Yeah, dragging Kinich into the fall too. You were playing around, alright. 

His hand was at the back of your head, protecting it from the harsh impact it could have gotten. And on top of that— no, let’s rephrase this. On top of you, there was Kinich. 

Wow. Way to go.

Embarrassed, you were so ready to apologize but the sudden coldness you felt on your cheek made you stop. 

The saurian hunter’s shoulders stiffened, his hair, one that is highlighted with orange and green, was now painted white. 

It was snowing.

It was snowing, each snowflake delicate and fleeting— just like the moments you two had and still continued to have.

It felt like the time had stopped— in such a way that the snow froze it, just for the two of you. Just as if giving you the chance to treasure it.

His eyes, which looked like the sunrise in the forest, were locked on you. His breath was caught up on his throat, it seemed (since the usual puff of mist didn’t escape from him). And it did make you more nervous.

Your back was getting cold despite his jacket, and also a little bit wet too. Now you realize what you two were walking on was a frozen lake. Can’t blame you for falling, really.

The whole domain was cold as ice, the pounding on your chest made it impossible to feel it. 

It was warm. Being near Kinich was warm. The memories you two shared were warm. His gaze was warm. He was warm, and he was also making you feel warm.

The feelings you harbored for Kinich, were warm. 

It seems like it wasn’t a silly book nor a silly quote after all.

And when his eyes dropped to your lips for a millisecond(one that should be cherished), a sneeze interrupted you two from a distance.

“Achoo.”

Oh, Ajaw. 

𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑ notes!

☆ another work that might get rewritten </3 i swear it sounded better in my head JDHJWJEKFFLES anyway ! ( + not proofread, feel free to correct any mistakes if there is any <: )

☆ i started writing this when it started snowing in the city I live in, it's been 3 years since it last snowed here (there was an albedo event back then, too... guys albedo brainrot is so real that i might drop the draft i've been working on for the past week HDFJWHKFWL), and now the snow has melted haha. great timing to finish the work i guess (,:

☆ i also forgot citlali existed at first ): literally wrote 300 words about "the poeple of the nation of war doesn't have a place for love" theory...

☆ nevermind that, hope you enjoyed it !

[the-s1lly-corner]

Being new to Gardenview

Aka "I had fun writing the long slender mansion posts that I wanted to do something similar with other fandoms

Note that requests are still limited to 3-4 characters max

Notes: reader is gn, toon reader, vague what the readers interests are unless implied otherwise for a character, you're freshly baked, pre game, no pebble or coal, you came around Christmas for the holiday toons anyone else can be any time of year, platonic for everyone since you're brand spanking new, long post, written on mobile, couldn't tag everyone but everyone is here minus pebble and coal

CWs: none

DANDY

He's probably the first one to greet you, honestly. He's like... THE toon. The show is named after him, he's the poster boy after all!

Surely he won't be at least a little annoyed that someone already beat him to the punch.... right...? Right??

He's a very busy toon, not only is he a main but he's also again, THE main. Getting to talk to him for more than a minute while there's visitors is nearly impossible... but he'll be sure to drop by your room for a hello once everything calms down for the day! ...maybe...

ASTRO

It's not that he's overstimated- mostly- it's just that he's tired by the time the day is over with... so it'll take him a while to approach you to welcome you... and he may seem out of it if you approach before he's ready

He's nice! A little accidentally... distant.. but he truly is happy to see a new toon added to gardenviews lineup. Who wouldn't be happy to have a new potential friend?

Ignore how he's seemingly nodding off where he stands... ts not that you're boring. He's simply a little sleepy...! You'll have to get used to that..!

VEE

Oh cool, a new toon. She's not going to be all over you but she's not going to ignore you if you come say hi. Small talk before she's swept away by the visitors.. or you're snatched away

If you seem like the smart type she might just invite you onto her show... she's not usually so quick to let someone on but what the hell! Who wouldn't want a new face to spice things up!

She is quick to set some boundaries up of you're pushing buttons or pose any risk to her techy bits

SHELLY

She doesn't let the fact you didn't notice her at first effect her... at least not outwardly. She's more forgiving in this instance anyways, you did just arrive afterall

Gives you a nice welcome- she's just happy to have someone new to talk to... if you ever want to have a nice camera hang out she's your girl to go to..! Just.. don't forget that she's just a call away..!

There's more time to talk to her during the day due to her being not as popular as the other Mains :( or even some of the non mains...

SPROUT

Oh heeeeeeeey you! He's probably already heard about you! If not from another toon than through one of the handlers!

He's not gonna be all over you but he's at least going to make you feel welcome enough- at least a normal amount of welcoming! He doesn't strike me as the type to be overly buddy buddy with a new toon just because they've just come out of.... wherever the toons are made...

He does seem to perk up a little if you express an interest in the ktichen... common ground can go far!

BOXTEN

It takes him a minute to approach you... he's gotta work himself up to it- he's not the boldest toon out there.. and he seems a little proud of himself that he didn't stumble over his words...! He will be overthinking his first impression later that night though...

The fact you're getting swarmed also puts him off a little... it's just so many people- it's overwhelming. Makes him wonder how he pulled through the initial hype when he was new.. silently sympathizes with you- tried to quietly give you reassurance from across the room but the voice in the back of his mind tries to tell him it looks like he's mocking you

He doesn't really talk.. not really a rambler either, especially with an acquaintance... but he does take note of any questions you have and tries to direct you to who could possibly help you once it becomes clear that he might not be the best fit

BRIGHTNEY

Her light burns a little brighter when she catches a glimpse of you... she didn't think she'd be seeing you so soon!

Wastes no time in walecoming you to gardenview, and hardly any time to bring up the boom club to see if you're interested... if you are, great! If not, that's okay!

If you ever need a hand to keep track of what you need to do and how things work around here she's more than happy to draw up a list for you and give you a hand where she can!

CONNIE

Oh she probably knows about you already... she's sneaky like that...! She's just trying to get a feel for your vibe before revealing herself. Totally. Definitely. Mhm!

She can't help herself- it's always so fun spooking new toons who don't know about her ability yet- she doesn't mean to be.. well, mean..! It's just funny!

She's got like... details on everyone! She's your gal to go for some gossip or to figure out what everyone else's deal with... though she may be biased against/for some toons so it's best to do your probing yourself to form your own opinions...

COSMO

He doesn't carry Boxtens shyness so he is more likely to approach you within a shorter time frame if you end up in the same area! He may trip over his words but that's just because he wants to make a good impression..!

If you ever need a little pick me up you can find him in the kitchen! Alongside Sprout and maybe Boxten-- and if it's the holidays ginger too...! It's a real nice place to hang out that's not too overstimulating-!

Similar to Boxten he will attempt to guide you to anyone who could help you with anything- except he's likely to physically bring you to someone or someone to you than simply... telling

FINN

Bold of you to assume he's not going to open up with a joke. "OH it's so nice to sea you," he'd wave but he wasn't sure if you'd he able to see him over the stream of visitors!

If you can bare through his constant puns he's actually not that bad. He's nice. Passionate about his interests- and of course he's going to be asking about yours!

Moderate popularity with the visitors so you can hang around and talk to him when you're not getting swarmed. He does share a good laugh about it with you- you'll get used to the attention... or find your footing once the hype dies

FLUTTER

Oh she's right by your side the second it looks like you need a breather from the swarm of visitors- you can come decompress with her until you need to get back out there..!

She's kind... a good listener. You're not sure how you can understand her when she's yet to speak a single word but you feel she's already been questioned about that a lot.. you don't want to possibly pester her with it

She lingers around you until closing to help you get through the day and the sea of visitors!

GIGI

She's friendly..! Really she is..! It's just that freshly baked toons can sometimes be fun to mess with... and she's taken a page out of Connie's book... she's not going to be a bully but she won't be able to help herself- telling you that you should totally do (x) which definitely won't make you look at least a little silly

You... might want to keep an eye on your belongings. She's usually not mean enough to nab someone else's things... maybe.. but by God the episode where she had to learn that lesson only slightly shook that habit

If you don't meet her through Connie, you'll be introduced to Connie through Gigi... as well as some other toons!

GLISTEN

Hes.. nice enough! Sure he may be... well himself.. but he's not going to ignore you if you approach him for help... though he is just a hint envious of the crowd you've made for yourself- but he's not going to fault you for it. Makes him miss the days where he was brand new and had all the attention

He's at least a little interested in finding out what your deal is... even if he's waiting to properly introduce himself- and he's definitely going to make a little show of it to make sure you don't forget his name!

Not intense.. but he does mellow out over the next few times you bump into each other once the desire to impress the newbie backs off a bit

GOOB

He's like an excited puppy when you meet each other! A new toon! Yay! A new friend, hopefully?

He's very physical- he doesn't mean to make you uncomfortable... if he is making you uneasy just say the word and he'll back off! He's not the best with subtle cues...

Oh oh oh you've gotta come with him to go meet his sister! Oh oh and you've gotta meet- you're going to meet so many toons through him...

LOOEY

Oh! New guy (/gender neutral)! He... actually doesn't lean into the clown act during an introduction. At least he doesn't rely on it- he definitely slips in a few jokes here and there if there's time but he's more focused on getting names exchanged and overall having a quick chat before he needs to go back to performing with the rest of his circus act

He's more than happy to let you come watch those acts! It'll give you a place to unwind after such a busy day! Or... if something calmer is more your style, he'll direct you to other toons

Generally a sweetheart- his cheerful demeanor comes in handy when meeting someone new- child and toon alike!

RAZZLE & DAZZLE

POPPY

Wastes zero time in introducing herself- even if you don't end up being friends in the future she's going to make sure you at least have fun on your first day

She introduces you to other toons as you come across them- she's real... bubbly. Pun only partly intended! She's going to make sure you meet just about everyone- or as many toons as possible!

And of course, she makes it clear that you're always welcome to come hang out with her and her group of gals- she'll make sure to put in a good word for you!

Similar reactions different energies! Razzle is more upbeat and open to talking. He tends to take the lead... not that he doesnt let dazzle speak of course. Dazzle also greets you! He's just lower energy

You're always welcome to their stage... or their room... if you express an interest in stories or books, Dazzle may tell you about Brightneys book club! Maybe he can help you get in... will be embarrassed if you tell him you already knew about the club

You do end up making a lot of friends through each of them- they both have their own groups of friends so double the introductions!

RODGER

A warm and polite welcome! He may ask a few questions... ice breakers mostly... and also because, well... you know...

You may or may not be spared from an interrogation- really it depends on how guarded you are with new people... and what all is going on at the moment- hes not the most popular toon but you're new... you're definitely going to be swarmed until the hype dies down

You... get the feeling it's going to be hard to keep secrets to yourself for long with him around... maybe... surely he'd respect boundaries and privacy (he does!) (At least he fully does when there's no mystery that may or may not put others in danger)

SHRIMPO

SCRAPS

She's not as... excitable or cheerful as her brother. She's definitely still cheery but she's more reserved about it. If you need a break from the visitors she can try to snag some away with the promise of arts and crafts so you're not all smothered

Arts and crafts is actually a gold way to open up to someone- a great ice breaker activity! So of course she's also going to invite you to come make something alongside her brother and toodles! It's a nice wind down activity after closing and before bedtime

Give her some time and she'll make you a welcome gift!

You hardly get a word in before he yells at you that he hates you already... you unfortunately don't know that that's his whole... thing.. so you don't know not to take it to heart or to not be confused

No like seriously what did you do you hardly introduced yourself- he cut you off after the first word... did you look at him wrong??

You quickly find out that he's just a hater, though... he's very open about his hatred for everything

TEAGAN

It doesn't take long at all for her to invite you to have some tea with her once the day calms down and all the visitors have left... it's all to get to know you better and make you feel more comfortable!

If you're comfortable with it, they will invite more toons... it'll give you a chance to get to know more of them! But if not... Teagans more than happy to just have it be the two of you

So so kind and patient with you as you get the hang of how everything works. If you ever need someone to talk to as you adjust to gardenview she's more than happy to let you vent to them

TOODLES

TISHA

It's not that she meant to ignore you... it's just that sometimes the visitors can be a little... messy... and it drives her nuts! But rest assured she will make it right once gardenview closes for the day and everything is cleaned up- and with Tishas speed and efficiency it won't take long after closing for her to stop by your new room!

Pleased that your room is- at least for now as you've yet to have a proper chance to make it a living space- neat and tidy... if you ever need a hand with things let her know... she'll at least let you know where the cleaning supplies are

You quickly pick up on a lot of tricks to get stains out and keep everything looking spick n span... Tisha is more than a little proud of herself that she's rubbed off on you

She's another easy one to get along with! There aren't many toons that Toodles outright dislikes or doesn't get along with

Talks... a lot... but that's to be expected from a kid.

You learn everything and nothing. The kid who's got dirt on everyone but doesn't have the mind to realize that it's dirt. Drops it randomly in conversation and moves on to something else like it was nothing... it's a little funny..

BOBETTE

Wastes no time at all in trying to become your friend- what's your favorite color? Music? When did you join Gardenview? What's your gimmick? She wants to know!

She's definitely gonna give you an extra gift this year for Christmas! Think of it as a "welcome to Gardenview!" Housewarming style gift! She WILL be watching you like a hawk to figure out what you like... as well as lightly interrogating everyone else for ideas

Genuinely so easy to befriend her. Not very judgy, very cheerful.. come decorate with her

GINGER

Oh... shy... she's shy... she doesn't avoid you but the first few conversations with you is... dry. Awkward. She really doesn't mean to make it that way it's just that she wasn't expecting to meet a new toon after being taken out of... where ever they keep the holiday toons

Not to mention you have a limited time to get her to warm up to you before having to put things on hold until next year... she really does try to befriend you or at least get to know you...!

Come join her with Cosmo and Sprout in the kitchen! You don't even have to bake..! You can help her decorate..! She becomes a ramblerer if you get her talking about an interest!

RUDIE

It's a Christmas miracle! A new toon has arrived! And he's definitely going to treat you like a gift... even if you were added to the toon roster before Christmas..

Not that he'd care all that much, a miracle is a miracle! And he's going to make sure you know his beliefs! Overall a joy to talk to even if he's caught up in the holidays

He is a little sad when he has to leave when the holidays end, but he promises he'll come talk to you the second he can again! He'll tell you all about what he did when he was away! Not much happens, but...!

[11queensupreme11]

Let's say in an alternate universe, Percy, due to the Bifrost and Kronos is sent a few thousand years in the past before canon for due to still having the curse of Achilles, crash-lands in the past, right into Shiva’s palace unharmed and confused but tries to be polite, unknowingly charming Shiva and his wives despite being wary of her aura, which feels a lot like Poseidon's. Though Percy doesn't fully understand what kind of gods they are, she adopts a sweet, innocent “uwu” behavior, which draws them in even more. They briefly consider sending her back to Poseidon but ultimately decide to keep her for themselves, as their feelings grow stronger. Percy, oblivious, doesn’t catch on until they outright tell her how they feel.Years later, Percy becomes Shiva’s fourth wife, living in a mostly polyamorous relationship with Shiva and his three wives despite the fact that Shiva and his wives are huge yanderes of her. At some loint she ascends to godhood, she becomes a goddess of many things, including humanity, and gods from all over are drawn to her. Shiva and his wives constantly fend off suitors, though Percy’s obliviousness only adds to the chaos. Poseidon who finds out about Percy after she marries Shiva is not happy about it, asume in this au he is a platonic yandere, was not thrilled about Shiva being her husband due to not meeting his standards of perfection that and he just hated his personality but despite that he ends up caring for Percy and keeps an eye on her nonetheless.Then, during Ragnarok, the gods vote to destroy humanity, and Shiva, to Percy’s shock, votes in favor of it. Percy finds out, probably through Brunhilde, and confronts Shiva, accusing him of betrayal. This sparks a huge argument and leaves Percy heartbroken. She leaves the palace, swearing to fight for humanity. Shiva’s wives try to stop her. Durga takes a harsh approach, reminding Percy that she belongs to them not humanity, while Kali and Parvati are gentler, reminding Percy of the love they share and the happy memories they had together even pointing out that even if Shiva voted no it wouldn't change anything. Despite their words softening her, Percy stays determined.Meanwhile, the gods scramble to find someone who can defeat Percy. Most refuse because they either like or love her or fear Shiva and Poseidon. The only one crazy enough to fight her is Loki how do you think things go from here

lmao i love reading time travel/isekai fics where percy gets yoinked somewhere by kronos cuz that sort of start-up genuinely makes the most sense for how the poor kid would get in the general setting in the first place 😂😂

and omggggggggg you have no IDEA how much i thirst at thought of SHIVAAAAAA 😫 i would love a shiva x percy (what would their ship name be? shercy??? but then we'd have to add the wives, and the name combo would be too long.... indian ocean???? LMAO 😭)

"while Kali and Parvati are gentler, reminding Percy of the love they share and the happy memories they had together even pointing out that even if Shiva voted no it wouldn't change anything" OH THAT'D BE A BIG MISTAKE FOR KALI AND PARVATI TO SAY TBH

cuz yeah it's true that their votes wouldn't have changed anything, but it's the fact that they voted YES in the first place!!!!!! she is a mortal!!!! she's half-human! she was raised amongst them and loves and cares for them! the trio know that and yet STILL voted for their destruction!!!! it's the realization that they hate such a big part of her that hurts 💔💔💔

as for loki vs percy, ohhhhh this would actually be SO perfect if loki loved her here too lmao. why, you ask??? because lets say in this au percy also discovers the ichor/ambrosia thing and uses that in her fight. LOKI WOULD GET SO HORNY THE SECOND SHE STARTS DRINKING AND EATING FROM HIM 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 HE WOULD LITERALLY LOSE THE FIGHT FROM HORNY-NESS ALONE

so percy wins, and so does loki in a way, but now he's got shiva, kali, durga, parvati, AND the greek pantheon on him cuz everyone DEFINITELY saw how down bad he was, the tournament is LIVE after all 😭😭

[blessedmisery]

summary: plug!eren yeager x fem!reader -finding a plug was hard these days—let alone a reliable one, so you took matters into your own hands and found yourself in the hands of eren yeager. warnings: drug use (marijuana), unhealthy drug habits (using it to cope), plug!eren yeager, big dick eren, use of pet names, size difference, praise, dirty talk, degradation, cunnilingus, literal filth, unprotected sex, spanking, pnv, porn with a little bit of plot, do not try this at home. wc; 4.8k authors note: having severe plug!eren brainrot.

you unlocked the door to your apartment, finally stepping inside its warmth after a long, rainy, miserable day. you were greeted by your roommate, sasha, who you found sitting on the couch in your shared living room. as a broke university student, you couldn’t afford to have your own place so you lived with your childhood best friend. she was a pretty good roommate, a little messy at times but a great cook. she loved baking, especially when the two of you got high together, a habit you both developed earlier this year in an effort to battle the stress of school. usually, you were the one responsible for getting the weed—sasha claimed that she didn’t trust herself to get a good deal but in reality you knew she was just too shy to go pick it up herself.

and that's exactly how you found yourself going to jean kirstein every week, to get your shared weekly stash of weed. jean however, was a terrible plug. he was the first one you had found and it turns out that he was known for his inconsistency and terrible attitude. and that’s also why last week was the last time you ever picked up weed from jean kirstein. 

“and what are we supposed to do now?” sasha exclaimed, eyes wide with confusion after you told her that you were finally done with jean’s bullshit. 

“i’m going to find a new plug. connie told me his roommate eren yeager sells” you replied, joining her on the couch with a steaming cup of tea. you and connie were friends, having went to high school together. apparently, eren was one of his 4 roommates but you hadn't actually been to connie's new place since he moved in so you’ve never seen any of the guys he lived with.

“i’ve heard of that guy. apparently he picks and chooses his clients, and doesn’t deal to just anyone. good luck getting on his list” she answered, clearly annoyed with your news. 

“don’t worry. i already texted him, connie gave me his number. i’m sure he put in a good word for me” you explained, taking slow, small sips of your tea in an effort to warm up from the rain you got caught under on your way home.

“okay, whatever you say. i still think you shoulda just stuck with jean though. so what if he’s flakey? at least his weed is good” she responded, her eyes fixed on some stupid show that was playing on the tv. 

“of course you’d say that sasha, his weed is the only weed you’ve ever smoked” you shot back, followed by a chuckle. sasha only started smoking recently, but you had dabbled in it before, so you knew your way around things better than she did.

she shifted her gaze from the screen to you, rolling her eyes exaggeratedly to make sure you noticed. “yeah yeah whatever, just let me know if this eren guy replies” she said, fixing her gaze back on the tv. 

you lingered on the couch a little longer until you finished sipping your cup of tea. it had been a long day. you had class all day, somehow managed to forget to pack a lunch and got caught in the rain without an umbrella on your way home. some weed would have been nice to relax after a day like this but you and sasha had run out just a few days ago. you decided that a long hot shower sounded like the second best way to wind down after your miserable day. 15 minutes later you were out of the shower and in front of your fogged up bathroom mirror doing some skincare when you heard your phone buzz on the counter beside you. a slow smile crept onto your face as you checked the message. eren had replied. 

[8:16PM] you: hey, i’m y/n. connie gave me your number. i heard you sell? 

[9:03PM] eren: depends. what do you need?

you finished applying your moisturizer and picked up your phone to reply.

[9:04PM] you: i need some 🍃.

[9:04PM] eren: alr. when do u need it?

[9:05PM] you: as soon as possible

he stopped replying after the last message which had you wondering what he was up to. connie hadn’t told you much about him, only that he was picky with who he sold to and that he was one of his roommates. however to you, he seemed quick to get you weed. eren must’ve known you knew connie. another 20 minutes later, you were sat in your pj’s on your bed, finishing up some homework when your phone buzzed again. 

[9:26PM] eren: can u come tn? 

your eyes widened at the text. that was quick you thought. it was getting late and you had just showered and done all your skincare, but you couldn’t help yourself. a joint would have done wonders for you right now.

you walked out into the living room, deciding to consult sasha. “sasha, he replied, he’s asking me to come pick up tonight” you told her. she was still fixated on her tv show.

“no way. he’s already asking you to pick up? damn y/n what did you say to this guy?” she joked, eyes darting in your direction. 

“nothing, i just asked him if he sells and he asked me to come. let me ask him where to pick up and then i guess ill decide” you replied, pulling out your phone to send eren a reply.

[9:30PM] you: depends. where should i pick up?

[9:32PM] eren: my house. i’ll send the address. 

he sent you the address and you put it in your map. you were shocked to find out that he lived not even a 5 minute walk from your apartment, you knew roughly where connie lived but you didn’t know it was this close. jean lived a good 20 minutes away so this would be so much more convenient for you.

“he lives like 5 minutes from here. i didn’t know connie lived that close, he still hasn’t invited me to see his new place” you explained to sasha, annoyed that you’d be meeting connie’s roommate at his house before him.

“you should totally go then. do you want me to come with?” she replied, her eyes sparkling with excitement. the rain had stopped while you were showering and you thought you could use some fresh air.

“it’s cool, i’d like a walk to clear my head anyways” you responded, confident that you can handle it by yourself. 

“if you say so. stay on the line though and call me if he tries some weird shit with you” she reassured you. you knew sasha didn’t do well in situations like these, so having her on the phone would be much easier than having to ease her anxieties the whole walk on your way to some guy’s house for weed. 

“i’ll be fine, connie said he’s a chill guy. i’m gonna go get dressed” you said, as you walked back into your bedroom and put on a pair of comfy sweats and a hoodie. it wasn’t too cold outside, and now that the rain had stopped, a hoodie would do just fine. you walked towards the front door and grabbed your keys while putting your shoes on. before you left, you shot eren a text.

[9:45PM] you: i’ll be there in 5. 

you were hoping connie would be home so you could kill two birds with one stone–seeing connie who you haven’t seen outside of class in months and getting weed from eren since they conveniently lived in the same house. after a short refreshing walk to the given address, you found yourself planted on his porch, standing right before his front door. you weren’t sure whether to text him first or not, but you opted to ring the doorbell when you noticed almost all the lights on in the house. the door swung open a moment later, revealing a tall, broad shouldered guy with brown hair tied back in a lazy man bun. he wore a black t-shirt which accentuated his biceps and grey sweats. he looked like he worked out. you weren’t expecting him to be so attractive. 

“uh hey, i’m y/n, connie’s friend, i’m here to pick up?” you said awkwardly, breaking the silence. he looked you up and down, his eyes studying every part of your body. 

“yeah, connie told me about you. i’m eren. come in” he said quickly, and stepped aside, making room for you to come in. jean had never really asked you to come inside before so this was kind of weird, but you felt safe knowing connie lived here, so you decided to follow him in. you stepped inside the house noticing it looked exactly like your typical frat house. you looked around, noting all the chipped furniture and stupid posters on the walls.

“is connie home?” you asked, pulling yourself back to the present moment after observing all the small details of their living room, noticing eren leaning against a wall with his hands in his pockets, eyeing you.

“nah, i think he’s out with some girl” he replied casually. 

“oh, okay” you said awkwardly, waiting for him to either say something else or finally give you the weed you came here for.

“you want a smoke before you pick up? it’s on me” eren asked moments later, pushing himself off the wall.

“oh um, are you sure?” you replied nervously, not sure if he was being serious. jean never offered you a free smoke. the one time you smoked with him, he made you pay. 

“yeah for sure” he replied. his eyes were such a dark, vibrant green, his gaze alone was enough to send blood rushing to your cheeks, making you suddenly feel very aware of yourself. “come on out back, we can smoke in the backyard” he added, walking out of the room, expecting you to follow him. and that’s how you found yourself in the backyard, watching him hold a perfectly rolled joint between his lips, with a lighter in his hand. he brought the lighter to the joint, lighting it and took two puffs before passing it to you. puff puff pass. 

“thanks” you mumbled before taking it and bringing it to your lips. you only took one drag before passing it back to him.

“is this your first time smoking weed?” he asked, eyeing you with an indifferent expression on his face.

“no, i usually smoke alone at night or with my roommate, we just dropped our old plug for being too flakey” you replied, watching him smoke the joint. something about him standing there, joint hanging between two fingers, stray hairs falling out of his bun, was so damn attractive.

“i bet it was jean wasn’t it? that dude’s the flakiest fuck i know” he said, his deep voice sending a shiver down your spine. it must have been the weed making your body react this way.

“yeah, his weed wasn’t great either. yours better be good or i’ll find another plug” you joked, chuckling awkwardly. 

“you’ll find that i don’t give my good shit out to just anyone princess” he answered, the corner of his mouth lifting up in a slight smirk. the pet name shocked you, pulling you back to reality. you were with a random (hot) stranger. smoking weed. in his house. at 10pm. fuck. 

he took his puffs, and passed the joint back to you. he was clearly amused by the surprised look on your face after calling you princess. “we’ll see about that eren” you replied confidently a few moments later, making sure to drag out the last syllable of his name. his eyes were fixed on you, watching the way you effortlessly took a pull and brushed your fingers against his when passing it back to him. 

the two of you fell into easy conversation while finishing the joint, and talked about everything from university to your future goals. he was an easygoing guy which was refreshing for you, considering all the guys you’ve dated or spoken to before always had something negative to say about how you lived your life. not to mention, eren was also extremely attractive with his slightly messy dark hair and his piercing green eyes which you caught looking at you a little too often. 

the high was finally kicking in, you noticed yourself feeling lighter and the tingling sensation you usually felt was coursing through your body. you and eren started laughing about something stupid together toward the end of your conversation which told you that you weren’t the only one feeling it. you couldn’t help but notice how eren would re-tie his man bun when it fell loose, or how he skillfully held his joint between two slender fingers. his gaze was always fixed on you, rarely breaking eye contact. after finishing your shared joint, eren gave you a tour of the house, and invited you up to his room to hang out and eat some snacks. you protested at first, claiming you needed to go home but you couldn’t lie to yourself, you were having a really good time with him. it felt so easy with him, like you had known each other for ages. 

you were sitting on his bed snacking on some chips that he gave you. there was no denying it—the guy was stocked with snacks. his room was surprisingly clean, contrary to what you expected. it was obvious that he was a gamer from the expensive looking setup on his desk and the red and purple led lights lining the perimeter of his room. he was standing in his doorway, leaning against one side, his forest green eyes once again fixed on you. 

“what do you think of the weed? better than jean’s?” he asked suddenly. you turned to face him and noted how he almost fills the entire door frame with his height, his broad shoulders barely fitting within the frame. it must have been the weed talking because wow, did he always look this good?

“i suppose so. i guess yours will do for now” you teased, enjoying watching his face twist at your sarcasm. 

“oh yeah? you suppose?” eren raised his eyebrows, taking a couple of steps towards where you were sat on his bed, the tone of his voice bordering on seductive. you felt your whole body tense, your thighs pressing against each other from just that one sentence alone. had the temperature gone up? the room suddenly felt so much hotter. his muscular arms were crossed over his chest, his demeanor cool and alluring. you stood up from the bed to face him and even at your full height he towered over you. “mhm” you hummed in return, crossing your arms to match his stance and looking up at him with glossy eyes. whatever this was, it felt like a game— one you knew you wanted to play.

using his index finger and thumb, he tilted your chin further up towards him, making you crane your neck back to look up at him. "if you were to ask me, i'd say you're enjoyin' it veryyy much princess. don’t ya think?" he whispered, voice low and husky, his face so close to yours that you could feel his warm breath practically dancing over your skin. the proximity, the difference in size, the nickname, and the intoxicating smell of his cologne, it was all too much for you to handle at once. you felt a fire burning low in your gut, begging for something you weren’t quite ready to acknowledge just yet. the thrill of the whole situation had you absolutely buzzing, waiting for what was next to come.

“answer me” he ordered when you didn’t respond, his tone making your whole body tense up with a mix of fear and something a little too close to what felt like pleasure. “i suppose i am enjoying it” you teased, playing right back. you felt an invisible line snap, something in the air had changed between the two of you. and that’s when you did something sober you would have never done. you licked your lips, and kissed him. you didn’t need to touch eren to feel his whole body go stiff. you paused momentarily, lips on his, and just as you were about to pull away, eren dove right in. one hand moved to your waist, grabbing it and pulling you closer, and the other was tangled in your hair, pulling at it. he kissed you impatiently, as if he were running out of time. you felt his tongue glide along the inside of your mouth, mapping, and learning every inch of it.

you pulled away for a moment to take your chunky hoodie off. the room felt too hot, the kind of heat that made you want to undress entirely. eren looked down at you while you undressed, his eyes clouded with lust. but disappointment washed over him quickly when he noticed that the hoodie was all you were planning taking off. that wouldn’t do. he stepped around you, and sat down on the bed, resting his elbows on his knees. you were about to join him but before you could, he purred, his voice low and seductive, “strip for me beautiful”. your eyes widened at the request, the order mixed in with the compliment had your core throbbing, silently begging for more. you chose to do as he asked without so much as a word, and slowly began taking off your shirt, followed by your sweats and finally your bra. your cheeks felt warm, embarrassed at the nudity you displayed for him, especially while he was still fully clothed.

“leave them on. i wanna take em’ off myself” he said when he noticed your fingers playing with the lace on your panties. eren groaned at the sight before him, lazily palming himself over his pants. you were so fucking hot, and ready to do anything he told you. “c’mere” he added, admiring you through his lustful gaze. you walked over to him, and planted yourself between his thighs. without another word, he placed one hand on your waist, and the other snaked up to your breast. he took hold of one of your tits, kneading its soft flesh with his calloused hands, his gaze still fixed upon you. you whimpered at the sensation, feeling that same fire impatiently burning in your gut. “aah-“ you moaned, unable to hold yourself back. you could almost feel the weed circulating in your bloodstream, making you so much more sensitive to eren’s touch. “you’re such a fuckin’ slut” he murmured against your skin before pulling you into his lap, and locking his mouth over your nipple. you bit your lip, attempting to hold back sounds, only to fail once you felt him bite.

this almost sent you over the edge. you let out another lewd sound, feeling eren harden beneath you. he pulled his mouth away and in one swift motion, wrapped his arm around your waist and flipped you over, making you bounce on the bed from the impact. you were now laying on the bed, propped up on your elbows, while eren stood hovering above you. he finally pulled his shirt over his head revealing the toned muscular skin it was covering. wow. it must’ve taken him years in the gym to build the physique you were currently looking at. the sight of his abs and biceps made you want to drool. “you like whatchu see princess?” he asked playfully, noticing the way your eyes scanned every part of him, memorizing every vein and muscle. “i guess” you uttered sarcastically, waiting to see his reaction. you saw annoyance flicker through his eyes. “mmm now that just won’t do, baby” he said and gave you no time to reply as he lowered his head to the lace on your underwear, grabbed it with his teeth, and slowly began pulling it down, only using his mouth. fuck. you had never experienced something like this, let alone with your friends roommate— who you had just met.

heat pooled in your lower stomach, and your pussy throbbed yet again, begging for attention. eren waited no time to grab hold of your thighs and position himself between them. he blew lightly, sending chills through your whole body. “eren, please” you moaned, unable to wait any longer. and that’s when you felt his mouth at your core, licking and sucking the sensitive bundle of nerves that formed your clit. your hand flew to his hair, pulling on it and gripping it so tight you felt your knuckles turn white. he paused briefly to rasp, “you’re so fucking wet for me princess” before his mouth was back on your opening, exploring every inch of it with his tongue in a way that had your toes curling and your back arching off the bed. the air was thick and hot, and you felt your pulse quicken as eren skillfully inserted his tongue in you, licking and cleaning every part of your drooling pussy. the sensation was maddening, and you felt yourself getting closer and closer to your release by the second.

eren removed a hand from your thigh, and easily slid two fingers in, pumping them in and out slowly as he sucked on your clit. you moaned at the sensation, pleasure coursing through your body. “e-eren, i’m gonna c-cum” you stuttered, unable to form a proper sentence. “mmm cum for me baby” he mumbled, high not only on the drug coursing through his veins, but also on you. and mere seconds later, you clenched around his fingers, feeling your body convulse with pleasure as you released your sweet juices all over his fingers, finally reaching your highly anticipated climax. eren lifted himself from between your thighs, sliding his fingers out of you. giving you no time to recover, he easily flipped you over with one hand, placing you on your hand and knees, and pushing your head into the mattress so your ass was up high in the air. you then felt him run his cum soaked fingers down your asshole. you felt the bed dip, watching him position himself in front of you from the corner of your eye, your head still pressed into the mattress. you felt his tongue travel from your still pulsating core all the way up to your ass, causing you to whimper incoherently, feeling him licking up all the juices he smeared on you moments earlier. this man was filthy— that you could say for sure.

you wanted, no— needed eren inside you, the pleasure from the climax finally subsiding in your body, and turning right back into that burning need. “ ‘ren please” you whined the plea, your voice breathless and erotic. “please what?” his mocking tone sent a humiliating thrum of pleasure through your body. even his mocking made you so fucking wet. “please eren, i need you inside me” you muttered in response, annoyed with his teasing. you felt him shift off the bed and do something that sounded a lot like taking off the rest of his clothes. finally. you felt the bed dip again, and you lifted yourself back onto your hands to take a peek at his cock. you couldn’t help it— you had to see what it looked like. and the sight sure didn’t disappoint, as his long, thick cock had you practically drooling. eren smirked, noticing the wide-eyed look on your face. but he let you look no longer because soon you felt your head being pushed back down into the mattress while he used his other hand to spank you, making you yelp with a mix of pain and pleasure in response. “aah- w-what was that f-for?” you asked, voice muffled by the sheets surrounding you.

“that’s for being such a fucking slut earlier” he replied, voice heavy with desire. he spanked you a couple more times, sending sharp stings into the flesh of your ass. you felt his fat tip prodding at your entrance, gliding up and down in a slow tortuous way, coating himself in your slick . he gave you no warning before he slammed into you, making you cry out. “nngh- e-eren fuck” you babbled, inhaling sharply while trying to adjust to his sheer length and girth. he was big—bigger than anyone you’d ever fucked before. he gave you a minute to adjust, relishing in the warmth of your tight walls desperately clenching around him. this is what heaven must feel like, he thought. he heard your panting slowing into longer breaths, indicating that you were mostly adjusted. he began thrusting into you with long strokes at an agonizing pace. he was teasing—you quickly learned that nothing came quick with eren, he was going to make you wait whether you liked it or not.

the pace was absolutely tantalizing. he pushed himself in and pulled himself out entirely before pushing back in again. he progressively quickened his pace, pounding into you mercilessly. eren took a hand off your hip, and entangled it in your hair pulling hard enough to lift your head off the mattress. a sob tore through your throat, the pain causing wet tears to roll down your cheeks while the intoxicating pleasure of his cock had you feeling lightheaded, almost as high as the weed made you feel. he groaned, speeding up his pace, hitting that sweet spot inside of you over and over again. the only sounds filing his room were the shallow breaths you both let out and the lewd sounds the two of you created as your bodies moved against each other, over and over again. it felt like you were being split open, his frantic pace enough to fuck you stupid. "e-eren, nngh i'm gonna- ah" you whimpered, unable to form a single coherent sentence. you heard him groan followed by him leaning close to your ear, still holding your hair and growling "what's that baby? couldn't hear you", the feeling of his hot breath on your ear sending chills down your spine.

" 'm gonna c-cum" you croaked, breathlessly. he let go of your hair, letting your head fall back to the mattress. he slowed himself down a bit, returning to that same agonizing pace from before. "come for me baby. i want to see you come all over my cock" he ordered, and you felt yourself snap free. your toes curled as you felt the familiar flame spread through your body, sending waves of pleasure through to your core as you clenched around his cock. "fuck" eren rasped, inhaling sharply and you felt his cock twitch while his body shuddered from pleasure, his release following yours. he pulled out, plopping down on the bed beside you while you flipped over to lay on your back. you were both panting, both glistening with sweat under the red-purple light of his LEDs. you spent a few minutes there in brief silence, breathing shallow breaths and coming down from the high of your orgasms.

moments later, eren got up, walking into his bathroom. he came back out a few minutes later and brought out a warm towel to clean you up. he was surprisingly gentle with you, compared to the almost feral side of him you saw mere minutes before. "you did good, princess" he said, the praise sending a warm rush of pleasure through your body. he cleaned you up, put his grey sweats back on, and picked your clothes up off the floor, bringing them to where you lay on the bed, propped up on your elbows. "do you treat all your clients this way?" you asked sarcastically, but with a hint of curiosity. you couldn't help but wonder if he did this to every girl he sold weed to. the thought of that made you feel something a little too close to jealousy. "only the ones i reallyyyy like" he joked, his tone playful. when you didn't respond, he added "you're the only one" his tone shifting to serious. "yeah okay" you replied, eyeing him suspiciously, but somehow you knew he was being serious. you sat up finally, slowly pulling your clothes back on. meanwhile, eren walked around his room, grabbing things from some of his drawers. you saw he pulled out a rolling tray, some papers and a jar of weed.

"so, how many grams did you want?" he asked, turning to look at you. right. that's why you were here in the first place. to pick up weed. and you had just fucked your new plug on the first pick up.

a/n 2: if you made it this far, thank u so much for reading. i had so much fun writing this. i'd love to hear your thoughts, so feel free to send me any thoughts or ideas into my inbox! - may

© @blessedmisery 2025.