#we only like house bc we have context

[faifenaco]

has anyone ever edited a house md cut where its only the patient interactions? like a patient’s POV of what it’s like being at PPTH bc I know it would suck

[moeblob]

Happy Birthday to Ferdinand von Aegir!

I actually made 33 emotes, affectionately known as Aegirglyphics to some, for my own personal use on discord. However, I figure why not share some of them! They're free to use for discord servers/icons/pfps or whatever. However, my only request is Do NOT use them as subscriber emotes on Twitch. You can make them free follower emotes but you are not to make them locked behind a paywall.

[dimiclaudeblaigan]

Honestly though, this (what Ashe is pointing out) is exactly why I don't think GW could possibly end well. There's no "talking it over" after all the bloodshed (especially bloodshed started by them, and especially bloodshed started by them that didn't have to happen).

The way the narration leaves it "open" too at the end of GW just comes across as "it failed". It feels like... a kind of pointless story?

And I know some people might think that since Dimitri personally isn't as deeply affected by losing Matthias and so might be willing, that's still no good if his people and closest allies aren't. Rodrigue and Sylvain wouldn't be so forgiving, and I do think Dimitri would follow suit because that's his father (Rodrigue)'s closest friend and one of his own closest friends' father.

Add that to the fact that they have Sreng to deal with still (and I imagine sooner or Sylvain would figure out that Leicester had a hand in provoking Sreng to attack Faerghus) on top of losing Matthias and I imagine all the stress and aggravation wouldn't bode well for Leicester as far as Claude's thinking of things working out goes.

I just really can't see where GW goes afterward that would be "good" or works in Claude's favor at all. Maybe that was the intention and it was meant to be a route with a completely tragic ending, but apparently there are players who think it would end well and whatnot and I just can't see that happening (both from Faerghus' end and from Adrestia's end, the latter of which Claude discussed within GW itself).

If their intention was for a totally tragic ending, like yeah, I can see that... but as always the writing muddies the waters to make it sound good while something bad is happening. It keeps trying to have a positive spin on bad things as if they're just afraid to commit to a fully bad ending.

[onyourstageleft]

it's wild having a friend from your small ass hometown who you didn't know when you lived there. like I expect to see my hometown in pictures from my friends I met there/who still live there, but getting a Snapchat from a friend you met three years ago that contains a road you're so extremely familiar with is wild when neither of you have lived there in 6+ years

[fappellmoan]

i literally never don’t overthink. that is a stupid sentence. so i’m thinking abt it too much but it pisses me off sooooo so much when my roommates do this shit and i know i’m a little too sensitive sometimes but like. ugh! read the room?? just occasionally do fucking anything around here??? like.

[mr-ribbit]

gonna rant again bc im seeing a lot of trans women on my dash having to carry the heavy lifting to argue for their basic respect and a lot of other queer people who want to ??? get mad about that apparently. for the record as usual: im tme, im not speaking for anyone besides myself and my perspectives, but I am trying to reach out to fellow tme people to level with y'all from inside the house.

i thought we all got past the 'calling people gendered terms when theyve asked you to stop' thing in like. 2012. i swear we were allllll on board with not calling women dude anymore, nerfing sir and ma'am, neutralizing collective terms for groups, and all of that was like, during the onceler era. that's how we got off-putting shit like folx into the mix - remember???? why are we here again.

to those who I've seen claiming that they REALLY genuinely don't want to offend anyone, and that theyre trying to understand the dude thing, and they don't want to be seen as transmisogynistic when they aren't: ok. let's talk about it. step one, stop sending that really loaded anon to a trans woman you don't know, and close that in-group hatepost with 100 replies from people name-dropping trans bloggers they don't like. try to open your mind and assume for the duration of this post that I am not cynically trying manipulate thousands of tumblr users into making Bro the next big swear word, but a fellow queer human being who thinks you're all being pretty intentionally obtuse about an upsetting trend in our community

to be clear: this post is about the issue of trans women being called bro, dude, man, etc., particularly in recent tumblr discourse about transmisogyny, and the backlash they face if they get upset about it. this is also maybe moreso about the shitty ass excuses I see tme people make for why they supposedly can't stop doing this.

so let's go through some of the things I've been seeing people say they don't understand, supposedly in earnest, about this issue

"I DIDNT USE DUDE AS A MASCULINE TERM. I CALL EVERYONE BRO. MAN IS A GENDER NEUTRAL TERM"

I'm not actually going to exhaust my list of reasons why dude/bro/man are not strictly neutral, but you should be pretty aware that all words have context. Dude might be seen as neutral in many contexts, sure, but 'woman who is frequently called a man by others' is a situation where the context adds extra meaning to your words, just like calling someone "sweetie" might be neutral in some cases, but if you've got the context of knowing that's your coworker who's half your age, it's a bit less neutral. If you're not capable of reading that context and being tasteful about when you say dude, then you need to at least be ready to respond gracefully when someone asks you to stop. This is the part I'd rather focus on.

"BUT I DIDNT MEAN IT THAT WAY. IM NOT TRANSPHOBIC"

I think you should consider broadening your perspective *beyond* your intention behind the word. people may already understand that you meant the word neutrally and therefore didn't have transmisogynistic intent, but that's not really the entire scope of what people are saying. if that's your only concern, you're just trying to clear your record, not actually listen to what they're saying.

there are lots of words people don't enjoy being called, and in most cases, when they say 'pls don't call me that', people respect that and move on. even if the word isn't a slur, if it hurts someone's feelings, we all as a society have agreed that it's pretty shitty to keep calling them that. if your friend asked you not to call them 'buddy' anymore because their dead grandparent called them that, or something equivalently personal, you'd probably respect that instead of telling them 'but I call everyone buddy!!' right? even if you didn't really understand why it bothered them so much?

there is a prominent tendency for trans women to be denied this privilege, and when they ask not to be called dude or bro, people don't seem to respect this request as much as they would in other situations. when I accidentally use a gendered word and someone tells me they don't like it, I try to respond with something like "my bad, I didn't mean it as misgendering but I can see you were still bothered by it, so I'll try not to keep saying it. sorry!" and most people are willing to accept that. when trans women ask people this favor, a lot of people get VERY defensive, and treat the request as inane or unfair, instead of just apologizing and moving on. this is why people are upset when this happens, and it's why people are calling your actions transmisogynistic

also like you might not be doing this, but a lot of people DO use dude and bro in an intentionally gendered way to make trans women uncomfortable. it's a power play bigots use to talk down to them or otherwise maliciously harass them. do you know what arguments they use to defend that behavior when called out on it? 'oh I call everyone that' 'dude is gender neutral calm down' 'dont overreact its just a word'. by acting like this, youre all just giving credence to those same arguments.

"WELL THEY SHOULDNT GET SO MAD AT ME WHEN I DIDNT MEAN ANY HARM"

they can get as mad as they want!! also, are you sure they're 'mad'? or are they just expressing their feelings about a negative topic to you, and it makes you feel bad, so you have to make them out to be unreasonably emotional? how do you think they should have phrased 'dont call me that' to better spare *your* feelings?

also like, in most cases, these women do not knowww you. if your main response to someone saying you disrespected them is to say "I didnt mean it that way, I meant it in a friendly neutral way", well that's NOT YOUR FRIEND! she has no idea what your opinions are or what you think of her!!! she has no reason to assume you only upset her in a friendly way and not a bad unfriendly way! but she did get upset, and she did the one thing she can do which is *tell you what upset her* and your response is to say "well actually you shouldn't be upset at all"??????

and another thing:

it's not just the issue of using the word 'dude', it's because you're coming off extremely dismissive of women who have asked you to stop doing something that harms them, and because your argument is basically that they just shouldn't be so bothered by it. or that they're stupid, irrational, or otherwise crazy for telling you that it bothered them at all, just because you Technically used a gender neutral word according to Your Rules. be honest, does that seem fair? If people were calling you something that bothered you enough to ask them to stop, and they responded like this, how would it make you feel?

focusing solely on your intent and what the words mean when you use them is the same thing as saying "just get over it". no woman should need to Prove to you that 'dude' is gendered for you to care about what she's saying. the fact that you're asking people to do that sucks and makes you look bad, which is why people are arguing with you and calling you a misogynist.

especially those of you who are only doing this with trans women who are actively arguing with. you're wielding misgendering as a cudgel and we can all see it, grow up please.

[p0rnd3aler]

LOVE AND DEEPSPACE NSFW THINK PIECE/DRABBLE

I’m depraved

Rafayel is the neediest. He’s got a lot of insecurities/abandonment issues from his first love and he def has an anxious attachment style. He’s also absolutely the type of person to be codependent (Hello?? “Join me let’s drown in the ocean together”????? Like, come on). He’s constantly trying to do every little thing with you, almost like he can’t breathe unless it’s air that’s already been filtered through your lungs.

However, all big baby behavior™️ considered, he definitely knows how to woo you. I feel like since he’s Lemurian and also an artist, he only knows how to love a person in the most deeply devoted and romantic way. He’s also very careful with his heart and who he gives it to, once he decides it’s truly and solely yours that’s it. There’s no one else. But you also have to honor that with proper care, he’s very sensitive.

Anyway, I feel like he fucks in a way that’s slow, very sensual. The kind of love making where he takes over all of your senses, all you can feel is his touch, all you can smell is his sweat and cologne, all you can taste is him on your tongue, and all you can see and hear are his face and the sweet words of devotion he whimpers in your ear.

He’s also very easy to rile up.

Zayne is boring to me. Like I get the appeal he’s very hot and he’s also very stable (in a romantic sense) and healthy but I just can’t fantasize about that. Like yeah he’s a busy ass surgeon who will always make time for you no matter what and he’s super devoted and always caring for you in little ways, but also mf will make you take a water break during sex if you’re too wet bc he doesn’t want you to get dehydrated. Im done.

Honestly I think I’m biased against him bc the way he talks to MC just reminds me of this horrid man I met at a bus stop once who immediately started trying to tell me what to do/give me life advice. I get Zayne is qualified and the guy at the bus stop was not but idc if y’all want me to put effort into writing for him ur gonna have to submit it into the requests baby, moving on.

SYLUS. I feel like everybody thinks he’s just some big ol’ nasty freak but they’re WRONG. THEYRE WRONG ABOUT HIM.

Don’t get me wrong he’s definitely fucking tweaking when you first meet him, like just going apeshit off the bat with no context for us. But also? Once you get to know him? Bitch I’ll kill for that man you do not know. This mf drops everything for you.

Important arms deal he’s been trying to set up for a year or going to the arcade with you to get plushies out of a claw machine? Deal = cancelled

The fearless leader of the N109 zone who blows up anyone who perturbs him slightly. MF contributes 50% of the carbon in the atmosphere alone with the amount of shit he literally actually blows up with bombs. But you? You may break into his house and handcuff him to his bed in his sleep while trying to steal a brooch off of him. he doesn’t give a fuck. he’s in love with you. Set his house on fire! He won’t care! He’ll just buy a new one!

As rough as he is around the edges he’s completely smitten. “You should know I adore you. There is no love purer than mine.” Like girl don’t fucking play with me. Is he mentally ill? Absolutely. But he is so devoted, so careful with you. “I’m never annoyed when we do things together.” It’s literally like he’s learning how to be a human being for once and he doesn’t care about losing the coldness or sharpness he once had because you’re more than enough to replace any absence the loss of those thing may bring. He knows he’s getting soft and doesn’t care. He doesn’t try to stop it. To kill for you is nothing to him. Not even a second thought. He kills all the time. But he would never harm again if the violence ever came in between you two.

And I think that dedication, that devotion totally translates itself into how he makes love to you. He’s definitely a filthy talker, I think he says some NASTY shit during sex, just because he likes seeing you squirm and feel how your skin gets hot from his words. But I don’t think he likes hurting you. He wouldn’t do anything to harm you. He’ll spank you yeah, and he’ll tap or squish your cheeks to get your attention. But he only wants to bring you pure, carnal pleasure when it comes to sex. If you even think “that feels good” he’s like a dog with a bone. You get no rest when he’s there you only get mind-numbing pleasure. He’s a tease, he’ll poke lighthearted fun at how loud you’re being, ask you who you think can hear you two while you’re being nasty. But he knows you. He knows what you love, what gets you off, and he cares to learn all of this because of how much he loves you God I’m SICK

Xavier is filthy. That man laps up your pussy like a thirsty dog. The freakiest nastiest mf out of all of them. He won’t show any sexual prowess or interest for months I think. I’m not sure he’s even aware of his powers. Your relationship will literally be based around his chaotic sleeping “schedule” (that shit is not a schedule) and relaxing between missions together. All things considered, you guys spend almost every waking (and sleeping) hour together. Work, dates, naps, eating, it’s almost always together.

It’s not until he hears you getting hit on all night that his composure finally starts to crack.

Three months of the sweetest, purest boyfriend you could ever ask for. Your sweet silly boy, who starts silently pouting all night. It’s not until you two finally find a hotel to stay at for the night, that he finally starts loosening up.

“I’m not a young fool, you know. I don’t take what’s in front of me for granted” he quotes the guys hitting on you earlier, which he heard through your ear piece. Then he recites every time another guy hit on you while you two were on your mission. He’s a jealous jealous jealous boy. He HATES other guys vying for your attention. It just makes him want to whisk you away and bounce you on his dick so loud that every other guy can hear it. When he feels jealousy, he feels the need to mark, claim, devour you so no one else can try and steal you. He gets himself worked up. Stewing and agonizing over the thought and the memory of another guy trying to get to you so much that he can’t even think of sleeping. He gets completely taken over by the urge to have your every reaction solely based on him and what he gives you. I think he fights off these feelings for a long time, up until the protocore mission in the misty invasion memory. He just barely keeps it together until you’re rubbing all over him, pulling him closer to whisper his name in his ear, he just can’t take it. He needs to hear you say it louder. He needs everyone to hear you say his name.

He fucks you so sloppy, the kind of man who does not care what means he has to use as long as the end is what he wants. He wants you covered in marks of his making, he wants you to smell like him, he wants you to have trouble walking the next day, and he wants that asshole who tried hitting on you at work to ask you “what’s wrong? You look like you’re having trouble walking”

And as soon as the guy asks that you look over to Xavier, who has the most pleased little shit eating grin on his face.

The craziest part is that after he gets it all out of his system he’s back to being the little innocent sweet boy. But you know his secret, and he likes that you know it.

[inchidentally]

Sorry new landoscar fan here, I kept seeing the notion that Oscar was Lando’s fan for years, but I can’t seem to find any info about that?

ofc babe ! I store a lot of it in this tag but I think a little roundup post is probably due - heads up this is not in chrono order bc a lot of it is referenced from recent content:

2015 and Oscar making the big move to the UK to join Ricky Flynn and his fanboying of Lando begins

tiktok compilation of Oscar revealing his chronic Lando content consumption well before they were teammates

compilation from twitter of Oscar's decided bias toward not only liking Lando content but also searching his tag and finding posts that sometimes had barely a few likes (and this was just going back to 2017)

Oscar knowing when Lando's maiden podium was (and Lando calling him a nerd)

the 2020 hornet tweets because Oscar watched the stream of Lando battling 2 hornets in his house x x

2021 Oscar citing Lando's social media inspiring him to use humor as a way to open up to the public more (added landoscar angst here bc the hate and abuse he received after alpinegate seriously made him clam up and between that and him being fairly in awe of Lando, meant that Lando himself didn't rly get to know Oscar's humor until fairly late 2023 - like, no one should underestimate how Oscar entered F1 properly and got to know one of his favorite drivers all while being universally despised and painted as a villain/cold/evil - how much could have been different if one team had simply kept their mouths shut until verifying that tweet first esp when Oscar was already a shared reserve driver w McLaren anyway !!!!)

the beloved Oscar and Max F at Renault Academy lore

this post I made is a mess but the anecdotes he can only know from Lando's or Max's streams streams or Quadrant videos: Lando making stickers and selling them at school; Lando's snoring lore could be because of the thin shared walls but also Max has def brought it up before; he definitely already knew the story of Lando falling from a window trying to break into his own house; and the fact that we got Max reacting to Oscar referencing Max's outrage at Lando forgetting his birthday

it's a bit too scattered to compile but trust and believe Oscar has been a carlando girlie from day one - def the bromance but idk I feel like he's read a fic or twenty

watching Lando's career when asked about his idols coming up

and backing that up, him in 2019 saying the same thing

EDIT: his mum Nicole saying he would choose Lando as his ideal teammate going into F1 because the expectations of him wouldn't be too high since everyone knows how good Lando is

pulling out the it's Friday theeeen Lando meme

being so addicted to Lando content by 2020 that he actually fanboyed about the LN4 admin interacting w him

EDIT: he then followed it up by creating a sort of ship name for himself and Lando ???

and ofc K's beloved Oscar primer has a lot of context about all of this more fleshed out!

I think that's everything but if anyone notices I've forgotten anything lmk !!

[narryffdreaming]

HI! HELLO!

RIO GRANDE DO SUL / BRAZIL NEEDS YOUR HELP, PLEASE 🇧🇷

Guys, I know my blog isn't big at all for me to be doing this, but after living some of the most devastating and scary days of my life I feel the need to at least try.

I hope I'm wrong, but I'm pretty sure most of you don't know that the state of Rio Grande do Sul (Brazil) is going through the worst climate catastrophe in its history.

To give you some context, it started raining on Saturday (April 27th), and by Monday (April 29th) cities were already underwater. As days went by, and as rain didn't give us a single moment to catch a break, not only floods were a problem, but also multiple, huge landslides. By Wednesday (May 1st), it was like everything was falling apart around us. Everywhere.

Blackouts. No communication. No water supply. Brigdes collapsing. Roads washed out. Houses floating away. Animals drowning. People dying. Missing. Begging for help...

I mean, it's been a really long and painful week. There are so many videos and pictures that I could show you, and I still wouldn't be able to show and explain what we're going through.

Now, a week later (May 6th), we're still living this nightmare. Water follows the course of the river and it's like floods just move from one place to the other. On top of that, more rain is expected during the week.

So far*, out of 496 cities in the state, 341 cities have been somehow affected by all this. At least 78 people died, over 100 were reported missing, and at least 175 were injured. Also, over 134,000 people were forced to leave their homes behind, and most of them won't be able to return because houses aren't even there anymore.

So whilst we're doing our best here to help our people, volunteering ourselves and just doing whatever we can to try and start all over (cleaning up the streets and houses, making food, donating clothes and furniture, etc) we know there's only so much we can do without financial help. Which is why I'm writing this.

If you can, PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE 🙏🏻 consider donating and helping us. Especially if you live outside the country — basically bc your money will be worth even more here, as you can see:

€1 = R$ 5,49 || €5 = R$27,46

US$1 = R$5,10 || US$5 = R$25,51

£1 = R$6,40 || £5 = R$32,00

And if you can't donate, PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE 🙏🏻 at least just share and spread the word. You'll be already doing a lot for us!

We already went through something like this seven months ago (September/23) and we really, really need more international help/awareness now.

Official links for donations are listed here:

IF YOU'RE FROM BRAZIL: Link

IF YOU'RE FROM A DIFFERENT COUNTRY: Link

Also, if you want to know more about what's happening, you can start here: governo_rs || abcnews || G1 noticias

JUST PLEASE DON'T IGNORE THIS

—

*I wrote this post on May 6th, at 2am. Now it's May 6th, 11:30am (not even 10 hours later), and numbers have already changed: 345 cities have been somehow affected (+4), 83 people died (+5), 111 were reported missing (+11), 276 were injured (+101), over 141,000 were forced to leave their homes behind (+7k).

[show-your-fangs]

Swimming Pool ✿ Aaron Hotchner

We Shouldn't (And Yet We Do) - Part One

Pairing: DBF!Hotch x f!Reader

Words: 12.6k

CW: 18+, NSFW, mdni, smut, a little angst and so much fluff.

Summary: You return home for the summer because of your parents’ drama but luckily for you, your father’s friend, Mr. Hotchner, is there to bring you some much needed comfort. 

Tags/warnings: shitty family life, age gap relationship (reader is 20, Hotch is 40), teasing, groping, perv!hotch, inappropriate thoughts and behavior, grinding, daddy kink bc fuck you, fingering (f receiving), protected piv sex (wrap it before you tap it or at least make sure you talk it over with your partner and get tested!).

a/n: Thank you so much to @canuck-eh for writing Loose Morals and reigniting my passion to write this series, and to @xladyxdreamer for putting up with my Moments angst to the point where this series is now my penance for it. Finally, to whoever started the DBF!Hotch train, you are a god and I love you.

Disclaimer: YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO REPOST MY WRITING ANYWHERE ELSE WITHOUT MY CONSENT. REBLOGS ARE ENCOURAGED THOUGH. YOU MAY NOT FEED MY WORK TO ANY AI DATABASES OF ANY KIND OR TO USE MY WORKS TO TRAIN AI. FUCK AI.

Coming back home in the middle of summer was…a lot. You’d just finished your second year away at college and you weren’t supposed to come back home until Christmas six months later, a compromise you’d agreed to only for your mother. But then she’d called out of the blue, sobbing, hysterical, and you had booked a flight back home to Virginia before she’d even hung up. 

When you did finally arrive the morning after, she was much calmer, but the edge in her voice remained and you knew something was wrong. The only problem was that she refused to tell you what it was. It wasn’t until your high school friend took you out to lunch later that she finally clued you in as to what was going on. 

Your father had apparently been caught getting busy with another one of the professors at the college he taught at. Someone had taken a…suggestive picture and now everything was in shambles. Well, not everything, mostly just his own marriage. From the little bits of information you were able to string together from your mother, it was clear that he was gaslighting her into believing that the picture was taken out of context and he wasn’t actually having an affair.  

It had all blown up in your face about twenty minutes ago. Your house was packed with people, mostly your father’s close friends, colleagues, and their wives. He had decided to host an end of term/start of summer cocktail party to quell whatever doubts lingered amongst his social circles that whatever had or had not been taken didn’t mean anything and his marriage was still going strong. What he hadn’t accounted for, however, was you coming back to make sure your mother was alright. 

You’d been holding onto the anger all afternoon as you followed your mother around, yelling and complaining and just desperately trying to reason with her. You’d never been a huge fan of your father. Sure, he’d done the bare minimum to give you life and was now paying for the part of your tuition that wasn’t covered by all the scholarships you’d gotten so that you didn’t have to graduate with massive loans. But aside from the small kindnesses he awarded you every so often, your relationship was nonexistent.

It was almost as if he’d predicted your mood because he didn’t arrive at the house until the party was minutes from starting. You had thought about leaving, about going out and getting wasted with your high school friends, but before you could even tell your mother you were going out, you found her crying in the master bedroom. And just like that you were back to seeing red. 

The door swung open and you practically stormed towards it like a woman possessed. 

“We need to talk,” you started. “No, let me rephrase, I need to scream at you and you’re going to listen—”

“Honey,” your father said sternly, opening the door fully. “Do not be rude to Aaron, say hello.”

Shame hit you like a bus as Mr. Hotchner came into focus behind your father. Fuck, he was good. It was eerie how clever your father could be when he didn’t want to be told off, when he knew that he’d done something wrong and instead of owning up to it he’d do everything in his power to avoid talking about it. 

“Hi, Mr. Hotchner,” you managed through gritted teeth as your father walked past you and into the kitchen. 

“Hello, sweetheart,” he replied, an amused smile on his lips. “I didn’t know you were coming back for summer break.”

“I’m not,” you tried to keep your voice steady. He must’ve known why you were angry, why the sudden outburst, but he didn’t reply, he simply nodded, lips in a thin line, trying to look anywhere but you. 

“Well,” he broke the short silence. “I better put this on ice.”

He held out a bottle of Scotch he’d presumably brought over from his own house next door and walked after your father. You stood alone at the open door, the freedom of the night away from the exhaustion of fighting against your parents alluring. And yet you couldn’t seem to walk out, couldn’t seem to will your legs to move you in the direction of the rational choice. 

Your heart was beating unbearably fast, and it wasn’t because of whatever was happening between your parents. No, it had everything to do with the FBI agent that had just walked into your home and the way he had clearly glanced down at your exposed cleavage before he had to immediately shift his gaze to anything else. 

Aaron didn’t want to leave you there but he truly didn’t have a choice. You were wearing a tight black dress, so tight in fact that he could’ve sworn he saw every curve of your body. What had made it even worse was the way your breasts were practically spilling out of the garment, the trim of your lacy bra peeking around the edges. He’d felt like a teenager all over again, his crotch tightening uncomfortably as he tried his hardest to listen to the words coming out of your mouth to make sure that he responded eloquently. 

Your mother had already put out ice buckets and he practically slammed the bottle into an empty one. Was it stupid to chill Scotch? He honestly couldn’t even remember anymore as he desperately wished he could’ve dunk his already hardening erection on the ice as well. He needed to get a grip, needed to calm down, needed to pretend like he hadn’t already seen your body in the many pictures you had posted online in the two years that you’d been gone.  

He served himself a double, watching as you left the door wide open and retreated back upstairs. He lingered by the table for a moment, finishing his drink and calming himself down. He’d known you for a little over two years, at least on a first name, dinner at your house every month, type of way. You had just graduated high school when he started teaching part time at the college where your father also taught. The two of them had become fast friends and in the months that followed while you waited out the summer to start classes you had babysat Jack while Aaron was away on cases.

It was wrong and he definitely knew it. But there was something so captivating about you, about your kindness and curiosity and interest in not only his work but in him as a person. You loved getting to know people, getting to share secrets and discuss the root of existence and emotion and life. It was easy to forget that you were this young, your eloquence far higher than most of the adults that had just started shuffling into your home. 

He’d filled his glass up once more as your father’s friends and his colleagues arrived. He plastered on a polite smile and greeted everyone as they made their way through the house. The repetitive nature of small talk for the next twenty minutes allowed him to forget about you, calm his body down enough to appear normal, collected.

He had migrated to the backyard with the rest of his colleagues after a while, the men around him engaged in mindless conversation about the break ahead, their vacation plans, and anything that wasn’t about the elephant in the room, because he knew, they all knew, that your father had clearly been caught redhanded and if they didn’t get their wives to agree that he was nothing more than a victim, they could be taken down next. 

You waited until the backyard was packed with people before you emerged from your room. If your father didn’t want his friends gossiping about his affair tonight then you’d give them something else to talk about. And what better thing to gossip about than your father’s college age daughter practically displaying her body for all of his married friends and their wives. 

Wearing that skimpy thing that did nothing to cover you up could only mean one thing – you were trying to get back at your father. Aaron couldn’t help but almost choke on his drink as he watched you saunter back out of the house. His ears began ringing loudly as you swayed your hips, clearly asking for attention. You walked right up to the edge of the pool and dove in without so much as a single word, the stark contrast between the cocktail party and your rebellious, summer blowout attitude jarring. 

He couldn’t help but notice your father’s absence back out in the courtyard, your mother also conveniently nowhere to be seen. He could only assume that she was either consoling his poor, broken ego or sucking him off inside. Either outcome made him feel incredibly bad for you, bad that you had to come back home to rumors of your father’s infidelity and your mother’s complete denial of it. 

While she was working overtime trying to fix a one sided relationship, you were determined to lash out against it in the most childish way you could possibly think of, and that unfortunately meant parading around your backyard filled with middle aged men in practically nothing.

Well, fortunate for him because he got to see the way your nipples hardened against the sheer fabric the second you stepped out into the cold night air, got to marvel at way your waist dipped into your full hips, the plush muscle begging to be squeezed tightly, got to catch the faintest glance at the outline of your pussy against the red material. It was unfortunate because he knew he wasn’t the only one staring at you and he had to bite his tongue as he began to hear the men around him murmur about your body.

He wanted to step up and use his own frame to shield you from them, to hide you away from their practically salivating stares. But instead he simply took a sip of his drink and allowed himself to watch you like a hawk, to silently guard, determined to step in if any of them actually decided to turn their thoughts into action. Because even then he couldn’t help but feel protective of you.    

Your father came barrelling out of the house mere minutes later, your mother practically running to catch up and stop him. He was about to blow up, about to make a scene, one that you were eagerly waiting for when her hand landed on his chest and he seemingly remembered where he was and who he was surrounded by. He instantly relaxed his face and Aaron couldn’t help but take a step forward, tense and ready to fight him. 

“Honey,” your mother spoke instead, layering the guilt on thick. “Please get out of the pool, I don’t want you catching a cold.”

Aaron set his glass down and walked over to the little hamper by the grill, expertly fishing out a large towel. He could feel everyone else start to notice that he’d moved, that he was inserting himself into something that clearly had nothing to do with him. But it didn’t matter the second that your round, hurt, expressive eyes met his. His gaze softened, just for you, to let you know that you didn’t want to make this any worse than it already was. And for the first time ever, you listened to him. 

Your mother thanked him as he walked around them, towel extended in his hands for you to simply curl yourself into it. He could tell your cheeks were flushed with embarrassment, and when he draped the fabric over your shivering body, he could smell the faint, lingering scent of alcohol on your breath. He sighed deeply, just for himself and you followed suit, taking the moment to compose yourself. 

“Thank you,” you whispered, delicate fingers taking the towel from him and wrapping it around yourself, terrified of what your reaction would be if you’d let him do it for you. You were back inside the house in seconds, the party resuming quickly as your parents started their rounds of greetings and small talk. He lingered by the pool for a few minutes, not wanting to be incredibly obvious about following you inside. 

He told himself that he only wanted to make sure you were alright, that there was nothing wrong with being concerned for you after what had just happened. And so when the waiters began to pass out hors d'oeuvres, he took advantage of the distraction and slipped back into the house.

“Sweetheart?” he whispered loudly as he willed the wood beneath his feet not to creak loudly against the final step of the staircase. “Are you alright?”

The second floor was deserted, terrifyingly quiet and dark. He noticed the light was on in your bathroom across the hall from your room and he approached. The second his shadow landed over the wood, the door swung wide open, greedy hands grabbing a hold of his shirt and pulling him into the small room. 

“I need you,” you slurred, your hands sliding down towards his belt, trembling fingers struggling with the silver buckle. He couldn’t stop the groan that erupted from his throat, the sounds spurring you on.

He was so distracted by the thrill, the shock and surprise of your neediness, of your clear desire for him that his brain short circuited for a second, lost to the sensations he’d been craving from you for years. 

You’d never done anything like this before, never even flirted with each other as far as he was concerned since he made sure to watch his words around you, only allowing himself one thing, to call you sweetheart. Which could only indicate that your sudden boldness meant that you’d thought about this just as much as he had, that you’d caught him staring at you with hunger in his eyes just like he’d caught you staring at him with danger in yours. 

“Sweetheart,” he said bluntly, trying to use his words before he was forced to use his hands to stop you. “You’ve had a lot to drink,” you scoffed. “You’re upset,” your hand squeezed over the outline of his cock and it took everything in him to not let out a single sound. That seemed to do the trick as your confident demeanor slipped away and the terrified girl desperately trying to hide resurfaced. 

Tears laced your eyes, your chest began to shake, your hands trembled, slowly slipping away from his body. He scooped them both up in his warm, large palms, bending your arms over your chest before pressing you tightly to his. You began to sob then and it broke Aaron’s heart. Your face landed over his frantically beating heart. If you noticed through your tears you made no effort to comment on it. He held you like that for a while, not caring at all that his clothes were definitely wet now. 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered to him, arms crossing over your chest in a feeble attempt to cover yourself up now that you were clearly not going to get what you’d wanted only seconds before. He crouched down and picked up the towel off the floor, this time making it a point to drape it over you and wrap you tightly in it. You felt like a child, a dumb, stupid child that had just thrown a tantrum and had been scolded. It was humiliating. 

“There’s nothing to be sorry for, sweetheart,” he assured you, allowing himself to talk down to you just a little. His heart was still racing, his mind even more so now as he realized that the barrier that he’d put up between the two of you all those years ago had just been shattered into a million pieces. “Why don’t you take a shower and get some sleep?”

You nodded, refusing to look him in the eyes. But he would not have it. He hooked a finger under your chin, gently yet forcefully, pulling your gaze up to meet his. His thumb ghosted over your bottom lip, your mouth opening slightly without him doing anything to you. 

“Good girl,” he hummed and you practically whimpered, your thighs pressing together. The side of his mouth curled into the tiniest of smirks before he removed his hand from your body completely and walked out the door, leaving you alone in your bathroom with a fire burning in your chest. 

You were unsure when the decision had been made, but you’d awoken the next day to a letter from your mother on the kitchen counter, the house spotless as the cleaning crew she’d hired probably went through it the night before. Your parents were gone for the rest of the summer, apparently one of your father’s friends had a timeshare at some resort in Italy and they were able to squeeze your parents into their trip last minute. 

You released a sigh you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. The memories of the events of the night before had been washing over you in powerful, drowning waves ever since you opened your eyes fifteen minutes ago. You regretted at least ninety percent of your actions, having been so wrapped up in getting back at your father that you had completely forgotten that your actions would also affect your mother. The look of disappointment, of complete and utter shame and embarrassment that had taken over her face as she spoke to you haunting, especially now in the brightness of the day. 

And then there was Mr. Hotchner. Fuck, you cringed every time you remembered what you’d done, how you’d come onto him so pathetically. You couldn’t deny the rejection didn’t hurt but he had been right. You were upset, unbelievably so, and it would’ve stung even more to think of your first time with him to have been because you were trying to make your father angry, not because you actually wanted to sleep with him. 

And oh boy did you want to.

As much as Freud was an idiot, you were very aware after two years of your psychology degree that your attraction to older men had everything to do with your need to seek the approval your father denied you from your romantic partners. 

You’d had a very childish crush on Mr. Hotchner for years. It was silly, something that kept your pussy wet at night and made your friends giggle whenever you told them about the hot neighbor that you used to babysit for. But you knew he was unattainable. You could never have him, and sadly, that only made you want him even more. 

In an act of defiance you hadn’t done what he’d told you to do the night before. Instead you took off the remaining pieces of clothing you still had on and tossed them into your shower before you walked across the hall to your room, pulled out the shitty bullet vibrator you’d left behind two years ago, and desperately tried to get yourself off. To say you’d been unsuccessful, your fingers and the weak device never even coming close to what you truly desired, what you needed. 

That had only made you angrier, angrier at yourself, angrier at him. By the time you had drank your first cup of coffee all of your embarrassment had washed away into cold, seething irritation. He clearly wanted you just as much as you wanted him. You definitely hadn’t imagined the way he responded to your touch, the way he’d groaned in response. And that was the problem. He’d been holding himself back, whatever friendly relationship the two of you had built, one that you regarded as honest and sincere nothing more than a facade he’d concocted to keep you at arm’s length. 

You grabbed a pair of sunglasses that your mother must’ve left on the kitchen counter and placed them over your eyes before walking back out to your backward. You were aware that there was a specific spot in front of the sliding doors that he could see from his house next door. You’d noticed it when you were babysitting one time, the thrill that he could’ve seen you in your bikini at some point that summer driving you insane. 

You didn’t want to be at arm’s length anymore. You refused to let whatever fears you were holding onto because of his relationship with your father to stop you from going after what you’d wanted for so long. 

You dragged a lounge chair over to that exact spot, the blaring sun perfectly over it as the excuse you needed in case he brought up your pathetic ploy. Once you were satisfied with your placement you shrugged off the robe you’d been wearing, the fabric falling off your shoulders and pooling around your feet in an instant to reveal absolutely nothing covering your body. 

You’d fallen asleep at some point, completely naked and aggravated. You made sure to take your time getting into a comfortable position over the chair, chest out, legs curled suggestively, putting all of your assets on display. With the bait set, it was now a matter of waiting for him to bite.  

You heard him yell your name across your house about ten minutes later. It didn’t surprise you that he had his own set of keys, your stomach already twisting in anticipation and excitement at just how easy it had been to get him exactly where you wanted him.

“Are you decent?” he asked with a smirk in his voice. He knew you weren’t. “Jack is here with me.”

You practically leapt off the chair, frantically picking up the robe and putting it on as the two of them walked out onto the backyard. Jack said your name then, chipper and excited, immediately melting away any ice left behind. You turned around just in time for the boy to wrap himself around your legs, squeezing you into a tight hug which you reciprocated, pulling him up to sit on your hip. 

“Hi, angel,” you greeted the boy. “How’s summer treating you?”

“Hot,” he replied, trying to push himself away from you. You couldn’t help but laugh, setting him back down in the shade. “Can we swim in your pool?”

“Of course you can!” you replied. “Do you mind if I join you?”

The boy’s eyes practically widened out of his head in joy, turning back to his dad with just an unbelievable amount of energy. 

“Not at all,” Mr. Hotchner replied for him and you shot him a smile before you excused yourself to go change into something kid appropriate. 

To say that he’d seen your little display was an understatement. He’d been sitting on his desk in his home office, finalizing his weekly schedule with Jessica when he saw you step out. He knew, after much trial and error, that you couldn’t see him from this angle, and so he made no effort to move to get a better look. 

And then you took off your robe and he was abruptly presented with your naked body. His mouth went dry in an instant, his pupils dilated, his heart pounded against his chest. It took him a full minute to realize that Jessica was trying to get his attention before his brain reconnected with his body and he asked her to repeat herself. 

Five minutes later he was hanging up the call and rushing down the hall to ask Jack if he wanted to go swimming. The boy practically leapt to his feet, running across his room to get himself ready. They didn’t have a pool at their house, so your mother had generously let them use theirs after you went away for college. She’d even gotten them key to the house and sent him the alarm code every time they changed it just in case. 

Aaron changed into his swimsuit in record time, practically tripping as he ran back and forth, all over the house, looking for the many, many toys that Jack definitely needed to stay distracted for the next few hours. As much as he wanted to walk over alone, find you naked and eager for him, fuck you on the lounge chair and then probably inside the pool to cool off, he couldn’t leave Jack behind, he wouldn’t leave Jack behind because he didn’t want you to know just how much you had affected him. 

This was a power move, one that he had fallen for instantly. What he needed to do was not give in, not give you what you wanted, continue to frustrate you, to tease you until you couldn’t take it anymore, all because he wanted to remind you that he held all the cards, that he was the one calling the shots, that he would be the one on top while you writhed in pleasure beneath him.

You returned a few minutes later in a plain black one piece. To say he was disappointed was an understatement, but he admired your decorum while you were around Jack. It was like a flip had switched, eyes clouded with lust and desire clearing away to joy and excitement to spend your day with a hyperactive kid instead of lazily sunbathing your troubles away. 

You handed Mr. Hotchner a bottle of sunscreen, having specifically chosen the cream kind instead of the spray so that he’d be forced to touch you when you asked, “Would you mind getting my back?”

He looked up at you with the same eyes from last night and you were surprised your knees didn’t buckle. He looked at Jack then to make sure the boy was adequately engrossed in his toys, clearly deciding which ones he was going to play with first, before he opened the bottle and squirted some of the cream into his palm.

“On my lap,” he ordered, low and just for you to hear. Your eyes immediately darkened and he smirked knowingly. You rolled your eyes then, reminding yourself that today was just playful after all. 

You stepped forward towards his opened legs and prettily sat yourself down on his thigh, your back to him. You’d already put your hair up so he went right in. His warm, sticky palms landed on the sides of your neck first, slowly sliding down your shoulders before they returned to the center and then slid down your exposed back. While you couldn’t wear the skimpy, barely there suit you wanted, you’d still chosen something that gave him a subtle peek of your body.

He continued his movements, unapologetically taking his time, dragging his touches, lingering over your neck and putting pressure around it. You shivered under his hands, your ass unconsciously grinding down on his leg. 

“Be a good girl and stay still,” he purred in your ear, his breath hot against your skin. You stilled immediately, his fingers squeezing around your neck softly in reward. “All done.”

Your brain processed the words and yet you made no effort to stand up, and he made no effort to make you. His hands grazed down your arms, the backs of his fingers practically leaving feather light kisses on your skin until they landed on your hips. He gave your love handles a squeeze before he let his hands settle over your lap, leaning down to rest his chin on the crook of your neck.

The gesture itself had been so casual yet unbearably intimate that you didn’t notice you’d stopped breathing until your lungs started to burn. You inhaled sharply, your entire body shivering as you tried to keep the panting at bay. 

“You say the word and I’ll stop, sweetheart,” he whispered against your neck, gentle and kind, his tone meant to reassure you that you still had power. You nodded and he pressed a kiss below your ear, making you shudder once more. “So responsive for me.”

A whine escaped your lips, making Jack turn back to face the two of you. His hands were off you before you could even register, your own body reacting instinctively as you shot up to your feet. 

“Ready to get in the water?” you managed, flashing the boy a bright smile. He nodded enthusiastically, picking up a few of his diving toys in one hand before taking your outstretched hand with his other one. He diligently led you to the shallow end of the pool and Aaron watched as you both threw the little fishes into the deep end, giggling as Jack tried to toss them farther than you. 

He took a moment to compose himself, a moment to shift the material of his swim suit to try and hide the evidence of his arousal. He hated how easy it was for him to come undone around you, how you had him wrapped around your finger and could get him hard by simply existing. It made him feel young again, his libido higher than it’d been in years, and it was all because of you. 

He was brought out of his thoughts when he heard you and Jack splash against the water. Jack resurfaced first, already panting as he worked overtime to keep himself above water. You appeared then, like a beautiful mermaid coming above water to lure unsuspecting sailors to their deaths. And in that moment Aaron knew that he’d sink to the bottom of the ocean if it meant he could have even a taste of you. 

“Daddy!” Jack yelled, getting his attention. “Come into the pool!”

“Yeah, daddy,” you teased. “What are you waiting for?”

All the playfulness drained from his face in a second, making you choke on your own saliva in response before it reappeared as if nothing had happened. Your thighs rubbed together, the knowledge of the effect your words had had on him thrilling. 

“Coming buddy,” he replied to the boy, choosing to ignore you as he stood back up, kicking off his flip flops and cannonballing into the pool. 

Jack’s laughter brought you back down to reality as the waves his dad had created crashed over you, cooling your overheating face. You watched him resurface at the other end of the pool, one of the fishes you’d thrown under between his fingers.

“One to zero,” he announced playfully and Jack gasped, immediately diving down to gather as many fishes as he could, giving Aaron the perfect pocket of privacy to glance back at you. His face fell into a stern look of warning, daring you to call him that again to see what you could find out. 

You smirked back briefly before diving underwater, the mere mention of a challenge overshadowing whatever tension lingered between the two of you. 

You grabbed three fishes, swimming across the pool towards him underwater. You made sure Jack was above water before you made your move, fingers wrapping around Mr. Hotchner’s trunks to pull yourself out of the water as you practically climbed him. 

You felt him tense against your touch and that made your body flood with warmth once more. You made him feel like this, you made him react like this, you had the same effect on him that he had over you. 

Your head pierced the surface and he wasted no time pulling you further out of the water, his arm hooking around your waist again and pressing your hip against his painfully hard erection. 

You gasped loudly, nervously looking around and noticing that Jack had thankfully gone back underwater so at the very least he wouldn’t see the euphoric expression on your face. 

“Fuck,” you moaned, your hands steadying yourself against his chest. “Mr. Hotchner,” you whined and his grip tightened. 

For a second you forgot about where you were and the game you were still playing. Your eyes landed on his. They were hazy, glossed over and dangerously close to snapping. 

“Address me properly,” he ordered, lifting his knee to slide between your legs and press you further into him. You swallowed a moan, your breathing ragged, your skin unbearably tight over your body. 

You opened your mouth to speak but the word was screamed into existence by a voice that wasn’t yours. The two of you turned to face Jack who was eagerly swimming over to where the two of you were. You started to shift uncomfortably, trying to pull away from him, but he kept you in place as if you weren’t caught in a compromising position. 

“Did you get tired of swimming?” Jack asked you like this was the most normal thing in the world and you managed a nod. “That’s okay! I get tired sometimes and daddy has to hold me too.”

Your cheeks heated up once more and you thanked every deity out there that the sun was so hot on your skin that the kid didn’t notice a change. Jack reached out and grabbed a hold of his father’s shoulder to keep himself above water before pulling out his other hand from under the water, a fistfull of the colorful fishes in his palm. 

“I got six!” he told you and you finally snapped out of your daze, groaning dramatically as you showed him your own loot only being three. 

“I demand a rematch!” you told the boy before tossing your fishes back into the pool. He followed your lead and held your stare, the two of you seizing the other up before he got tired of waiting and dove back into the water, his giggles getting swallowed by the water. 

“Little cheater!” Aaron let you go then and you followed after the boy. You were so concerned with winning the silly game that you didn’t even notice the dopey smile across his face, one that he couldn’t hide from himself, one that almost made his heart burst with happiness.   

You played with the fishies a few more times until Jack was complaining that he was starting to get hungry and the three of you got out of the pool to dry off while Mr. Hotchner ordered lunch. 

You reapplied Jack’s sunscreen, placed a hat over his head and a towel over his body before you walked into the house to make a pitcher of lemonade and get some of the fruit your mother had bought a few days ago so that you could snack on it while you waited for the pizza to get there. 

You’d cut the lemons and had started squeezing them into the pitcher when his hands wrapped around your waist again, his front pressing against your back forcefully. You ground your ass back into him, never once stopping your task. 

“Hi,” he whispered in your ear. 

“Hello,” you replied, squeezing a half of a lemon with your hand, too lazy to get something else dirty. 

“Thank you for today,” he continued, his hands now slowly running up and down your sides, begging to elicit a reaction from you. “I know it’s not exactly what you planned but Jack is having a lot of fun.”

You hummed in agreement. “I’m having a lot of fun too.”

“Oh, yeah?” he stepped forward, locking you in place between the counter and his chest. “I’m having a lot of fun three.”

You snorted at the insinuation and the terrible joke, and he laughed in return, the two of you devolving into a fit of giggles like you’ve known each other intimately for years. And in a weird, almost strange way, you had. You’ve always had this rapport with him, this deep understanding of each other, mostly because you were both so into the other that you’d actually spent many nights asking questions, eager to know more. 

“Can I kiss you?” he asked you once the laughter subsided and your heart started beating rapidly once more. 

You immediately twisted around in his grip, holding your hands up and away from him as the juices from the lemons ran down your arms. 

“Yes,” you heaved and he didn’t waste another second as he pressed his lips to yours. They were so soft and still warm from the sun still lingering over them, lulling you into a sense of safety. You opened your lips as his hands left your waist and cupped your jaw to press you further into him. You moaned into his mouth as his tongue entered, deepening the kiss into a hungry and desperate mess. 

He pulled back so you could breathe after a few more laps and your eyes blinked open, the light reflecting against them and making them shine almost ethereally. He smiled, his thumbs rubbing over your cheeks. You returned the smile, somehow already feeling warm and fuzzy from just a kiss. He leaned in again, his nose playfully tickling your own, making you giggle sweetly. He truly wanted nothing more than to make you laugh all the time. 

He was about to press his lips against yours again, already craving the feeling like a man that had been left to wander the desert for days, when his phone rang loudly, interrupting the tender moment. He sighed deeply, apologetically looking at you and you immediately shook your head, letting him know not to worry about it. He picked up the phone, determined to make the conversation quick so he could return to what he truly wanted to do. 

In the meantime you finished the lemonade, washed your hands with soap, and brought the pitcher, some glasses, and the bowl of cubed watermelon to the table outside. You checked in on Jack, the boy having fallen asleep, making you chuckle softly. You sat yourself at the table and waited for him to come back, already missing his lips. 

It was certainly an interesting turn of events, made even more interesting by how easy it was to fit into his life. Even with your parents you always felt like the odd one out, like they were their own thing and you just sort of existed around them. But with Mr. Hotchner and Jack…you felt like you just fit right in, like you’d always been a part of their family.

When he finally exited into the backyard he bore a very different expression on his face, one of remorse and stress. The playfulness from before had left his body and all that remained was the stoic FBI agent you’d sometimes get when he returned from cases or…got called into one. 

You sighed deeply, knowing that was exactly what had happened and he had to stop himself from melting at the thought that you just knew what he needed before he could even ask it. 

“Do you need me to look after Jack?” you asked as he sat down on the chair across from you. 

“Please,” he replied, taking your hand in his and squeezing gently. “Jessica can pick him up at school Wednesday afternoon and take him to her place.”

You nodded, returning the squeeze and trying to alleviate his guilt with an understanding smile. 

“When do you leave?” he asked you then, one of the many elephants in the room finally getting addressed. 

“Friday morning,” you replied and it was his turn to sigh, defeated. As much as you understood his work and just how much he needed it, he also understood your own, your life being far away from D.C., far away from him. He just wanted you all to himself, here with him all the time, and it pained him that he couldn’t have it. 

After allowing himself another moment of sitting in silence, of feeling his emotions and letting them tear his heart into pieces, he stood up, pulling you to your feet with him. He crushed his lips to yours and your hands finally tangled in his hair, his own greedily squeezing your hips. 

“Pizza should be here any minute,” he mumbled against your lips. 

“I got it, don’t worry,” you replied, pressing a closed kiss on the corner of his mouth. “Why don’t you say goodbye to Jack?”

He nodded, reluctantly letting you go as he knelt down beside the lounge chair and woke the boy up. You watched as they said their goodbyes, your fingers coming up to trace your lips where he’d just kissed you, all the conflicting things you were feeling crashing over you at once.

The first phone call came that same night. It was late, you were already asleep when your phone vibrated on the nightstand next to you. You were honestly surprised that you’d heard it, annoyed more so than surprised as your eyes blinked open painfully. 

“Hello?” your voice was deep, hoarse and clearly exhausted. 

“Hi, sweetheart,” his on the other hand was soft and awake. 

“Hi,” you replied, settling back on the soft pillow and closing your eyes. 

“Did I wake you?”

“Mhmm,” you whined and it broke his heart.

“I’m sorry,” to his credit, he did sound sorry. 

“It’s okay,” you mumbled. 

“I just wanted to say goodnight to Jack.” And to you. 

“He fell asleep immediately…” You tried to stay awake, desperately, but sleep was pulling you down, the heat from spending the entire day under the sun had seeped deep into your bones, making them heavy. The current had sinked your boat and you were peacefully sinking under the waves with it. You didn’t even register him calling your name, realizing that you were probably out of it, and finally telling you that he’d call you another time. 

You woke up bright and early the next morning, your senses overwhelmed by just how much his bed smelled like him. 

It was honestly a stupid thought, that the things that were his carried him with them, but it didn’t matter how many times you’d slept here in the past, there was something so all consuming about them now. 

Your three days with Jack went by quickly. You had forgotten how much of a perfect kid he was, how attentive and kind and easy it was to take care of him. Getting him ready for school was a breeze, breakfasts were filled with laughter and him rambling on about the dream he’d had the night before. Once you dropped him off at school, you found yourself missing him more than you ever had, and so you spent your days wandering aimlessly.

On Monday you cleaned the entire house, top to bottom. You put on one of Mr. Hotchner’s records on and drowned the house in music, your voice booming just as loudly as the singer’s, wanting nothing more than to distract yourself from the ache in your chest.

On Tuesday there was a lice outbreak and luckily, Jack was not affected. They still had to shut down the school for the day, so Jack had gotten a half day. You took him to the store to buy enough baking supplies to start your own bakery, and spent the rest of the afternoon making cookies and cupcakes. 

It was around six that your phone rang. You were in the kitchen, cooking dinner for the two of you. Saucepan forgotten, you immediately crossed the room, fingers fumbling to answer the phone. 

“Hey, give me one second,” you cut him off, putting him on speaker before you stepped out into the hall. “Jack! Your dad’s on the phone!”

“I don’t know if I should be touched or offended that you don’t want to speak with me,” he cracked and you couldn’t help but smile, making your way back to the device on his counter. 

“I always want to talk to you,” you hummed. “But I also know you’re busy and—”

“Dad!” Jack ran into the kitchen, swiping the phone away from you and running right back down the hall. You laughed to yourself, returning to the stove before you burnt something. 

You hadn’t been speaking, not really. Every so often you’d send him a picture of what you were up to and he’d do his best to reply, always short and sweet. He never sent any pictures of his own for obvious reasons, but it still made your heart constrict every time that you woke up the morning after to a missed call from him.

They were on the West Coast, in a small town somewhere in Oregon. At least that’s what you’d gathered from the messages here and there. By Wednesday you said goodbye to Jack at dropoff and told him you’d see him for Christmas. He was, understandably, very upset, since you’d just spent, what he kept calling, the best three days of his life with him. It broke your heart, shattered it into a million pieces, but you reminded him that you didn’t live there anymore and that you had other places to be. Obviously not cooler than spending time with him, but that it was still important. 

Jessica called you that afternoon to let you know that she had Jack and you chatted for a bit. She was always so easy to talk to, her openness to their strange family dynamic almost overwhelmingly supportive. She always remembered your birthday, always sent you a card (one that you knew she’d been making Mr. Hotchner and Jack to sign every year), and always made sure to ask if you were coming back home for any major break.

She liked having you around, liked the extra support you had given them while Jack was out on his own break, liked that the boy clearly loved you and felt safe around you. And after the three days you had spent with him then, it only made sense to start thinking about actually coming back home next summer to help them out, to have an excuse to see him as often as you could. 

You spent Wednesday and Thursday working on the tasks you'd been left with from your internship. They had graciously allowed you to go home after you informed them there was a family emergency, but you still had to meet the weekly quota, just like everyone else. Being in your house alone was...exhausting. It was too quiet, too empty, too devoid of Jack's infectious laugh and...and Mr. Hotchner's low and inviting voice. 

You hadn't spoken to him since you let him know Jessica had picked his son up. You knew he was busy, knew that he probably didn't want to speak to you while his mind was not in the right place, while he was using most of his energy to do his job. He didn't text and so neither did you. And as much as you understood why, the silence had only made your heart clench in pain, your brain already overthinking all the possibilities.

He was supposed to arrive in a few hours, having received the only text he'd sent to tell you that they were about to take off and that he should be back home in a few hours. 

You’d decided to get one last swim in before you returned to your concrete life that was Brooklyn. But if you were being honest with yourself, you just needed a distraction. 

You’d been drowning, quite literally, as the finality of the distance that you were about to put between yourself and Mr. Hotchner loomed closer and closer. Sure, he traveled a lot for work, he was away at least sixty percent of the time…but you had moved away two years ago with the intention of cutting yourself loose of all the ties keeping you in D.C. 

It had been easy to do so, the only one that truly hurt you every day being your mother. But now, after sitting with your overwhelming crush that has snowballed into catching actual feelings for him…was hell.

You needed to talk to him about it, needed to ask him to tell you that everything was going to be okay, that you could make this work, whatever this was. But you also didn’t want to pressure him, didn’t want to pressure yourself to get tied down to something that could very easily not work out.

You were floating on your back, simply allowing the water to gently rock you around the pool when you saw a pair of slacked legs walking towards the edge of the pool. 

“There you are, sweetheart,” he hummed. “I’ve been calling for a whole minute and you didn’t answer.”

You stood yourself up, shooting him an apologetic smile as you walked towards him. 

“'m sorry,” you murmured, the tightening on your heart only squeezing harder now that he was really here. He shot you a smile in response but he looked tired, defeated almost. You could only imagine what it must feel like to walk around with all of that weight, with the burden of the atrocious things they dealt with every day. 

He squatted down next to the edge and you propped yourself up on the space between his legs to pull yourself high enough for his lips to reach yours. The kiss was short and soft, domestic almost, as if you did this every time he came back home from a long case.

You slid back into the water, unable to hold yourself up any longer as an excuse to put some distance between the two of you. You were certain that if he stared at you for even a second longer, he would definitely know there was something wrong, that somehow he’d be able to see into your body and realize just how contorted your heart was.  

“Join me?” you asked, trying to change the subject before it was even brought up. 

He sighed, conflicted. “I don’t think we should, sweetheart.”

“Please,” you whined. “I promise I’ll behave.”

He chuckled at that, knowing fully well that you most definitely would not, because he would most certainly not. But he found himself standing back up, quickly shrugging off his button down, the white wife pleaser underneath, his shoes, socks, and pants. You watched him in awe, mouth hanging slightly open as you began to salivate, your desire quickly making you forget all about your painful feelings.

He smirked at you as he sat down on the edge of the pool and slowly lowered himself into it. You hadn’t realized until he stretched his hand out to you that you’d drifted away to the other side of the pool. You took a small, steadying breath, trying to appear as normal as possible before you walked back to him. 

His hands wrapped around you instantly, bringing you into him tightly. It was almost as if he relaxed into you, his breathing deep and steady, a drastic contrast to your rapidly beating heart. You tried so hard to copy his rhythm, to blend into it in a feeble attempt to not raise suspicion, to show him that you were happy he was back.

And it worked...for almost a second. 

“Thank you for taking care of Jack,” he said. 

“It was my pleasure,” you replied almost too quickly. 

“Alright, what’s wrong?” he pulled back, his gaze desperately trying to meet yours. 

You hated him so much, hated how good he was at his job, hated how he could read you like it was the easiest thing in the world. Meanwhile, you were having to use all of your knowledge to just guess how he was feeling. 

“Nothing’s wrong,” you lied, your fingers subconsciously fiddling with his hair. He sighed, shifting your core away from his as his hand snaked down to pull your swimsuit bottoms out of the way. Your eyes widened in shock and confusion, finally snapping up to meet his but his attention was no longer on your face. 

Before you could question the sudden advance, he plunged his middle finger into you, making you moan loudly, your walls clenching around him.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” he ordered, his finger curling upwards to hook against the spot that he somehow knew instinctively would make you come undone. 

You whined, holding onto him tighter. “I’m scared!”

“Of what?”

“This–” he curled his finger again, another moan erupting. “Us– fuck, I’m scared that I won’t be able to see you every day and it’ll mess up whatever this is,” you practically screamed. 

His movements stilled and you decided to foolishly allow yourself to meet his eyes. He was staring at you with what you could only describe as relief? 

You blinked, realizing that he was allowing you to read him like he could read you. You’d said exactly what he was thinking, what he was also holding in, what the heaviness that he carried had been about.

He pressed further into you. “Do you want to be mine?”

“Yes,” you moaned. “I want to be yours, all yours.”

“That’s good,” he groaned. “Because I want to be all yours too, sweetheart.”

You whined at his words, the tight grip fear had on your heart releasing just enough to let you breathe again. 

“I thought…” you trailed off, afraid that if you said what you’d thought aloud that he’d hate you. Instead he just waited patiently for you to muster the courage to say what you’d been holding in. “I thought you might only want to fuck me and nothing else.”

He shoved another finger into you at that, as if you say how dare you think that. You moaned again, your body tensing up, your walls pulsing around his fingers, practically keeping them hostage inside of you. 

“So tight,” he mumbled, clearly needing a moment to regain his composure before he spoke again. “I’ve wanted you– to be with you for a while, sweetheart. I was just…afraid of how it could destroy your relationship with your parents.”

The second elephant in the room reappeared and you couldn’t help but get another one of your fears off your chest. 

“Did you know he was…” you trail off before you can finish your sentence but Aaron knew exactly what you wanted to ask him. 

“No, I didn’t,” he shook his head, intensely observing your reaction. When you tensed under his touch he wasted no time to press a soft kiss to your temple. If you didn’t know but now you do then why are you still hanging around with him? That was the second part of your question, of your uneasiness, of your tensing body. 

“To see you,” he murmured against your skin and you pulled back from his touch, far enough to look him in the eyes. “I kept coming back to see you.”

The confession made your stomach flip. You didn’t know how to respond, how to tell him that you’d felt the same way in a way that didn’t make you come across as insane or clingy or immature. So instead you smiled softly, leaning forward to press your lips to his once more. His grip on your body tightened, his lips on yours opened, pulling you further into him. You may not have tomorrow, but you definitely had tonight. 

“I am more than happy and willing to take this slow, to just see where it goes,” he makes it crystal clear, no way to misinterpret his words, no way for you to twist them until you’ve convinced yourself that you’re crazy. Instead you just let your mind free. 

“Please fuck me,” you begged and a groan loudly erupted from his throat. His fingers resumed their fast pace but you whined in response, trying to stop him. “No, I need your cock in me, please.”

He shushed you then, kissing your temple gently as he only doubled down in his forcefulness.

“Let me make you cum first,” he replied. “I gotta stretch you out, you’re so tight.” 

You whimpered then, a symphony of breathy moans as you remembered just how big he’d felt through his pants. If he was telling you he needed to work you up before he could slide inside of you then you would obey. Fuck, the anticipation alone was going to be the death of you. 

The water began to splash over the edge, the constant crashing of waves somehow in perfect synchronicity to the pace he’d set. It quickly became overwhelming, as if your pleasure was so intense it was actually transcending your body and manipulating the world around you.

You moaned into his ear, your hands desperately digging into his back, trying to anchor yourself to him, afraid that you could slip away at any moment. He began peppering kisses along your jaw, each one lower and lower until he was physically unable to reach any more of your skin due to the water level. 

You were so close, so, so, close and he could feel it. Your body had tensed, your toes curled against his lower back, pulling him closer to you. And with one final thrust against the spot inside of you that made you see stars, the band snapped and you were screaming, not caring if the neighbors could hear you. 

He worked you through your orgasm, his fingers slowing down to a bearable pace as you rested your forehead against his chest. 

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” he asked, clearly concerned that you hadn’t said something for a couple of minutes. You nodded against his body, slowly pushing against his chest to face him. 

“Never better,” you replied and his eyebrows shot up in provocation. 

“Do you want to make them a little better?” he teased and you couldn’t help the smile that took over. 

“Yes.”

He pulled his hand out of you and you whined at the loss of contact. 

“Such a greedy girl,” he mocked. “You’re about to be stuffed with my cock and you’re whining about missing my fingers.”

You shivered, eyes darkening as he grabbed a hold of your hand and led you back to the shallow end of the pool. He helped you out of the water, his hands attentive, possessive, never once letting you take a step without being on you.

Once you were out of the water he pulled you into him swiftly, lips back on yours with abandon. You practically melted into his touch, into his embrace, into him. Every thought in your brain was about him, about how soft his lips were, about how he smelled like a warm fire in a forest, about how his rough hands felt on your body, about how desperate he was for you. 

You didn’t even register as he undid the knots of your bathing suit, only felt the cold air against your nipples, making them immediately perk up. The back of his hands accidentally brushed one as he shuffled to discard your top and you moaned into his mouth. The noise that reverberated from him in response was addictive. His eyes snapped open and he pulled back, your own lips chasing his in protest. 

But he didn’t give you a second to figure him out as he arched your back with his hands, his mouth latching onto the nipple he’d just touched. It was your turn to mewl, eyes glossy and hands hungry to dig into him. 

“Aaron,” you whimpered and he froze, ice cold, fully stopping his movements. His mouth softly unlatched from your breast, a thin string of saliva connecting him to you. Your face heated up immediately, the mere thought that you did something to upset him filled your eyes with tears.

“What did you say?” he asked, softly, as if he knew you were feeling like a small little animal and he needed to be careful not to spook you.

“A-Aaron?” you mumble, not even once fully comprehending what you had just done. 

“You’ve never called me Aaron before,” he explained, taking pity on how much your brain was clearly not working at the moment.

You blinked in confusion, a tear accidentally falling down your cheek. He immediately wiped it away, looking down at you with eyes filled with nothing but adoration.

“I’m sorry—” you started, unsure exactly what you’re apologizing for. And he shuts you up with a kiss immediately.

“Say it again,” he groaned against your lips.

“Aaron,” you repeated, his name finally feeling heavy and important on your tongue. 

He places a kiss on the corner of your mouth. “Again.”

“Aaron.”

Another kiss, this one on your neck. “Again.”

“Aaron,” he licked down to the base of your neck, his teeth greedily sinking into your soft skin as his lips suck. “Fuck, Aaron, please.”

You whined again, the sting of his mouth marking your body absolutely making you lose it. Whatever wits remained evaporated in an instant. When he pulled back, eyes practically raven, face flushed, lips plump and swollen, you couldn’t help the need to reward him. 

Your hands landed on the pronounced outline of his cock against his still wet, black boxers. He wasn’t quick enough to stop you as you wasted no time pulling the fabric off him. Your eyes widened, your breathing hitched in your throat, your hand trembled slightly as you abandoned your efforts to get his boxers down his thighs and instead tentatively returned your hand to hover over his length. 

He was so hard, the vein running along the underside practically pulsating. You tentatively traced it with your nail and he hissed. You smiled to yourself, your full palm replacing your finger as you wrapped your hand around him, slowly pumping him. 

His own hand curled around your wrist, demanding you to stop. Your eyes shot up to finally see him, to see just how clenched his jaw was, just how deep his breathing had become. 

“No, sweetheart,” he huffed. “I need you.”

As if you could both finally read each other’s minds, you untangled yourselves from each other, discarding the clothing that remained on your bodies and tossed it away before his eyes landed on you, on your naked frame, now right in front of him and not far away, separated from him by the haziness of glass. 

His eyes raked lower to your pussy and his brows knitted in surprise. 

“You have a tattoo,” the question blended into a statement as his hand gripped your hip, pulling you forward so that he could see it better. You bit your lip, amused by just how mesmerized he looked. 

“A friend of mine gave it to me first semester,” you explained, omitting the many health code violations, how you’d been high and couldn’t remember actually getting it, or the fact that you had been sleeping with your friend when he did. 

He traced his thumb over it, the placement was lower than your hip, easily hidden by your underwear and small enough that he’d never been able to make it out at a distance. His thumb dug into the center of the shitty heart then, anchoring his grip as he pulled you back to him. You moaned at the sting and it only spurred him on, the realization that you liked it when he hurt you igniting a fire in him. 

His other arm hooked under your ass, lifting you over his shoulder. You gasped loudly, your confusion quickly turning into a fit of giggles as he moved you both towards the lounge chair that you had rearranged earlier that week to face his house. 

He made sure to hook his foot around the pants he’d discarded earlier, kicking them forward with his foot, making sure that they landed right against the chair. He then unlatched the backrest and quickly set you down on it, your entire body over the comfortable foam cushion your mother had bought last year just for the Hotchners. 

He knelt between your legs, hands running down your body to pry them open for him. It didn’t take much as you opened yourself up to him eagerly. He grinned, the smile that graced you one that you’d never seen from him before, one that even he couldn’t remember when he’d smiled like that last.

Before he forgot, he reached over to where he’d thrown his pants, growing impatient as he struggled to pull out his wallet and procure a single silver wrapper from it. You’d been so consumed by the moment that you hadn’t even thought about protection. 

You thought about telling him not to, that you were on birth control and that as far as you were concerned you were clean. But you had no idea where he’d been, not that talking about his sexual partners bothered you, but bringing it up now did not seem like the right time.

“Someone was sure of himself,” you teased, watching him roll on the sheer latex over himself with more concentration than you’d ever seen from him before, and that was saying a lot. 

He retaliated by slamming his tip into you without warning. Your head fell back, a moan rocking through you and down to your core, the waves reverberating against him, causing him to take a sharp, steadying breath.

“You ready, sweetheart?” he panted, a little condescending and you swallowed the urge to fight back, to resume the game you’d started when you called him daddy. He didn’t know just how deep you were willing to go, how much fun the two of you would have. 

But tonight wasn’t the night for it. You needed him, craved him, desperately demanded that he fill the ache between your legs. You nodded, your hands gripping the cushion below you.

He couldn’t help but chuckle at your need to anchor yourself, his ego boosted so high he had no idea how he was supposed to come back down. But he didn’t care, he couldn’t care, not when you were laid out in front of him like a buffet, what he’d been starving for the only thing on the menu now.

His left hand wrapped around your thigh, opening you further. You propped your other leg over the armrest, and he pushed forward. He had not been lying, fortunately for you. He stretched you painfully, practically stuffing you full. 

He made it halfway into you when you hissed, one of your hands shooting up to wrap around his bicep, urging him to stop. He stilled immediately, slowly rocking his hips back to slide out of you before slowly pushing himself back in. 

That’s when you fell, your arms giving out under you. An accomplished grin lit up his features. He sat himself back up on his heels to tower over you. Your hand sliding down to the one he’d wrapped around your leg, your fingers lacing with his, almost like a pinky promise as he continued his slow rhythm, never giving you too much, never forcing your body to take anything it wasn’t ready for. 

You could practically feel the wetness dripping out of you, coating him more and more with every thrust. He could clearly feel it too, the slick making it easier for him to slide in and out of you each time.

He took it as an indication to keep going. He thrust back into you, pushing himself just an inch further than before. You were a mess of whines and whimpers, your back arching in response, needing him fully in you. 

“Please, Aaron,” you slurred. “More.”

He pulled out of you completely, the desire to see himself slam back into you fully overwhelming. His hips pushed forward, easily sliding himself inside to the hilt, your ass slapping against his hips beautifully. He moaned then, his hands flying to your hips, locking you in place. You whimpered, your head craning up enough to see there was no space left between the two of you. 

“Fuck,” you mumbled, your walls clenching around him unconsciously. 

His eyes shut close in pleasure at your movement, jaw clenching, fingers digging into your skin deeper. You took him in, on the verge of coming undone, on the verge of cumming in seconds like a teenage boy that didn’t know how to stop himself. 

You giggled, your warm laughter bringing him back to you as he realized what you were laughing about. He scoffed, blush creeping over his cheeks in the most adorable way. You clenched around him again, deliberate and mean. He almost screamed then, the moan that left his lips guttural and raw. 

“Sweetheart, you’re killing me,” he huffed. “I don’t want to cum yet, give me a second, alright?”

You sighed, feigning annoyance, but respected his request, unclenching your muscles to give him a moment of respite. Your hands began to draw circles over his own, nails slowly dragging up his arms and towards his chest, gentle, curious, exploring.

You took your time, diligently running your fingers over every ridge, every dip, every single one of the scars that littered his abdomen. They were smaller now and faded from what they had been when he was first attacked, but you knew they were there.

He hadn’t told you the full story, hadn’t really mentioned it aside from briefly alluding to it when he was forced to explain a comment Jack had made in passing one time, a comment about his mother. But you’d noticed them years ago, and as much as he could act like he was over it, like he was comfortable being shirtless around you, you needed him to know that he was safe, that he could trust you.

He didn’t flinch under your touch, instead he hummed, his own hands shifting their grip on you to show you how much he appreciated your touch.

“Did you catch the bad guy?” you asked suddenly. He turned to face you with a scolding expression, this is clearly not the time for this. It only made you laugh again, embarrassed. “What? Thinking about gross things helps!”

“I don’t want to ever think about that when I’m with you, got it?” he commanded.

“Yes, sir,” you replied and his eyes darkened once more, whatever fear of bursting immediately leaving his body as lustful greed flooded back in, emboldening him.

“What you called me the other day,” he started, somehow both confident in what he wanted to ask and yet boyishly shy about it. “Are you okay with that?”

“What did I call you?” you acted dumb, so dumb indeed that it got you another powerful, forceful jam of his cock. You squealed, his tip now uncomfortably pressing deeply into you. “No, daddy, ’s too much,” you whined, your voice hitching into a sweet, high pitch that made his cock twitch inside of you. “It hurts.”

“Too deep?” he asked in his normal voice, making sure to check in with you. You nodded, desperate for him to pull back, and he immediately returned to the comfortable pain. You let out a deep breath, air filling your lungs again. He was concerned, but more than anything he was turned on, the desire to ruin you too strong. “I’m going to start moving, alright?”

“Yes, daddy,” you mumbled and he groaned loudly, his cock practically taking on a life of its own and making him react in a way he’d never experienced before. 

Aaron understood what desire was, he knew what it felt like, knew what to do with it, but this? This wasn’t desire. This was debilitating, allconsuming, painful almost. His brain disconnected from his body, it was as though he was floating next to his body as well as feeling everything that was happening around him, to him, because of him. 

He wanted to consume you, wanted to lose himself to the perfect sounds coming out of you, wanted to feel your tightness around him all the time, wanted to drown and stay at the bottom of your waters forever. 

His moans danced with yours in a delicate choir ensemble, the slapping of your bodies coming together becoming the bass keeping the pace, the rattling of the lounge chair against the concrete floor the percussion, the scrapping of the mattress against the plastic the strings – it was all too much, too good, too perfect. 

“I’m close, sweetheart,” he whined. “Rub your clit for me.”

Whatever coherent thoughts were left in you forced your body to obey immediately, your shaky hand landing in between your bodies. Your fingers were met with a lewd amount of slick, your clit puffy and screaming out to be touched. You rolled your fingers over it and the sensitivity sent you into overdrive, a snap of electricity running all the way down to your opening. 

He moaned in response, your core starting to tighten with each thrust, with each touch. The pressure was tight, tighter, desperately trying to force your dam to burst. 

“Daddy,” you whimpered. “Daddy, please, please, please, please–”

“Cum, sweetheart, cum all over me,” he demanded and you let it break. Waves of pleasure crashed against you, your entire body shaking, thrashing, slamming against his. Your moans turned into whines, you dug into his forearms, your legs hooked around his waist, pulling him further into you, locking him in place. 

The second he felt you clench against him, the second he felt your core tighten, your slick warm his entirety, your nails digging into his arms so hard he wouldn’t be surprised you drew blood – he lost it. He managed to thrust into you two more times before he slammed himself as far as he could inside of you, not caring if it was uncomfortable for you. 

He came hot and hard into the condom, his own pleasure blurring his vision, making his own body shake against yours, making his heart feel like it had skipped a beat. He stopped breathing for a few seconds, the sensations too overwhelming for his body to remember that it needed to breathe to survive. 

You were panting hard, your chest rising and falling as if you’d just ran a marathon. Your nails had stopped digging into his skin but he barely registered the lack of pain. It wasn’t until you ran your fingers over the indents in his arms that he opened his eyes, seeking yours immediately. 

You waited until his gaze met yours as if it was about time it did. You smiled lazily at him, completely spent, content, satisfied. He returned the smile, allowing himself to lower his body down over yours. His chest pressed against your own, softly caging you, holding you captive as his aching lips found yours. 

This kiss was unlike any of the ones you’d shared, unlike any of the ones you had shared with anyone before. It was definitive, possessive, claiming you as his, and yet it was unbearably gentle, playful, wholesome. 

He was the first to pull back for air, but he didn’t move away, instead he pressed his forehead to yours, his gaze unflinching, trying to communicate so much with no words at all. It was like he was making sure to savor every last drop, committing the sight and feeling of you to memory. 

Aaron took much of his life for granted, the routine of it all having numbed him to most things that other people would deem as exciting or fulfilling. The only area of his life where that wasn’t the case was his son. That little boy made everything worthwhile, every battle worth fighting, every day worth living. And now, looking at you, feeling how good he’d made you feel, he knew had found something else, someone else, that made him feel excited for what the next day could bring. That made him feel fulfilled in more ways than he could yet comprehend. 

Whatever doubts you’d had, whatever walls you had started to put up to protect yourself now laid crumbled all around you. He was right from the start, you were his, whatever that happened would happen, the best that you could do was ride the waves and see where they would lead you. All that did matter was that he was there and that you knew that he was also yours. 

If you made it this far, thank you so much for reading! This chapter was a blast to write after all the angst that Moments has killed me with.

My requests are open! I have a few chapter ideas for Mr. Hotchner but I would love to hear what y’all would like to see. Even if it doesn’t make it into the actual series, I will try to write some cute lil blurbs.

And also, because I’m a writer that needs validation, please leave me comments or love letters if you’d like to remain anon. I need the praise and love, thank you 🩷

Ps. The next chapter is titled Guest Lecturer so you can imagine what kind of debauchery I’m about to write.

Pss. Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future updates!

[i-sneezed]

But my question is, how is Gwyn's presence in the bonus chapter *not* meant to be a red herring?

Az and Gwyn getting together would be a huge deviation from the setup Az has with Elain in the actual books. SJM isn't going to completely change the direction of the plot in a bonus chapter the majority of readers won't see. That simply doesn't make any sense.

Seriously, when has a bonus chapter ever had an effect on the direction of the plot? Their whole purpose is to fill in some gaps/give extra context/offer some fluff.

I would also like to point out the similarities between Nesta's thoughts/feelings towards Gwyn in SF and Azriel's in the bonus chapter.

"The priestess drew up to her full height, which was slightly taller than average for Fae females. A crackling sort of energy buzzed around her, and Nesta's power grumbled in answer." - ACOSF ch. 9

"Azriel entered the warmth of the stairwell, and as he descended, he could have sworn a faint, beautiful singing followed him. Could have sworn his shadows sang in answer." - Az BC

"She honestly didn't know why she wished to see Gwyn." - ACOSF ch. 14

"A bell rang seven times somewhere nearby. (...) Gwyn sang, a faint glow seeming to radiate from her. (...) She'd never heard such music. Like a spell, a dream given form. (...) Something beckoned in Gwyn's song, in a way the others' hadn't. Like Gwyn was calling only to her, her voice full of sunshine and joy and unshakeable determination." - ACOSF ch. 52

"Instead, he found himself at the library beneath the House of Wind, standing before Clotho as the clock chimed seven in the evening. (...) Something sparked in Azriel's chest. (...) For whatever reason, he could see it." - Az BC

THIS is why so many Elriels think that the bonus chapter doesn't set up another couple, but instead gives more weight to the lightsinger theory.

There are too many similarities between how Nest and Azriel both react to Gwyn for this to be a coincidence.

And the fact that Azriel gets to the library at 7, which is when Gwyn sings (singing being the source of her power), it explains why he has these strong but seemingly inexplicable reactions. It's not a mating bond, it's Gwyn's lightsinging.

(However, I do want to add that I don't think this is being done purposefully on Gwyn's part.)

It makes way more sense narratively for the bonus chapter to make it look like Az may have another love interest when, in actuality, it's giving more evidence of another character's power, something already heavily hinted at in the main story.

You simply cannot convince me that there is any romantic tension between Az and Gwyn when the two don't even exchange any words until 80% of the way through ACOSF and she showed no interest in him romantically. And we are not going to see that tension for the first time in a bonus chapter that most people won't read.

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

Date Night

PARING: Tangerine x fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 1.3k

SUMMARY: Tangerine has been away on a mission for the last week, and is back in time for date night. Missing each other like crazy, you decide to have a not-so-quiet night at home

TAGS/WARNINGS: 18+ only. mutual masturbation, lazily handjob, cowgirl, unprotected p in v, creampie, established relationship. MDNI no mentions of y/n

A/N: this is a repost, bc i accidentally deleted the original🥲

rewritten 07/12/23 - deleted big chunks (1.2k words to be exact) as badly written and adds no context, just a load of waffle

Every alternating Friday, you and Tangerine would have a date night - a special night dedicated to prioritise each other. An evening together, no distractions. 

Today was date night, your favourite day. The same day that Tangerine returns home from his ten-day-long mission in South Africa.

As you pace the living room impatiently -waiting for your husband to come home to you- you see car headlights shine through the blinds, your favourite indication that Tangerine made it back safe.

Feeling giddy at his arrival, you run to the front door, ready to greet him with a kiss and a smile. 

Keys jingle in the lock, and you rush over to him. "Ah!" you shriek, wrapping him in a tight, welcoming embrace. "God, I've missed you," you blurt out, planting quick, hurried kisses over his cheek.

He chuckles, gripping your waist, hugging you with one arm as he walks into the house. "Missed you, love," he adds, dropping his bag to the floor to wrap his now-free arm around you. "How you been?" he asks, lingering a kiss on your lips, blue eyes lit up huge.

"Good, bored. Same old, same old," you smile. "How was your business trip?" you jest, pulling away to shut the door behind him. "Get many kills? Win mvp?"

He snickers, kicking off his shoes to follow after you. "Dickhead." 

You make your way into the kitchen, but he hangs back, sifting through his away bag. He meets you at the island a moment later, a bottle of wine and a single red rose in hand, a sweet, sincere smile on his face. "For you," his grin brightens, placing the gifts on the countertop. 

"You're annoyingly sweet," you smile, placing the rose into an old wine bottle - half-filling it with water. "Puts my present to shame," you playfully frown, nodding to the gift bag on the dining table.

He rolls up his sleeves, adjusting the collar of his shirt as he makes his way over, laughing almost obnoxiously when he sees what's inside. He picks up the small bottle, turning to face you. "Lube? Really?"

"I know, I know. It's stupid," you offer an apologetic smile, scratching the side of your neck - almost embarrassed. 

"Should I be insulted?" he jokes, walking back over to you, standing on the other side of the island, resting his hands on the surface with a wide stance.

"No," you dismiss. "It's, you know... my way of telling you I missed you," you respond suggestively, leaning over the counter to kiss him. 

"Oh, yeah?" he grins cockily, eyes half-lidded as he focuses on you. 

You hum, checking the time on your phone. "We got over an hour til dinner arrives," you innocently suggest. "Want to play cards? A board game?" you tease.

"Mh-hm," he nods, playing along. "Monopoly. That will kill the time."

"Okay then, great," you grin. "Let's go play," you add, walking away - heading for the stairs.

You halt when you reach the bottom of the staircase, waiting for Tan, hand extended for him to take. You lead him upstairs, him holding onto your hand from behind, following after you like a dog on a lead. 

Walking you both through the door of your shared bedroom, guiding him to the armchair in the corner of the room, you ask him to sit. He does as asked, adjusting his groin in the chair, manspreading in the way he knew you liked - keeping his eyes fixed on you in front of him. Gaze lidded and focused as he slowly unbuttons his shirt.

You stand a mere foot away, undressing yourself of your baggy sweater to reveal a black lace bra - one you wore specially for tonight. You're close but not close enough, just out of reach, just out of his grasp. You keep your attention locked on Tangerine as you tug your pj bottoms down, revealing a matching pair of slinky underwear. 

"Fuck," he sighs, exasperated, biting on his fisted knuckle. 

You perch upon his thigh and slip your arms around his neck, leaning forward and brushing your lips over his teasingly. "Missed you," you whisper, slowly circling your hips over his spread thigh. 

You lazily drag your palm over his chest, stroking down his stomach, pausing when you reach his belt. He makes haste movements at unbuckling it, bringing his hands up to cup your cheeks the second he's free. "Fuckin' missed you," he replies, voice strained and hoarse against your mouth. 

You slip your hand into the front of his trousers, fingers leisurely trailing over his pubic bone til they reach the edge of his aching hard-on. You make a soft coo, silently instructing him to lift his hips.

A soft smile forms on your lips when you pull his thick cock out of the waistband of his boxers - tip messy and leaking, waiting impatiently to be touched. You place your thumb over his head, applying slight pressure as you swirl his precum around, lightly brushing down the side of his cock.

His grip tightens on the side of your face, cupping your cheeks firmly, groaning and mumbling into your mouth about how good you're making him feel. You make a soft hum noise - an almost moan, rolling his cock in your hand, slowly rubbing him off. Nice and gentle.

His hands fall from your face to stroke down your bare back, halting when he reaches the clasp of your bra. He undoes it with ease, dropping the flimsy piece of lingerie to the floor, letting your tits spring free, just mere inches from him.

Tangerine slides a hand between you, reaching for your underwear the way you did him. Teasing at your clit through the damp fabric, flicking his thumb over the sensitive mound as you continued to make those desperate whines he loved so much.

"Get on my dick," he instructs, voice strangled and urgent as he handles you, spreading your legs over his other thigh - making you straddle him. 

You reach between you, parting your underwear aside and grip his base, pushing his reddened head through your slick, puffy folds - rimming his head around your hole before slowly sinking onto him. Thick cock spitting your insides nicely as you lower down, ass cheeks resting on his upper thighs.

He slinks his arms around you, tightly holding around your waist as you wind your hips over him, mumbling spluttery curses when his tip kisses at the hilt. 

"Yeah, yeah. That's it," Tangerine whispers, praising you for the way your walls work over his dick - like your cunt was stroking him, tightening and releasing with every soft, little bounce.

"Really, really missed you," you whimper into his mouth, holding the sides of his face, using him as stability as he nudges up into you - meeting you halfway with clumsy, sloppy thrusts. 

The soft, sticky clicking of your pussy wrapped around his cock, and muffled moans and whispers fill the air, sounds getting progressively louder when he shimmies down the chair - hands on your waist as he fucks up into you by himself.

"God— fuck," you cry out, limbs seizing up as you cum, your body turning limp above him. Pussy clamping and jolting with your release. 

He reaches his high a moment later, a groaning and grunting mess as he spraypaints your insides with his warm, thick load, your tightening walls milking his cock in the most delicious way.

His forehead rests against yours as you catch your breath, both completely blissed out.

"Shower?" he offers, speaking suggestively, toying with your tits, rolling them with his palms.

You hum, lingering a kiss on his lips as you slowly lift yourself from his dick, cum leaking around the base. You head for the shower, nodding for him to follow, a devious smile on your face.

After your lengthy shower -and some more fooling around- you and Tangerine find yourselves on the sofa, freshly washed, tucking into your dinner as you watch tv - enjoying the rest of your special night together. 

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for not helping my family pay for hospital bills?

🎷🔥 so i can find it later

This is going to need a lot of context right off the bat. I (20'sM) am a gay man that comes from an extremely conservative family. My sister (20'sF) is also a lesbian and recently got married and adopted a child. I'm very proud of her, but that's not the issue.

My parents seem to have little to no issue with my sister marrying a woman. They do have a very big issue with me liking dudes, however. Like, it was the reason my parents got divorced "big issue." I'm not gonna go into everything, but my sister ended up with my dad and I stayed with my mom for reasons I'd rather not share.

Our last parting was on... less than decent terms. Upon finding out that I was of the homosexual variety, my dad flipped his lid. He called me several slurs and said some other very hurtful things, and even made moves to physically attack me. My mom, also a very homophobic woman, stepped in and thankfully talked him down. Then divorce, etc etc.

I saved up enough money to move out when I turned 18 and may have done some impulsive things including completely trashing my mom's bathroom, which I know I'm definitely the asshole for, but in my defense my mom kept "forgetting" to pick up my prescriptions and I was manic (I have bipolar). But, again, I know I'm the AH for that.

I now live with my two best friends R (20sNB) and P (20sM) in a house we all pay for. R comes from money so they help out a lot, and I love them both to death. We kind of have a sort of situationship but none of us are poly? Idk it's weird we're just going with it rn.

Anyway, I bring them up bc we all went to my sister's wedding together, and my parents separately chewed me out for bringing them (and for R daring to wear a dress. They're amab for context) and I obviously argued back bc hey they're my best friends and my sister specifically said it was okay for me to bring them (she and R are also friends and they wouldve been invited regardless of me bringing P) and also because R looks very good in a dress and i can handle them shit-talking me but i will not tolerate slander towards R or P.

At the wedding, I went full no contact with them and told them to lose my number. They, ofc, did Not lose my number and I got several calls from extended family saying about what you would expect them to say, so I switched numbers and gave only my sister and her wife my new number.

My sister. I love her to pieces but sometimes she gets on my nerves. She gives my number to my mom to have "just in case," but she reassures me that she won't give it to my dad or any other family. So far, she's made good on that promise, I just have to deal with periodic calls about getting a girlfriend and having kids.

Now, my dad isn't the healthiest guy out there. He has arthritis, osteoporosis, and several other things that i don't really wanna get into. As he's aged he's only gotten worse and there have been several times he's almost died, but recently he's been put on hospice and has an estimated Not Very Long to live.

Here's where I may be the AH. My dad calls me while I'm at a very important, personal event for R (he got my number from my mom) and goes on a long rant on how I'm an unlovable disgrace and how he fed me and clothed me and I could make up for all that by helping him pay off hospital debt. I say no immediately and tell him that he's never been my dad, only my dna donor, and that he's going to be dead anyway and that selling his house could cover all the bills. He calls me many more names and tells me he wishes I was never born (calling my mom some very derogatory names too (she's asian)) and that i should just go ahead and off myself to save the world someone like me. I tell him he should die faster while he's at it because God knows the world already has enough bigots in it and there could never be too many mentally ill queers.

I hung up, but now I'm thinking I went a bit too far. AITA for not helping out with his hospital bills and yelling at him?

What are these acronyms?

[lowkeyremi]

hello, hello. I would like you request shiratorizawa 3rds boys playing Minecraft with their s/o🤭

I think with tendou would be hilarious

Nah bc Satori would be killing ur cats 😭 this is so cute

Playing minecraft w GN!reader ft. Ushijima, Tendou, and Semi.

___________

Ushijima Wakatoshi:

"How do you- I'm being attacked by zombies." His voice is nonchalant and he stares at you waiting for your input.

"'Toshi, use your sword!" You don't even look at him because you're fighting a stupid skeleton.

"Which button was that again?" His character is close to dying.

"We should have played on creative mode." A snort escapes your lips and he smiles at you.

"Maybe I'll lose more often if I get to hear that cute laugh of yours." You don't even have to look at him to know he's smirking.

"Better stop daydreamimg cuz I'm robbing your place." You laugh again.

His brows furrow, he looks so cute. "Hey, I've gathered all that myself, you can't take it." He shakes his head playfully.

"Quit getting distracted by my hotness, then." You smile.

"That's hard to do.." He sighs trying to keep from smiling,

__________

Tendo Satori:

"Satori!!" You scream kicking his side. He starts cackling.

"What?" He asks trying and failing to sound innocent.

"You snake! You burnt my house down!" It took you two weeks straight to finish your build, it was perfect.

"Ah... that was your house? Oops." It wasn't an accident, the smirk on his face said so.

"I'm so going to get you back." You scoff and walk over to his place and kill some of his cattle and his favorite cat— which is named after you.

"You killed, (name)?!" He screeches in shock.

"I'm not your minecraft bae anymore, 'Tori." You feel pretty satisfied with yourself.

"Two can play that game." His character makes his way to your burnt down house. He finds your favorite wolf in his pin and kills him. "Goodbye Satori junior, your sacrifice was not in vain."

"You killed my baby and burned my place?!" You weren't able to believe what happened in a little over five minutes.

"Okay how about we make a truce and I help you build your house again?" He knew you couldn't resist such an offer.

"Fine but if you burn down my place again, I will kill all of your animals." He chuckles at your childness. He loves that about you.

_________

Semi Eita:

"Did you kill them yet?" You ask Semi waiting for the green light.

"Mhm.. give me like two seconds." He was concentrating hard, but you can't help being silly.

"One, two." You count out very fast and he scoffs at you.

"Okay I'm done, go go go." He says and your character runs into the house of the villager he just killed.

"What's in there?" He asks with amusement.

"Let's leave, it's only bread." You let out a laugh from your gut as he sighs.

"Damn, this is like the fifth house with nothing good in it." He groans, it's not a big deal to kill villagers, its just time consuming.

"What if we rob the pillagers? It's risky but I'm sure they have some good items." You mention, it causes your boyfriend to smile at the thought.

"Okay, we'll give it one last shot." He was just as determined as you are.

Actually finding the pillagers took over an hour, you happened to stumble across one and it began attacking you.

"Eita, help! I found a pillager!" You scream and he laughs at you. It's so adorable to see you really getting into the game. Honestly, he's thinking about leaving you by yourself to see how you'd respond.

"Eita, where are you?!" You're fighting the pillager with your sword that wasn't as cool as your boyfriend's sword.

You can hear muffled laughter, indicating that Semi planned on letting you die. That bastard.

"Eita please, I'm dying!" The pillager gets the upperhand, it shoots you one last time and your character dies.

"Eita, how could you?! I thought we were partners in crime!" If anyone else heard what you said without context they'd be confused. Your boyfriend on the other hand broke into fits of laughter.

"I'm sorry baby, try to catch up." Eita lets out a small giggle. At least he waits for you to catch up before continuing.

Heyyyy, thanks for this request ily anon!! I think Tendo's is my favorite, he is such a cute menace. Anyways thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed it :P

[fryday]

MAY OKAY this is kinda reachinggg but i need to chime in with my theory on the moving out thing. i find the phrasing intersting when phil says "we almost didn't get a place together." because that sentence on it's own, to me, implies he means the first place they had together (so the machester flat). bc if you're moving in w/ someone for the first time you say "we're getting a place together" but if you've been living with them, you'd say like "we're moving to a [new] place" right? now i'm gonna ignore the moving out part for a second and skip to something else. phil says that dan said "we don't have that stress of being in a new york apartment on our own, and trying to live life for the first time." this also strikes me as intersting bc technically phil lived on his own in manchester for a whole year, so what is the "we" in this situation?? which brings me to this: dan historically and still does talk like he lived with phil during his year in uni/phil's year of living "on his own." phil has also mentioned multiple times how dan was always over. so lowkey, i kinda think that when phil said "dan wanted to move out" he was just spinning the truth a little bit to make the situation sound simpler and also more dramatic. i can imagine a world in which after dan's first year of uni, where he spent more time at phil's flat than in his dorm, he told phil they shouldn't officially move in together (i.e. "get a place") because he wasnt productive/they both needed their time to live alone (bc at that point, phil probably didnt feel like he was living alone even though it was "his" flat). does this make sense or am i reaching way to far 😭😭😭

OKAY? OKAY! POINTS ARE BEING MADE. YEAH.

i see wyim about the "getting" a place vs "moving" into a different place, fr. like when i first watched dnpfttt (lmao), given the context of it being posted just a year ago and phil not really specifying, i just assumed when he said "getting a place" he worded it that way because buying and owning and designing a whole ass house together is very different/much bigger than just renting a new one. so it seemed more like - we're GETTING this place rather than just shifting.

BUT i see your manchester apartment vision. i see it. and i love your post about how dan just took on the role of being phil's housemate and never changed his mind about it since 😭😭😭

the only thing i wonder is, dan said he considered moving out because if he were sad and lonely he'd make more "content", but at that point youtube wasn't a critical thing for him to be producing for! so? hm. considerations to consider

[blackjackkent]

Another answer for one of @astreamofstars 's prompts from this ask for this ask meme: Kiss Roulette.

"33. A kiss to a scar, birthmark, injury, or other marking - Lae'zel/character of your choice"

Some context-less Shadowzel from Act 3 after the House of Grief, bc I haven't fully figured out how to include them in Rakha's playthrough yet. XD This is my first attempt at writing this pairing; hopefully it scans well! :D

-----

“Do you wish me to call you Jenevelle?”

Shadowheart peers out from her tent at Lae’zel sitting by the fire. “Why would you ask that?” she snaps irritably.

It’s not a fair response, and she knows it as soon as the words are out of her mouth. To her credit, Lae’zel doesn’t flinch from the moment’s sharpness, but answers in kind. “A thing true across all planes, I find, istik, is that most prefer to be called by their names.”

“It’s not my name. My name is Shadowheart.”

“A simple ‘no’ would have sufficed.” Lae’zel looks over her shoulder to meet Shadowheart’s eyes. A slight pause. “I am not your enemy… Shadowheart.”

Shadowheart lets out a heavy breath and her head ducks. “No,” she says. “No, you aren’t.”

She should know better, really. They certainly began as enemies, but so much has changed. They have suffered so much together. They have stood side by side, watching their religions burn to cinders in front of them, and found each other amidst the ashes.

It was meaningless sex at first, half-desire and half-anger, driven by a need for some kind of nameless forgetful oblivion where they could forget that their worlds had fallen apart. Gradually, though, it has become more than that. She has been allowed to see gentleness in the gith, and Lae’zel has been allowed to see her vulnerability in turn - and both things have been hard-won knowledge indeed, secrets held between the two of them, shown to no one else. 

Zhak vo'n'ash duj, Lae’zel called her once in a moment of passion. She hasn’t explained what it means, but Shadowheart can guess the implications.

And here she is, lashing out yet again anyway, as if it were still their first few days on the road, when preemptive strikes felt like the only way to survive. Gods, she’s so scared. Gods… it hurts.

“I’m… sorry,” she mutters, hunching her shoulders - as if still in expectation of mocking after all these months. “That wasn’t fair.”

“Chk. You owe no apologies,” Lae’zel says - still curt but quieter. “I am no yank to be felled with a harsh word. And it is not the first I have had from you, nor will it be the last.” She turns back to the fire and prods carefully at the meat roasting there, turning it carefully. “Nor would I wish otherwise.”

Shadowheart finds herself mesmerized by watching the other woman's fingers, surprisingly dexterous in counterpoint to her battering-ram combat style. “Do you know your parents?” she asks abruptly. “Did you leave family behind, in Kliir?” 

“The yanki are raised together in creche.” With quick, efficient motions, Lae'zel pulls the meat from the fire and lays it out on a platter nearby. “A cadre of nestmates is our first and only family.” She frowns. “Still, I am not blind to what you have lost.”

Shadowheart nods silently. Lae'zel's experiences are so alien at times that it is hard to imagine the places where they overlap. But they are both alone in a world full of shadowy uncertainty. 

“You're all I have left, you know.” The words emerge in a sudden rush; she looks down at her hands, ashamed without knowing why. 

And then Lae'zel's hands close over hers, calloused and rough from a life of swordwork, but gentle in their touch on her skin. 

“I am not blind to that either,” she says, her voice low. “You will not be alone while I am here.” She considers for a moment before going on, “In creche we are taught ra'quith vlaak - the frail perish. To cover for another's weakness is to open your own flank.” Her eyes lift to meet Shadowheart's, intent and serious and sad. “Perhaps once I found wisdom in this, but no more. You shall find me guarding the scarred places in you, and you shall guard mine.”

Slowly, with scrupulous care, she lifts Shadowheart's hand and presses her lips over the heavy black scar, the last mark of Shar's torments, that lingers on her skin.

Blood rushes to Shadowheart's face. She feels acutely conscious of the fact that Lae'zel has never before showed her any gesture of warmth in view of the rest of the camp. And she can see the flicker of anxiety that goes through the gith's cat's-pupil eyes with the action. 

But Lae'zel has been afraid a long time. She has never let it drive her actions - never before and not now. 

And Shadowheart feels her own courage rise in answer to it. “Yes,” she agrees softly. “As long as you'll let me.”

“Chk,” Lae'zel mutters. “You speak as if you think such promises come with endings.”

Shadowheart doesn't answer for a long while. “I have suffered many broken ones,” she finally says softly. “But not from you.”

Lae'zel's eyes brighten, and she kisses Shadowheart again, this time cupping a palm to her cheek. Like all of their kisses, it is fierce and rough, commanding, unrelenting, but it carries certainty in it that Shadowheart desperately needs. “Nor shall you,” she murmurs. “Zhak vo'n'ash duj.”