#working my way through I'm getting close to finished!

[wings-of-ink]

Update Progress and Things to Look Forward to

Hello everyone! I hope you are safe and well.

Chapter 5 is coming right along. My goal is to still have it out by the end of November, but the way the last couple of weeks have been for me, we might hit a little delay into the first week of December.

And do not worry, because I know some of you will, I'm good. It's just been busy this month. I've had a friend going through a hard time who's needed a hand up, and I've also needed to work overtime at my daytime gig. My friend is doing better now and I won't need to do more overtime again until sometime in mid-December.

I will not say that the chapter will for sure be delayed, though. This coming week I have extra time off from work (and there was much rejoicing), and I am hoping to dedicate more of it to finishing the final segments of the chapter. And then, I just have to fuse all the individual segments together and do as much proofreading as I can before I deem it "good enough for now" and publish it.

This chapter is a big one, lol. But, I didn't want to cut it short since it is an important section where you learn a lot, grow a bit, and connect with your crew (and maaaaaybe get into some big trouble).

I still have a couple short scenes to flesh out, and then a bigger finale, which I am so excited to finally write!

I'll go ahead and note that saves will almost definitely be broken - again. I had a few things that I did not anticipate before and had to make some coding changes for the earlier chapters. On the plus side, I also figured out where I went wrong with the fonts, so that should be fixed at least.

I will be opening up the Patreon with the release of Chapter 5 if anyone is interested! We'll start out with a couple tiers and grow from there. Both main tiers will focus on extras and early chapter releases - so expect POVs, drabbles, and spicy things.

In December, I'd like to release a couple extras both publically and in the Patreon, but I won't spoil any of that now so I can tease you with it later.

In the more distant future, I plan to create a way to skip chapters so you don't need to speedrun to get to new content. I will take more time to get Chapter 6 out so I can fine-tune a few things for all the previous chapters as well. I'm hoping to get them more smoothed out with a good deal of copyediting.

Reaction-style asks are still paused, but if you have general questions/recommendations/comments, send them my way!

There are many adventures ahead, my friends!

Take care, everyone! Stay safe! ^_^

As a treat, there's a semi-spoilery (kinda not really???) sneak peek below!

Hmmm...who are you with and why is your friend watching you so close???

[lucimaaie]

under the stars ✧.* spiderwoman au

pairings - ellie williams x fem!reader

summary - you and ellie go stargazing for your first date, only it ends in a way she couldn't have expected.

warnings - fluff and angst, a little angst as usual, i was watching spongebob while editing this to cope with finishing arcane so i blame all mistakes on that

playlist | spidey masterlist

Thinking of your first date had Ellie reduced her to her sixteen-year-old self again. She could run into a burning building yet the thought of messing this up scared her more.  

She’d never considered herself a romantic. Her relationship with Dina was the result of losing Joel and in the end that didn’t work because of the mask. Or what she used it for rather. This thing with you had to be built from the ground up and she couldn’t let Spiderwoman ruin it. 

The familiar screech of your apartment building door alerted her of your presence. She’d tried to dress up more than usual, ditching her usual hoodie for an olive open button down, white t-shirt, and jeans. Still basic, but she was trying her best. “Hi.”  

“Hi yourself.” You stopped right in front of her, pulling her from the wall.  

“You haven’t told me where we’re going.” Ellie couldn’t help but glance down at your connected hands. You kept her close that way as you strolled to who knows where.  

“And you didn’t let me pick you up.”  You pivoted your body to give her a playful glare. “Or bring your camera.”  

“I don’t think subjecting you to my apartment is a good start to a first date.” Ellie tucked her other hand in her pocket, enjoying the natural sway you two fell into. Her eyes darted around the cloudy sky. “So, we’re going somewhere picture worthy?”  

“I didn’t say that, did i?”  

“If I don’t know where we’re going, how are we gonna get there?” She looked around at the nearby building to get a hint of where you’d take her, but there was none.  

“Lucky for us, it’s within walking distance.” 

“You planned it all out, huh?” 

“Before I even asked you. You didn’t think I would come unprepared, did you?” You asked, teasing. “I always plan.” 

“I don’t.”  

“That's okay, I love that about you.” Your words came out softer than expected. Hadn’t even gotten to the official date part of it and you were already laying words on her.  

Ellie hadn’t even noticed you’d slowed down until everyone else on the sidewalk seemed so far ahead. She couldn’t think of anything to say to that, but she didn’t have to as you continued to pull her along, mumbling about being late. 

You, as devious as you were, had Ellie close her eyes as you even approached the building. She did despite her grumbles about not being able to walk with her eyes closed. she managed.  

“You know you’re scaring me, right?” Ellie continued to complain as you led her through a crowded space and upstairs. She was starting to get impatient but she felt compelled to humor you.  

Imagine her surprise when she opened her eyes to a projected burst of stars against a black sky. She blinked as her eyes darted around the big screen. her excitement softened into admiration as you started explaining yourself. Though you didn’t need to. 

“I wanted to go stargazing,” You blurted. Ellie had never seen you look any bit stressed. Well, except for the night she saved you “Y’know but this is, like, the worst city to see stars in so I thought next best thing was bringing the stars to you-” 

“No, I love it,”  

“You do?” 

“I do.” 

“I'm glad,” You breathed in relief. “That’s good. I'm worried you think I was cheesy or something.” With your confidence restored, you grabbed her hand and headed up the stairs to look for the best seats. 

“I like cheesy.” 

“You complained the whole way up here.” 

“Okay, mystery scares me. but I like cheesiness.” 

“Okay, I like it too for future reference.”  

Her heart stuttered at the word future. You really thrived on her desperate need for love. Was she really that removed from people? She had jesse and the cat lady in the apartment across from hers. And you, she hoped. “Future reference, okay.”  

For a while, you watched and talked each other's ears off about nothing at all, sometimes nothing relating to space. Any anxiety she was having before was nowhere to be found next to you under some fake, though beautiful, stars.  

“Tell me about you.” You said suddenly. You and Ellie leaned back as much as the cushioned chairs would allow. As you turned to look at her, the violet hue of the screen illuminated your relaxed expression. 

“What do you wanna know?” Ellie turned her body to mirror yours. 

“I’m gonna be cheesy if I say everything, but..everything. Like, what’s your biggest dream?”

Ellie hummed, running the blunt tip of her fingernail across the arm rest you shared. She was quiet, sifting through the details she could tell you. Everything was a hefty order. So, she’d start with something simple. She pointed to the screen. “I’d, uh, want to visit space. Not necessarily talk to aliens or anything.” That would be cool. “I’d wanna study it. Find out everything.” She glanced at you, your attentive gaze making her self conscious of her answer. “I used to wanna be an astronaut, some time ago.”

“I could imagine that.” You grinned. “You’d be a hot astronaut.”

She burst out laughing. “That’s what you took from that?” 

“No! I was listening, I promise! Have you ever looked into it?”

She shook her head. “My dad was on my back about choosing something realistic.” She froze. It was the first time she had talked about him with getting the urge to cry. Granted, it was still painful, but she could be reminded of the good times without dwelling about how they ended. She shook the thoughts away. She didn’t need to bring her baggage on a date. “Plus, I’m too lazy to be an astronaut.”

“Really? Cause you look pretty active to me.” You squeezed her arm. She hissed as if it hurt a great deal and swatted your hand away. “Aw,” You cooed at her imaginary suffering. 

“Y’know what, it’s time for you to talk about yourself. What’s your dream, life story, all of that?” 

“You didn’t talk about your life story!”

“You didn’t ask.”

“It was encompassed into the everything question.” Your voice naturally got louder in the otherwise quiet theater-like space. Ellie snickered at your brief embarrassment. “Whatever, I’ll lead by example.” You dramatically cleared your throat. “I’ve been in New York all my life. I’ve got..one insanely annoying little brother. My dad’s a cop. My mom’s a paralegal. And, to be honest with you I have no idea what I wanna be as long as it’s not a cop or a paralegal.” You huffed as you finished. 

“Stand up example.” Ellie nodded. “Your family sounds..” 

“Annoying?”

“I was gonna say good, but okay. They sound like they really care about you." If only she still knew the feeling.

 “You say that, but you won’t think so when my dad’s grilling you.” 

“I hope you mean that metaphorically.” She thought about how stubborn your father had been in putting out a search for her. How it had taken a whole bunch of saving to prove to him she wasn’t causing harm. She couldn’t imagine having to deal with him as herself, dating his daughter. 

“I don't.”

"I'll manage anyway,"

A growl of her stomach had broken through the romantic atmosphere, causing you to break out into laughter. She'd have been embarrassed had it not been the cutest sound she'd ever heard. "Okay I'm hungry, so what? Give a girl a break." 

"You want a break or a solution?" Without another word, you were pulling her somewhere else. Not too many blocks down, the bell rang as you pushed through the door. Greetings were exchanged in a language she didn't understand. "I hope you like dumplings." You practically bounced on your feet as you paid. "and have no allergies." 

Ellie thought she had been imagining the constant glances from the old couple behind the counter until you spoke. "Don't worry about them, they're just sussing you out. I don't usually come here with anybody." 

Ellie turned around, giving an awkward wave to which she got a friendly smile from both. that was before they retreated to the back, probably to gossip. "You seem like you know everybody and everything here." 

“I had to get out, talk to people otherwise I'd go crazy. If my dad had it his way I’d still be at home.”

“My dad, he..um. trust me, he tried.” She swallowed. "Every time I came home it was 'where we you?' and 'who were you with?'" She let out something of a nervous chuckle, hoping talking about Joel wouldn't be the think to tank this date. She hoped nothing would tank this date.

“Hey, are you okay?” You placed your hand on hers, face frowned with concern.  

Ellie blinked. She was surprised but the interruption from her thoughts was exactly what she needed. She placed her hand on top of yours. “Yeah, i’m fine.” 

You didn’t believe her. she couldn’t blame you, she was a terrible liar. Plus, lying on the first date wasn’t a wise move. “My dad died a few years ago.” Trauma wasn’t dumping either, but she was hoping she’d get points for honesty.  

You squeezed her hand. “I'm so sorry,” Your hand moved from under hers to intertwine your fingers.  

“No, you didn’t know. It's fine.” She sighed deeply, eyes glued to the web of your fingers together. It didn’t take her long to become accustomed to the feeling of your hand on hers.  

“You know you don’t have to say it’s fine every time you don’t wanna talk about it.” You looked straight at her with genuine care.  

“Well, what do you want me to say?” Ellie began swiping her thumb over each knuckle. She hadn’t even noticed a server coming over to bring your food. the girl’s eyes seemed to linger at the way you and Ellie's hand reconnected over the food.  

“That you don’t want to walk about it.” 

“And you’re just gonna accept that?” 

“Not all the time but, it’s better than ‘i’m fine’ all the time. I like honesty” You’d disconnected one of your hands to prepare things. Ellie had to pretend not to be disappointed at the tiniest loss of contact. Instead, she watched you set everything up particularly like you worked here yourself.   

“Y’know you don’t have to do all that.” she sat back as you opened the basket of dumplings. The steam filled the air between you.  

“I want to,” You said in unison. Ellie laughed at your surprise. You grabbed the basket and turned your back against her playfully. “No! I don’t get to eat, just because I know all your lines now?” 

“Hm, maybe not.” You resisted the urge to laugh as you set them down again. Ellie held her hand over her chest in dramatic relief. She watched as you grabbed kiddie chop-sticks. “Don’t judge.” 

“I’m not.” She was definitely grinning as she watched you. It was funny, considering you seemed to come here often, but she wasn’t gonna tease you about it. “Although, I really wish I had my camera right now.” Okay, maybe a little.  

“Liar.” You peeked up at her as you happily stuffed your mouth with dumplings.  

Ellie was just about to do the same when the small TV posted up in the corner above your head was unmuted. Broadcasted sounds of panic filled the small shop. There was a pile-up on the bridge; only a line of cars were in the position to take a plunge into the water below. “Shit,” Ellie grabbed her phone and was already up before her eyes landed on you. 

“What’s wrong? Do you have family there?” You said in concern. 

“I don’t know. I should..I should check though, shouldn’t I?” 

“Definitely, go ahead. I’ll be here when you get back.”  

Only you weren’t. By the time Ellie had been done getting everyone off the bridge and safe, night had fallen and she could only assume you had left the restaurant thinking she stood you up. Or in the slight chance Ellie was lucky, you thought she went to make sure her family was safe, but she usually wasn’t. Meaning, her first attempt to be normal after..everything that happened last year had gone exactly how she thought it would. Just great.

thank you for reading!

[stellarbit]

1000 Follower Celebration

I never thought much of my work so I've waited to do celebrate until 1000. For those who've followed and anyone who liked, commented, or reblogged anything, here is an event as thanks. Please know that this blog and those in this fandom mean so much to me. I read every tag, comment, and reblog and they make my day every time.

If you've followed me for awhile you'll know my writing can be slow and fickle. As a thank you I am committing to fulfilling the requests I receive between November 23rd - November 30th. After that I'll be closing my requests until I work through them.

Now let's get to it!!

Some quick rules

Pick up to 3 prompts.

I'll take individual character requests or something like "members of the 501st/Bad Batch reacting to" requests as well.

I will be doing requests for Clones/Star Wars first and then any previous fandoms I've written for.

I will not be taking anon requests for this event

Let me know what character(s) you want.

If you have them, please state SFW/NSFW preferences

If you have them, please state what gender preference you have.

I retain the right to not write prompts that are uncomfortable/extreme for me.

Tell me as many details as you want, it really helps! You can DM me too if you'd like to discuss.

If you've submitted previous request you'd still like done, feel free to send it again. Tumblr has vanished some requests and I've never seen them again

Please be patient, I waited until life calmed down to focus on this event but writing takes time.

Prompt List

My favorite prompts are the personal ones. If you've been going through anything and you'd like comfort, distraction, or in character advice from your favs, I'm here for you. It's been helpful for me and I'd love to do that for you. Be as specific as you want <3

I'll take continuation requests for previous fics. (I am working on Two Faces pt 3 and aim to finish the Hound drabbles from the past, so if its for them don't you worry, just be patient please.)

Tropes

And there was one bed~

Love at first sight

Hate at first sight

Fake dating

Locked in together

Aphrodisiac

Amnesia

Sharing body heat

Kissing as a distaction

Dying confession

X denying their feelings for Y until Y shows interest in someone else.

X teaching Y something

Carrying bridal style

Confessing during fight

Romance/Fluff

“I think I’m in love with you.”

“I didn’t know love until you.”

“You’d be easy to love.”

“You are my equal in every way.”

“I will never stop fighting for you.”

“If there was anyone meant for me, it was you.”

“You say you love me, but you don’t know me.” “Then let me.”

“They don’t compare to you. No one does/ever has.”

“Don’t look at me like that.” “Like what?” “Like you love me.”

“I could make you feel better.”

“Beautiful.”

Angst:

“We could’ve been us.”

“I don’t want your apology.”

“It would be easier if I didn’t know you.”

“You said you wouldn’t leave and then you did.”

“I feel like I’m falling apart.”

“All I’ve ever wanted is for you to see me.”

“What is it about me that isn’t good enough?”

“At least I kept my promise.”

“Does he/she/they not know about me?”

“You look exactly the same.”

Funny&Misc

“You’re family.”

“Bite me.”

“What a pretty sight.”

“Get over it.”

“I thought you couldn’t stand me.” “I lied.”

“You’re bleeding.” “No shit.”

“Do you believe in soulmates?” “No.”

“I thought I was alone.”

“Stop staring at me to distract me.” “Oh, I’m not trying to distract you.”

“I can’t remember the last time I laughed like this.”

“Are my eyes deceiving me or is that a smile, my love?” “Oh, shut up.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen something go so wrong so fast.”

“Do you believe in soulmates?” “No.”

“What kind of dumb question is that?”

“Don’t even think about it.”

"it wouldn’t hurt you to smile you know." “it will.”

“I can do it myself.”

“What a tease.”

“I’m hilarious.” “You’re traumatized.” “Is there a difference?”

“All this sneaking around is going to get us into trouble.”

LETS DOOO IT THANK Y'ALL

[delphi-shield]

a little dream of me

Leon Kennedy x Reader x Jill Valentine Fluff wc: ~1.8k

pics from @/thisdastampdoesnotexist. gif from @/onlyasimp4-2dbitches, dividers from @/adornedwithlight

who else is up romanticizing the mundane⁉️ (<- bone crushingly lonely) this has been in my drafts forever and I was finally appropriately sleepy enough to finish it. used this fic to get back into the swing of things so it may be a lil clunky

content: fluff without plot. midday naps. established poly relationship (jill/reader, leon/reader, jill & leon). minor relationship squabbles. reader specified to have a cat and also tits.

summary: everything is a competition with these two - including who gets to keep you company while you nap.

It had seemed like the perfect day to catch up on some work. No plans, no obligations, no desire to fight the traffic. Jill had offered all of the above. She'd woken you up early with insistent kisses at your neck, mumbling her plans for a morning hike. You'd rebuffed that idea quick with an unintelligible murmur, nuzzling deeper into your pillow.

That set the tone for the day. You were still in bed by the time she was back from her hike, had only traded the warmth of your bed for the indulgence of a shower with Jill. Your face pressed between her shoulder blades, warm water cascading down. You trusted your weight against her frame, made her question whether or not you had fallen asleep standing up.

“Leon's coming over around noon,” you'd told her, words pressed into her back.

“Yeah? You two have big plans?”

She felt you shake your head. Your arms squeezed around her waist, drawing her muscled body back into you.

“Just gonna hang out here. I'm gonna get some work done.”

Fat chance, Jill thought. She kept that to herself. If she pointed out that you seemed much more inclined to have a lazy day in, you'd push back and work too hard. She was just going to let you have your illusions of productivity.

Case in point: the sunny morning haze had tempered into an overcast sky, stringy cotton candy clouds rolling into puffy, over-whipped dollops. Leon had showed up with a light lunch in hand, passing you a warm bowl of soup and Jill a cup of coffee. He settled next to you on the couch, feet kicked up on the coffee table.

It doesn't take long for your first yawn to breach containment. You snatch the blanket from the back of the couch, draping it over your lap. You dropped your laptop on top of your thighs. Still playing at the idea of work while consciousness bled out of you and into the cushions. Jill caught Leon’s eye, smirked, and turned back to her own work.

Leon laughs. He warns, “you’re playing a dangerous game.”

Maybe he was right, but telling him that was a surefire way to never hear the end of it.

“I'm just chilly,” you yawned. You pounded out a few more lazy keystrokes to prove yourself. Hope this email finds you well, you draft. Phew. Hard work.

As if she knew you needed a break after that grueling labor, your cat appeared on the cushion next to you, tail curled up behind her. She gingerly closed the distance, careful paws immediately turning heavy the moment she climbed onto your stomach.

Your laptop nudged halfway down your legs, pushed lower and lower as your cat had stepped forward and demanded more real estate. Frantic keystrokes turned to gentle, loving pets. Your laptop wobbled, balanced precariously on your shins, your cat stretching down the seam of your legs and pushing it even further.

Devious little creature. You had whined and protested while doing nothing to move the little beast from your lap. She pushed any hope of productivity away from you, and you scratched under her chin.

The final death knell for productivity sounded - the first distant rumble of thunder rolled in through your open window. All the work you had hoped to catch up on was slipping through your fingers, washed away by the patter of rain against the rooftop.

Leon rescued your laptop from toppling to the floor, shutting the lid and laying it to the side. He mussed your hair playfully, just to feel you swat weakly at his hand. He knew damn well what the next words out of your mouth were.

"I think I'm gonna take a nap," you declared, right on time. Your hands scooched carefully beneath your cat, scooping her into your arms. A gentler awakening than dumping her on the floor when you pulled your legs back, to be certain. She mewled quietly, little trill pealing from her when she bunts her head against your shoulder.

Now, here arises the issue:

“Be right there.”

“Coming.”

Jill had already risen from her chair. Leon's feet had landed on the floor. They freeze, turning to look to each other. (Oblivious to the issue, you plod down the hall, cooing to your cat.)

Leon groans as he stands, hands slapping his thighs.

“That bed ain't big enough for the two of us,” he says, wiggling his fingers by his hips like he's ready for a stand off. Out of habit, Jill scans him for weapons. Left his every day carry in the car this time, at least.

That bed is probably big enough for the two of them, realistically. The one time they tried, they had technically fit. You had been in heaven, all wrapped up in the middle. Warm and safe, wrapped up with your lovers. Meanwhile, Leon's - and I quote - gangly fucking muppet legs kept bumping into Jill, his ‘talons’ scraping her. Jill had thought she was kissing the backs of your fingers, your soft skin against her chapped lips - only to realize too late that it was Leon's hands.

It had been too close for comfort. They'd decided not to do that again, that they'd take turns and live with it. Jill had gifted Leon toe nail clippers to show that she held no ill will; Leon had lifted her chapstick.

That peace was on pause for the moment. A naptime was on the line, with no clear invitation extended to either of them. Leon is tempted to pull the ‘you live together’ card, try to sneak into your bed on a technicality - but he decides to play fair.

Leon’s fist drops heavy into his palm. “Let’s settle this.”

Jill cracks her knuckles.

“Whoa, hang on– rock, paper, scissors, not beat, maim, bludgeon. Is that how you settle things at the BSAA?”

“I always win.”

“I have no doubt.”

Jill extends her fist, taking mercy on him. No beat down today. Just rock, paper, scissors. He might actually stand a chance now.

He thinks of what motivates him - what he's fighting for, the prize on the line.

Leon could picture blanketing you with his weight, hands slipping up your waist to curve against your ribs. There's no need for a blanket; he runs hot, has a furnace-like warmth he's happy to share with you anytime, anywhere. Conversation is pointless and light, your voices mingling and muddling together in the space between you. Coherence is gone, but he curls his fingers against your ribs to pry a giggle from you. It's hard to find the time to slow down but he relishes the way that time sputters to a stand still on lazy afternoons, your fingers trailing down his spine, slower and slower until they finally stop. Maybe you're not the prettiest sleeper, but it's pretty to him. He slips in and out of sleep, head cushioned on your pillowy tits.

Leon takes the first round. Rock beats scissors - he goes so far as to bop Jill’s fingers with his fist, making a crunching noise. Jill isn't amused.

“Best two out of three,” she insists, eyes hard.

Jill has a different picture in mind. Hands pushing your hips to the mattress, a blanket tangled between your limbs. You giggled when you told her you actually intended to nap, that it wasn't an excuse for a quickie. Jill could change your mind. It would be easy. But your fingers pet through her hair, scratch at the nape of her neck, and she swears she could purr. She noses up the valley of your chest, plants a kiss dead center, and pillows her cheek against your tits. She had never been one for naps, but she grasped every moment of serenity with you tightly, watched half-lidded as your eyes fluttered shut. Her head rises and falls with your breaths. She could stay like this forever, if you let her.

Scissors beats paper. Leon throws his hand up.

“Scissors twice in a row? Who does that?”

“Me.” Jill shakes her fist, drawing his attention back to the game. “Stop stalling. I'm ready for my nap.”

“Yeah, we'll see,” he mutters.

Time slows. Surely she wouldn't throw scissors again. Who would do that?

Jill Valentine would. She would commit to the bit. She's trying to throw him off, trying to make him think she's mixing it up so she can sneak in and win. He's underestimated Jill's ability to stay the course in the past before.

Jill throws scissors. Leon throws rock. He hisses out a contained, appropriately excited ‘yesss’ as he pretends to crush Jill’s scissors again.

She rolls her eyes, tamping down a smile. She waves him off, turning back to the kitchen table.

“Yeah, whatever. Have fun.”

“Oh, I will,” he insists, already backing down the hall to the bedroom. His gloating grows quieter, trying not to disturb your rest - the smug effect diminished by the fact that he's practically whispering. “Gonna sleep for three hours. Get my cologne all over the pillows.”

Leon nudges the bedroom door open gently, and–

“Goddammit,” he mumbles.

You're already asleep. That isn't the problem. The problem is your cat is curled up on your chest. Right in the valley of your breasts, where he wanted to be. He'd been so concerned about Jill that he had forgotten his biggest competition. Taunting him, the cat stretched out, paws pressing against your chest. She curls back in, rolling onto her back, belly presented.

A trap, he thinks. He shuffles over silently to pet the enticing belly fur all the same. Furry little traitor - she places a paw against his wrist, claws flexing. A warning - don't fuck up my nap, I got here first.

Leon risks kissing your forehead. Your cat allows it, her eyes tracking his every movement. He drags himself back into the living room, throwing himself down onto the couch, slumping.

Jill peeks up from her work, brow furrowed. Before she can ask what's wrong, Leon pipes up.

“The cat beat us to it.”

“She weighs 10 pounds. You can't move a 10 pound cat?”

Leon props an arm up on the back of the couch. He levels her with a skeptical look.

“Are you gonna move her?”

Silence. Jill would rather stick her hand in a jar of barbed wire than try to move your beloved menace from your chest.

“Let's just watch a movie.” Jill shuts her laptop and drops onto the other side of the couch.

“That's what I thought.”

When you wake hours later, the house is silent. You hadn't expected to wake up alone. The storm had settled into a gentle flush of rain, the house dark and cool in the midday storm. You stumble from bed and wobble down the hall, searching for at least one of your partners.

You find both of them crashed out on the couch, Leon squished against one arm, Jill against the other - and your cat taking up the majority of space curled up into a ball on the middle cushion, napping away.

[ir-abelas-vhenan]

Losing my Mind over Veilguard 4/??

I think what's killing me the most is this "have your cake and eat it, too" mentality EA-as-Bioware has ushered in with this game.

To try and perfectly walk the line of giving old fans what they wanted/deserved and new fans something to just jump into was a tall fucking order given that they fired so many writers, and I personally feel like they fell way short.

Part of that, I think, comes from the fact that while it's certainly helpful to play Origins and then DA2 before you reach Inquisition (I'm speaking as someone who played the games backwards), I don't think Inquisition left off as a complete story the way the first two did. We had a world on the brink and pieces on the board that had so much personal stake in staying on it until Solas was handled. We had, whether the head devs wants to accept their failures regarding it or not, an entire Keep of previous choices that could have and should have informed the world going forward. I'm not saying it was sustainable to keep raising the stakes on those choices. I am saying, however, that with the time it took to get this game to us, more than three sanitized choices deserved to matter before Bioware closed the chapter on its strongest line of storytelling and moved on to RPG Lite. To give that up, to choose a new and uncertain fan base over an already dedicated one, is disappointing.

And to that end, even if we weren't going to get the Inquisitor again (which, at this point, I'm kind of thinking we should have, even if just for parts of it), I had near-constant exhaustion finding a shred of story that connected us to the previous games and then realizing it had been done in an unsatisfying way (hi, Dorian/Isabella/MORRIGAN).

I wouldn't have cared if this had been its own standalone game. There were parts of it I enjoyed, and I'm sure I'll be here shouting about those things too, soon enough. But the fact is that for every thing I appreciate about the game there are about ten more that make me mourn the nine years I spent eager to see what was coming next.

TLDR: You cannot show me a watered-down game that stands on the shoulders of stronger writing, plot, narrative, characters, etc. and the built world and depth of three previous games and multiple supplementary written works, and then expect me to be wholly accepting of the result. Veilguard gutted the rich body of work that came before it, threw enough bone shrapnel into the mix to keep people desperate to see a conclusion to events that had been building up for in-game years hanging on, and then discarded the rest with a casual sort of "deal with it, we're making way for the new" attitude.

Welcome to the new, I guess.

I intentionally waited a few days after finishing the game to sift through everything and not just rage-post immediately, so hopefully this comes across as relatable to those on a similar page and not as me telling you that you should hate the game too if you in fact are very happy with it. (Put another way: I'm not here to change minds, I'm here to scream into the ether)

[knightsofsomethingorother]

The French

Lancelot, Galahad, Hector, Bors, and Lionel

[beetlethebug]

Me in chap 4 of my chilaios angst fic giving chilchuck a surrogate daughter for like 3 paragraphs: ah yes, a little treat for our local girldad

[hurricanek8art]

WHY DOES THE HIGH REPUBLIC CONSISTENTLY FEEL LIKE IT'S PUNCHING ME IN THE THROAT WITH SITUATIONS THAT HAVE HYPERSPECIFIC EMOTIONAL SIMILARITIES TO SOMETHING I'M MENTALLY DEALING WITH AT THE TIME

[vegaseatsass]

I took a nap earlier tonight which was a luxurious and great choice on my part but now I'm fighting the impulse to fuck around online til 9am when My Stand-in 5 drops and just catch up on sleep on Saturday lol

[hyperionshipping]

Think the twins don't even care about Tricks because bandits dying is not all that concerning and I think people assumed "that little dog of Jack's" died with him.

I think Tricks only becomes a hassle sometime later on. But no one can seem to find him... Lilith keeps dealing with vandalization and her already small crew getting picked off ("It's like a professional is hitting us. I... I think I know who it is") and, I think, just because he can he fucks with streams/the towers. He's got so much hate in his body.

Oh, and Jack's shield. Now you see him, now you don't, and now a corrosive bullets lodged in the worst spot it could be. Killing you agonizingly slow! If he doesn't shoot again and... oh. He did already

[c0rpsedemon]

it's soooo fucked to think about how everything that's ever happened in your life is connected, no matter how mundane. what do you Mean my 5th grade teacher's seating arrangement is the reason i lived past the age of 13

[melonpond]

I friggin love arts and crafts

[silverselfshippingchaos]

h.aar deserves sooo many kisses

[elliewithcellie]

Protector

summary: After months working for the BAU, your harbored feelings for your boss seem unrequited until your hunt for the unsub goes awry. (hotch x fem!reader)

wc: 9.8k (oh my god)

cw: slow burn, boss/employee dynamic, age gap pairing, criminal minds level violence, mention of alcoholism, implication of father issues, hurt/comfort, reader gets hurt, fluff, angst, SMUT (18+ MDNI), oral (f receiving), p in v sex, Hotch is a professional at heart and takes work boundaries seriously

a/n: Back in the saddle with a new man to hyper-fixate on. Hotch can GET IT. Also, let me know if anyone wants the SFW version I'm working on

“Looks like we’re doubling up,” Hotch announced, a sigh escaping his lips.

Before you could even process his words, the rest of the team sounded off, choosing their roommates for the duration of the case. All that remained were you and your boss. With the team dispersing, you awkwardly shifted your duffle bag to your other shoulder and looked up at Hotch.

His stern expression didn’t change as he looked back at you. “Come on. We’re 202.”

You followed him to the elevators, still unsure what to think. This was not only your boss but someone you had garnered quite a fondness for since you joined the BAU. Of course, you had managed yourself professionally thus far, but you were sure this was going to test your limits.

You understood the immediate pairings among the rest of the team. You were still fairly new, not quite to the rapport that the team had formed with each other. But it also made you think about how no one chose Hotch. The pressure to be Unit Chief also had to be lonely.

The elevator chimed, and the two of you shuffled in. You kept to yourself, trying to maintain composure. The lift from the first floor to the second felt like an hour, the silence deafening. You couldn’t shake your nerves. The doors opened, and he stepped out. You quickly followed.

Hotch opened the door and allowed you in first. The two double beds, office chair, mini fridge, and small bathroom were all less comforting to you than normal.

“Do you mind if I take the bed by the door?” Hotch asked, his voice softer than usual.

You blinked up at him, stirred from your preoccupation. “Yeah, of course. I like the window side anyway.”

“Thank you. If you’d like, you can have the shower first. I’d like to call Jack before he heads to bed.”

“Sounds good.”

You began to unpack your belongings and sighed in dismay. You had assumed that you would have a room to yourself as usual, so your pajamas were a little more revealing than you’d prefer your boss to see. Still, a t-shirt and shorts were reasonable sleep attire, so you tried not to dwell on it. You collected your things as Hotch dialed a number on his phone.

“Hey, buddy, how was your day?”

You smiled to yourself as you entered the bathroom. His “dad” voice was more upbeat, yet calm and soothing. With Hotch distracted on the phone, you could relax in the shower. The boiling water stung your skin, just the way you needed it. As you relaxed, you realized how silly it was for you to stress over the rooming situation. Hotch was here to do his job, just like you. And other than his intelligence, his kindness, and his fierce compassion for kids, you were sure you were only infatuated with him.

You finished up your shower and towel-dried your hair once you could no longer hear his muffled voice through the door. You were desperate not to waste Hotch’s time. With your hair still wet and your large t-shirt hanging over your shorts, you timidly exited the bathroom back to your bed, on your toes as if you were sneaking around. Hotch sat on his bed, his coat jacket now on the desk chair. He flipped through channels with the remote in one hand and loosened his tie with the other.

“All yours,” you spoke, struggling to get the words out.

Hotch looked up at you and gave a small smile. “Thanks.” He gathered up his things and closed the bathroom door behind him.

Another sigh of relief left your lips. You grabbed the book from your duffle and climbed into bed. You rolled over to turn on the lamp next to you and began to read, but before you knew it, sleep overtook you.

------

“Hotchner.”

You woke up to Hotch answering his phone. The sky was still dark. The only light illuminating the room was the alarm clock. You realized that you hadn’t turned off the lamp before you fell asleep, nor did you place your book carefully on the side table with a hotel pen as the bookmark.

“Alright. Yes. Right. Understood. We’ll be right over.”

You looked up at Hotch expectantly. He looked at you, then averted his eyes as he got out of bed. “Another young girl missing. She’s only 16.” He paced the floor for a moment, a short-lived break from the stoic leader he always has to be.

“I’ll call the others,” you said sitting up. His eyes returned to yours, the strain turning into relief. He only nodded and headed for the closet, suiting up right there.

You called the others and followed suit, leaving the hotel parking lot by 3:46 am.

------

The next 18 hours were long, stressful, and only moderately successful. The team was able to work out an arrangement with the kidnapper before their 24 hours were up. The girl, Heather, was returned to her parents with only a few bruises. But the kidnapper got away, practically goading you all at the ability to remain anonymous. The team was exhausted and out of ideas.

The team drove back to the hotel without a single word exchanged. The kidnapper’s voice rang in your head. He was so confident, arrogant even. There was almost never a moment where he fumbled over his words or cracked. His ruse lasted for hours. But he got sloppy in the end, fessing up to her location just enough for Garcia to triangulate. But something wasn’t adding up to you: his willingness to run instead of killing her when he had the chance.

Hotch spoke up, stirring you from your ruminations. “We need to start from scratch. Reid, give us a rundown on what, where, and why.”

“Well, we know his victims are all young women now ranging from 16 to 23. They come from middle to upper-class families. He sends messages to the families always demanding ransom within 24 hours. Three women have been killed, and now two have survived. The strange part is whether or not he stays truthful to his word. The parents have always given him what he wants, but then it’s up to his discretion whether he follows through.”

 “Based on these girls,” Prentiss interjected, “this guy’s intelligent. He prides himself on the ability to get away with this.”

“That’s good,” Hotch said, eyes still on the road. “But why work with us sometimes and not others?

The SUV hummed as its passengers sat in silence.   

You decided to speak up. “Prentiss said he prides himself on the ability to get away with this, right?” Everyone sat still, expectant for you to continue. “We’re looking at this the wrong way. This isn’t a sadist who gets off on killing. This isn’t a psychopath with a compulsion. This is a narcissistic sociopath who has been evading capture for weeks now. This is a game to him. It’s a game he knows he can win.”

“Which is why when he’s pressured, he releases the girl.” Hotch nodded along.

“He can take a loss where he can because, to him, the ultimate win is to not get caught,” Reid agreed.

“Great work,” Hotch said, parking the car. “You guys head in and get some good sleep. I’ll fill in the other van. Be ready for a big day of planning.”

You walked up with Reid and Prentiss, a small smile refusing to leave your lips. You cracked it, you thought to yourself.

Your two teammates teased each other up to the rooms, you following close behind. You weren’t the type to inject yourself into other people’s conversations, which ended up making it hard to connect with them. It was as if you had been adopted into a family that has known each other their whole lives. You were respected, sure, so there was no need to complain. You just wished that you could make jokes with them and have the levity they had during intense cases like this.

Still, even hearing your teammates laugh was enough for you tonight. You longed for a moment longer, but they said their goodnights and headed off.

You entered your room, much more relaxed than the night before. You had yourself all worked up, and for what? You gathered your things and headed to the shower, sure that Hotch wasn’t far behind and would call his son again.

As you exited the bathroom, Hotch entered the room. You jumped despite yourself.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said.

“It’s ok,” was all you said in response. You returned your things to your bag and slid into bed. You turned on the lamp and began reading while Hotch took his turn in the shower.

You were still reading when he returned, the book more interesting now than it was the night before. You glanced up only for a moment. Hotch wore striped pajama pants tonight, contrasted to the boxers you accidentally noticed earlier that morning. You looked back at your book but couldn’t read it. Your mind wandered to the message Hotch could be sending. Maybe your shorts were inappropriate. Maybe you weren’t meant to see his boxer shorts at all. Maybe he was just cold.

“Good work today,” Hotch said, interrupting your thoughts.

You smiled up at him. “It was a team effort.”

“We may have never come to the conclusion you did. Take the compliment.” Hotch’s lips raised to a subtle smirk, something you’ve only seen a handful of times and certainly never directed toward you.

“Yes, sir,” you said. “Thank you.” You couldn’t help but smile to yourself. Your eyes drifted back to your book.

“What’s your book about?”

Was Hotch trying to make conversation with you? True, it wasn’t as late as yesterday’s arrival, but in all of your months of working for the BAU, any discussion with the team had been strictly professional. Still, you blushed at the question.

“It’s a romance,” you confessed.

“I have to say,” Hotch began, “I’ve never read a romance novel. What about it appeals to you?”

You thought for a moment. “I guess it’s the suspension of disbelief. The relief to enter a reality where people love in big, romantic ways. Don’t you ever want to get swept off your feet?”

You cringed at the question, debating on whether it was appropriate to ask your superior about romance.

“I think I’d rather do the sweeping,” Hotch said thoughtfully.

You smiled at his words.

“You don’t think people love in romantic ways in this reality?” Hotch asked, looking up at the ceiling. His breaths were calm, and his face seemed to soften from serious to curious.

“I don’t know,” you said sincerely. “My sister is about to marry a real stand-up guy. He’s caring and has a good family who loves her, too. It’s one of those one-and-done fairy tale deals. Like truly made for each other. But I wouldn’t say that’s the norm. It’s not my norm, at least. So, yeah, I guess you could say I’m skeptical.”

You crossed your legs and fiddled with your thumbs. You tried not to reflect on your history, tried not to give any clue to your boss of your true beliefs. It didn’t ultimately matter to the conversation, anyway. The silence stewed as it stirred up new thoughts and old patterns, feeling yourself shut down the conversation. You didn’t mean to. You hated being seen as the one that was boring outside of work. The one that wasn’t friendly enough to get to know.

“I’m sure you don’t know,” Hotch began again, shaking you from your anxious thoughts, “but bringing up your sister reminded me that I met your dad a few years ago.”

You shot up. “You know about him?” You covered your face with your hands.

“He was nationally awarded for his work in counterterrorism. Of course, I know about him.” He laughed softly, a sound you weren’t used to but would never complain to hear it again. “I met him on a job in Bakersfield. He knew the town like the back of his hand. Is he why you joined?”

“In a roundabout way,” you sighed.

“He brought up his girls every chance he could.” Hotch smiled and turned to face you. “One was a soccer star in South Carolina on track to be a doctor. One was a track star a semester away from graduating with honors and applying to Physician Assistant programs, I believe.”

“My sisters are overachievers,” you said.

“Then it’s you he talked about the most. The musician, the future psychologist, the one who found fascination with the minute details of life.”

“My dad said all that?”

“He did. He had offered us beers when it was all over, and he shared photos of you all. You’re certainly much more grown now.” He chuckled.

Your cheeks flushed red at the comment.

“I showed him Jack playing tee-ball, and we both shared some stories before it was time to go. He had some great advice to give.”

“I’m sure he did,” you mumbled. “Sir, I don’t want you to think I got in because of him. He didn’t know until I made it to Quantico. I mean, yes, he always pushed the army and West Point like him, but I did this all on my own, Mr. Hotchner, I swear.”

“Hotch is fine,” he gently corrected. “I’m not worried about where you came from. I knew the entire time. But your qualifications are what got you on the team, not your father. Keep up the good work, and I’ll continue to remember that.”

“Yes, sir.” You thought to yourself for a moment. The candor of the conversation may have added to your bravery in this moment. “Hotch?”

He raised his eyebrows to imply he was listening.

“Umm, Is there anything that I can do to, like… never mind. I’m about to sound pathetic.” You huffed back down into your pillow. You couldn’t believe you were about to ask Hotch how to make friends.

“They’ll warm up to you, just like you’ll warm up to them. Just keep doing what you’re doing, and I’m sure they’ll see you for who you are.”

You sighed again. Of course, he knew what you were stressing about. He’s the chief profiler after all.

“I’ll let you read now,” Hotch said, getting up from bed. “I’m going to call Jack.”

You gave a small smile and nodded, and he left the room.

------

You woke up the next morning to Hotch returning to the room, two disposable coffee cups and a case file in his hands.

You jerked up from bed. “Am I late?” you asked, scared you slept through the alarm.

“No, no,” he said, walking over to you. “I’m early. Coffee?”

He held out one of the cups to you. You gently accepted.

“Thank you.” You looked over at the clock. 5:54. You rubbed your eyes. “Are you always up this early?”

“On the job, yes,” he said with no inflection. “Much to think about, and much to be done.” He sat back on his bed and reviewed the file you knew he had reviewed countless times. If he was anything like you, he was searching for some hidden puzzle piece, something that the team must have missed to solve the case once and for all. But it was never that easy. Still, maybe some fresh eyes could help.

You slid out of your bed and rested on top of his. “Can I help?”

“Be my guest.” He shifted the file your way for a better vantage point. You crossed your legs and sipped your coffee before getting to work.

You found yourself lost in thought, jotting down those thoughts in the margins. It helped to visualize your connections, even drawing physical lines to connect them. You noticed that the most recent girl didn’t fit the age range of the others, 19-23. You dug deeper, making a note to ask Garcia to run the connection between all of these girls. College? you wrote. There was a college campus within ten minutes of the hotel. One more thing struck you. All of the victims had their hair up in a high ponytail. You weren’t sure how that was associated yet, but you wrote beside each of the photos anyway.

As the early sun began to rise, you grew brutally aware of Hotch’s presence. His body leaned closer to yours, and you felt his eyes sear into your skin. You grew distracted, your mind wandering to the fact that you were wearing only a loose shirt and small shorts in Hotch’s bed. Was he noticing the same thing? Was this a breach of professionalism? Were you making him uncomfortable? Against all your will, you felt your body temperature rise in the form of a blush.

The alarm clock rang out, pulling both Hotch and your attention. You stretched over to turn it off.

“I’ll let you get ready,” Hotch said, jumping out of bed. He headed to the door, refusing to meet your gaze. “Meet me downstairs?”

“Yes, sir,” you said, slightly surprised by the questioning tone of your superior. He nodded and left the room before another word could be spoken.

-------

In the conference room of the local police station sat the team, all watching Hotch interact with the captain of the squad through the glass. You stayed facing the table with your head low. You couldn’t help the bounce of your leg. While the others inferred the conversation outside, your mind had fixated on the morning’s events. The heat of your boss’s breath had tattooed your skin, a branding to the back of your neck. The intimacy, the closeness, and then the flustered nature Hotch left in replayed in your mind. You couldn’t look at him until you could properly collect yourself.

“What’s on your mind, kiddo?” Morgan asked. Your head shot up. All eyes were on you now. You failed to hide the rouging in your cheeks.

“Nothing.” You shrugged, though you knew the contradiction in your body language.

JJ chuckled. “Nothing? You’re so tense, so distracted.”

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours, huh?” Morgan asked again, a smile growing on his face. “Hotch keeping you up all night?”

You flinched at his name. You couldn’t help it, but you outed yourself all the same.

“No, I slept fine. I swear.”

“You flinched!” Prentiss laughed and pointed. “It is about Hotch, isn’t it?”

“Leave the poor girl alone,” Rossi said, not bothering to look up from his newspaper.

“Hon, you better tell us what happened in the next three seconds.” Derek swatted at Spencer’s chest. “Reid, help us out, here.”

“Based on the months we’ve known her, she tends to—”

 “Don’t you start profiling me, Reid.” You glared at Spencer across the table.

His arms shot up in the air as if to surrender, but a smirk remained on his face. “All I’m saying is that I know the physical signs of a crush when I see one.”

Your jaw dropped. The conference room filled with laughter.

“Leave her alone!” Garcia yelled from behind you. “She’s our sensitive little one!”

“I’m not 5,” you mumbled, crossing your arms. Penelope hugged you from behind as if to protect you from the others. The others continued to laugh, causing you to smile despite yourself. Morgan took a photo of you and Garcia, and warmth spread through you. Even with all the teasing, being here with the team felt good.

Just then Hotch rushed through the door. “Alright, let’s be seated and get to work. We have a big day ahead of us.” Garcia took her seat, but Hotch stayed standing, opting to position himself in front of the whiteboard. “After speaking with the captain and going through the case file with Y/N this morning, I determined our best attack on the situation. Though, it is rather unorthodox.”

The rest of the team stayed silent, waiting for the punchline. Hotch continued. “What do we know about our killer better than anything? His victimology. We know that he goes after girls and young women aged 16-23. They are middle to upper-class, and not the type to find themselves in trouble. Now, who do we all know who fits this very description?”

“Y/N,” Reid said.

All eyes returned to you, this time with a seriousness looming in the air.

“If we don’t want any other kidnappings, we need to give him what he wants. Going after the 16-year-old was off for him. He’s devolving. Which means we need to act fast before he kills again. This is the only way we can approach this head-on.”

“Hotch,” Emily began, “with all due respect, let me take this on. Or JJ. JJ has experience.”

“With his victimology going as low as 16 now, it should be someone who looks the part,” Reid replied.

“She’s just a kid, Hotch.” Morgan reached his hand toward your shoulder, but you gently nudged it away.

“But I’m not a kid at all,” you spoke up. “I have two degrees and the same job as the rest of you. I know I’m young and look younger, but I’m qualified. If my appearance can be used to put this guy away, then let me help. Let me do my job.” You looked up at Hotch, a sudden confidence flowing through your veins. “What do you need me to do?”

-------

For the rest of the day, the team helped you prepare for your role as a 22-year-old college student. The team strategized and planned, desperate to ensure your safety. Everyone added their two cents, but you were happy to receive all the insight you were given. You weren’t going to screw this up for them.

You, Hotch, Prentiss, and Morgan returned to the hotel to pick among your belongings to dress the part. Rossi, Reid, and JJ stayed behind with Garcia to set up intel at the station.

“The shorts you wore to bed,” Hotch began, “go put those on while we find a sweatshirt or jacket. In fact, wear the shirt you wore, too. The size could conceal the mic better.”

You nodded and grabbed your things before heading into the bathroom. It was not lost on you that your boss was thoroughly aware of your pajama situation, but due to the pivotal role you were to perform, it was easier to focus on the task at hand.

You returned from the bathroom where Emily greeted you with the mic. You lifted your arms, allowing Emily to snake the mic underneath your shirt, securing it to your sternum with sports tape. While doing so, Hotch and Morgan returned with a single sweatshirt in Morgan’s hand. It was grungy and old, not quite the goal aesthetic.

Still, Morgan handed it to you to try on. The three profilers evaluated your look.

“This isn’t gonna work,” Morgan said. Prentiss pinched her eyebrows together in dismay. Hotch stayed staring.

“Take off the sweatshirt,” Hotch ordered. “I think I have something better.”

You did as he said while he rummaged through his duffle bag. He pulled out a quarter zip of excellent quality, something he only wears on a successful plane ride home.

“Put it on.”

You didn’t hesitate to follow his instructions. It was a large fit, hanging just above the hem of your shorts and the sleeves landing at your fingertips. The three of them looked at you, then to their reference photos, then back at you. Something was missing.

“Call Reid. Maybe he can find any other similarity we’re missing,” Hotch said.

“No, I got it.” You remembered the notes you made earlier that morning. You took the hair tie from your wrist and pulled your hair up into a high ponytail. “Now, what do you think?”

“That’s it,” Morgan said.

“And just in time,” Emily noted, “We gotta get you to the college fast.”

On the ride to the school, Hotch reiterated the goals in place.

“All you need to do is walk across campus using the roads. Keep to yourself, and most importantly, do not—and I mean it—do NOT, get into the vehicle under any circumstances. Stall him, flirt with him, do anything you can to keep him in place. We’ll be right there. Got it?”

“Yes, sir. I got it.”

“We’re counting on you.”

“Good luck.” Prentiss smiled with seriousness behind her eyes.

Morgan grabbed your shoulder, turning you around. “Be smart, kiddo.”

You returned a small smile and left the van to venture on your walk.

------

You had to have walked the streets for at least an hour. The campus was massive, larger than any school you attended. You did as you were told and kept to yourself. The sun had long since set, so there was no warmth to guard you from the biting breeze. A car or two passed periodically, but none slowed down beside you. There was a peace in the solitude. One could chalk it up to the calm before the storm, but you weren’t afraid.

Another car passed, but this time it slowed down. Your heart stopped and landed in your throat.

“Excuse me,” the man called out. The voice was unforgettable. The very same voice that threatened to kill the girl over the phone. The voice that replayed in your mind for hours. You knew it was him.

You turned to face him, trying to commit every detail to memory. He was a conventionally attractive man with lighter hair and a smile that you would have swooned over under any other circumstance. He wore a white polo and jeans and drove a two-door black convertible with the top down.

“Sorry,” he said. “I’m looking for a party my buddy’s throwing, but I don’t go here.”

“I’ll say you don’t,” you chuckled as you walked closer. “Your car must cost my tuition!”

The man grinned. “You like? I could take you for a spin. But I’ll have you know; I like to go fast.”

“Mmmm, top-down, wind in my hair,”—you inched closer still, to feign some sort of interest— “but don’t you have a party you’re missing?”

“Well, if you show me where to go, maybe I’ll consider you my plus one.” He winked.

“Now, do I look like the partying type to you?” You laughed and rested your arms on his car door.

Without another word, he grabbed you by the upper arms and pulled you into the driver’s seat. You screamed at the top of your lungs. You tried to fight him from your disadvantaged position, but he was stronger, quicker. He forced you into the passenger seat as he wailed punch after punch into your jaw.

“Nice. Girls. Don’t. Scream!” he yelled. He punctuated his words with one final blow to the head. And as you drifted out of consciousness, you weren’t sure if the roof was closing above you or if the sky was turning black.

------

The sound of fireworks stirred you from your unconsciousness. Lights of reds and blues lit the night sky. You smiled at the serenity of the celebration. You didn’t want to go, but the strong hands beneath you lifted you away. You were much too tired to argue, his heartbeat lulling you to sleep. The faint words “stay with me” echoed in your mind, and if staying meant remaining in the comfort of the person who held you, you’d be content to stay there forever.

------

You woke up to blinding white lights. This must be heaven you assumed. You blinked through the searing lights and realized it wasn’t heaven at all. You were in a hospital. The sheets, the gown, the blinking monitors, and a small TV playing all clouded your senses. You reached up to rub your head, but someone was holding your hand.

Hotch moved with you, stirring him out of his strained slumber. He had pulled a chair to your bed, his head resting next to your knee. He lifted his head and looked up at you, an urgency deep within his eyes.

“How are you feeling?” He didn’t let go of your hand.

“I—uhhh—Hotch, what’s goin’ on?” You found your breathing quickening at the sound of your slurred speech, the confusion becoming too much to handle.

“You’re ok. You’re gonna be ok. The doctor said they want to keep you overnight, but the team’s on their way.”

“No, no.” You pulled your hand away. “They can’t see me like this. You can’t see me like this! I’m not put together. I—I feel like I'm gonna be sick. I can’t feel my arms. Are my hands shaking? I'm freaking out. I'm freaking out!”

Hotch all but jumped at your ramblings, his eyebrows raised in shock. Before he could answer you burst into tears.

“Hotch, I’m gonna be sick,” you said through your convulsions.

Hotch jumped up in search of a bucket. He grabbed the trashcan at the corner of the room and brought it to you just in time. Tears streamed down your face as you threw up into the trashcan. Hotch held your hair back and gently rubbed your back.

Your nausea subsided, but your panic remained. Hotch sat on the bed, pulling you into his chest. You gripped him with all your might, desperate for the shakes to go away.

“You're alright. You're safe, ok? I think the medicine is messing with you a little. Take some deep breaths for me. I need you to relax, ok?”

You tried to take breaths at the pace Hotch set. Hotch’s hand combed through your hair as he tried to soothe you. Eventually, you were able to cool off. Hotch gently rested you back on your pillow. “Why don’t we go back to sleep for a little, ok? I think you’ll feel better when you wake up.”

You nodded, your face still wet from the tears. You repositioned yourself and fell asleep within moments.

When you woke up again, your mind was your own. Your head was pounding, and your body ached. You allowed yourself to adjust to your environment before searching for Hotch. There he sat by your bed, talking to a nurse. You cleared your throat effortfully. Hotch stood and approached you.

“How are you?”

“Everything hurts.”

“They’re giving you ibuprofen now. It seems like you were reacting to the morphine poorly.”

“That’s embarrassing.”

“Not at all,” Hotch said seriously. “Do you remember what I told you? That they want to keep you overnight?”

“That does ring a bell,” you said as you rubbed your head. “Is the team here?”

“They are. I told them to wait outside until you were ready.”

“Oh, ok.” You thought for a moment. “Hotch?”

“Yes?”

“Can—Can you tell me what happened? Like, did we win? Is everyone ok?”

Hotch chuckled, but his eyes appeared sad. “Everyone is fine. We got him. Are you sure you want to talk about this now? Why don’t we wait until you—”

“Hotch. Please.”

Hotch sighed and took a moment to think. “Well, we knew we were looking for an expensive convertible thanks to you.” He smiled. “So, we began our search as you spoke. But then, we all heard you scream.”

You flinched at the word, your memory of the gruesome event beginning to reassemble.

“Of course, it was full speed at that point. He had you, and we weren’t going to lose you. We cornered him on a dead-end road just outside of campus. We didn’t let him get far. Prentiss shot out one of his tires, so he started running. Prentiss and Morgan ran for him, and I ran to you.”

He paused. He looked away as his bottom lip trembled. He took a deep breath in as he settled into his natural professionalism again.

“We had EMT on standby, so we were able to get here quickly.”

You nodded, realizing it was Hotch who carried you out. The fireworks, the lights, the “stay with me”, the reality of it all crashed in on you in the form of a shudder.

“It was you?” you asked.

Hotch knit his eyebrows together and tilted his head. “What do you mean?”

“You pulled me out. I felt you. I think I heard you.”

“Someone had to make sure you were ok.”

The fact that it was Hotch warmed your heart. Still, a question lingered in your mind. “Is he still alive?”

Hotch shook his head no.

“Mm,” was all you could say in response. There was no room for emotion. No time to process an opinion. You were just glad it was over. “What time is it?”

Hotch checked his watch. “It’s 2:43.”

“In the morning? Sir, with all good intentions, go to bed. Go tell the team to—”

Just behind Hotch, you caught a glimpse of Spencer in the doorway. “Is now a good time?” he asked.

You smiled and nodded. Spencer peeked his head back out and in a loud whisper said, “It’s clear! Go, go, go!”

The rest of the team hustled into the room and crowded around your bed. One by one, greetings and gentle hugs made their rounds, and your smile grew bigger and bigger.

“It’s a party now,” you said, a giggle bubbling out of your throat.

“Oh, she’s got the right idea,” JJ said as she sat close to you on the bed. She carefully moved a strand of hair from your face.

Prentiss laughed. “All we need now is some good music, a dance floor, and some drinks.”

The room filled with a few laughs and overall agreement.

“Too bad you all aren’t even supposed to be here,” Hotch said, slightly scolding the team. “It’s probably time for you all to call it a night.”

“Aw, Hotch, just a few minutes?” Garcia asked.

“We’ll be quiet!” Reid said.

Everyone looked at Hotch expectantly. You looked around at your teammates. They all were begging for a couple more minutes with you. That alone allowed your pain to subside.

Hotch sighed. “Just a couple more minutes.” A small smile formed on his face.

Everyone crowded around the bed, content murmurs and chatter filling the room again.

“Now be honest, guys. How bad do I look?” You shot them all a cheesy smile to sell it.

A few of them chuckled at your antics.

“I think you’ll be back to dating in no time,” Prentiss joked. “Guys love a badass scar.”

“Yeah, ’cause she was dating before,” JJ teased as she played with your hair.

“Shut up!” you giggled, coughing a little.

“I’ll get you water.” Hotch shot up and walked off.

“I’ll go with him,” Rossi said, sighing.

A seriousness enveloped the room. Derek was the first to speak up. “You know, you really scared us today, kiddo. Not to get all big brother on you, but it was tough seeing Hotch carrying you like that. Just limp.”

“And imagine how Hotch must have felt,” Reid said.

You looked up at him. “What do you mean?”

Just then Hotch and Rossi returned with your water.

“Drink,” he said, his arm outstretched. You grabbed the water from him, your fingers overlapping his. The memory of his hands shot through your spine. His frantic begging for you to stay with him, much more panicked than you remembered the phrase.

Imagine how Hotch must have felt.

“It’s getting late,” Rossi said.

The rest of the team grumbled and said their goodbyes. Hotch allowed the rest of the team to go, lingering in the room with you.

“If you need me to stay, I’d be happy to do so.”

“You need sleep, sir.”

“I’ll sleep on the plane,” he said as if it was nothing to him. “If you don’t think you’ll need me, I can let you be. We can be here early to pick you up.”

You thought for a moment. You didn’t want him to go, just in case. “Would you be willing to stay?”

“It’s why I offered.”

You felt your lip begin to tremble, the brave face for the rest of the team beginning to fade. “Hotch?”

“What can I do?”

“Well, I just… Can I use your phone? I think my mom should know I’m alright.”

“Of course.” He handed you his phone. “I’ll wait right outside for you.”

When the phone call was finished, Hotch returned and sat down in the chair.

“If you’re going to stay, I at least want you comfortable,” you said.

“The chair is fine,” Hotch said, taking his coat off for the first time today. “Get some sleep.”

You scooted to the side of your bed. “Here. At least sit up here where there’s some cushion.”

He didn’t respond right away. You knew you could convince him.

“I promise I’ll sleep,” you continued. “I’d be up worrying about your discomfort otherwise.”

Hotch sighed and stood up. “Only because I want you to sleep.”

He sat in the space you made for him at your feet. He stretched his legs alongside yours and rested his back against the footboard of the hospital bed.

You couldn’t help but smile to yourself as you curled up on your side. The comfort in knowing that he was there to take care of you was enough to send you off to sleep in minutes.

“Goodnight, Hotch.”

“Goodnight.”

------

You woke up to something you had never seen before. Hotch was asleep at the foot of your bed, resting his head against your shins. A hand was placed just below your knee as if he planned to protect you in his sleep. It was the most peaceful you had ever seen him. He didn’t look cross or serious. He was calm and relaxed. You smiled to yourself. You had to fight the urge to return his touch. You knew the moment he woke up he’d return to his professional senses, and you weren’t quite ready for this moment to be over.

The doctor walked in to check on you, stirring him awake, anyway.

“I’m clearing you. Take these twice a day. Your jaw is going to be sore for a couple weeks, so work up to crunchy and chewy foods. And please, no strenuous activity for at least a full week.”

“Yes, ma’am,” you said, taking the bottle of pills.

“Thank you,” Hotch said. He stood up from your bed as the doctor left. He threw his jacket on and fixed his hair in the window’s reflection.

You sat up and swung your legs off the bed. Hotch spun around and met you at your side.

“How can I help?”

You chuckled. “I think I can stand on my own.”

His eyes shared signs of concern and disbelief. Still, he took a small step back and allowed you to gather your bearings. Standing on your own, you closed the small gap between you. You began to become painstakingly aware of your attire being only a hospital gown and rubber socks.

“You got it?” Hotch asked, his arms out like you were a baby taking your first steps.

“Mmhmm,” you said. “Are my clothes here?”

“Yes, let me grab them for you.” He rushed to the corner of the room where your clothes had been neatly folded, including his sweater. He handed them all to you, his hands brushing against yours. Your heart fluttered in your chest as he stood over you. You looked up at him. His eyes returned your gaze, though you weren’t able to read him. His chest rose and fell as if his breathing was slow and deliberate.

“I’m going to call the team,” Hotch said, his voice low. “Do you—do you need help with anything before I do?”

All you could do was shake your head no on instinct, your eyes not leaving his. He stayed still. His eyes scanned you like he was contemplating something. He backed up carefully and pulled his phone from his coat pocket.

“Wait,” you said.

He froze.

You felt your face redden as you worked up the courage to continue. “Could—could you untie the top for me? My shoulder—”

“You don’t have to explain,” he said softly as he inched forward again. “Turn around.”

You did as you were told. He brushed your hair over your shoulder and began to work on the knot. His calloused fingers feathered your skin. His warm breath betrayed you as chills ran down your spine. He untied the knot, allowing cool air to reach the back of your now-open gown. Hotch turned to leave.

“Be careful,” he said at the door. “If you need me, knock on the glass.”

You nodded.

He closed the door behind him, leaving you alone.

------

The drive from the hospital to the hotel rendered the air stale. Hotch had insisted on helping you out of the hospital and into the car. But he didn’t speak. He drove while you sat in the back seat. Every once in a while, you’d catch him checking on you in the rear-view mirror, only to direct his attention back to the road.

When you returned to the hotel, Hotch stopped you from leaving the car.

“I’ll grab your things. You stay here.”

“I can get my things just fine.”

“Your bag is heavy. Doctor’s orders. No strenuous activity. Stay here.”

You huffed and sat back in your seat as Hotch closed the door for you.

The plane ride was the same: silent. Hotch sat opposite you as if he refused to allow you to leave his sight. But he kept to himself all the same. The others rested or played their card games, but you stayed put, almost waiting for Hotch to make his next move. He didn’t speak the entire flight.

Upon your return, Hotch dismissed the rest of the team.

“Thank you for the hard work this weekend. Rest up, and I will see you all Monday.”

You all headed out to leave, but Hotch stopped you. “Let me take you home,” he said.

You sighed. “Is driving a strenuous task now?”

“It’s late, and I’m not asking,” he said, returning your attitude.

You followed him to his car. He carried both his and your bag and placed them in the backseat before joining you up front.

Again, not a word was spoken between the two of you. You felt your blood boiling beneath your skin. It was as if the trip never happened, as if the distance between you never closed. The babying was the worst of all. You were sure he was seeing you as the rest of the team did now, incapable, fragile, only a child.

Hotch walked you up to your apartment. He waited for you to open your door, placing your bag directly inside.

“Well,” you began, “I guess I’ll see you Monday.”

He stood in your doorway for a moment, something on his mind. “Are you sure you’re ok? Is there anything else you think you may need before I go?”

“Hotch, what is all this?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

You tried to maintain your sanity, but the anger had bubbled into your throat. “All this, this, this coddling! You’re treating me like I’m fragile or, or useless!”

“Do I have to remind you that you were in the hospital this morning?” Hotch asked, aggravation coating his throat.

“I don’t need this from you, too, ok? The rest of them, I can take it, but you were different! I thought you were different.”

Hotch closed the door behind him and crossed his arms. “What are you talking about?”

“Have you not noticed that all of them treat me like I’m a child? Derek literally calls me kiddo, and the girls act like I’m some innocent girl fresh out of high school. Reid and JJ are five years older than me. That’s it! Rossi, forget it. I’m like a grandchild to him at this point. But you, you never belittled me. So, what is this? Did I fail you? I’d rather you just tell me than refuse to speak to me.”

“I – you didn’t fail me. How could you think that?”

“You couldn’t even look at me after the hospital.”

Hotch’s face turned a light shade of pink, his eyes leaving yours for only a moment. “We were successful because of you. But you got hurt. I just want to make sure you’re ok. That’s all.”

You thought for a moment, still not satisfied with his answer. “Then why didn’t you talk to me? I thought we were—I thought maybe there was something—”

“Please,” Hotch interrupted, “don’t say anything you might regret.” He took a step back.

“Are you saying I’m imagining this? That I imagined this morning?”

“No, no, no. We’re not doing this.”

“The coffee, the book put away neatly,”

“I would do that for anyone.”

“What about when you stormed out yesterday? When we were going over the file on your bed.” Your voice started to shake.

“That’s when I—I realized we had to use you.” He looked down, almost ashamed.

Your heart pounded in your chest, fear that you’ve outed yourself and maybe you were more delusional than you thought.

“This morning…” you said.

“You asked for my help, and I helped you. Just like I’m happy to do for you now if you need. Look, it’s late, and you’ve gone through a lot.”

“Then what did Reid mean?”

Hotch looked back up at you. He looked nervous, something you may have never seen in his eyes before. “What do you mean?”

“He said imagine how you must have felt when you found me. What did he mean by that if it doesn’t mean you care about me?”

“Of course, I care about you!” he exclaimed, moving closer to you. “I almost lost you! And when I found you, I thought you were gone. You were lifeless. So, forgive me for wanting to be careful with you, because I refuse to let that happen again. I refuse to lose you again.”

You looked at him in shock.

He sighed. “I shouldn’t have said any of this. Listen, the only reason you’re feeling anything for me is because it’s me you woke up to. Nothing more. If Reid or Morgan found you, the same thing would happen with them.”

“Do not chalk this up to some damsel in distress situation,” you said a little too boldly. “The whole team knows I have a thing for you.”

Now Hotch was in shock. He shook his head. “It’s not me you want.”

“You don’t know what I want.”

“I know you’re desperate for romance in your life because you either don’t make time for it in real life or were burned so bad in the past, that you gave it up entirely.”

“Hotch, don’t you dare profile me right now.”

“I know you have a rocky relationship with men in general, rooted in your relationship with your father.”

“Stop it, now.”

“You refuse to associate with him in any way. You don’t even allow us to call you by your last name. He views you differently from your sisters for some reason, and you hate him for it.”

“Hotch, I swear to god—”

“You mocked him for giving good advice, and you flinched when I brought up getting beers with him. He’s an alcoholic, isn’t he?”

“So, what, honestly? Literally who cares if he drinks? He gets mean, so what? What gives you the right to tell me what I can and cannot have?”

“But he’s not just mean, is he?”

The air in your lungs got caught in your throat.

“That’s it, isn’t it? That’s how he treats you differently.”

“That’s enough,” you said, your voice cold.

Hotch stepped closer, grabbing your shoulders with both hands. You shuddered in his grasp. “You don’t want me, ok? I can’t fix what you’ve gone through. I can’t even protect you at work. Do you know the guilt I feel for what happened to you? I’m the one who got you hurt. And now I have to live with that. What makes you think that I can be what you need if I can’t even keep you safe here?”

You closed what little space was left between you. You looked up at him, your face only inches from his. “Stop telling me what I want. I’m an adult. I can make my own choices. You’re not going to push me away like this.”

Hotch’s breath hitched in his throat. His chest heaved up and down, and his eyes darkened. “This is wrong. I’m your superior. This isn’t appropriate.”

“If you truly don’t want me, I’ll stop. We’ll go back to how things were. But you have to say you don’t want me.”

His grip on your shoulders strengthened, his touch burning into your skin. His now wild eyes scanned you as if he couldn’t have fathomed this happening. A lump formed in your throat as you waited for him to find the words. Instead, he pulled you flush against him and pressed his lips against yours. His kiss was raw and desperate, rougher than your healing jaw could take, but you couldn’t care less. He wrapped his arms around your back and gripped your hair as if it was instinctual. Your breathing hitched, causing you to moan into his mouth.

He pulled away, slightly out of breath. “I need you to tell me this is ok.”

“This is ok,” you said, breathless.

“Good,” Hotch said, “because I don’t want to stop.”

A smirk formed on your face. You grabbed a hold of his tie and pulled him closer to you. “Then I think you need to take this off.”

You dropped the tie and kissed him as he took his coat off. Your mouth wandered to his jaw. Hotch let out a groan.

“Your room. Now.”

His words sent chills down your spine. You took his hand and led him to your room. You turned around and watched Hotch remove his tie, sliding it through his collar. His eyes stayed on yours, his already dark eyes now almost black with desire. The moment his tie came off, he was back on you, kissing you like his life depended on it. His hands wandered to your ass and lifted you up, his lips never leaving your skin. You wrapped your legs around him as he carried you to your bed.

Hotch laid you down, now hovering over you. His lips drifted from yours down to your neck.

“Seeing you in this had me thinking horrible things,” Hotch confessed, slightly pulling on the quarter zip you were still wearing.

You blushed. “Really?” you asked, a smug smile growing on your face. “Is that why you were avoiding me?”

“Was it really that obvious?” Hotch asked, his large hands finding their way under your shirt.

You couldn’t even answer as his hands ventured up to your chest. His hands pulled a moan from your mouth.

“Take this off,” Hotch said as he pulled the hem of your shirt.

“You, first.”

Hotch’s eyebrows raised as if surprised by your reply. He sat up and unbuttoned his shirt. You practically drooled at the sight of him shirtless. You could only assume he was fit when he rolled up his sleeves or manhandled unsubs, but this was all the confirmation you needed.

“Your turn,” he said.

You did as you were told, revealing yourself to him.

“God, you’re perfect,” he sighed as he kissed your chest.

You fought off a moan. You couldn’t believe this was happening. This was only something you pictured in your wildest dreams, and here he was in the flesh.

“I wanted this for so long,” you found yourself saying out loud.

“Me, too,” he agreed. “You have no idea how much I thought about this.”

Your cheeks flushed red. He began leaving marks past your breasts, down your stomach to the hem of your shorts.

“Can I take these off?” Hotch asked.

You nodded.

“Use your words, honey.”

Your stomach did a flip hearing the phrase. “Yes, sir. Take them off.”

He all but growled in response. He pulled at your shorts, taking them off in a swift motion.

“So much for no strenuous activities,” you joked.

“I can be gentle,” Hotch said as he settled in between your legs. “Let me take care of you.”

Your head fell back onto your pillow. You knew you were in for it.

Hotch spread your legs apart, the stretch enough for you to arch into his touch.

A smirk graced his lips, and without another word, he licked into your core. His mouth against you was like a gift from God, something you had only hoped could feel so good. You couldn’t help but squirm against him, grabbing his hair to pull him closer, if at all possible. He placed a hand on your stomach to keep you still. You could feel him smile against you, turning you on even more.

“Hotch,” you breathed out. You were close faster than you had ever been.

“Say my name,” he said as he placed a finger inside you.

“A-Aaron,” you choked out, the new sensation too much to handle. He filled you with another finger, his hitting the spot your fingers never could.

“Fuck, Aaron, don’t stop. Please.” Your breathing quickened, and as he pumped his fingers in and out, you felt the coil in your stomach snap, expletives and his name leaving your lips. Hotch continued to pump you as you rode your high, a daze overtaking you.

When you caught your breath, you pulled Hotch back up for a kiss, your hands finding their way to his belt.

Hotch’s hands stopped yours. You looked up at him, confused.

“Are you sure you want this?” He asked, genuine concern lacing his voice.

“I want this if you do. Do you?” you asked.

“I really do,” he said. “I need to feel you.”  

You couldn’t help but smile at his words. “Then please let me help you.”

He released your hands and kissed your forehead as you unbuckled his belt. The moment felt ironically wholesome until you pulled at his dress pants. You couldn’t help but gawk at his cock springing free. You were suddenly nervous, not quite sure it would fit after all this time practically revirginizing. If your jaw weren’t so sore, you’d have him in your mouth without a second thought.

“I’ll be gentle, I promise,” he said as if he could hear your thoughts. “I don’t want to hurt you.” Hotch hovered over you and kissed your lips softly. You returned the kiss and nodded.

Hotch lined himself up with your entrance and carefully pushed in. He and you both groaned at the sensation, the stretch of him filling you something you hadn’t experienced in years.

“Jesus Christ. You’re so, this isn’t your first time, is it?”

“No, no,” you said, slightly embarrassed. “It’s just been a while. Just, just go slow, ok?”

Hotch nodded and started to move. He rested his forehead on yours, sighs and pants escaping both of your lips.

“Can I kiss you?” Hotch asked.

You chuckled at his question. “We’re a little past that, aren’t we?”

Hotch smiled as he placed his lips on yours, much more tender than before. He moved a stray hair from your face and cupped your cheek with the utmost gentility. The urgency was gone, replaced by something deeper. Everything had culminated to this moment, and neither of you wanted to waste it.

Still, the need for more overtook you. “Aaron,” you said, your hips bucking up into his.

“What do you need? I need you to tell me.”

“Faster, please,” you said.

His pace quickened, one hand still around you. He used the other to stabilize himself, allowing you to view the tension in his muscles. You bit back a moan as the pressure inside you built.

“Don’t hold back,” Hotch said. “Let me hear you.”

He slammed into you, a smirk growing on his face as your breath caught in your throat.

“Just like that!” you blurted out.

He did just that, slamming into you again and again.

“Fuck. I don’t know how much longer I can last,” Hotch said, his voice almost shaking.

“I’m close, too. Please don’t stop,” you begged.

He pounded into you harder and faster, no longer a rhythm but a motive, a goal to achieve.

“Come for me, honey. I’ve got you. Just come for me.”

You clenched around him as you came, all but screaming his name. His pace didn’t let up as you rode your orgasm, your legs trembling around him.

“Oh, god. I’m gonna, where do I—”

“Chest!”

He pulled out and came on your chest, making the most attractive groans you had ever heard in your life. You watched in awe, absolute shock overtaking you. Never in your wildest dreams did you picture this. And for the love of god, you hoped this wasn’t the last time this happened.

Hotch crawled over you, still catching his breath, and captured your lips in a kiss.

“How are you feeling?” Hotch asked. “Is your head ok?”

“I’m good,” you said smiling at his return to his overprotective self. “I’m really good. I promise.”

Hotch rested his forehead on yours then kissed you, the tenderness returning.

“I like when you do that,” you said, your cheeks reddening.

“Me, too,” he said. “Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

“You don’t have to help, if you don’t want to.”

“What, and miss showering with you?” Hotch smiled. “Just lead the way.”

In the shower, the two of you washed up, and you couldn’t knock the smile from your face if you tried, until you thought about showing up to work Monday morning.

“What are you thinking about?” Hotch asked.

“The team’s gonna know,” you said.

Hotch thought for a moment. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get there. For now, well, I wouldn’t have done it in this order, but would you like to join me for dinner tomorrow evening?”

You blushed, despite the state you were both in. “Are you asking me on a date?”

Hotch smiled. “I’m asking you on a date, yes. I have to be honest, though, I’m out of practice.”

“If tonight was you out of practice, I think tomorrow will go just fine.”

Hotch laughed and kissed you again, something you hoped would never fade in your memory.

************

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[fallingforyouforeverr]

𝐍𝐚𝐩 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 | 𝐎𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫 𝐏𝐢𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢

summary: Oscar misses a team meeting, but when Lando goes to look for him, he gets a surprise

author's note: i finally published my first f1 fic!! sorry it's so short, but I have a bunch of other drafts I'm working on rn that will hopefully be finished soon. also, i literally wrote this at midnight inspired by a picture i saw on Pinterest so it's kinda bad but oh well

warnings: none, just fluff (600+ words)

• f1 masterlist • youtubers masterlist •

It was no secret to anyone that Oscar was a clingy boyfriend. The other drivers loved to compare him to a koala because of how often he would wrap himself around you, pulling you close to him and resting his head on top of yours. Although he often annoyed others by getting distracted by you, they couldn't even blame you for it and even Zak had to admit his clingyness was actually quite cute.

Today however, it was annoying – especially to Lando who had spent the last 20 minutes searching for his teammate after he failed to show up to the team meeting. He had already checked everywhere he could think of and was beginning to contemplate calling the police and reporting the younger boy missing when he heard a faint snore coming from a small room on his left. Slowly pushing open the door, Lando was met with the sight of you and Oscar sleeping on a sofa, your limbs so tightly wrapped around each other that it was hard to tell where you ended and he began.

As quietly as he could, Lando took out his phone and snapped a picture of the two of you and posted it on his story. He slid it back in his pocket, wondering how to wake his teammate without disturbing you, when Oscar stirred, stretching out his long limbs and opening his bleary eyes.

"Wakey wakey sleepyhead," Lando teased, causing the other boy to groan.

Oscar wriggled his arm out from under you, bringing it up to rub his eyes. "What time is it?" He asked.

"It's almost 2"

"WHAT!" Oscar shot up, accidentally waking you in the process, "shit I missed the meeting didn't I."

"Oz? What's wrong?" You spoke as you sat up, voice still slightly scratchy from sleep.

He froze, looking at you with wide eyes and a guilty expression. "Um... I forgot to set an alarm and I kinda slept through the team meeting."

"Oscar!" You scolded with a laugh, " Zak is gonna be so mad!"

Lando chuckled, making you jump as you hadn't realised he was there. "Oh yeah, he's pissed by the way."

Dragging a hand down his face with a sigh, your boyfriend reluctantly pulled himself out of your arms and stood up. "I'm gonna go catch up with the team," he announced, raking a hand through his hair as he rushed out to the garage.

"Oh I can't wait to see what Zak is gonna say about this" Lando began, a grinning cheekily at you. Narrowing your eyes at him in response, he held up his hands in surrender. "Ok, alright, I'm going!"

Smiling wryly at his childish antics, you began packing away your stuff, knowing that Oscar would be finished soon as he tended to become antisocial when tired. Just as you finished putting the last item in your bag, the Australian appeared in the doorway, affection laced with exhaustion in his eyes as he observed you. When you had finished, he held out his hand for you to grab as he led you through the McLaren hospitality. You had almost reached the exit when a familiar voice rang out behind you.

"Ah, Oscar, there you are!"

You both turned around guiltily to come face to face with a less than pleased Zak Brown. "We missed you in the meeting earlier, mate. I hope that nap was worth it."

"Oh yeah sorry I was um-" Oscar paused, a frown overtaking his features as he realised what the older man had said. "Wait how do you know about that?"

Zak chuckled, calling over his shoulder as he walked away, "Let's just say a certain someone isn't very good at keeping secrets."

"Lando, that absolute muppet!"

[hairmetal666]

"I'm going to marry you one day, Steve Harrington," he declares to all and sundry (Steve and Robin) in Family Video.

Steve laughs, ducks his head, hair a bountiful cascade that doesn't move an inch. He's blushing but it's not, like, a reaction to the sentiment of marriage. Steve knows Eddie is just like that, flirtatious and over-the-top and incapable of not speaking his thoughts as soon as they enter his head.

Robin roles her eyes, goes back to flipping through her magazine, something about cinema, and Eddie swipes his just rented movies off the counter.

"You think I'm joking," he twists so he's facing them, walking backwards to the door. "But I swear it, oh, beloved purveyor of movies and deleter of late fees."

"Yeah, yeah." Steve's face is pinker than before and Eddie recognizes and immediately forces himself to forget how cute it is. "But get out of here before I change my mind."

And Eddie, he loves to push his luck and also has very little filter between his brain and his mouth, so he says, "aw, don't be that way, Stevie, you love me."

Robin looks up, then, mouth a pursed twist as she tries not to laugh. "Gross, Eddie." She throws a Sour Patch at him. "Keep all that mushy stuff to when you two are alone."

It's his turn to blush, fierce and raging, and Steve whirls, squeaking, to whack Robin with a Twizzler.

Eddie points at her. "Rude, Buckley. You know I love you too."

"Again, gross." She sticks out her tongue, tinged blue from the Sour Patch.

"We really need to work on your ability to accept affection," Steve tells her.

She scowls, kicks him, makes Eddie laugh.

"I think that's my cue to leave, children." He says. He, quite literally, bows out of the store, just missing the barrage of candy thrown his way.

---

Three Months Later

Eddie stumbles into the Harrington house, kicking his boots off by the door. Steve's in the kitchen, fussing around the stove. His hair's askew and he's--

"Harrington, are you wearing an apron?" He ignores the kick in his chest at the sight. "You'll make a sweet little housewife one day."

"Shut-up," Steve says without any heat. "Try this."

He brandishes a spoon filled with red sauce in Eddie's direction, and Eddie--heart always on his sleeve--eagerly leans in to taste. He closes his eyes, savors, and it's good, truly. Perfect fresh acidity with just a burst of sweetness.

"It's amazing, baby," he says without thinking. He opens his eyes right in time to see Steve turning back to the sauce, blush high on his cheekbones.

"Thanks. You're making me nervous though, hovering." Steve hip checks him. "Go sit somewhere."

And Eddie does, jumps onto the island--the Harrington's are the kind of people who have an island--and chatters to Steve about his day, about his new campaign, about the new song he's trying to learn.

All the while, he's watching Steve cook, in his apron, with such care and thoughtfulness, with true command. Maybe it's the domesticity of the scene, maybe his raging crush, but he has this flash of the two of them in the future. In their kitchen, Steve cooking dinner, and Eddie's arms are wrapped around his waist, he's pressing kisses to his temple, complimenting all his hard work and--

Steve feeds him a bite of the finished pasta, and it's so good that he groans, full-throated, unembarrassed, and says--he says, "I'm going to marry you one day, Steve Harrington."

He laughs, face pink, batting Eddie's shoulder. "Go sit down, man. It's time to eat."

---

Two Months After That

Eddie's working on a new campaign when the storm rolls in, wind rocking the trailer, thunder and lightning crackling in the sky. The power doesn't go out, but only just barely, the flickers making his heart pound for reasons that have nothing to do with weather.

There's a knock on the trailer door, and he opens it to find Steve Harrington standing on the porch, hair plastered to his head, clothes soaked. Robin's bike is propped against one of the awning supports. Familiar panic snaps to life in his gut.

"God, Steve, are you okay? Did something happen? That's Robin's bike, where's the Beamer? Is it--is it Vecna? Is--" He's blabbering can't stop, so he shoves his palm against his lips.

"It's not--not Upside Down stuff." He runs a hand through his soggy hair. "Can I come in, man? I--I want to tell you something."

This snaps Eddie out of his panic, and he's moving aside, saying, "Oh my god, get in here, you're soaked. Let me get towels. Do you want a change of clothes, I can--"

Steve catches him by the elbow and he full stops at the look in those big hazel eyes, fearful and sad and he doesn't know what, but his anxiety amps back up.

"I was with Robin and we were--we were talking, you know? And I told her that I like somebody, like really like them, but it was unexpected and--and--it's a guy. He's a guy but I still like girls? Robin said--she said that I'm probably bisexual. That I like guys and girls and--and everyone, I think."

It sends shockwaves through him, and he hopes it doesn't show, doesn't think it shows, but he's having trouble processing. Steve is bi and he likes someone and--Eddie stuffs down the jealousy that claws at him, knows it's more important that he's here for his friend.

"Thank you for telling me, sweetheart." He reaches out, slow in case Steve doesn't want to be hugged, but he launches himself into Eddie's arms.

Eddie holds him tight, heedless of his wet clothes, can feel his shoulders shake, and it tears Eddie's heart in two. All he can do is hold Steve and offer comfort, jealousy be damned.

"You're so brave, honey," he says once the tears taper off.

Steve gives a wet chuckle, face still buried against Eddie's neck. "I don't know about that. I think I got snot in your hair."

"It'll wash out." He laughs. "Is now the time to welcome you to the family? Apparently, we're growing exponentially."

"Does the welcome include a cake or something? I could really use cake."

And God, Steve, is so fucking cute, so sweet, so--everything Eddie has always wanted, and he--it's an accident, or at least, thoughtless--he presses a kiss to Steve's temple. More than one.

Steve pulls back fast, and Eddie lets go immediately. "Sorry, sorry. I--that was stupid. You like someone already, and I--"

His words are cut off as Steve kisses him. Steve kisses him? His brain can't process, but he kisses back. Can't not, not with Steve. Like, he doesn't know anything, head empty, but his body is with the program.

They break apart, he's breathing hard. Steve is beautifully flushed, mouth red and swollen. "You like someone," is what Eddie says.

Steve laughs. "I like you, Munson. Fucking crazy about you."

He smiles, so big it hurts, so big it grows into a delight laugh. "I'm going to marry you one day, Steve Harrington," he says.

---

Six Years Later

They're in bed, Saturday morning, rain pattering softly on the window.

Steve places slow kisses against his naked tummy, makes him tremble, shiver with overstimulation.

"Baby," he whines. "Sweetheart."

Steve smiles up at him, something cold pressing against his ribs, then into his hand.

It's a ring, black metal, shiny and iridescent as he turns it in the light. "What--Steve?"

With one last kiss to his hip bone, Steve sits up, slips the ring onto Eddie's finger. "I'm going to marry you one day, Eddie Munson."