#also: so glad that my own gender process played out in front of him and that he's now comfortable figuring his out in front of me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ohmyjinsus · 3 years

Text

today was a fairytale

choi soobin x gender neutral! reader

first date fluffy winter nonsense || 2.5k

I’ve decided to stan txt and I really want to hold soobin’s hand…. that’s it 🤡 it's august why am I writing about a christmas date someone shoot me

summary: after 2 years of crushing on soobin he finally asks you out on a date, where you go skating and cling onto him because you’re absolutely terrified

“I don’t think this is right.” These skates feel way too loose. You were sure you told the girl at the rental booth the right size. Maybe you misspoke.

“Let me see,” Soobin says, looking over at you. It took him no time at all to tie his own laces. Clearly you don’t know what you’re doing.

He kneels in front of you, moving your leg so your foot rests on his thigh. You watch as he undoes your laces.

“What is this y/n?” He’s smirking. You try to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. They’ve been on and off since he picked you up earlier, but now that you’re here with him, they feel stronger.

“I told you, I haven’t been skating since I was a kid.”

“You’re supposed to tie the laces around your ankles too,” he tells you, looking up into your eyes. “Just so you know for next time.” He takes your other foot, fixing your laces there as well.

“Who says there’s gonna be a next time?”

“You’ll be a pro by the time I’m done with you, don’t worry.” He stands up, holding out his hand. You take it, getting up slowly. “There you go.”

He turns towards the rink, so you try to take a step next to him. You’re not used to being in skates at all, so you immediately lose your balance. Thankfully Soobin is prepared for this, and catches you quickly.

“Thanks,” you say awkwardly, trying to ignore the fact that you’re practically in his arms.

“Take little steps.” You nod as he lets go of you.

Holding your hands out in front of you to keep your balance, you do as he says. Soobin’s a little bit ahead of you, trying not to laugh at your snail’s pace.

“Help me,” you say, “don’t just stand there.” He immediately returns to your side and takes your hand. Once you feel his fingers interlaced with yours, you feel a bit more calm. “Okay, let’s go.”

With Soobin next to you, it doesn’t take long to get to the rink. Walking up the steps is a bit difficult but he goes up first, then turns around to help you up. Once you’re on the ice, the panic rises in you again.

“I can’t do this.”

“Yes, you can.” He takes both your hands this time, pulling you gently. As your feet start to glide, you get scared. “I’ve got you, y/n.”

When you glance at Soobin, you smile. When he first suggested you go skating, you told him it terrified you. You were afraid he would make fun of you for being scared about something as simple as this, but he promised to take care of you. He also said if you got on the ice and decided it wasn’t for you, you could stop right away and he’d take you to do something else, no questions asked. That meant the world to you.

“You good?” He asks. You nod, so he lets go of one of your hands, moving so he’s directly next to you instead. You try to take a tiny step forward. “You have to glide, y/n, you can’t just walk on the ice.”

That makes you laugh. You try to muster up some courage and move forward a little bit. Right away, you start to lose your balance. Your grip on Soobin’s hand tightens and you reach over to grab his arm with your other hand.

“I’m gonna fall, oh my god.”

“Do you want to turn around?” He asks quietly.

“I’m okay,” you tell him, squeezing his hand, “I believe you, I’m sure I can do this.”

He smiles at that, pulling you with him. You keep your deathly grip on his arm as the two of you move forward. As you glide along, he guides you on when and where to move your feet. By the time you make one lap around the rink, you feel a bit more confident. You don’t let go of him though.

You go around twice more, talking about what else you’re going to do after this. Soobin brought you to a Christmas festival. The ice rink is just a tiny part of it. There are carnival rides on the other side, which Soobin says he’ll take you on. He also promises to buy you a hot drink as a reward for facing your fear of skating.

After a little while, you point out a bench in the middle of the rink, asking if you can sit down for a second. He leads the two of you over, helping you sit down before taking a seat next to you.

“Are you tired?” He asks. You shake your head.

“I’m having fun.”

“Me too.” You realize he hasn’t let go of your hand, not that you mind.

You can see the lake from where you’re sitting, which you point out to him. All the Christmas lights make it look even prettier. Soobin also points to the ferris wheel and the tube ride, which he demands you go on. You tell him yes of course. You want to spend as much time as possible with him, although you would never admit that.

“Should we keep going?” You ask him, once you’ve caught your breath.

“Sure.” You let him stand up first, quickly checking the time on your phone. While you’re looking away, Soobin somehow loses his balance. When you look back, he’s on the ice.

“Oh my god,” you reach out your hand, which he takes. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he’s laughing, so you can’t help but laugh too.

“You literally fell for me,” you say as he gets up.

“I did.” He’s blushing. You avoid his eyes as he helps you stand. You can feel those butterflies coming back now. “I thought you would be the one to fall though.”

“I fell for you ages ago,” you say, playing along. You’re telling the truth.

When you met Soobin in first year, you immediately thought he was cute. All your friends agreed that he was your type. Over the next two years, you bonded over group projects and study sessions. You quickly became friends, spending your lunch breaks together and walking home side by side. It was during one of your study dates in the library that Soobin asked you out on a real date.

You didn’t believe him at first, but he told you he’d been crushing on you for a while and wanted to spend some time with you outside of school. The two of you had hung out together before, but only ever with other friends, seeing movies or hanging out at someone's house. You were shocked when he suggested it, but said yes right away. You’re extremely glad you did.

You do a few more laps around the rink, talking about anything and everything. After you get the hang of it, Soobin drops your hand.

“What was that for?” You ask, slowly moving alongside him.

“You should try skating on your own.”

“No.” You grab his hand again. “I refuse.”

“You just want to hold my hand, don’t you?”

“Yes,” you admit. Hopefully he won’t notice you blushing.

“Good,” he interlaces his fingers with yours. “The feeling is mutual.”

After about 5 more minutes, you suggest the two of you take a break. Soobin agrees, and the two of you make your way off the rink. Once you’re sitting again, you pull off your skates and put your shoes back on. You drop your skates off at the rental booth and head towards the rides.

You’re walking along, telling Soobin about your first time on a ferris wheel, when he casually takes your hand. It catches you off guard, making you pause for a second. He just smiles, telling you to finish your story. You do, trying not to focus on how close he is to you.

As you make your way across the festival, you can’t help but notice all the couples around you. Walking with Soobin’s hand in yours, you figure the two of you must fit in. It feels natural, being with him like this. You know it’s only your first date, but you hope there’s many more after this.

When the tube ride is in sight, you pull Soobin that way first. Dragging your tubes up the stairs is horrible. He notices how much you’re struggling and offers to take yours as well. You agree, handing it to him. Once he’s got both of them under his arms, he starts to struggle too. You tell him to give yours back, but he reassures you he can do it. You can’t help but laugh, watching him trying to be strong and tough for you.

When you’re at the top, you take lanes right next to each other. As you sit there, waiting to be pushed down, you look out at the festival, mesmerized by all the pretty lights.

“If I win this race, you buy me hot chocolate,” you say to Soobin, looking over at him. He meets your eyes and laughs.

“And if I win, you buy me hot chocolate?” You shake your head.

“You’re buying either way.”

“I literally brought you here.” You’re about to argue back, but then it’s time to go.

He gets to the end first, of course.

“I win,” he says the second you get to the bottom, next to him. You roll your eyes, pretending to be hurt. “I hope you brought your credit card.”

The two of you grab your tubes, pulling them back to the stack at the side. You don’t let him take yours this time.

“Can I interest you in a hug instead?” You ask, as the two of you leave the ride, walking back to the other carnival rides.

“That works too.” He stops walking, so you turn to face him, wrapping your arms around his neck. His arms immediately go around your waist. The first thing you notice is how good he smells, but then you realize that’s creepy and push the thought out of your mind.

“Are you going to let go or-” Soobin whispers after a few seconds. You wrap your arms around him tighter.

“I’m cold.” He laughs, pulling you closer. After a few more moments, you pull away. As you let you go, Soobin keeps his arms around you. When you make eye contact with him, you start to feel anxious again. He’s not looking away.

You realize how easy it would be to just stand on your tip toes and give him a quick kiss. You wonder if he’s feeling the same way.

“Ferris wheel?” You say awkwardly, trying to break the moment. If you stay there any longer, you’ll lose your mind. You’ve thought about kissing Soobin too much over the past few years. The thought of it actually happening is too much to process right now.

“Let’s go.” He grabs your hand, pulling you in that direction. Thankfully there aren’t too many people around, so the line isn’t long.

You get into your seats, facing each other. As the ferris wheel starts to move, Soobin takes your hands in his.

“Are you still cold?” You shake your head.

“I’m much better now.”

“Good,” he says, squeezing your hands, “I still need to get you that drink before we leave.”

“We have to leave?” You say it without even thinking. It makes Soobin laugh.

“It’s almost 9:30 y/n, your parents will kill me if I don’t get you home at a reasonable time.” You roll your eyes at that.

“Promise you’ll take me on another date soon.”

“I will.” You’re surprised at how quickly he responds. “I really like you, y/n.”

“I really like you too, Soobin.” He smiles at that, which makes you smile too. You don’t know how you managed to land someone as adorable as him, but you know better than to question it.

“You do?” He asks, teasing you. You might be imagining it, but it seems like he’s leaning towards you.

“I do,” you reply, instinctively leaning forward as well. You pray he makes the first move, because you’re too nervous to do it yourself.

He holds your gaze for a few seconds. That’s when you realize he’s as nervous as you are.

“Soobin-”

“What are you thinking?” He cuts you off.

“Kiss me already,” you reply right away.

“If you say so,” he laughs. A second later, his lips are on yours. You close your eyes, trying to remember everything about this moment. You can’t believe how perfect your day has been, and now you’re having your first kiss at the top of a ferris wheel. It’s like a fairytale.

When he moves away, you pull him back for one more kiss. You can feel him smiling against your lips, which makes your heart flutter.

When you lean back, you suddenly realize the ride is ending soon. Your eyes must go wide because Soobin asks if you’re okay. He seems extremely concerned.

“Should I not have done that?” You shake your head, as the ferris wheel starts to slow down.

“You definitely should have,” you reassure him. “We just have to get off soon.”

Soobin looks confused for a second, glancing around. When he sees the rest of the carnival rides in the distance, he seems to realize. He must be as flustered by the kiss as you are.

The ride comes to a complete stop and the operator opens the door for you. With Soobin’s hand in yours, you step out, saying a quick thanks as you do.

“Should I take you home now?” He asks, as you head in the general direction of the entrance.

“I suppose,” you sigh, linking your arm in his. “I wish I could stay with you a little longer.”

“Me too,” he responds. “But I don’t want your parents to hate me.”

“That’s a good point.”

“I’m going to be around for a while, so I don’t want to start off on the wrong foot.” That makes you stop in your tracks. Soobin stops too. “What?”

“You’re going to be around for a while?” You ask quietly. He avoids your eyes.

“I mean, I’d like to be,” his voice sounds hesitant. “If you want.”

“Of course I do,” you tell him. “I adore you.”

Soobin bends down to give you another kiss. You feel a lot more at ease this time.

“I adore you too.” You grin at that. “So when are we going skating again?”

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nyxxon · 3 years

Note

Please do more eri and the reader being adorable friends

» She's my baby, so of course. It'll basically be another scenario of "babysitter reader" with Eri. However, unlike my other one, this one is more gender neutral.

Candy Apples (Eri)

Platonic

Eri waited impatiently just staring at the door while she sat on the couch with her feet swinging back and forth at opposite intervals. She was waiting for you to be more exact. It had been a week since she had last saw you when you came to babysit her last—a week too long.

Plus, Aizawa had told her you had a surprise for her upon your arrival which was quite exciting! You sometimes did get little things for her or had fun "dates" planned for just the two of you while he went away to deal with his basic hero work. Though she was mildly surprised since the sitting request had been a bit last minute.

Aizawa glanced at the little girl as he also waited for your arrival. He was glad he had managed to find a sitter that could handle the girl, even though she wasn't much of a handful though her social skills were still quite lacking given all she had been through. So it was hard for her to form "friendships" or any sort of bonds with certain people.

But either way, he was glad you two had a good relationship with each other.

Right as he was thinking this, a knock sounded causing Eri to quickly jump up from the couch as she ran towards the door knowing exactly who was behind it—him slowly trudging behind her to reet you as well before he left.

Opening the door, your form with three or so plastic bags hanging from your arm soon peeked through. Upon seeing you, Eri instantly jumped into your arms causing you to stumble a bit and almost drop the bag though you managed to keep you both upright and hold of the bag as you soon hugged her back with your free arm just as tight with a smile on your face.

"(Last Name)!" Eri exclaimed as she pulled back from you, red eyes sparkling.

"Hey, Eri." You placed your free hand on top of her head.

"Thanks for coming last minute." Aizawa soon peeked through as he made his way outside.

You looked at him with a smile, "It's no problem at all."

"I've got to get going now. I should be back by eight at the latest. But I'll be sure to get back to you if something beyond my control happens."

You nodded, "Gotcha."

"I'm sure there won't be any problems." He said sincerely.

"Nope! Eri and I will have lots of fun!" You gave a closed-eyed smile.

"Come on, (Last Name)!" Eri began to tug at your hand as she started to pull you inside.

"Uh–I . . . uhm, b-bye, Aizawa-san, good luck!" You gave the man a quick wave as Eri continued to pull you inside rambling on about her excitement and curiosity of what the surprise was that you had for her before shutting the door.

A small yet rare smile played at Aizawa's lips as he had watched you being dragged off by the little girl before soon lower heading on his way to the site of the crime he had to investigate . . .

After Eri had dragged you inside, she wasted no time in prying you for answers as to what exactly this "surprise" was that you had for her.

"Are we going to go somewhere?" She asked.

You shook your head as you started to the kitchen with her trailing along behind you, "No."

She blinked and tilted her head as she put a finger to her cheek in thought once you had placed the multiple plastic bags on the counter and turned to face her, a smile still on your face as you watched her scanning her mind for a possible answer before she looked at the bags you had just put down—her eyes appeared to flash with realization.

"Is . . . is it in the bags?"

You nodded as you turned back around, pulling out a small bag of apples of both red and green that had been concealed by the plastic one to not spoil the surprise early.

"We're gonna make candy apples!"

Eri's eyes widened as they began to sparkle, "C-Candy apples?!"

One of her favorite treats!

But she hadn't had one since the U.A. School Festival which had been quite some time ago . . .

"I heard how you liked them, so I thought we could make our own together!"

"Make together..?"

"Mhm, mhm.~" You nodded, "I was going to save it for next time when I was originally scheduled to come but decided to bring it along today since why not."

"C-Can we start now?" Eri had her hands clamped together as she continued to stare at you with her sparkling red eyes.

"Of course!"

With that, she soon walked up to the counter. You had left the kitchen for a moment to get her a stool to stand on, placing it in front of the stove once you had gotten back before picking her up and placing her on top of it.

Taking all the things you had bought out of the bag and placing them on the counter, separating them in a convenient position for easy access to get started, you placed a baking sheet you had sprayed down with cooking spray so the apples wouldn't stick when you were done before letting Eri stick the apples with the sticks you had bought after you had washed them really well.

You soon grabbed a pot and placed it on the stove in front of Eri before reading the little paper you had bought with the directions of how to make these candy apples.

"Ok, a three-fourths cup of water." You crabbed the measuring cup, putting the water in, then handing it to Eri who placed it in the pot, "Next, some sugar then some corn syrup, and lastly red food coloring." You did the same, handing her the measuring cups and allowing her to put them in the pot.

Once you had let Eri put all of the ingredients in the pot, you soon turned the stove on medium heat as instructed before allowing her to begin stirring the items together as you waited for it to start boiling—it forming into a dark yet bright red color as she continued her stir motions.

After about fifteen minutes it had started to boil, bubbles forming in the red-colored liquid.

Grabbing the candy thermometer, you placed it in the pot to make sure it was the proper temperature before you removed it from the heated area. It reading the perfect temperature, you removed the pot carefully to the burner that was off.

"Now it's time to dip!"

"Yay!" Eri raised her arms above her head.

Grabbing one of the apples, you handed it to ger so she could dip them in the melted candy liquid, "Now be careful, that stuff is still hot."

She nodded as she carefully dunked the apple in the liquid, leaving a quarter of it unsubmerged, before pulling it out and allowing you to take it and quickly place it on the sheet as you both repeated the process ten more times.

"You did good, Eri." You smiled once you had placed the last apple on the baking sheet and looked at them all.

The candy coating on the apples was a bit messy done, but you hadn't expected them to be perfect when Eri had been doing them—she probably did as good of a job as you would have if you were being honest. But with that said, they didn't look any less delectable.

"When can we have them?" She asked as she stared hungrily at the treats.

"When they've cooled, so in about thirty minutes or so."

She didn't seem too happy about such a long wait, but she nodded anyway, "Okay!"

After placing the pot in the sink and washing it out, you picked Eri off the stool as you both headed to the living room to watch a show to waste some time as you allowed the little treats to cool down so you both could enjoy them.

Once thirty minutes had passed, you both soon came back into the kitchen you both stopped to look at the coated apples that seemingly having had finished cooling on top of the baking sheet you had set out on the pan.

Grabbing one, you examined it to make sure they weren't runny or still too warm for consumption before bending down and handing it to her.

Eri gladly took the treat, not hesitating to take a big bite. Her eyes instantly began to sparkle as she chewed and swallowed. She licked her lips, "It's so good!"

You soon took a bite of your own, the sweet flavor practically exploding in your mouth, "You're right . . . they are good. Better even."

"Can . . . can I have another..?" She asked, a now finished apple on the stick.

Your eyes widened slightly, a bit surprised she had finished so quickly but soon shrugged, "I see why not."

Happily, she grabbed another one of the coated apples as she began to do quick work of that one, too. Once you had finished yours, you soon followed suit as you got another yourself and began snacking on—a bit faster than the last . . .

With that, you and she enjoyed the little treats you both had made—perhaps a little too much as you both ended up eating all ten in only the span of about ten minutes . . .

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winterscaptain · 4 years

Text

berry hill.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader a joyful future fic

a/n: i am so excited to share this one with you. the tropes are PACKED in here, and it was a blast to write. i also realized some time ago that i keep forgetting summaries on my works, so i’m gonna do my best to add those from now on. as always, let me know if there are any mistakes in here! thanks to @writefasttalkevenfaster for helping me today <3 intended for the ‘a joyful future universe,’ but does not require context. takes place in 2011, early season six, prior to the valhalla arc. words: 12k warnings: language, some vague mention of aaron’s anatomy, alcohol use, when i say slow burn i mean s l o w burn.

summary: "...and there was only one bed." - old fanfiction proverb

waldosia (part 2) | absence (part 3) | mean it (part 4)

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | requests closed! updated: january 5th, 2021

It’s way too late and you know it, but Jack is still on his annual winter vacation with Aunt Jess and the rest of the Brooks clan, so there’s simply no incentive to leave. You’re with Hotch at his desk, kicked back like you own the place, while he sits back in his chair with his hands laced behind his head.

The Montana case wrapped up neatly, and any remaining or incoming paperwork this week is light. Though it is admittedly weird without JJ, Seaver seems to be settling in alright. You’re glad that the team decided to take a chance on her like they did with you.

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

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

“Oh my God, he’s a terror!” Before Aaron can agree, your phone starts ringing. You pick it up, smiling as you see the caller ID.

“Hey Dean!” You stand and give Aaron a ‘sorry, just a second’ finger and step out of the office, leaving the door open behind you. You stay where Aaron can see you, leaning on the rail next to the stairs. You don’t really mean to stay within his eyeline, but it’s habit at this point.

“Hey babe, I hope I’m not calling too late.”

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

You catch Hotch’s eye and he mouths ‘Work?’ and you shrug as if to say ‘It’s a loose term.’ He rolls his eyes and steals another one of your grapes.

“Ah, I see. Late-night work with the hot boss-man.”

You don’t dignify that with a response. “So what’s up?”

He sighs, and you already know what’s coming before he says it. “Something came up at work and I won’t be able to make it to the wedding next week. We’re closing on this huge property in Georgetown and it’s really big for the firm and -“

“It’s okay. I get work stuff, trust me.” And you do. It just fucking sucks.

“I’m so so sorry to leave you hanging. I know it’s going to be super rough. Maybe one of your work friends can go with you? Maybe boss man? His name’s Aaron, right? Hopscotch or something?” His humor doesn’t make you feel any better, but you promise to keep ‘Hopscotch’ for later.

You tip your head up to stare at the ceiling and will the tears away from your eyes, blinking them back. “Yeah, I’ll figure it out. None of them knew to ask off work, so if we have a case I’ll be on my own regardless.”

“I’m so sorry.”

Two tears fall out of the corner of your eyes, and you turn around, wiping them away. “It’s okay.”

“I’ll call you day-of to check in, okay?”

Hotch watches you carefully, doing your best to hide your tears from him. Bad news, certainly, but he wishes you wouldn’t hide from him like you do. Or rather, he wishes you wouldn’t try to hide from him like you do.

He can’t hear the entire conversation, obviously, but he resolves to do what he can to return at least a little of the care you always show him without hesitation,

“Okay.” You heave an uneven sigh. “I’ll talk to you then... Really - don’t worry about it, it’s fine.” You hang up before he can respond and rest your forearms on the railing. You let your head hang for a second, collecting yourself before you have to face Hotch again.

You take a deep breath and turn, sitting across from him again. Attempting to restore your good spirits, you kick your feet back up and have another grape.

Hotch’s voice is quiet. “Everything okay?”

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

You can feel him squint at you. “What’s wrong?”

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

He’s quiet for a little while, and you shove some more grapes in your mouth to make up for the silence. You know each other so well, but it still feels a little weird to explicitly talk about your personal life in the office. Sure, you spend a fair few weekends together with Jack, but the whole thing is a little embarrassing - and you’re not sure if the worst part is admitting you have an ex-boyfriend from college or you now have to go stag to his wedding.

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

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

That’s enough.

You scoff. “Well, yeah. Obviously.”

He smiles a little, knowing you completely missed his point. “If you wanted…” He clears his throat and looks out the window, and you reply before he can continue.

“Oh, God, Hotch.” You cover your face with your hands. “Please don’t feel like I’m trying to guilt you into anything. I’ll be fine.” You try to laugh it off, but can’t hide the anxiety in your voice.

His laugh warms you. “You’re not guilting me into anything. I’m offering.”

You remove your hands from your face and look at him. There’s an earnest sort of kindness in his eyes, and you find yourself a little short of breath. “Really?”

“Really. I can get the weekend off - things are pretty slow around here. Where is it?” You had trouble reading his tone. Really, he’s just treading carefully. He doesn’t want you to feel pressured, or give away his own selfish motivations.

“It’s, ah,” you stutter for a second, getting your metaphorical feet back under you. “It’s down at Berry Hill Resort, right by the North Carolina border.” Your lip disappears between your teeth again. “It’s about a three and a half hour drive.”

He opens his phone, and you know he’s checking the map. “It’d be easy enough if we left early and switched in Richmond. I’ll start, if you’d like.”

You smile at him, wide and genuine. “Hotch, you’re the best.”

+++

Hotch calls you up to his office, and you swing in, your hand gripping the doorframe. You bite back your greeting as you find him on the phone.

He beckons you in and you step inside, closing the door behind you.

“...Thank you, sir. I’ll be sure to pass that along to the rest of the unit...You too, sir.” He hangs up and laces his fingers, addressing you. “Question.”

You sit, resting your elbows on his desk. “Answer.”

“Funny.”

You smirk, and he continues. “I’m not sure if it matters to you, but I have an absurd number of ties. Color preference?”

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

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

+++

Aaron walks down from his office, his phone to his ear. You’re helping Ashley with a consult, walking her through your process just like Emily used to do with you.

“Hotch usually likes to approach the profile starting with a demographic consideration, but I usually start from physical evidence and -”

A hand falls onto your shoulder, and you look up. “Yeah?”

He pulls the receiver away from his mouth. “Jack wants to talk to you.”

With a shake of your head and a fond smile for Hotch and an apologetic one for Ashley, you put the phone to your ear. “Hey, bud! How’s Grandpa’s house?”

“So fun,” Jack says, almost yelling into the phone. “Aunt Jess has let me play in the snow every day.”

You laugh. “I am so glad.”

“Dad says you’re busy at work, but I miss you.”

“Aw, bubba, I miss you, too. You’ll be home really soon, and when you get back we’ll go out to ice cream and you can tell me all about your visit.” You, for just a moment, forget where you are, and you lean back in your seat as if you’re leaning into Jack himself. “Does that sound okay?”

“Yeah, that sounds good. I love you.”

Your breath catches, and you keep our eyes firmly planted on your consult as you reply. “I love you too, bub. Here’s your dad.” Placing the phone in Hotch’s hand, you return your attention to Ashley and do your best not to acknowledge Aaron as he walks back up the stairs. “So, like I said, Hotch prefers to -”

“Hey.” Ashley stops you with a hand on your arm. “You’re really good at your job.”

A confused smile pulls at your lips. There’s a question in your eyes, and she answers it.

“Oh, I just...You’re a good teacher and a good friend, that’s all.”

“Thanks, Seaver.”

+++

On a rare weeknight off, Emily and you gather at Penelope’s apartment. You’re all sitting on the floor, bottles of wine making an occasional rotation, and a pile of snacks on the floor taking up the space in the loose circle you’ve created.

“You’re taking time off this weekend?” Penelope sounds almost insultingly surprised, as if the concept never occurred to her.

You nod. “Yep. First time in four years, so I think I’m about due.”

Emily laughs and asks. “Where are you going?”

“I’ve been inexplicably invited to an ex-boyfriends wedding - he’s a friend from college and we were friends before we dated etc. etc.” You wave your hand as you speak, outlining the tedium of it all. “His mom loves me, and I suspect she was the one who added me to the list.”

“Are you going with anyone? Penelope’s concern is touching.

“Yeah. One of my college friends was supposed to be my date, but he bailed for a work thing.” All the girls roll their eyes and nod. They get it. “So, Ho - someone else - is going with me.”

“Who?” Emily narrows her eyes and searches you.

“Oh come on, profiling is against the rules.”

She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, okay, sure.”

“Spill it.” Penelope throws a goldfish cracker at you to emphasize her point.

You take a deep, long-suffering breath, suddenly missing JJ and her powers of redirection. “Fine. Hotch is coming with me -” you intercept their eager questions “- only as a favor.”

“That’s very...thoughtful of him.” Emily’s chin tips up suggestively, and you throw Penelope’s goldfish at her. “Who’s idea was that?”

There’s a moment here somewhere, where you realize you’ve just dug yourself a hole you’ll be hard-pressed to get out of. “He overheard Dean bail, and offered. I’m sure he’s just doing it because he feels bad and -”

“Oh, don’t be stupid!” Penelope nearly falls into Emily, giggling. “I can’t believe you two.”

You throw your hands in the air. “What?”

Both women share a look before looking back at you with identical disbelief. Emily speaks first. “You can’t be serious.”

Take a deep breath. You’re not that obvious.

Maybe you are. You’ve only been half-or-completely in love with him for five years.

Shut up.

“Serious about what?”

Emily rolls her eyes and finishes her second glass of wine, reaching to refill it immediately. “Nevermind. You’ll figure it out eventually.”

+++

You’re finishing your last bit of packing, leaving your toothbrush and toothpaste out for the morning, when your phone rings.

“Yeah?”

“Hey, it’s Aaron.”

“Ah, my saving grace,” you say with a laugh. “Calling to cancel on me, after all?”

His laugh just isn’t as good over the phone, but it’ll do. “Not even close. Is 6am still good to come get you?”

“It’s so early.” There’s absolutely no shame in your whine, and you’re rewarded with another laugh. “But yes, that’s fine. That gives us enough time even if we hit some traffic out of the District and into Richmond.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

You look at your suitcase, resting open on your bed. “You’re still okay with this, right? I know I couldn’t grab that extra hotel room for you and I don’t want you to feel pressured or -”

He cuts you off, calling you out by name. “Enough. I offered, remember? I’ll see you at 6. Bring a pillow so you can sleep in the car.”

Your lips pinch, holding back a smile. “Thanks, Aaron.” And he knows you don’t just mean it for the pillow reminder. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Of course. Sleep well.”

You don’t, but are nevertheless ready with bells on, pillow tucked under your arm, and coffee in-hand at 5:55am the following morning. He looks surprised when he pulls into the driveway and sees you standing on your porch, looking only a little worse for wear. At least your teeth are brushed.

“Thought you might want this.” You hold out the travel mug to him as he approaches, and he takes it (and your suitcase) from you.

“Thank you. Jump in.”

You follow instructions and immediately stuff your pillow between your head and the window as he throws your suitcase in the trunk. You’re forever grateful Aaron drives the same SUVs you all have at the bureau. He claims it’s easier to not think about different car specs, but at this moment you only care about the temperature control and familiar, soft leather seats. Your eyes shut on their own accord, still heavy even after your abbreviated morning routine.

He slips into the driver’s seat and, with your eyes closed, you miss the way he looks over at you with a barely-there, fond smile. Your sweatshirt is too big for you and your face is adorably smushed into the pillow.

With a sigh and shake of his head, he places his hand on the back of your seat, backs out of the driveway, and gets on the road.

The silence gives him plenty of time to think about things he’d rather not address. This favor, for one, is something he’s still trying to reconcile.

Would I have offered to Emily? JJ? Hell, Dave?

If any other member of the team had a friend bail out of their role as a wedding date, he’d like to think he’d drop everything and take the weekend to make them feel better, but he knows that probably wouldn’t be the case in reality. He knew you were different, and it frustrated and confused him.

As often as he acknowledges his love for you - he wishes it would just stop.

Only a year and change had passed since Haley’s death, and there were still some mornings where he woke up and couldn’t breathe. Jack still had some nightmares too. Those broke his heart more than anything in the world, but he knew you would always pick up if he called - no matter the hour.

It happened more often than he’d like to admit.

“Hotch? Aaron? What’s up?”

“I’m sorry to wake you.”

“Nightmare?”

“Yeah.”

You’d always talk to him about something or nothing at all, sometimes turning on your bedside lamp and reading from whatever book you were perusing before bed.

He knows you understand. You were the only one there with him, when he found her body. You were there to take his son out of his bloodied hands. You were there when he was afraid of himself.

The nightmares still come for you, too, sometimes. There are nights where Haley’s dark blue eyes stare into you, whether your eyes are open or closed. You told him that, once, and he was grateful - grateful that he wasn’t the only one.

You murmur something in your sleep, about twenty minutes outside of the city. You’re still an hour or more away from Richmond, and Hotch figures he’ll let you sleep if you don’t wake up between now and then. It’s not a hard drive to Berry Hill, and you need the rest.

Might be good to pick up some food on the way...

He turns the music off, letting the sounds of your breathing and the road wash over him.

“Aaron.”

He turns, expecting your watchful eyes, but finds you burrowing further into the pillow, a little smile on your face as you remain blissfully unaware of your surroundings. Something warm starts to radiate in his chest as he looks back out at the road, the Virginia countryside stretching out in front of him, around him, and in every direction he can see. The warmth vibrates into his fingertips. He flexes his hands around the wheel, trying to shake it.

He fails.

You’re not sure how you manage to sleep so soundly in the car. You had tossed and turned all night, thinking only of facing a part of your life you hoped you’d never address head-on ever again. Why you accepted the invitation at all (or why you even received one) was beyond you.

It must be his mother’s doing. She always loved you, and she did her best to keep your friendship alive much longer than its natural death.

Exercising control over her child’s life due to an exceptional lack of control and consistency during her upbringing. Relating to her son’s partners to achieve some semblance of intimacy without facing the root of her insecurity that she’s failed as a parent.

The profiling never stopped, it seemed.

It wasn’t just the wedding keeping you up last night. The thought of spending the weekend with Aaron in an environment where you will inevitably feel (if not look and act) distraught close to the whole time still wears on you. Spending weekends at home, where you sit together with a glass of wine and leftover popcorn after Jack gets tucked in feels different.

That’s comfortable. That’s safe. This? This is scary. Vulnerable. Burdensome.

Even then, there’s nobody you’d rather have at your side while you face friends you haven’t seen in ages. He’s charismatic, almost entirely unapproachable (when he wants to be), and tall. All those factors should be enough to keep anyone from trifling with you for the duration of the weekend.

But now, in the car, all those thoughts are far from your mind. Your mind is blissfully dark and blank, your body soothed by the low hum of the car and the smell that follows Hotch wherever he goes - spicy, earthy, and something that reminds you of the air right before lightning strikes.

The car slows, and the subtle change in ambiance wakes you. You lift your head, finding Hotch turning on an offramp.

“Are we in Richmond already?” You ask, bleary.

He smiles. His sunglasses are resting on his nose to combat the rapidly-rising morning sun. “Not yet, but I figured you hadn’t eaten yet.”

You tip your head. He’s right. “I could eat.”

He glances at you out of the corner of his eye. “You should eat.”

+++

After food and a top-off for the gas tank, you offer to drive.

Aaron refuses. “If you drive, I don’t get to pick the music.”

“I thought shotgun picks the music.” You frown at him, admittedly still a little tired. You’ve shoved your pillow behind your seat and start to sit like an actual human being for the first time that morning.

“Those are Morgan’s house rules, not mine.”

“Ah,” you say, sagely. “I see. What are your house rules?”

There’s a smile behind his sunglasses. “Driver picks the music and critically considers any suggestions made by shotgun.”

Thus, the Beatles’ White Album starts from the top. You can’t say you’re surprised - it is his favorite. You’ve grown rather fond of it yourself, if you’re honest, Though, you’re not sure if you fondness for the album has anything to do with the man beside you - the one who’s hair is soft and floppy in the morning light, the one wearing an uncharacteristically casual ensemble of jeans, sneakers, and a black t-shirt, the one singing along under his breath.

“Why is this one your favorite?” You hear yourself ask.

He’s quiet for a minute, as if you are the first to ask that question. Maybe you are. “I’m...not sure. I think it might have something to do with my mom. She bought the record a couple of weeks after I was born in late ‘68, and made sure I had a copy when I got my own record player in my first college apartment.” He shrugs. “It’s been around just as long as I have, and there’s something a little - I don’t know - comforting about that?”

You nod. “I get that.” You’re quiet for a moment, considering all the things that happened in 1982. “Grease 2 came out the year I was born, so I can’t say I share a similar affinity for the pop culture phenomena of my birth year.”

Hotch lets out a low whistle and a grimace. “That film really was awful.” He waits for your laugh and is rewarded before continuing. “I saw The Who on their final tour that year.”

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

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

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

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

You lapse into silence for a little while, handing him fries from the drive-thru bag when he puts his open palm over the center console. You notice his left hand shift slightly in time with the music, and you watch a little more carefully.

And I see it needs sweeping Still my guitar gently weeps

I don’t know why Nobody told you How to unfold your love I don’t know how Someone controlled you They bought and sold you…

“Hotch, do you play guitar?” There’s a touch of disbelief in your tone, but you try to hide it for the sake of his pride. It’s not that you think he doesn’t have a musical or creative bone in his body, but you’re rather surprised by the relaxed subtlety of his movement. It was your impression he never did anything without thinking about it, and to see the slight, almost unconscious action sparks a pleasant little flicker of warmth in your chest.

He shrugs. “I played a little when I was younger. I guess you could say I know how to play, but I don’t claim to be decent at it in the slightest.” His head tips, and you could swear you see an eye roll. “Sean’s always been better at those kinds of pursuits.”

As usual, he doesn’t seem thrown or surprised by your question and doesn’t hesitate to answer them. After almost five years, he’s used to your keen observations. He’d never admit it, but he expects them - maybe he’s not able to guess at the content of the questions themselves, but he always knows there will be one eventually.

“Have you and Sean always butted heads?”

Aaron snorts, and gives you a simple, “Yes.”

You’d never met the younger Hotchner, but you’d seen photos and heard tell. From what you understand, he’s a little wilder than his older brother, a little more idealistic and far less practical. Sean seems like someone you would like, but you doubt he would rise to the top of your Favorite Hotchners List - a list with only two names so far, tied for first.

It’s safe to say Jack and Aaron are hard acts to follow.

+++

You talk about everything and nothing, when finally, he asks. “So, who is this guy?”

“Ugh.” You tip your head against the seat. “You really want to know?”

“Of course. Isn’t it protocol to brief the team before arrival?”

You snort, immediately regretting your decision to make fun of Strauss over drinks last week. “Yes, sir.”

He laughs, and you tell him.

You tell him about Austin and how you met in a random general education class and became fast friends and started dating, talked about marriage and kids and the whole nine yards. You told him about your semester abroad, your traveling, and returning home to find he’d been dating someone else while you were away, without your knowledge.

“It’s kind of cliche, I know, but it broke my heart in half.” You laugh a little to cover the truth of it. Hotch keeps his eyes on the road, letting you go at your own pace the same way you let him the entire time he’s known you. “I was really close to his family, and we did our best to remain civil and friendly for everyone else’s sake, but we’ve only kept in touch through other people the last few years.

“I think his mom sent the invitation. I mostly accepted because I’d love to see her and Austin’s little sister - I miss them the most.”

“What are they like?”

There’s a smile on your face as you tell him about them - how Allison likes more cream than actual coffee in her mug, how their mom has the best taste in books and still sends you worn copies of her favorites every once and awhile.

“It’s good of you to keep in touch.”

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

The difference, he decides, is that you are kinder, more patient than he is. Jess would hardly be in his life at all if Haley was still here. He had a hard enough time keeping up with Haley’s family when they were married. Keeping up with them after the divorce?

There was no way to know, but he can’t remember much affection between them even before Haley’s father decided to hold him personally responsible for her death.

You notice his preoccupation, and reach out. Your thumb traces back and forth over the skin of his bare forearm. “It’s different now, and it would be different then. There’s no right way to do anything.”

He exhales in a huff, and you bring your hand back into your lap. “I spent almost twenty-five years knowing Haley. You know that?”

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

There’s a sigh, and then an elbow on the center console. He leans heavily on it, and you do your best to keep your hands to yourself. “How do you know everything?” He asks.

You rest your head against the seat and adjust so your body is angled toward him. A small smile crosses your face as you take in his profile - relaxed, his wrist hanging loosely on the wheel, sunglasses resting on the bridge of his nose. “I dunno. I guess I just pay attention.”

+++

You let out an exhausted exhale upon reaching the room you will share with Aaron for the weekend. One king size bed dominates the room, instead of the two doubles you halfway expected. He recovers faster than you do, shrugging and setting his things down on the left side of the bed, closest to the door.

Instinctively and completely without previous confirmation, you kind of figured he sleeps on the left side. The realization of that fact is a little unsettling, but you follow his lead and set your suitcase on the stand opposite his, unzipping it and unfolding your garment bag.

There’s a small part of you that’s pleased by this arrangement. Another part of you shames that part.

He’s going to think you’re taking advantage of him.

Are you kidding? He’s a SWAT-trained senior FBI agent. And a lawyer. It’s impossible to take advantage of him.

Yeah, of course that’s what he wants you to think.

Do you ever shut up?

Your outfits for the cocktail hour and the ceremony day are all set. So are Hotch’s, apparently. You look over to find him hanging a grey pinstripe suit in the closet you’d never seen before. It looks beautifully tailored, and expensive.

“Mind if I take up some real estate?” You ask, holding up your handful of hangers. He shakes his head and makes some space for you.

When you’re all settled, you sit on the bed, still tired. It doesn’t make any sense, seeing as Aaron insisted on driving the entire way.

“What time is our first obligation?”

You huff a laugh at his rhetoric. “5pm. Cocktails at the hotel bar. Rehearsal dinner after that is wedding-party-only, thank God.” Glancing at the clock, you confirm, “We basically have the day to ourselves until then.”

He nods thoughtfully before meeting your eyes over your shoulder. “How do you feel about a nap?”

I love you.

Shut up.

You can’t imagine how tired he is - working off minimal sleep and coming off a drive just shy of four hours long. “I feel great about a nap.”

Aaron’s lips quirk up in a smile, and he picks up a pair of flannel pajama pants from his bag and shuts himself into the bathroom.

Oh my god. Oh my god.

You quickly shuck your sweatshirt, suddenly too warm. Standing, you cross to the window and draw the blinds, covering the room in a kind of gentle shade that isn’t quite darkness. You toe off your shoes and slip under the covers, thankful you never really changed out of your pajamas. Curling up facing the bathroom door, you try to stay awake until Hotch returns, but your eyes close of their own accord.

Hotch leaves the bathroom to find the room darkened and you under the covers, dead to the world. He takes another moment to look at you, the way your brow sits smooth and relaxed above your closed eyes, your hands curled loosely in front of your face, the way your breath evenly comes and goes past the curve of your lips.

Taking the risk, he places his jeans back into his duffle bag and gingerly stretches out on top of the covers beside you. His eyes close eventually, but he can’t remember falling asleep - entirely preoccupied by the phenomenon before him.

+++

When you stir again, your hands are warm. You take a deep breath and your eyes crack open, finding a sight that steals your breath. Hotch is on his side in front of you, ramrod straight, with your hands clasped between his. Your heads are bowed together - not touching, but close.

There’s no memory of him joining you in the massive bed, nor any recollection of contact, so he either held your hands on his own, or you found each other in sleep.

You’re not sure which one makes your heart flutter faster.

Resolving to get a little more sleep, you close your eyes. Only moments later, you feel him stir beside you. You know he’s watching you, and you endeavor to keep your breath even and slow, hoping he can’t hear the racing of your heart.

He releases one of your hands, and you let it drop down to the cover, praying your fingers don’t twitch.

You’re proud of yourself when you don’t flinch as his fingers brush butterfly-soft against your cheek, tracing from your brow bone, down your nose and across your lips. Impossibly gentle touches find their way down your temple to your jaw before disappearing.

His hand closes around yours again and it takes everything you have to keep your breath steady as he presses his lips to your fingers before tucking them back to his chest. When his breath evens out again, you know he’s asleep.

You open your eyes, thinking it's more than high time to study him for a change.

He looks years younger in his sleep, closer to your age than his. Even awake, he hardly looks the picture of a father in his mid-forties. His graceful aging is more obvious when his face isn’t drawn up in stress or that aching kind of sadness that lingers around him.

Curious about what he saw and felt on your face, you follow his path, slipping your hand out from under his, tracing his jaw, his cheek and brow bones, his handsome, straight nose.

Your finger rests lightly on his cupid’s bow for a moment, his breath rushing slow and warm over your hand. The feeling of his breath stalls yours, and you swallow. The next breath you take is almost a sob, and you press your lips into a thin line. Light fingers brush through the hair at his temples, the sparse, soft silver strands seeming to glow in the low light.

What you don’t know, however, is that he has taken a page out of your book. Though his eyes are closed and his breath even, he is very much awake, heart pounding. He’s sure you can hear it, or even feel it, with your remaining hand still trapped between his.

The catch in your breath makes his chest ache. Even then, his eyes remain closed, and he’s mindful of his breath. With the route you take, tracing his features, he realizes with a shock of adrenaline and cold panic that you were probably awake, playing at sleep then as he was now.

If that was the case, you know how he feels about you. He knows how you feel about him.

But you can’t. You don’t want to take up space in his life he doesn’t have, space better used to heal, space reserved for his son.

He can’t. It's too soon. He can’t subject you to the ghosts, the baggage, the long journey to wholeness he’s endeavored to embark upon with only his son at his side.

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

He was sure, then, that it would be easier to find the new normal on his own, but he wasn’t so sure, now.

You slip your hands away from him entirely and roll over, making play at rising. You check the time on your phone, finding the early afternoon awaiting you.

There’s a deep breath and a stretching noise, and you turn to find Aaron rolled over on his back, his hands laced behind his head.

“Good afternoon,” you say, and you’re proud of yourself for sounding normal.

A smile plays at his lips. He looks like he knows something. “Good afternoon.”

“So, tonight.” You decide it’s best to move on before anyone admits anything they don’t mean to share. “Do you just want to be ‘work friends’ or do we want to lean into the whole ‘let’s ruin Austin’s life’ thing?”

He laughs a little. “I’m comfortable leaning in if you are.”

+++

The cocktail hour isn’t as horrible as you thought it would be. Aaron sticks to your side like glue, your right hand firmly placed in the crook of his arm while your left babysits a small glass of wine, more for show than for anything else.

You hear your name from across the room, and you see a huddle of some old friends and their respective dates. Aaron tips his head down to get the briefing, and you tell him names, relationships, and brief histories as you approach.

As you expected, he’s warm and charming, taking cues from you as you navigate eight years of catch-up with classmates you remember well and alleged classmates you don’t recognize at all.

“How did you two meet?” The woman asks (You’re certain she’s someone’s sister - Hotch caught her name while you missed it. Oops.).

You glance up at Aaron for a second before answering. “We’re in the same department at work.”

The man with her takes a sip of his drink. Him, you kind of recognize. Casey? Carson? Maybe. “Where is that, again? I can’t remember where you landed after your internship.”

“DoJ, in Quantico.”

Leslie, who you met in guided research your senior year, rolls her eyes. “They work for the FBI, Carson, keep up.”

Carson, that’s it.

“No shit!”

A small group has gathered around you, and you shuffle closer to Aaron. He wraps his arm around your waist and steps a little behind you, protective and secure.

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

“We also don’t have jurisdiction even if we did, so keep it high and tight and we’ll all do just fine.” Aaron’s voice rumbles through you with a laugh, and you take an overlarge sip of wine.

He really shouldn’t say things like high and tight with his hand where it is.

And his hand isn’t really in any kind of questionable location, just resting above your hip with his chest to your back, but it's still more contact than you’re used to. He wasn’t joking about leaning in.

“There he is!” Carson crows, and your head whips around. You almost lose your balance, but Hotch keeps his feet. A warm hand presses to your shoulder.

“Thank you,” you whisper. You know he can hear you, and he presses a kiss to your temple.

“Always.”

It’s just an act. He doesn't mean it. He can’t mean it.

Austin approaches with his drop-dead gorgeous fiancee and a smile.

Aaron releases you as Austin gives you a warmer hug than you were expecting, and examines Hotch over your shoulder. He introduces you to his fiancee (Madeline), and you introduce them both to Aaron.

“Austin, this is my…” you pause, realizing you never actually established a cover story, letting the implication speak for itself. “Aaron.” You recover with a light laugh, and Aaron pulls you to him with one hand while he shakes Austin’s with the other.

You try not to smirk at the grimace that flashes across Austin’s face when Aaron’s hand closes around his in a very firm and assertive handshake. “Pleasure. Congratulations.”

Austin laughs, a little uncomfortable, and stretches his hand once it reaches his side again. “Thanks. We’re really glad you both could make it. Mom will be really happy to see you.”

+++

“That could have been so much worse.” You shuck Aaron’s blazer off your shoulders and hang it in the closet as he passes behind you. He’d passed it to you when you shivered slightly at the bar and it wasn’t even a point of conversation. It had been second nature to him, draping it over you and placing a hand on your back. The memory pulls a smile from your lips. “Thank you for enduring the mayhem down there.”

Aaron sits on the bed and slips off his boots. “I can’t remember the last time I went to a social event that didn’t directly affect my career trajectory.” He looks up at you, and his grin makes your heart skip around in your chest.

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

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

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

You move easily around each other, changing into pajamas and brushing your teeth and getting otherwise ready for bed. He’s cute at night, with his pajamas and floppy hair and big yawns. It’s not like you haven’t seen this side of him before, what with all the late nights watching movies with Jack, but it is significant that it’s just the two of you. He’s not Jack’s Dad right now, or Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner who won’t go to bed until The Case Is Solved, but Aaron.

Sleepy, charming, funny Aaron.

Eventually, you throw back the covers and crawl in without thinking about it too much, while Aaron lingers in the bathroom doorway.

“I really can take the couch.”

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

“Oh?” He asks. “Why’s that?”

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

The bathroom light flips off, and you hear a scoff in the dark. “Never once did I say significantly younger.”

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

The mattress dips beside you, and his form takes shape in the darkness, facing you. Before he can speak again, you cut him off.

“You know what? Nevermind. I forgot who I was talking to, and I would hate for you to go full-tilt lawyer on me.” You curl up, bringing the covers to your chin. He laughs, and you can almost pretend that this is your life, that you get to fall asleep beside Aaron every night.

Don’t get comfortable.

Why not? He’s here, isn’t he?

He is, but not like that. This is a favor for a friend, nothing more.

You’re both quiet for a little while, listening to each other breathe in the dark. There’s a sigh, and you belatedly realize it came from you.

“Are you okay?” Aaron’s voice floats to you in the dark, and you nod. “I know this isn’t easy for you.”

You think for a moment, trying to articulate your thoughts. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just - I really can’t tell you how grateful I am that you’re here with me this weekend.” A hand reaches out, and you find it.

“Of course. I’m glad I can be here for you.” He means it. The trust you’ve placed in him does not go unnoticed or unappreciated. Your willingness to be vulnerable and funny and so yourself is a precious gift to him, and one he’ll never take for granted. “Thank you for letting me come.”

I’d like to let you come -

Ew, dude.

What?

Now is not the time.

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

Your friend.

He is your friend.

I know but that…sucks.

It doesn’t have to.

There’s something in his voice that almost makes you stupid, but you hold your tongue. “Goodnight, Hotch.”

He takes a deep breath, missing the way his first name fits in your mouth. It sounds safe there, like you’d never use it against him. “Goodnight.”

+++

You feel warm and feeling somewhat constricted, but not uncomfortable. There’s weight at your back and an arm around your waist, and you lean into it in your state of half-wakefulness. A little noise leaves the body behind you, almost like a sigh with tone.

Remembering where you are, you resist the instinct to jump. Hotch is wrapped around you like a koala, his knee between yours, one arm under your head and the other around your waist, face buried into the crook of your neck and shoulder.

His hair smells divine, and he’s so warm.

Your theory from yesterday morning seems confirmed - you definitely didn’t fall asleep touching each other, so you must have found each other in the night. The thought warms you, and you close your eyes again.

The ceremony isn’t until the early afternoon, so you have all the time in the world to doze and prepare for the hellscape of the day.

That’s not a fair assessment. You think, and correct yourself.

If the prior evening was any indication, things would go smoothly. Aaron was the world’s best wingman. He kept conversation flowing and took your cues without a second’s hesitation. Everyone loved him, and people asked you all night how you met, how long you’d known each other, how long you’d been together. The first questions were easy, but the last one was one you hadn’t prepared for. He, of course, had an answer for all three.

“We work together.”

“We met, what? Five years ago now? Maybe a little more?”

“We’ve been partners for almost four years.”

And...he wasn’t lying. You always paired off with him at work, whether naturally or by assignment. His lack of specifics in defining your relationship both settled and raised your blood pressure, depending on the way you decided to approach it. The words accompanied an affectionate squeeze around your waist or a kiss to the back of your hand.

You know he’s just playing the part for the weekend and everything will go back to normal when you get home.

But God, he’s good at it.

You almost believe him.

He’s still sleeping behind you, his breath fanning slow and even across your shoulder. You’re both fully clothed, but there’s something intimate about it. Sleep, you think, is inherently vulnerable, inherently a trusting state. You two not only managed to fall asleep in the same bed, but woke up tangled together.

You drop your hand to your waist and rest your hand on top of his, falling back into sleep without too much thought.

When Hotch wakes, it’s thankfully late. He’s far too comfortable to be in a hotel bed, but quickly realizes it’s not the mattress. You’re wrapped in his arms, and for a split second he almost panics, concerned that you’ll wake to find him glommed onto you like some kind of ridiculous backpack.

But then he remembers the way your fingers traced his face when you were sure he was asleep, the way you leaned into him the night before - taking shelter in his willing arms.

He feels your fingers pushed between his, your palm warm against the back of his hand, holding him to you.

He’s fucked. He’s totally and completely fucked. He’s even more fucked to even consider the possibility you’re fucked, too.

How could you possibly want him? A man nearly fifteen years older than you, with one failed marriage under his belt, an inability to tear himself away from his work, and more than enough trauma to drown in is hardly the ideal partner for someone as vibrant as you, with so much life yet to live.

And yet, it’s so hard to imagine a life without you. Whenever he looks into his future, he sees you there with him. It’s far too easy to let himself fall into the fantasy as you peacefully sleep in his arms with your fingers laced together.

You shift a little in your sleep, and he arches his back a little, definitely trying to keep you away from...certain parts of his anatomy that are a little more awake than the rest of him.

Quit while you’re ahead, Hotchner.

He very gingerly disentangles himself from you, and he’s pleased when he only gets a few sleepy protests in return. The shower is calling his name, for more than one reason including but not limited to the uncomfortable tightness of his flannel pajama pants.

With one last lingering glance at you, he picks up his toiletries and locks himself in the bathroom for a long (very) hot shower, followed by a much shorter (very) cold shower.

While he’s gone, you stir and stretch your arms over your head. A little disoriented, you find his side of the bed empty but not quite cold before you hear the running water of the shower.

What if you just -

Do not finish that thought.

You are not one iota of fun.

Reaching for your bag, you pull your laptop out and get started on some emails. You have a couple from Seaver and one from Emily.

You sigh and pull out your phone.

“Prentiss.”

“Hey, Em. You wanted me to call?”

“Oh, I just wanted to see how things are going down there.” her voice is the picture of forced nonchalance, and you can almost hear Penelope leaning over her shoulder.

You laugh into the phone and trace patterns on the bedspread. “Things are going well. Hotch was the perfect gentleman last night, and we have the ceremony and reception today. We head home tomorrow morning.”

“Has anything happened? Where is he right now?”

“He’s in the shower. And no, don’t be ridiculous.” You shove your phone under your chin and answer all of Ashley’s questions in confident keystrokes. “You and I both know he’s just here because he likes to owe me favors.”

Aaron pauses in the bathroom, in the middle of towel-drying his hair. With a smile, he overhears: “...he’s just here because he likes to owe me favors.”

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

Ah. So it is Emily.

“I’m not going to do anything about it because there’s nothing to do anything about...Don’t give me that...You have absolutely no proof...I don’t care if you’re a profiler or not, there is no way you can say with any definitive certainty -” You pause, and your voice drops to a low murmur he can’t hear over the hum of the bathroom fan.

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

You’re so glad you drop your voice to finish your thought (“- that he’s in love with me. Don’t be stupid.”) because the door opens and you are immediately confronted with Aaron Hotchner in a towel and every single coherent thought flies out of your head. He smiles a little at you, and something in you melts.

“Are you good?” Emily’s voice is full of laughter.

The heat rises in your cheeks and you whip your head back to your laptop, typing just for something to do with your hands. “Yeah, for sure.”

“He just walked out wearing a towel, didn’t he?”

“Emily, you know I’m not going to dignify that with a response.” You roll your eyes, and miss the smirk on Hotch’s face as he grabs his hanging clothes from the closet.

“So that’s a yes.”

+++

Austin’s family clearly spared no expense for either the ceremony or the reception. You and Aaron had walked in arm-in-arm to find a spot on the groom’s side near the back. It’s still weird - there was a time where you thought for sure Austin was the be-all-end all for you.

But here you are, sitting next to Aaron. He’s wearing that beautiful suit that looks even better on him than it did on the hanger (and that’s saying something). As promised, his tie matches your outfit, and you’d be lying if you didn’t say it made your heart all warm watching him put it on.

The ceremony itself is a blur. You stand and sit when you’re supposed to, and spend the vows with your head on Aaron’s shoulder - playing the role, of course. You take a few unsteady breaths, caught off guard by how affected you are by the ritual of it all.

You don’t love Austin anymore, not by a long shot. That said, the reminder that you’re not married to anybody but work and rapidly approaching thirty is unpleasant.

“Are you okay?” Hotch’s whisper doesn’t carry far.

You nod. “Yeah. Just thinking.”

“About?”

You shake your head, the soft wool of his suit jacket pressing into your temple. “Later.”

His cheek presses to your hair for just a moment. He’s not worried about you, per se, but he’s never seen you in this existentially forlorn state before. It’s a feeling he recognizes in himself, but to see it on you makes him feel a new kind of helpless.

+++

You’re at the open bar, snagging a glass of wine for yourself and two fingers of whiskey for Aaron (the good stuff, of course), when Austin’s mother warmly accosts you.

“Darling!”

Against your will, a genuine smile breaks out across your face. “Hey, Laurie!” You set the drinks down and embrace her, the familiar smell of her perfume engulfing you. Suddenly, you feel nineteen years old again. “Congratulations.”

She pulls back and waves off your good wishes. “Oh, please. I haven’t done anything.”

You laugh and shake your head. “I beg to differ, but alright.”

She takes you under her arm and holds you close to her. “So.” Her tone is conspiratorial, as if a great plot is to unfold before you. “Who is that devastatingly handsome man you’ve brought with you to shame my son?”

“I did not bring him to shame your son, he offered to come when my original date bailed. You remember Dean?”

“Of course. Such a sweet boy. Still married to his work?”

You shake your head. “I would be...hypocritical of me to get upset with him for that. My work at the bureau keeps me plenty busy. If I’m honest, this is the first personal time I’ve used in four years.”

She squeezes you for a half-second. “I’m so glad you’re here with us.” Her lips purse. “But don’t think you can get out of telling me about that fine, fine man over there.”

“His name is Aaron,” you start, fighting a smile. “We work together at the bureau and he’s just a friend, Laurie, so don’t get any ideas.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, I always have ideas. Now, introduce me so I can see for myself.”

With a long-suffering sigh, you grab the drinks off the bar and lead her to the table, where Aaron sits with his fingers pressed thoughtfully to his mouth, his elbow on the table and ankle crossed over his knee. Approaching from behind him, you set the whiskey down where he can’t knock it over and lay a hand on his shoulder. “Aaron.”

He turns, and a broad smile breaks out over his face. You’re sure he’s just being polite - you’ve never seen him smile so much. Offering a hand to Laurie, he stands. “SSA Aaron Hotchner. Thank you for having us. I’ve heard so much about you and your family.”

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

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

You try to ignore the fondness in Aaron’s eyes as he watches the two of you, Laurie cooing over you and your successes. She returns her focus back to Aaron. “Sit, sit and tell me what you crazy kids get up to over there in Quantico.”

Aaron sits and relaxes back into his chair, resting his arm on the back of your seat. You lean forward with your elbows on the table, your hands propping up your head. Aaron’s a great storyteller, of course, and it’s so interesting to watch him talk about work outside of the context itself. He seems to bloom - effusive, charming, and warm - before you.

When you look at him, it’s as if you’re seeing him for the first time.

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

Laurie is clearly enamored, completely drawn into his gentle description of your very-stressful and often-gritty line of work. “It’s so lovely you have so much fondness for each other. I imagine it makes everything much easier.”

He nods, and glances at you. “It does.”

Your phone buzzes on the table, and you excuse yourself with a hand on each of their shoulders.

“Dean, you bastard!” You answer. Hotch’s huff of laughter tells you he overheard it, but he picks up right where he left off with Laurie.

As you step out onto the banquet hall balcony, almost feel bad leaving him to his own devices, but then you remember all the times he’s been left alone with serial killers and you feel much better.

“Hey babe! Are you surviving? Are you alone? Tell me everything.”

You laugh into the phone. “I’m doing alright. Hotch actually offered to come with me. I just stepped out, but he’s in there holding his own well enough.”

“Oh my god. When I said that I didn’t actually think you’d do it!”

“What do you mean?” You look up and out over the property, and the views are simply breathtaking. The moonlight falling across the Virginia landscape almost makes the world look like it’s holding its breath.

What it’s waiting for... you’re not sure.

“When I said bring your hot boss to the wedding I was joking. You didn’t ask him, did you?”

You let out a snort and it almost disrupts the peace of the evening. “Of course not. He offered.”

“I have never met a pair of people so fucking stupid in all my life.”

“You’ve never met Hotch, idiot.”

“Don’t have to,” Dean says. “I know you are you’re dumb enough for the both of you.”

+++

When the dancing starts, you’re understandably resistant. The playlist is a playful mix of contemporary and classic music, and you can’t help but laugh when Signed, Sealed, Delivered (I’m Yours) starts to play.

Aaron stands and offers you his hand. You take his hand without thinking, belatedly realizing his intentions.

“Hotch, you can’t be serious.” You stop dead in your tracks, but his grip on your fingers stays firm as he looks back at you with a look of humorous disbelief on his face.

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

You glare at him, dubious. “Why don’t I believe you?”

“Because I’m lying.”

And at the end of the day, you can’t refuse him anything - especially when he smiles at you like that.

He’s an excellent dancer. Your grip on his shoulder slowly loosens as you grow more comfortable, trusting him to lead you around the dance floor. He holds you tight, his movement playful in a way that’s almost foreign to you.

You’ve seen him dance exactly once, at Haley’s 39th birthday party, the summer before she died.

You catch sight of Austin and Madeline on the other side of the dance floor and avert your gaze when you find Austin looking back at you.

“Hey.” Aaron’s voice is low, almost a laugh.

Your eyes snap to Aaron’s. “What?”

“Relax.”

“You’re one to talk,” you scoff.

He rolls his eyes and throws you out by one arm, spinning you so your back is to his chest. “I’m plenty relaxed. You are tense.”

The feeling of his heartbeat against your back ruins your resolve and you relent. “It just feels weird.”

“What does?” He spins you back out and pulls you close. You try not to be too distracted by the proximity of his face to yours when you land back against his chest, you hand resting over his heart.

“I just -” you push through your reluctance and admit, “I don’t love him in that way anymore, but it’s super weird to even think that I could have ever thought he was it for me. And now he’s with someone he loves and both of our lives just...kept going after we split, you know?” You shake your head, scattering your thoughts.

He nods. “I do.”

You believe him. The very concept of his heartbreak with Haley - the separation, the anger, the divorce, her death, the love - is overwhelming. You know he understands.

The silence that lapses between you is comfortable.

Yeah, I've done a lot of foolish things That I really didn't mean I could be a broken man Here I am, baby...

When he turns you under his arm, you laugh until you can’t breathe. There’s a smile on his face, too, and there’s something warm and inexplicable about it. You turn the tables on him, turning him under your arm and pulling him back to you.

The song changes to something slower and, true to his word, Aaron keeps you out on the dance floor. You’re exhausted all of a sudden, and your eyes close as you rest your head against his shoulder.

“Thank you for being here with me.”

You’re only sure you spoke aloud when Aaron replies, “Of course.”

+++

Your feet ache when you finally call it quits and head upstairs to your room for the night. Aaron’s suit jacket had long since left him, leaving him rolled sleeves and a loose tie with his top two buttons undone. It traveled from the back of his chair to where it now rests, slung over his arm.

You look over your shoulder as you slip your shoes off. “You look positively rumpled, Agent Hotchner.”

He lets out a laugh, and it makes your breath catch. His laugh always takes you by surprise; it’s much brighter and higher than his speaking register, and frankly, adorable. “It’s past my bedtime.”

“You don’t have a bedtime.” And it was true - you could count on one hand the amount of times you’d known him to actually sleep, especially on a case. You could neither confirm nor deny that he even needed it to function prior to this weekend.

The thought makes your cheeks a little warm, and you turn away from him, setting aside your pajamas and packing the rest of your items.

There’s a little chuckle behind you before the bathroom door closes and the shower starts up.

When Aaron leaves the bathroom, his hair wet and pajamas on, you’re asleep. Curled up on top of the covers, out like a light.

He flips all the switches, leaving the room in darkness. Creeping to your side of the bed, he reaches over and pulls the covers down, gingerly shuffling your legs underneath, followed by your torso. You stir a little, and catch his hand as he moves to tuck your hands under the covers.

His eyes close, just for a moment, before slipping his hand out of yours. He’s already dreading going back to his empty apartment tomorrow afternoon.

That feeling is only amplified when you curl up against his chest as soon as he’s settled under the covers, your leg hooked over his.

+++

You wake up warm again, and snuggle into the body beside you. Arms tighten around you, and you remember where you are and who you’re with. Unlike yesterday, you can’t pretend to be asleep - when you look up, Hotch is awake, brown eyes looking down at you.

“Good morning,” he says.

You tuck your face back into his chest. “I’m sorry - I’m clingy when I sleep.”

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

Don't read into that.

I’m going to.

Don’t.

Fuck.

“What time is it?” You crane your neck and look at the clock on his bedside table, but you can’t quite see with his arm in the way.

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

“You drove here.” You shove at him and sit up.

He shrugs and you take a moment to admire the tousled, floppy state of his hair. “I like driving.”

“I won’t argue with that.”

You sigh, stretch, stand and start rolling. You brush your teeth (twice) and put your clothes back into your suitcase, zipping it up without much trouble. He, of course, takes it off your hands right away and brings the bags to the car while you take care of checkout.

He meets you outside, sunglasses on, and the sun hits his hair. You can see all the nuances in the black - the touch of silver, the dark browns and reds. They all seem to make a halo around him in the sunshine. “Ready?”

You snap back to attention and give him a wide smile. “Yes, sir!”

Breakfast is an eventful affair. As soon as you sit down, you get a call from Penelope.

“Hey, Pen, what’s up?” You look across the table at Hotch with amusement in your eyes, and he smiles, still digging into his eggs benedict like a starving man.

“Tell me everything.”

“Oh, well we’re just at breakfast, almost on our way back. My laptop is in the car, can I take a look at that for you when I get home?”

Not now, Penelope, I’ll call you when I’m home.

She hums, following right away. “You better give me every single detail as soon as you step through the door or I swear I’ll riot.”

With a laugh, you reply, “Of course. You know, it might be easier if you just stop by - I’ll text you when I get home and we can do dinner or something.” You push your food around your plate, trying to ignore the fact that the only person you actually want to have dinner with is right across from you.

“Perfect. Yeah, just text me when you get home babycakes. Can’t wait!” She hangs up promptly, and your eyebrows raise for a half second.

You put your phone away and shake your head. “She’s very predictable.”

He nods, looking at you from under his brows. “Indeed.”

You both continue to dig into your food, not realizing how hungry you are from all your antics the night before. His phone rings next, and it’s Jack.

“Hey bud!”

There’s nothing better than the way his voice transforms when he speaks to his son. You hear your name and return your attention to his conversation.

“...we’re at a wedding this weekend, remember? We got to go to a big party last night, and we’re driving home today… Yeah,” he looks at you, “we did have a lot of fun… I’m so glad you had a good time with Aunt Jess and the Brooks cousins this weekend… You got to go ice fishing? That’s so exciting! Did Grandpa take you?... Awesome, bud… Sounds good, I’ll call you when I get home, okay?... I love you too.”

When he puts his phone away, you ask, “How’s he doing?”

“It’ll be a fight to get him home, that’s for sure.”

You take another bite of your food. “How are things with Haley’s family? Any better?”

“Not at all. I’m not sure there’s much I can do, at this point. Jess does what she can, but her dad is… not a fan of mine.” There’s a kind of sadness in his eyes, and you almost regret asking.

“I know you know this, but none of this is your fault.” You look into him and hope he can see the sincerity in your eyes, hear it in your voice.

He thinks for a moment, and you’re almost nervous he’s going to disagree (it’s happened before), but he just meets your eyes and says, “Thank you.”

+++

Hotch lets you pick the music on the way home, and doesn’t say a word when you sing along (sometimes good, sometimes bad). He does occasionally smile a little secret smile to himself, which makes your heart skip around in your chest.

At a certain point, you turn the music off and sit back in your seat.

As usual, Aaron knows you’re going to say something long before you say it. “Yes?”

“I know I keep saying this, but thank you for coming with me this weekend.” Your body shifts toward him, and you can’t seem to tear your eyes from his profile.

“You’re welcome.” He glances at you before looking back at the road. “Thank you for trusting me not to embarrass you in front of people you haven’t seen in almost ten years.”

You smile a kind of lopsided sort of smile. “You could never embarrass me.”

He frowns playfully. “That’s not true.”

“You are exceedingly upstanding, and you just got your hair cut, so the odds are in my favor.”

“Hey!” He self-consciously runs a hand over the back of his hair. You reach over to shove at his shoulder and you’re rewarded with a laugh.

“I’m kidding! I like it long.” You look over fondly at him. “It was longer when I first met you, remember?” You’re not sure why you continue, but you do nevertheless. “You started keeping it shorter after the div - well, after.”

He quirks his brow, the corners of his lips upturned just the smallest amount. “Nobody ever accused you of being unobservant.”

You grin widely at him and turn the radio back on.

+++

You’ve never been more disappointed to see your own driveway in your whole life. Hotch pulls in and turns the ignition off, and you sit in silence for a minute.

There’s so much to think about, and most of it is at least a little uncomfortable. Of course you’re in love with him and he’s your favorite person (and that’s bad enough), but that is even harder to stomach now that you have to go back into the real world.

It’s easy to pretend that it was real, that it wasn’t just for show to make you feel less awful about the direction of your love life. If anything, now that you’re home, you feel even worse.

The only person you want is seemingly the only person you can’t have. There’s something so unattainable about Hotch. You’re not sure if it’s his stern exterior or his age or his role, or if it has more to do with how devastatingly handsome he is, but it’s something.

Aaron wishes he could do anything else, than leave you here at home. Nevertheless, he sighs and gets out of the car. You follow him around back, though you’re not really sure why - he takes your suitcase and insists on carrying it all the way to the door.

You stand there, fumbling with your keys, feeling more and more like a character in a romantic comedy with every passing second. Aaron sets your suitcase on the ground and covers your hands with his. You look up at him, and he leans toward you, pressing a gentle, chaste kiss to your cheek.

“Thank you for inviting me.”

All you can do is nod, with a tight, closed-mouth smile.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says

“Bye, Hotch,” you call to him as he trots back to the car. “Thanks again.”

He turns toward you, puts his sunglasses on, opens the door, and says, “Anytime.”

You wave with the tips of your fingers and slide into your house. Your back to do the door, you slide down to the floor and cover your face with your hands.

Fuck.

tagged: @arganfics @quillvine @stxrryspencer @agenthotchner @wandaswitxh @hurricanejjareau @fics-ilike @ange-must-die @ughitsbaby @rousethemouse @criminalsmarts @dr-reid-ismyspiritanimal @shrimpyblog @genevievedarcygranger @ssaic-jareau @saintd0lce @good-heavens-chris-evans @angelsbabey @gublergirls @writefasttalkevenfaster @venusbarnes @vintagecaptainspidey @micaiahmoonheart @ogmilkis @thatreallyis-americas-ass @marvels-agents100 @newtslatte @risenfox @mrs-dr-reid @captain-christopher-pike @joemazzello-imagines @pinkdiamond1016 @sebbybaby0 @pan-pride-12 @hotchlinebling @lee-rin-ah @sunshine-em @word-scribbless @jdougl-love @sageellsworth05 @emmice9 @nohalohoseok @giveusbackourbucky @bauslut @yourlovelynewsbian @sparklingkeylimepie @aili28 @kingandrear @reader4027 @spnobsessedmemes @rogers-mouth @dreila03 @forgottenword @aaronhotchnerr @ssa-morgan @hotchnersgoddess @buckybau @phoenixfyre374 @sana-li @tegggeeee @abschaffer2 @ssacandi-ass-prentiss @songbird400 @dontkissthewriter @ellyhotchner @a-dorky-book-keeper @lotties-journey-abroad @mrs-joel-pimentel-23-25 @laneygthememequeen @ahopelessromantic @violentvulgarvolatile @andreasworlsboring101 @mooneylupinblack @ssareidbby @violet-amxthyst @zizzlekwum @lcvischmitt

#aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #hotch #tali writes fanfiction #tali talks cm #a joyful future #a joyful future fanfic

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poodlejoonas · 3 years

Text

Aleksi - Fur Baby

For @bcfanweek Day 6: Aleksi Kaunisvesi

Words: 1,559

Description: You and Aleksi take the next big step in your relationship - adopting a dog together.

Notes: Aleksi Kaunisvesi/Reader (gender unspecified)

Aleksi took you totally by surprise the night he asked if you wanted to adopt a puppy with him. It was your shared ritual that one of you will cook and one of you will clean, and tonight was your night to do the cleaning. The dishes were almost done when he strolled back into the kitchen, looking down shyly at the floor with his hands in the pockets of his basketball shorts.

It’s a rare sight whenever Aleksi is too shy to look you in the eye. He hasn’t done this since your first date, when he spent the entire dinner with his face blushed over in red. He was even more straightforward about asking you to move in with him than he is now. Whatever was on his mind had to be bad, so you prepared for the worst.

“Yes?” you asked, waiting for him to finally look you in the eye.

Aleksi finally looked up to you with a soft smile on his face. That relieved some of your concerns, but it left you with more questions than answers. “So I’ve been thinking -”

“Oh, that’s never a good idea,” you joked, to which he only responded with a short laugh. This kind of teasing is a common part of your relationship, so he took it with a grain of salt.

“Anyway, I’ve been thinking… I know we’ve talked about this, but do you think we’re ready for the next step?”

What’s the next step? Marriage? Buying a house and moving out of this little apartment? Aleksi had such a way with words, especially the words that leave you more confused than ever.

“What do you mean?”

His smile grew much bigger than before. “Do you want to adopt a dog with me?”

You nearly dropped the plate you’d just been cleaning. You mentioned in passing a few months ago that you’ve wanted a dog for a while. Both of you are animal lovers, so you hoped that someday the two of you could have a little fur baby to call your own. The look in his eyes meant that he was serious about it.

“Yes, Aleksi!” you practically shouted and ran into his arms. He caught you just before you nearly barreled him over. “Where do you want to start?”

He showed you pictures from an open-air rescue he found online. They had plenty of rave reviews about their shelter - the quality of the care, great customer service, adorable and loving dogs looking for homes. It was in a small town just outside Helsinki, with plenty of room for the dogs to live and roam. “Do you want to go this Saturday?”

That left you with four days to get everything you needed to bring the new fur baby home. Money was no problem, and all you needed was a good shopping day to get prepared. You thought about it and nodded your head.

Aleksi smiled from ear to ear again. “Perfect.” With one last kiss, he disappeared to take a shower, leaving you waiting in the living room for him to return so you could enjoy a couple more hours together.

The thought of the pitter patter of tiny, furry paws around your home filled you with excitement. Saturday just couldn’t come fast enough.

Aleksi merged off the highway just a couple miles away from the shelter. It had just begun to heat up outside, so both of you wanted to be home with your new family member before it became sweltering. The box in the back seat sat empty in wait, lined with an old fleece blanket to make the ride home more comfortable. You wiggled in your seat and Aleksi couldn’t help but notice your excitement.

“Patience,” he said through a laugh. “We’re almost there.”

The shelter was even more pleasant than you could have imagined. It was colorful and inviting, and you could hear the sounds of the barking dogs playing outside. A shelter employee greeted you at the door and asked what they could do for you.

“We’re here to adopt,” Aleksi started, and right away she knew exactly where to take you. She told you everything you needed to know about getting the paperwork started and gave advice on how to pick a dog that was right for you. They had 45 dogs at the time, all of whom had been surrendered or rescued from difficult living situations. She also warned that some of them had some form of trauma, either from neglect or being separated from their previous owners.

After the talk in the office, she took the two of you outside to interact with the dogs. One by one, each dog ran to you to vie for your attention, in the hopes that you would take them home. Some of them were big, like a husky named Cyrus who nearly knocked you over while you were sitting. There were some that were small, like a Pomeranian named Teddy who just bounced all over the place.

“Aleksi, why is this such a hard decision?” you complained, petting one dog in each hand while a third climbed onto your lap.

“I really want a big one but can it even live in our apartment?” He then laughed and pointed to a Boxer who was staring him down. “This one’s called Tommi.”

“You’re kidding!” You had to look for yourself and sure enough, the name tag showed that this dog shared its name with Aleksi’s bandmate. “He even looks a little bit like him.”

Aleksi snapped a picture to send to the band group chat. He was surrounded by just as many dogs as you were, struggling to keep them from licking and crawling all over his face. He looked like he was in heaven, and quite frankly you couldn’t blame him. “What do you think so far?”

It wasn’t that none of them had caught your eye yet - your real problem was that all of them had. There was no way you could pick just one, especially knowing that you would have to leave the rest behind. “10 more minutes?” you asked with a pleading look on your face.

“Sure.” Aleksi couldn’t resist it when you gave him that look. He threw a couple toys around, seeing which ones he felt he could play better with. You asked a few questions about the backgrounds of your favorites so far to see what help, if any, they would need to readjust to their new home.

The shelter door connecting to the playground opened and another employee came out holding a Dachshund. She placed the dog down on the floor, who immediately shook her entire body and carried on towards the crowd. This dog was a round one, not to the point that it affected her mobility, but she looked like she’d been fed well. She was dark brown with beady eyes and large ears that flopped down at the ends.

As cheesy as this sounds, laying eyes on this dog was love at first sight for you. She came up to you and when you went to pet her, her first instinct was to raise her own paw for a high five. She caught Aleksi’s attention, who called your name and turned his left arm over. It was his arm with his “small town” tattoo, one that he got so he could feel like he carried home with him wherever he went. And right on the street of that hometown was a weenie dog who looked exactly like the one in front of you.

“She’s perfect,” was all he had to say. He read her name tag out loud: Seidi. “We have to have her. Please?” You thought it was endearing that Aleksi fell more in love with this dog than you did.

Of course you couldn’t say no, the prediction of your meeting was literally inked into his skin. You gave each of the dogs around you one more pat before you stood up and held Seidi in your arms. “We want this one.”

“Perfect!” The two employees took you to the front and guided you through the rest of the adoption process. You looked down at Seidi and she didn’t miss a beat on trying to kiss your face. “She’s been waiting for her forever home for three months now,” the girl commented. “I bet she’s glad to have a home now.”

Aleksi smiled proudly. “We’ll give her a good one.” Your heart hurt thinking that Seidi had to wait so long for someone to scoop her up. But at the same time, you were grateful that she’d waited around to come into your life.

Out in the car, Seidi turned around in her box and sat down, panting but it looked like there was a smile on her face. Aleksi pulled out his phone and got closer to you, close enough to get you in the shot but with a gap so Seidi could fit in the shot too.

“@alexmattson: On our way home with the new baby! Everyone, say hello to Seidi Kaunisvesi. Isn’t she cute?”

You hadn’t gotten home yet before he was flooded with loving comments. Seidi would need some time to get used to your home, but she’d already filled a spot in your home you never knew was missing.

Endnotes:

A gift for my favorite resident Aleksi stan, @gncvillain.

#blind channel #aleksi kaunisvesi #alex mattson #bcfanweek #blurbs #in ches' own words: aleksi please adopt a fat weenie dog with me

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koalataeil · 3 years

Text

Intertwined (Poly!DoyoungxKun xHaechanxJungwoo)

pairing: kun x doyoung x jungwoo x haechan x reader (gender neutral)

words: 1.9k

genre: pure fluff, established relationship, poly!au

request: poly!nct (kun, doyoung, jungwoo, haechan, reader) fluff

summary: doyoung isn’t really one for couple’s/partner’s items, but he treats his significant others to one that will work for them.

A/N: this was such a challenge to write because this is such a different group of members. it was super fun and i hope you all enjoy

You could hear the boys loudly talking as they walked down the hallway before they entered your shared apartment. You couldn’t help but grin as you tried to hear what they were talking about while you keep your eyes on the tv playing a new show you’d just gotten into. Once the door opened, their voices were significantly louder, continuing their debate.

“Y/N!” Jungwoo called, running to your spot once he got his shoes off. He tackled you in a tight hug, pushing you onto your side. “I missed you,” he’d comment, kissing the side of your head.

“We missed you too,” Haechan pouted, trying to get involved in the cuddling mess before him.

“Give Y/N some room you two,” Kun commanded from across the room, fixing their shoes and picking up their thrown jackets and bags.

“It’s okay Kun,” you replied, your heart full from seeing your boyfriends for the first time in a couple days. They’d been busy with some meetings to discuss comeback plans and the possibility of a new subunit debuting soon. “Where’s Doyoung?”

“He had to go pick up something quick. He said he’ll be home soon,” Kun replied, finally feeling content with how the entryway looked. He made his way over to you three on the couch, his smile ever-present as he finally took you in. Haechan had finally made Jungwoo move so he could join you at your other side. Both boys did their best to pull you closer to them, each resting their heads on your shoulders.

“He went by himself?” you asked softly, looking towards Kun, who took a seat across from you.

Jungwoo nodded, “he said it was a secret so we couldn’t go with him.” His voice was quiet as he snuggled into the crook of your neck.

“Did you eat yet, Y/N?” Haechan asked, his finger drawing lazy shapes on your thigh.

“Yeah, I got some pizza earlier.” Jungwoo immediately moved his head away from you and pouted. You smiled, “There’s some leftovers in the fridge for you Jungwoo.”

He grinned and rushed to the kitchen to grab a couple of slices. Kun took the chance to kiss your forehead while Jungwoo was distracted. He also ruffled Haechan’s hair, earning a light slap to the wrist from the youngest. You giggled softly as you pet Haechan’s hair, trying to fix it for him. “You’re so cute, Channie,” Kun cooed.

“Y/N, tell Kun to leave me alone,” he mumbled beside you. You just smiled in response, holding one of Kun’s hands in your own.

“Don’t cuddle without me!” Jungwoo yelled, returning from the kitchen, a small piece of sauce still in the corner of his mouth. He jumped onto the couch and returned to his spot beside you.

“You have something on your face,” Kun mentioned, leaning over to clean it off with his hand. Jungwoo instead pulled Kun further, their faces inches from each other. Kun got the hint, licking off the sauce from his lip.

They smiled at each other, “Thank you, Kun.”

“Get a room,” Haechan groaned, making the rest of you laugh.

“Are you jealous, Haechan?” Jungwoo questioned.

“Y/N, make them stop,” he whined from beside you. Before you could say anything, Kun had moved in front of Haechan, his hand cupping the younger’s chin and pulling him in for a short, soft kiss. Haechan seemed shocked after Kun pulled away, becoming silent as his face started turning red.

You glanced up at Kun expectedly, waiting for your turn. Kun just grinned in response, mirroring his previous actions with Haechan now with you. This kiss lasted a lot longer than the one between Haechan and Kun, but it remained soft and innocent and full of love. Kun smiled shyly at you as he pulled away. You smiled back in return before he moved to the couch across from you once again. A light conversation about your days started as you waited for your last boyfriend to return home.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

“I’m home,” Doyoung sang as he closed the front door behind him, kicking his shoes off. Three bags hung from his arms, two filled with food and one with his surprise. The surprise that had caused his chest to tighten for most of the day and only just got worse as he walked home from the store.

“Doyoung!” Jungwoo yelled, removing himself from his spot beside you to run-up to the older man like an excited puppy. He reached to grab the bags in his arms, only for them to be pulled away from him.

“I still have a surprise. I don’t want you to ruin it,” Doyoung explained once he saw Jungwoo’s small pout. Jungwoo nodded, trudging back to his spot on the couch. Doyoung followed after setting the non-food bag on the table near the door. “I brought some snacks and drinks.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” you started as he handed you a bottle of your favorite soda.

“But I wanted to,” he continued, passing the other men their respective drinks and snacks.

“Is this your surprise?” Kun questioned, opening his can.

“If this was my surprise, don’t you think I would’ve let you guys come with me?” Doyoung responded with a small smirk. “I’ll go grab the real surprise,” he said, setting his drink on the coffee table.

Once he returned with the bag, he instructed you all to sit on the couch. Kun sat next to Jungwoo while Haechan and Jungwoo sat up more. “Okay, close your eyes. No peaking.”

Doyoung grabbed one box from the bag and quickly opened it, hooking the chain around his neck. His smile was ever-present as he adjusted the necklace. “Hold your hands out please. Do not open your eyes until I say so.” You all nodded at him, each of your patience running out as time moved on. He placed one small box into each of your open palms, noticing how his hands shook from anxiety awaiting your reactions.

“I think I know what this is,” Haechan teased, feeling the box with one of his hands.

“Haechan, I will take your back.” Doyoung replied, just as teasingly but featuring a hint of truth. Haechan stopped, moving both his hands to hold the box like he was initially instructed. “Okay, you can all open your eyes and open your gift.”

Doyoung’s breath hitched in his chest as he observed each of your reactions. You all opened the box at the same time, in sync with each other from years of being together. You gasped as you took in the piece of jewelry, right hand moving to cover your gaping mouth. “Doyoung...” You let slip out quietly. Your other boyfriends had smiles on their faces as they also processed their matching gifts.

“Do you like it?” You nodded quickly, not trusting your voice at the moment. Your right hand moved from your mouth to take the necklace out of its safe box. The necklace had five rings intertwined with each other, each ring alternating between black and white.

“Doyoung, this is so sweet,” Kun spoke first, his eyes sparkling with love.

“How did you get these?” Jungwoo moved to clasp the chain around his own neck after seeing the chain dangling from Doyoung’s own neck.

“I know a guy,” he answered nonchalantly, a giant grin plastered on his face. Kun and Haechan had started clasping their respective chains on their own necks. “Do you want help, Y/N?” Doyoung asked softly, his eyes filled with worry as he watched you nearly freezing up while staring at the rings. You were taken out of your daydream from his voice, only responding with a small nod.

He came up behind the couch, taking the necklace from your hands gently to clasp it around your neck for you. You couldn’t help but lightly touch the rings as they rested below your collarbones. Once it was secured, he leaned down a placed a couple of soft kisses on your head. Haechan and Jungwoo whined at the affection, causing Doyoung to chuckle and place kisses on both of their heads as well.

“I thought you didn’t like couple items,” you finally stated, waiting for Doyoung to return to his spot in front of you all.

He sat on the coffee table, resting his elbows and forearms on his thighs and leaning forward, “I usually don’t. It’s risky to have couple items and getting caught by fans or paparazzi wearing them. But I saw a couple with a similar necklace and I really liked it. It’s very subtle and can be hidden under our shirts or jackets so it’s a little safer. I searched for a place that would custom make us versions with five rings instead of two. It took a while, but they finally finished them today.”

“Aw, Doyoung is a sappy romantic,” Haechan teased, getting up and hugging Doyoung tightly. You giggled along with Jungwoo and Kun, all three of you joining the hug. While you rarely did group hugs like this, the love in the air was palpable.

“I love you guys,” you mumbled, slowly starting to part from the group because of the radiating heat of your boyfriends being so close.

“We love you too,” Kun replied, also pulling away. After a few more seconds, the hug was over, Doyoung finally being free of Haechan’s tight grip.

“And just because it’s subtle doesn’t mean you don’t still need to be careful,” Doyoung started, looking between Jungwoo, Haechan, and Kun. “Remember to keep it hidden when you can. We don’t want to deal with another lecture from staff do we?” He asked rhetorically. The three boys nodded almost automatically.

“I think we can handle it,” Jungwoo commented confidently. Doyoung nearly shot him a glare but stopped himself.

“Better safe than sorry,” he mumbled. “I’m glad you liked them,” his smile returning once again.

“Thank you, Doyoungie,” you started, the rest of the boys following suit with their own thankful messages.

Just as you felt Jungwoo start leaning into you, his first sign of cuddling, you removed yourself from the couch. You could nearly feel Jungwoo’s pout and puppy-like eyes following your every move, but you kept going. Reaching for Kun and Doyoung’s hands, you led them to the other couch across from the one you were just on. You decided to sit on Doyoung’s lap while resting your legs across Kun’s and hugging Doyoung’s waist to keep yourself steady.

“Hey, why are you cuddling with them?” Haechan asked, his arms crossed like a child throwing a tantrum.

“Hyuk, I just cuddled with you and Jungwoo since you came home. I think it’s their turn now, don’t you?” You watched as both Jungwoo and Haechan shake their heads and pout before they decided to cuddle together instead. You thought they may be trying to make you jealous. Still, you were never jealous that easily, especially after being in this polyamorous relationship for so long. You returned your attention to your two oldest boyfriends, one hand playing with Doyoung’s hair and the other holding onto one of Kun’s.

All of your boyfriends sparked another conversation with each other, returning the living room to its normal, chaotic state. However, all you could think about was the necklace resting on your chest, the love it symbolized, and the comfort of being able to cuddle with each of them.

#poly!nct #poly!au #poly!kpop #haechan scenario #haechan scenarios #kun scenario #kun scenarios #jungwoo scenario #jungwoo scenarios #doyoung scenario #doyoung scenarios #nct scenario #nct scenarios #wayv scenario #wayv scenarios #nct fluff #wayv fluff #kpop fluff #request

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prettyboy-asmo · 3 years

Text

Obey me! boys with trans masc MC

Some headcanons about the brothers + Solomon and Diavolo with Trans Masc MC. it’s pretty self-indulgent. Obviously not everyone shares the same experiences with their identity. I took from my own experiences and feelings about things to write these.

TW: Mentions of transphobia (not detailed and not from any of the main characters)

Lucifer

It doesn’t actually come up for some time, not until you realize that you two are definitely getting closer to being intimate.

One night things start to get steamy and when you realize you have to force yourself to not run away. You’re still up and halfway across the room faster than Lucifer thought a human could move. Your heart is beating wildly in your chest, and you have to make yourself look Lucifer in the eyes.

He’s quick to apologize, thinking he made you uncomfortable- he’s honestly worried he’d hurt you or crossed your boundaries. You assure him that it’s nothing like that. You just need to explain something before things go further.

If you are nervous about telling him, he’ll wait patiently for you to say what you need to say. Reassures you that it changes nothing about how he feels about you. He only cares that you’re happy and comfortable.

“I’m glad you feel comfortable telling me. I know humans can hold some troubling views on the subject.” He’s never really understood a lot of the human hang ups on things like this, but he knows it’s a big deal for some to share the knowledge with others, it takes trust.

What he doesn’t say is how happy he is that you trust him that much (how proud he is,)

Will ask if there’s anything specific you need him to do/not do or anything that you might not have that you want or need. (ie: new binder if you haven’t had top surgery, do you want top surgery? He can make it happen.)

If you’re having a particularly bad time with dysphoria, he’ll straight up ask if there’s anything he can do to help.

He’ll also be sure to call you by your name, or specifically masculine terms

Someone misgenders you on purpose? He doesn’t hesitate to set them straight. No one’s foolish enough to do it again.

Mammon:

He finds out on accident. You’re changing when he barges in your room, saying something about being late for breakfast in his usual loud manner.

He freezes when he finally looks at you, Sees your binder or your scars but honestly it doesn’t really register bc holy shit his human is half dressed and standing in front of him and-poor boy is blushing so hard and is silent because he’s certain he’ll make a fool of himself.

It hadn’t occurred to you until he went quiet that he didn’t know already.

You finish getting dressed and his silence is worrying you at this point. You quietly ask him if he’d like for you to stop hanging around him

That manages to snap him out of his daze and he looks utterly confused. “Why would ya think that?” You try to explain that you’ve had people that have stopped speaking to you because you’re trans, or have even tried to tell you it’s wrong.

“They obviously don’t know anything,” He says, “You’re stuck with the Great Mammon, ya hear? I’m your first guy and you’re my man!” It’s not the first time he’s referred to you as his, but it’s the first time he’s used man instead of human. After that though, he starts doing it more and each time it makes you smile.

“That’s right, That’s my man!” “What took ya so long, man?”

If you’re having bad dysphoria he’s very vocal about calling you his man, reassuring you, and asking what you want in that moment. Stay in and just lay around? Sure. find a distraction? He can think of plenty.

He offers you some of his shirts and jackets. “They suit ya,” he insists, even if they’re big on you, “Gotta make sure my man is staying stylish!” (He won’t admit how happy it makes him to see you wearing his clothes, but you can tell anyways.)

Someone misgenders you to upset you? “What’d you just say to my man?” He’s angry and he’s not about to be quiet about it.

Leviathan:

You mention it off-handedly while discussing your favorite anime and manga.

You’d started talking about one that actually had pretty decent Trans rep, lamenting that it wasn’t more popular because of how much it meant to see someone like you-

Levi catches it immediately, but he doesn’t say anything about- It doesn’t change anything he feels anyway.

He does, however, take time to look for movies, tv shows, games, or anything you might both enjoy that has good Representation.

When you realize what he’s doing you can’t help but hug him tightly and kiss his cheek, and it makes him blush.”I’m glad you’re happy.”

Bad Dysphoria? He’ll drag you to his room to binge anime, play games, and watch movies. He knows the distraction helps.

You’re his Henry, and he’s gonna go the extra mile to make sure you’re comfortable, however he can.

If you use a binder and find you need a new one, he’s on top of it- He’ll offer to make one for you so he knows it’ll be the right size and it will be good quality.

Someone misgenders you after being corrected? He checks on you first and asks if you want him to do something about it. If he finds out they did it Maliciously? He’s going to do something about that- reminding everyone in the process that he’s the third eldest (and third most powerful) for a reason.

Satan:

It comes up when you start spending more time with him- studying or getting book recommendations to pass your free time, You can tell when your interactions shift to something more.

He nods when you tell him, “And your pronouns are He/him, correct?”

Asks if there’s anything he should avoid doing, anything you don’t like to be called, He wants to know your boundaries then and there so he doesn’t overstep them.

He spends some time researching. He wants to make sure he understands as much as he can about you, including this- he doesn’t want to ask you directly what your experience in the human realm was, in case it brings up any unpleasant memories.

You notice the change in his reading list eventually and it makes you feel warm knowing that he’s doing it for you. You tell him if he does have any questions he can ask you.

He does ask you if you use a binder and if you’re binding safely.

He also asks if Dysphoria is something you struggle with. If you tell him it is, his line of questioning shifts to things he can possibly do to help you deal with it.

If it’s a really rough day and you admit you don’t want to really do anything, he’ll pick a book to read to you, just so you know he’s there for anything you need, even if it’s just quiet company.

He also becomes a little more vocal, calls you things like dashing or handsome.

If someone misgenders you with ill intent? He’s going to deal with it, and it’s not going to be pretty.

Asmodeus:

He invites you to his room to show you the new outfits he bought. He does it pretty much every time he goes shopping.

This time the first outfit he walks out includes a skirt. You already know Asmo doesn’t believe in gendered clothing, or adhering to any sort of ‘norm’ but it’s the first time you’ve seen it so obviously in person when it comes to his clothes.

“I wish I could wear something like that,” the words are out your mouth before you register them, and you flush even while Asmo giggles. He offers his closet to you and tells you to try something on.

Your hesitance must show, because he frowns a little, looking concerned. “I used to,” you admit, “But people kept telling me that I didn’t need to transition if I liked all that stuff anyways.”

He’s next to you in a second, hand tilting your chin to look at him, “Fuck those people,” he says seriously, “It’s a shame for a man to hide such a delightful body. It’s even worse for him to deny himself things he likes because of ignorant commentary.”

He ends up making suggestions on what to try on, starting with a simple skirt and shirt combo.

You stare at the mirror for a long time, turning occasionally to watch the way the skirt flares up slightly when you do. You catch Asmo smiling behind you in the reflection.

“Do you like it?” You catch his eyes in the reflection, nodding, “I missed the feeling. Thank you, Asmo.”

“Anything for someone as handsome as you,”

If you’re feeling really dysphoric he’ll try to pamper you- want him to brush your hair? Face masks? A relaxing bath? An entire spa day? New clothes? He wants you to feel good about yourself and he knows self care is the first step.

He loves to pick out clothes for you to wear, but he always explicitly asks what style you want, because he wants you to feel as good as you look in anything he picks for you.

If someone misgenders you maliciously or more than once, he’ll have plenty of words with them.

In fact, as it turns out many of his fans will also have words if they catch wind- Asmo loves posting pics with you on Devilgram and taking you to the Fall, so you’ve also become part of many of his fans' lives too.

Beelzebub:

You feel a little self-conscious surrounded by attractive demons- But Beel is a whole other level. He’s tall and solid muscle, and you're envious of it.

You know you could never keep up with his workouts, but you ask if you could join him anyways, and if he could give you some pointers on good workouts for specific goals. He agrees right away, more than happy to help.

It becomes a routine and you look forward to your shared workouts, even if it’s just you both doing your own thing, or Beel giving you pointers on your form or him asking you to record him so he can see how his own form looks.

You’re so comfortable around Beel, that during one of your afternoon workouts you pull your shirt over your head as you stop to take a break and even out your breathing.

“It’s not good to wear a binder while exercising for so long.” Beel’s concerned comment takes you off guard for a moment and you flush, unsure of what to say because he sounds so casual about it, and you aren’t really used to it.

You settle for “Sorry,” and quickly go to tug your shirt back on, but he shakes his head. “You don’t have to. Just rest while I finish up.”

“You’re doing this for you, right? No matter what, You’re a great guy, so don’t push yourself because other people expect it.” You’re surprised when he joins you after he’s done and it’s the first thing he says. You tell him it does help you feel better about yourself and you enjoy spending the time with him, doing something you both enjoy. And the smile he gives you is blinding.

If you’re having a bad time with Dysphoria he’ll ask what you want to do. Workout? Movie and Snacks? Do you need a distraction or do you want to just...be?

He’s well aware of the toxic masculinity that can be present in places like gyms and such. He’s never tolerated it, but there’s a new edge to him if he hears anyone saying something disrespectful or hateful.

If someone misgenders you, he makes his displeasure known but he focuses on making sure you aren’t upset. (Not many would dare risk making him angry anyways, as quiet as he is he’s still intimidating when he needs to be.)

Belphegor:

You don’t actually tell him. with how often you end up napping with him he just knows. He doesn’t even say anything about it- he doesn’t see the need to and neither do you.

He does say something the one time he catches you falling asleep in a binder. “You can’t sleep in that!” he wakes you up and makes you change- he tells you it’s important to have proper sleepwear, a lecture that might even rival one Lucifer's, as he himself begins to doze off.

After that he makes a point to check to make sure you aren’t wearing a binder before he cuddles up for a nap or for the night (Not that he admits it to you)

He likes to tease you, but he’s always hyper aware of his words. The last thing he wants to do is accidentally say something that might actually hurt you

He doesn’t tend to use overly gendered language with you in the first place, “You’re my nap buddy,” “You make a really nice pillow,” “I like it when you look flustered like that,”

But if he notices/ you tell him you’re struggling with dysphoria more than usual he’ll make the effort to use specifically masculine terms

He’s not the greatest with being open about his feelings but he’ll reassure you if that’s what you need

He doesn’t like seeing you struggling so he asks the best ways to help you feel better, even if he still teases you he’s doing his best to cheer you up or make you more comfortable.

If someone misgenders you on purpose he’s making sure you’re okay. He’ll be even more clingy than usual, glare at anyone he thinks looks at you wrong or he’ll simply drag you back home to laze around and cuddle (He tells you he’s tired and just wants to nap, but he really just wants to keep an eye on you in case it upset you more than you showed.)

He’ll have a discussion with whoever upset you later, anyways.

Solomon:

When you realize he’s way older than he looks you’re concerned that he’s gonna have some very archaic views about things.

Even as you grow closer to him, the thought nags at the back of your mind and it keeps you stuck at a distance despite his obvious flirting.

He notices, of course. “Am I making you uncomfortable? I can stop if you’d like,” It's a stark contrast to his usual teasing and mystic demeanor, and the serious expression on his face draws some courage from you.

You manage to tell him without stuttering, and then you flush when you tell him you weren’t sure he’d be okay with that. Saying it out loud makes you feel a little silly- all things considered.

He hums and tells you he understands, but that he doesn’t care in the sense that if you’re happy and true to yourself that’s what matters most. (It sounds suspiciously like something Asmo would say, but there’s sincerity in his voice and eyes.)

His flirting continues- when he passes you at RAD, when he invites you to study with him, even his messages, simple compliments like “You look rather handsome today,” or teasing “I’m so lucky to sit with the cutest boy in class,” but now that you aren’t worrying about other things, you can finally return his teasing.

If you’re having a hard time with dysphoria, he’ll ask if he can help. He’ll show up with snacks, movies, books, anything you want to do. He’ll even offer to ask Asmo for the needed supplies for a spa day, if he thinks that might help.

If someone misgenders you on purpose he’s gonna set them straight. He’s the most powerful sorcerer and he’s not going to let someone disrespect you like that

Diavolo:

When you arrive in the Devildom, you actually laugh. A few of the people (demons!) standing around you look concerned.

“I mean, plenty of people told me I’d go to hell but I don’t think this is what they meant.” There’s some surprised looks but no one mentions it past that, really.

But it does come up in one of your regular meetings with Diavolo, what had started out as short meetings to discuss how things were progressing during your stay had suddenly turned into hours of visiting over tea and Barbatos cooking.

He asks you what you meant when you’d said that. It wasn’t the first ‘personal’ question he asked you, and you didn’t see a reason not to explain. So you tell him all about your run ins with the wannabe preachers and ‘concerned’ Sunday school moms and the like and how you managed to offend them.

He looks curious and you tell him to feel free to ask you if he has a question. He has a few, mostly about if there’s anything making you uncomfortable he might not be aware of, or if there’s anything you need that you can’t get in the Devildom.

He’s genuinely concerned about not having thought about things like this when it comes to the exchange students, and asks if you’d help him make sure the program was improved and friendly towards all.

It warms your heart to see him so passionate and ready to learn in order to make others comfortable, so you agree without hesitation

Your visits with Diavolo grow in number after that though some of them remain just friendly visits, some are focused on the exchange program and some of them are far more intimate.

If you tell him you’re having a rough time with feeling dysphoric, he’ll Invite you over to visit and make sure you’re alright- and if you don’t feel like going out? He’ll come to you, a box of sweets from Barbatos and determined to find out if there’s anything he can do to help.

He’s all about reassurance, “You’re perfect, and I don’t lie, remember?”

Someone misgenders you intentionally or is just being transphobic in general? He’s quick to shut that down. He makes it known that he won’t tolerate any sort of hate speech or such behavior, and especially not towards you. No one is going to test Lord Diavolo on that, either.

#swd obey me #obey me #Trans masc MC #trans mc #om lucifer #om mammon #om leviathan #om satan #om asmodeus #om beelzebub #om belphegor #om solomon #om diavolo #Tw mention of transphobia #Obey me trans masc MC #obey me hc #headcanon #kinda self indulgent im just starving for content i can relate to

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ambivalent-anarchy · 3 years

Text

No-one

Masterlist

Gender: Female

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader

Warning: None

Based on a true story. Just wanted to write something relatable for myself lol and anybody else that's gone through what the reader's going through also wtf it's already thanksgiving break? that's wild

Summary: Peter finds out something about his crush that might totally change the game for him

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

"Dare," Ned said, a smile creeping onto his face as the rest of the bus stared at him.

"Okay," you said, looking around for inspiration. "I dare you to..." You tilted your head to the front with a smirk."-go sniff Mr. Harrington's armpit then come back and tell us how he smells," you said, earning some laughs and a disturbed face from MJ.

Ned shuddered slightly, looking to his friend Peter for support. Peter simply shrugged, barely able to hold in his laughter from the frivolous dare.

The entire back of the bus turned to watch as Ned slowly stood up and made his way to the front seat where Mr. Harrington sat, cursing himself out under his breath the whole way there. "Uh, hi Mr. Harrington!"

"Hey there Ned!," Mr. Harrington greeted, but quickly ran himself into a fit of worries, standing up to check the back of the bus. "Why're you up here? What's wrong?"

"Nothing!," Ned yelled, trying to get him to sit back down. "I just... kinda really want to hear about your wife!" Ned looked back to see the entire bus giving him frantic thumbs up.

"Oh," Mr. Harrington said, sitting back down with a blank look on his face. "Well, did I tell you how she set every piece of clothing I bought her on fire and sent me a video of it?" He leaned over a bit as he reached down his pockets to pull out his phone. "I'll show you."

Panicked disgust transformed Ned's face. '1...2...3!' He sucked in a deep breath before practically plunging himself into his teacher's arm.

"Jesus Christ!," Mr. Harrington yelled in shock at being practically tackled by a kid. "What are you doing Leeds?!"

Ned backed up immediately after, face deep red. "Um, I JUST REMEMBERED THAT I LEFT SOMETHING BACK THERE! BYE-!"

The bus erupted with laughter and applause as Ned sprinted back to the back of the bus, leaving a confused Mr. Harrington behind him.

"He smells like cheap cologne," he coughed, his head still reeling. "Cheap cologne covering up a week of no showering..."

"MJ, truth or dare?," Flash asked after the commotion had died down.

"Truth," MJ mumbled, her eyes never leaving her phone.

Flash leaned over till he was practically halfway in Michelle's seat. "Who are the top five hottest guys in our class? Rank 'em." He tilted his ear towards her, obviously expecting to hear his name first.

In response, MJ simply smirked and brought her free hand up to count it off.

"Nobody, nobody, nobody, nobody, and nobody," MJ answered with a shrug, earning multiple groans from many boys on the bus.

"That's not acceptable!," Ned exclaimed.

Brad nodded. "Yeah give us a real answer, Michelle."

MJ scoffed, scrolling higher on her phone. "That's the answer I gave you. Therefore, it's acceptable."

You grinned, shaking your head at MJ. "Can't argue with that logic," you said with a shrug.

It was hilarious to see the boys and their little egos, desperate to hear that Michelle Jones, of all people, thought they were hot.

"Well what about you, [Y/N]?," Brad asked, directing his attention to you.

You raised your eyebrows as nearly all of the boys in the bus turned to you with desperate or curious faces. "What about me?," you asked with a smirk.

"C'mon, who's your top five?," Ned questioned.

You placed your hands over your cheeks. "What and help you little lost boys' fragile male egos?," she teased. "Yeah, no thanks."

The boys groaned.

Peter looked over the seat to where you were sitting. He watched as you held your head up, satisfied at the frustration you were causing the guys. Could he? Should he? Ya know what, screw it.

"Well then, truth or dare [Y/N]?," he squeaked, his hands already shaking.

Your eyes flickered over to Peter curiously. "Um, dare, Pete."

He breathed in deep, face immediately turning red from seeing the entire bus looking at him. "I dare you to tell everyone your crush!," he rushed out. "A-and don't lie!"

But then everyone turned towards you with questions and assumptions and guilt quickly fell onto Peter's shoulders. He couldn't make you say that to everyone. How would he feel if someone did that to him? "Wait, nah no no nevermind, I was just fooling around you don't actually have to-!"

Flash spoke over him. "Yeah [Y/N], who's the lucky guy?"

Abe laughed. "C'mon, spill."

Peter hecticly turned and sat back down in his seat, Ned quick to turn with him.

"Dude, I can't believe you just said that!," Ned whisper-shouted with a large grin.

"I can't believe I just said that!," Peter repeated in a gasp, frozen and staring at the back of the seat in front of him in horror.

"Why did you ask her that?!"

"Why did I really just ask her that?"

Ned gasped dramatically. "Oh my gosh do you think she'll say you?!"

"Oh my God what if she says me?!," Peter reeled.

"No-one. I've never had a crush."

Peter's eyes went wide before he turned back around onto his knees in his seat.

"Wait, seriously?!"

"B.S.!"

"Total lie!"

"I smell cap."

The other guys were obviously not putting up with that answer.

Ned frowned. "Like foreal? You've never had a crush? Like ever? In your entire life?"

Peter however, was still trying to process what he'd just heard.

"No-one."

No.

One.

It's not like he expected you to like him back- a part of him sort of wished for it but he knew that was unlikely- but no chance? None at all?

Suddenly you'd become the new focus for every boy on the bus.

"Seriously, who was your last crush?," Brad asked.

You stared for a while. "Do celebrities count?"

"No."

"Oh, then no-one."

Flash stood up. "How does that even work? Are you ace or something?," he asked, right before getting smacked in the head by Abe.

"You can't just ask people that stuff, Flash!"

Flash shrugged. "Yeah I know...but like-" he wiggled his eyebrows. "-are you?"

You groaned and laid back in your seat, already growing tired of this little 'interrogation' the boys were having. "No. I like guys, okay? I've seen enough to know that much at least" You shrugged. "I've just never liked any guy I've met before."

Millions of questions roamed through Peter's head.

Were you lying? Did you just have high standards that no one you'd been around had ever met? What was keeping you from liking people?

He wasn't some big hot-shot lady killer. There was no way he could be your first crush. That's just narcissistic to even think about. Peter had grown to become quite content with not being the guy who just reeled in girls.

He peeked back over the bus seat at all of the boys surrounding you, obnoxiously attempting to show themselves off.

Brad lifted his sleeves and flexed his biceps. "[Y/N], I mean, c'mon. Can't resist the gun show, right? This does nothing for you?"

That one made you laugh. "You guys really aren't as attractive as you think you are!"

Peter groaned for what must've been the tenth time that morning. And the worst part? He couldn't even be mad.

"So, like never? Never in your life?," Flash asked.

Betty chimed in as well. "Not even that 'puppy love' phase we all had in middle school?"

You shook your head. "Why are you all so invested in who I haven't liked anyway?"

"Okay okay," Brad said. "So if you were gonna like someone, who would you like?"

MJ bursts out laughing and you rolled your eyes. "That is literally the dumbest question I've ever been asked in my entire life. I just said I've never-"

MJ nudged you and tilted her head to one of the seats furthest from yours. Peter Parker and Ned Leeds were sitting there, Ned watching the commotion intensely while Peter was seemingly knocking his head into the back of the seat in front of him repeatedly. Poor guy.

You knew he had a crush on you. You could at least do him this one little favor.

You grinned. "Peter."

"Peter?!"

'What?!"

"Parker?! Are you serious?"

"Awww."

Peter looked up frantically. "Um.. okay..why?"

"Yeah, that needs an explanation [Y/N]," Flash sneered, suddenly losing interest when his name wasn't called.

You shrugged and looked at the nerdy boy. "I like his rosy cheeks," you laughed before looking back at your phone. "Plus, he minds his own business, unlike other people."

The school bus filled, half with sounds of disinterest and the other half with sounds of amusement.

"Now can we go back to actually playing the game now? Jesus..."

The game of Truth or Dare continued and you couldn't have been more glad that the guys' interrogation was finally over. But then you got a text on your phone.

MJ: look at parker

Looking over you saw Ned shaking the boy as he simply just stared out of the window with a dumb look of glee in his face. "Dude, snap out of it! We still have a competition to go to, where's your brain gone?"

Ned turned to you with a frown. "[Y/N]...I think you broke him."

Tagging mutuals: @allegra-writes, @allegra-soleil l, @yumings, @hey-its-grey, @spideyyeet, @sunkissedspidey, @tommyunderoos, @chaoticpete, @spidey-reids-2003, @thesherlockianavenger, @bubblebucky, @kelieah

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transsexualhamlet · 3 years

Text

sherlock holmes reactions part 4 (?) ive lost count already but unsurprisingly ive grown even more attached to him

using this as the cover image because i made him a playlist. cause im awful

no legit this is gonna need a read more because it's SO LONG SHIHEWIESHEFSHIEWHF

Had three mental breakdowns this week and realized i do in fact kin sherlock motherfucking holmes. this does not bode well for anything in my life mentally I've diagnosed him with so many things

Oh boy lol you want the list I think hes autistic (undisputed honestly) plus also adhd but on top of that there's the manic depression and uhhh the bpd lmao I dont even think that's it those are just. the obvious ones

But yeah man's a fucking mess and a shit person but in the same way as me so 👍

Some highlights I thought were very funny:

watson: we are in fact going to be waltzing into a place where people are Shooting People you do not have your gun. this is a problem

sherlock: don't worry watson I have my trusty stick!

watson: visible pain

This clearly happens like every day or so with them

but yeah there were some really honestly sweet scenes with them at the apartment and why am i getting soft over the crusty man being gay

have you considered tho. have you considered them

have you considered sherlock, who usually only plays absolute garbage on his violin serenading watson to sleep when he was tired and in pain and watson being so fucking in love with the man and waxing poetic about falling asleep to his music and waking up to see him fallen asleep on the couch next to him and oh my god them

They're just really sweet together for such a completely dysfunctional couple so much of the time lol I just. Sherlock being like.

Sherlock half of the time: watson you're fucking stupid. no i won't take care of my personal needs stfu. watson get a goddamn life. watson shut up. watson no one cares about your goddamn opinion. no i need to disturb you in the middle of the night it's for science. hey watson mind if i manipulate mansplain malewife

Sherlock the other half of the time: HELLO SIR YOU ARE MY FAVORITE MAN TO EVER MAN HELLO MAY I SPEND THE REST OF MY DAYS WITH YOU HELLO I WILL DO ANYTHING FOR YOU WE ARE PERFECT MATCHES I LOVE YOU AND I NEED YOU YOURE SO MUCH BETTER THAN ME PLEASE MARRY ME

They're... they certainly are.

ALSO OH MY GOD.

THIS ONE TIME WHEN SHERLOCK WAS JUST PACING AROUND THE ROOM AT 3 AM GOING "IT DOESNT MAKE SENSE >:(((" AND HUDSON LIKE BARGED IN TO COMPLAIN AND THEN WATSON WAS LIKE DUDE YOU GOTTA STOP DOING THIS AND PROCEEDS TO SAY THE LINE "YOU ARE KNOCKING YOURSELF UP, OLD MAN"

BAHGHSFHGRHEWHEWHIFEW

BRB SOBBING

CALLING HIM AN OLD MAN???? KNOCKING HIMSELF UP?? I DONT KNOW WHATS FUNNIER

The main highlight of this part was I have now gotten to see him have a great time watching his homo homie get married

Its so fucking funny.......

I was prepared for a funny reaction by yuumori sherlock's face when he said it lol but. Damn i was really not prepared tbh

watson: I'm engaged!

sherlock: *pained groaning*

watson: do you... not like her?

sherlock: no she's fine she's great you'll be wonderful together bUT I HATE IT WHEN PEOPLE ARE HETEROSEXUAL WATSON DO I HAVE TO MARRY MYSELF THEN WATSON? ARE YOU GOING TO MAKE ME MARRY MYSELF.

watson: yeah... yeah... fair, I feel really bad because you did this whole case and I got a girlfriend out of it and all you got was me leaving you alone fuck man im sorry what are you gonna do without me

sherlock, highly sarcastic: dont worry watson I've always got my handy cocaine! *pulls it out and gets high in front of watson just as he's about to leave*

watson: *in fucking agony*

sherlock: good for you!

I DONT EVEN- THIS SCENE KILLED ME MULTIPLE TIMES OVER WHAT

ITS SO GODDAMN NONCHELANT ABOUT IT SHERLOCK IS JUST LIKE YEAH I WILL IN FACT NOT BE MENTALLY HEALTHY IF YOU ARE NOT WITH ME 24/7 BUT WHATEVER YOU DO YOU /S

I'd like to apologize to watson on sherlock's behalf lmao. man is being a bit too codependent on main

The last thing about sign of four I do need to address is yeah, there's the Horrific Amounts Of Racism in that one and the whiplash hearing it is just ridiculous because they seem to be so knowledgeable in all other areas and fairly... politically correct, taking sherlock's original misogyny as a purposeful character flaw, but then they just mention someone indigenous once and suddenly its all parrotting racist propaganda and just... really awful shit. There's no way I'm gonna speak for the group that just got absolutely hate crimed here but anyone can tell the author just has no clue what he's fucking talking about and it's physically painful.

And I don't know, it's just so bad it seems out of character? Doyle's making these motherfuckers say shit that honestly, Sherlock would know better about. And especially Watson. Come on, you cannot tell me watson is mentally capable of being prejudiced against someone. Please do not make him that way.

I'm not sure how to handle it specifically, or what's the proper way I should handle something like that in a media I otherwise like. Is it ok to say Doyle was clearly a piece of shit on the matter and separate those characters from his bias or is that insensitive?

I don't know, I was Not a fan of it and I'm glad to see they've at least finally shut up about the guy

But anyway yeah, uhhhh onto the short stories because I'm trying to read those before I get to the final problem

Scandal in Bohemia was a fucking ride, first of all, before we even get to Sherlock's girlboss arc we have to discuss how gay the whole situation was and how Doyle's attempt at making them less gay failed spectacularly

Like he's all "ah yes I need to marry off watson and uhhh make sherlock ummmm interact with a woman so they dont look gay" but he does it SO BADLY that it makes them look EVEN GAYER

cause i mean, even the conversation they had about watson getting married back in sign of four was gay af, but how Doyle handled things afterward was in no way straighter.

Cause you know, the man kind of wrote himself into a corner with the fact of Watson narrating these stories. So Watson has to be around to witness them, and to witness Sherlock's own thought process rather privately, so he has to be around sherlock at night, a lot. But trying to come up with a reason for that happening just... it didn't occur to Doyle. He just went. Ah yes this makes sense. And it's Watson just like Sleeping Over At Sherlock's like every other goddamn day and every time his wife leaves town and having them basically still live that cute domestic home life but they have absolutely no excuses for doing it anymore. It's quite funny

Like it was gay already the way they interacted when they officially lived together but it was like, a necessity for them. Now it's not, Watson just comes over because he goddamn wants to, and it's hilarious to me.

LIKE IDK I THINK THEY KIND OF BROKE UP FOR A YEAR OR SO BC OF WATSON GETTING MARRIED AND THEY LIKE DONT HAVE CONTACT WITH ONE ANOTHER BUT ONE DAY WATSON JUST INEXPLICABLY HAS THE URGE TO COME VISIT SHERLOCK ON NO NOTICE AND THEN SUDDENLY THEY ARE TOGETHER NEAR 24/7 AGAIN LIKE BARELY ANYTHING CHANGED AHIEHOEWH

SIT DOWN AND TRY TO TELL ME THOSE ARE NOT HOMOSEXUALS

Watson walks in on no fucking notice after a full year and Sherlock is just. In the middle of some experiment obviously but hes like

Sherlock, carrying around unidenfiable chemical mixtures: W A T S O N you look good you look good! i see you've gained seven pounds!!

watson: uh. thanks??? Hey lol *awkwardly waves* Uh um Wanted to Uhm sEe you

Sherlock: ABOUT gODDAMN TIME AND YES WONDERFUL LOOK LOOK SIT DOWN I HAVE THINGS TO INFODUMP ABOUT

watson: :) ok :) *turns to camera* and we were back to the old days

sherlock: makes a deduction

watson: wowwwwwwwwwwww !! so true bestie !!

sherlock: !!!!!!!!! :))) !!!!! :))) uh fuck im supposed to be smooth Its Elementary Lol

watson: *turns to camera* when i stroke his ego like this and compliment him he blushes like a girl like i just complimented his dress so i do it more because he likes it. this is a homie trait

watson: well i should probably get going! my wife will notice that i am gone my dear buddy bro homie!

sherlock: NO DONT LEAVE IM LOST WITHOUT YOU (pretty much a direct quote lol) your. wife doesn't. get back home until monday. I know this because I am smart and definitely have not been stalking you.

watson: alright :)))))

AND THEN HE FUCKING SLEEPS OVER LMAO FUCKING HOMOS

So yeah they're right back where they were before pretty much and there's a case bc of course there is

And honestly I think this short story specifically was so insane mostly just because of how absolutely fast it all went. Yuumori kind of made me believe the original Irene Adler was more of an important character than she really is? And I think that's. Honestly so funny. Motherfucker shows up for ten pages, girlbosses her way around town, and changes sherlock's entire opinion of the female gender while still keeping him gay?

LIKE NO LOL SHES NOT IN ANY WAY A LOVE INTEREST AND WATSON GOES OUT OF HIS WAY TO SPECIFY THE FACT THAT IN NO WORLD WOULD THEY HAVE BEEN ROMANTICALLY INVOLVED BECAUSE. SHERLOCK. DIDN'T DATE WOMEN.

HE WAS JUST??? SO IMPRESSED AND SHELL SHOCKED BY HER EXISTENCE HE DECIDED IT WAS TIME FOR GIRLBOSS APPRECIATION DAY TODAY AND ALL DAYS HENCEFORTH???

AND THEY HAVE LIKE O N E INTERACTION?? God, the power this woman(?) has. Watson looks at her once like. damb shawty 😳 and she's like "no<3" and he's like FUCK

Like yeah it's pretty much just the king walking up like "help girl the whore is blackmailing me" and sherlock being like "ok lol this will be easy" and then it proceeded to not in fact be easy or even possible

sherlock like... posed as a dead body and tried to get her to give up the location of the photo but she out-acted him and skipped the town the next day after doing the 'good night mr. sherlock holmes' thing with sherlock completely tricked

and she just. sends a letter like "dear sherlock holmes. you're a fucking idiot and i think it's funny that you lost. nice job tho mad respect" and sherlock just SHORT CIRCUITS

the king comes back a bit later like "hey Dude where's my Photo" and sherlock's like oh yeah uhhhhhhhhhhh about that and the king is like HOW COULD IT POSSIBLY HAVE BEEN THAT GODDAMN HARD i would have dated someone more noble if she wasn't so pretty i swear im on a whole different level from her

and then. GIRLBOSSIFIED SHERLOCK HOLMES RESPONDS "from what I have seen of the lady, she seems indeed to be on a very different level from your majesty" ABSEHHESHEFHHFES ROASTED

and the dude just LEAVES

After that I read a few more of the short stories and well the highlights I got from that pretty much were these conversations

Watson: sherlock. honey. have you. eaten anything today

Sherlock: IT DIDNT OCCUR TO ME DEAR WATSON

Watson: ITS FIVE PM

and:

Sherlock: *having one of his Moment Moments at three in the goddamn mornig* GRRRR CRIME ISNT WHAT IT USED TO BE

Watson: MY DEAR SHERCOCK WHAT IS CRIME S U P P O S E D TO BE LIKE ACCORDING TO YOU

Sherlock: no one's original anymore fucking copycats

Watson: so you want the criminals to make things harder for you specifically.

Sherlock, exasperated: yes!

I love them your honor.

#rowan's hyperfixation essays #rowan screams into the void #rowan views moriarty #sherlock holmes

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agerefandom · 4 years

Text

Sugary Sweet

Fandom: Twilight

Characters: Jasper Hale/Alice Cullen, regressor!reader

Words: 1,700

Summary: A simple morning in the life of an age regressor who lives with Alice and Jasper, full of sugar and fun. Reader is gender-neutral and regresses to a baby age-range in this story!

Warnings: Food, pacifiers, a little temper tantrum, diapers, and changing.

You wake up slowly, warm and cozy in the embrace of the blankets. The morning light is soft and hazy, a mobile circling above your head. Your eyes slowly begin to focus on the stars and rocket ships dangling above you.

A big yawn stretches your mouth, and you start to wake up properly, shifting in the crib. The bars stretch up around you, and you reach an arm up to the bars, wrapping fingers around its length and rattling them a little.

It’s enough sound that Alice is at your door in a moment, sweeping into the nursery with a wide smile.

“My baby is awake!” she coos, making her way to the crib and sliding down the bars so that she can reach in and smooth back your hair. “How did you sleep, darling?”

You catch Alice’s wrist and bring her fingers to your mouth, biting down on the knuckles lightly. Her skin is cold and almost sweet-tasting. She laughs at you and withdraws her fingers, picking up your paci and slipping it into your mouth. It fell out in the night, but the paci clip attached to your onesie makes sure it never goes far. “There you go, much better.” She boops your nose and then lifts you up, effortless despite her slight frame. Vampires are the best, you’ve watched Alice pick up huge rocks for fun but it somehow always makes you feel surprised when she lifts you. Like you’ve suddenly become weightless and you could just float away if Alice wasn’t holding on.

“Amabbaba,” you babble around your paci, snuggling against Alice’s chest as she brings you across the nursery to the changing table.

“Oh, really?” she replies conversationally, trying to set you on the table. You cling to her, unwilling to let go of the embrace. “Silly little one, you need a change!” Alice says, nuzzling her nose against yours. “Come on, only a second. And then we can go see Jasper for your breakfast!”

“’asper!” you gasp. He’s been gone for a few days with the other Cullens, and you missed him a lot. This time when Alice puts you on the table, you reluctantly release her shirt from your grasp. She slips a rattle into one of your hands, and you hold it up above you, enjoying the shh-shh sound of the beads inside. You experiment with tilting it this way and that, listening to the different sounds it makes, and hardly noticing Alice changing your diaper.

“There we go!” She pats your hip, pressing into the soft diaper that holds you safe and padded. You wiggle under her touch, giggling as the diaper crinkles under your bottom. There’s nothing else like that sound, sending you straight into your safe place where there’s only hugs and stuffies and naptime. “Up we go!” Alice scoops you up again, settling you on her hip. You wrap your legs around her waist, resting your head on her shoulder as she carries you downstairs. She bounces you lightly on the stairs, a fun little movement that keeps you aware of her effortless embrace and the padding of the diaper. You giggle again, feeling safe and weightless.

“’asper!!” you shout when you reach the ground floor, unwrapping your legs so that you can put your feet on the ground. Alice lets you stand and you start to run towards the kitchen, off-kilter and clumsy but too excited to wait for Alice to help you.

“Sweetheart!” Jasper’s voice calls back, and he’s running towards you a second later, sweeping you up into his arms and spinning you around in a wide arc, the kitchen wide enough to allow the movement. You come to rest in his arms, and he grins at you with that open smile that you’ve only started to see. Jasper used to be really careful around you, but once you got used to each other and Alice built your nursery, he started to get a lot cuddlier. You’re glad: Jasper gives really good hugs, even if Alice’s are the best. “How’s my baby this morning?”

“Hung’y!” Jasper makes the best food and the promise of breakfast is so very exciting.

“Well, that’s good because I’ve made a proper feast.” He carries you into the kitchen, and Alice follows behind. Sure enough, the table is laden with plates of fruit and whipped cream, a stack of waffles waiting to be dressed up with all the extras.

You squeal excitedly and squirm in Jasper’s hold, trying to get to the syrup. He laughs and keeps his grip on you, strong enough to foil your best efforts to escape. Alice and Jasper work together to get you into the high chair as you grab for the fruit on the table. Alice locks the little belt over your hips, keeping you in place, before they add the plastic tray in front of you.

“Here we go.” Jasper pretends to wipe his forehead once you’re all settled, as if that was really hard work. He likes playing human more than Alice does, especially when you’re a baby. It makes him happy, and that makes you happy.

They flit around the table, letting you pick the fruit and toppings for your waffles and then arranging them into fun little patterns like kitty cats and smiley faces. Alice adds extra syrup with a wink and Jasper cuts them up into little pieces, feeding you by hand. His fingers get sticky and sweet, and you can’t resist biting them a few times while they’re in your mouth. It only makes him laugh, and he doesn’t bother to get a fork, so you know it doesn’t bother him.

Breakfast is sweet and messy and there’s blueberry juice all over your hands and face by the time you’re finished. Jasper is also covered in syrup, but Alice has managed to stay mysteriously clean.

“Looks like the two of you are taking a bath,” she says, pressing a kiss to Jasper’s temple as she lifts the tray up from your chair. “I’ll clean the dishes, darling, you take the baby upstairs.”

“As you wish,” Jasper says. His accent gets stronger when he talks to Alice, and it’s clear how much he loves her. You’re so lucky to have them in your life, to be squished between the huge amounts of love they have for each other. Alice laughs and disappears into the kitchen as Jasper undoes your bib and starts to free you from the table.

“No bath,” you protest, trying to push his hands away. “No bath!”

“Yes a bath,” Jasper tells you, easily maneuvering around your flailing limbs. No fair! He’s too fast and strong for you. “You’re a very sticky baby.”

“No!” You can feel the tears welling up in your eyes. It was such a nice morning. You don’t want to take a bath. Jasper quietly lets you feel your frustration, finishing the unbuckling process and picking you up for the trip upstairs. You struggle against his grip. “No bath!”

“Sweetheart, you love baths,” Jasper sighs. He doesn’t react to any of the squirming and kicking as he carries you up the stairs. “You’re going to be happy once you’re in there.”

“No!” You can hardly remember what you’re upset about, but it means everything. Jasper won’t put you down! Everything is awful! No matter how hard you kick your legs, his grip is gentle and unyielding. “No, no, NO!” Finally giving up, you slump in his grasp, the tears coming in full force. Jasper holds you close and now you feel his powers slipping into your mind, easing the panic without stopping the tears entirely. You’re still sobbing when Jasper sits you down on the toilet seat so he can start your bath, but by the time he comes to take your clothes off, you’ve finally cried yourself out.

“Hi sweetheart,” Jasper says soothingly. You blink up at him, eyes sore from the tears and head fuzzy with exhaustion. “Arms up, please.” You oblige, and he slides your onesie off in a smooth movement, unwrapping the diaper from your waist so that when he helps you to standing, it gets left on the seat behind you. He moves it into the garbage and guides you into the bath.

As always, it’s the perfect temperature, and your toys are already waiting there, little floaty fish and boats with flashing lights that you can drive around while Jasper washes you and his own arms. You can make motorboat sounds with your lips and you do that while Jasper cleans your hands with a washcloth, splashing in the water once your arms are free again. Baths are the best. There are so many things to do!

Jasper washes you from head to toe, and the water gets fuzzy with soap and bubbles as he goes. You trail your fingers through the suds, watching them cling to your hand as you go. You’re still feeling tired from your tantrum, and a big yawn takes you by surprise as Jasper goes to drain the water.

“Early naptime today!” Alice calls up the stairs from the kitchen.

“As the missus commands,” Jasper murmurs to you. “An early naptime it is.”

You’re feeling cozy and pliant as Jasper helps you out of the water and scrubs a towel over your head before wrapping you up. He brushes your hair with gentle motions and dresses you in a new onesie once your diaper is securely on. A pacifier is produced from one of the cupboards and the next time you yawn, Jasper pops it into your mouth.

Sucking on it, you lean into his grasp, already starting to drift back to sleep. You know they won’t let you sleep too long, that the day will be full of blocks and games and getting bounced on Jasper’s knee. So you don’t bother to fight the drifting feeling, and you barely feel Jasper setting you back down in your crib. You hold onto him as he draws away, and a soft friend is pressed into your arms, settling your mind. You cuddle the stuffie close and roll onto your side in the crib, giving one last suck to your paci as you drift off to your nap.

#sugary sweet is exactly what this fanfiction is!#this made me want a little sib so bad #regressors who wear diapers are valid and precious and make for very good cuddles #agere writing #agere stories #twilight agere #twilight #alice would make the prettiest nursery everrrrr #i feel very soft after editing this #sfw agere #babyre #stories for regressors

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mysterytickingegos · 3 years

Text

The Dream Team

Pairing: Mayor Damien x Reader

Genre: Fluffy beginning, then Angst.

Word Count:2,965

Summary: The newly elected mayor and district attorney were set to change this city for the better, perhaps as more than friends. Alas, fate (or at least, Mark) had different plans. Once-good people make a mistake, and upon striking their final deal in an effort to protect their friends, they instead set themselves on a tragic path for vengeance.

Anonymous Request: So for the request things, maybe 12, 43, and 44 with Damien? Maybe during WKM with female or gender neutral pronouns? (Thank you! I’m super excited to see your writing!)

Authors Note: Thank you for being my first request!

Want to read more?

[Image Description: A gif of Mayor Damien from chapter one of who killed markiplier, walking our of frame while bidding goodbye to the viewer. End Description.]

You stepped out of your car, almost in awe of the manor before you. At the bottom of the stairs stood a familiar raven-haired young woman, who upon hearing you coming up behind her, turned around.

“Tsk tsk, is this the kind of punctuality we should expect from our new district attorney?” She asked, crossing her arms as she bit back a smile.

“Ophelia, I never pegged you as a hypocrite.” You shot back at her, leading to her holding her hand over her heart in mock offense before you both broke into laughs. “Is your uncle inside already?”

She sighed, “Yes, why do you think I’m still out here? Postponing the inevitable lecture.”

You started to nod in agreement, then stopped. “Do you...really think being even later will help your predicament?”

You could see the wheels turning in her head before she winced through her teeth. ‘Damn.”

The door opened up with the houses butler on the other side, confused to see the two of you lingering outside. He kindly welcomed you and took your invitations, and as soon as he left your line of sight, there was Damien, the other half of your political dream team. Ophelia immediately ducked into the archway to her left, but it was too late, he had seen her.

Luckily for her, you were in a playful mood yourself. Just as he passed you, you caught his hand, bringing him back in your direction. “I just got here and you’re running off already?”

“Of course not, Y/n.” He said with a kind smile, before placing a kiss on the top of your hand. “I’m glad you made it. How have you been settling into your new office? It’s going to take some getting used to I’m sure.”

“Certainly. I still get this strange feeling I’m intruding every once in a while.” You shrugged softly, even with the thought you got a hint of that same feeling in your gut. “But that seems to come with the title in general, to be frank.”

Damien just shook his head, “My dear, there is no one I would rather have alongside me to protect this great city of ours.”

“Well, I appreciate your confidence in me.” You’d been working together for almost 5 years now and yet it still amazed you how well you worked as a team. “You know it’s funny, when we met, this is not where I saw my life going.”

The laugh that got out of him warmed your heart, although not half as much as what he said next; “Hopefully I’ve helped exceed your expectations.”

“Perhaps in more ways than you think.” You couldn’t stop yourself from saying it. As subtle as it may have been, the recognition in his eyes made it obvious to you that you had revealed your true feelings for the man standing before you, at least partially.

Before either of you could speak again, the butler cleared his throat behind you, almost making you jump out of your skin as you instinctively took a step back from Damien. “Champagne?” The tall man asked, seemingly unable to read the room.

“Uh, y-yes, thank you.” You took the small glass he was handing you, and chose to keep your focus there, at least until you heard another voice coming down the stairwell. After the speech that came from the man who invited you, you braced yourself for the rest of the night by downing the glass in one go.

After that, the rest of that night was mostly a blur. All of the usually posh guests loosened up at the table and you had done rather well, getting a rather stubborn detective out of the game early on.

There is one moment, at the end of the night, that sticks out clearly in your memory though. It always will.

You and Damien had left the crowd at maybe one in the morning, choosing to cool down on the balcony off of his room. “I haven’t had this much fun since...well before law school!” You exclaimed, taking another swig from a snagged champagne bottle you’d been sharing up there for a half hour.

“You were incredible down there. I mean- pft - his-” Damien erupted into a fit of the giggles, and you couldn’t help but follow suit. “Abe’s face when you put down that awful hand!”

“God help me if I ever need his help in court...” You sighed, and then you both lost it again.

Finally, when you had both calmed down, caught your breath, you locked eyes. You could’ve sworn that time slowed down just for the two of you. He pushed the hair out of you face, gently resting his hand on your cheek. “You know, you never cease to amaze me, Y/n.” With those words you both began to lean closer, and as you closed your eyes you could feel your heart pounding in your chest.

His lips had just barely ghosted over yours when he pulled away from you, wincing. You opened your eyes to your friend ghostly pale, gripping onto the rail of the balcony for support. “Woah, Damien are you alright?”

He had trouble even looking up from the ground, making it clear how the world must’ve been spinning in his perspective. “I...I don’t feel well.”

“I think you’ve just pushed yourself a bit too far tonight,” You reassured him, gently trying to guide him away from the balcony.

“No, this is...is...” He stopped to catch his breath, as though he had been holding it throughout the conversation. He then shook his head, a forced smile at his lips. “...Nevermind, it even sounds mad in my mind. I’m sure you’re right.”

“Come on, you should rest.” You brought him inside, surprisingly sobered after seeing the look on his face. As you shut the door to the balcony, the lights to the room flickered and stayed dimmed afterwards.

Damien groaned in pain, holding his hand to his head. “You do that?”

“No...” You stepped over and noticed now that Damien was also in a cold sweat. “Oh, goodness. Perhaps you’ve caught some kind of bug.”

“In that case I apologize for kissing you.” The joke just barely got a laugh out of either of you, him in too much pain and you far too concerned for his well-being.

“I’m going to go downstairs and see if-”

He was the one to catch your hand this time. “No, no, Y/n I’m- I’ll be fine. You don’t need to worry so much.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes...You should go off to bed as well, it’s so late.”

You were hesitant to leave him, but chose to trust him. If it was that bad, he would tell you, right?

So you bid him goodnight, told him to get help if he needed it, and did as he said despite the pit in your stomach.

The next day it was as though nothing had happened at all, he seemed to be in perfect health as he greeted you on the staircase, not saying a word about his illness or anything else that had happened before then. You felt strange of course, and had plans to speak to him in private, but those plans vanished in a cloud of smoke when the body of the host of this event fell flat in front of you. Naturally, that remained at the forefront of your mind.

Even later as you began to notice your good friend acting slightly off, you ignored it. After all, he was grieving, you told yourself. He was still processing all of this and the best you could do was be there for him. Besides, you had your own troubles to deal with today, the investigation becoming more and more bizarre with every passing minute.

All of it seemed to boil over with you trying to calm an impossibly chaotic situation; a screaming match between the very panicked and very guilty looking colonel, a young woman demanding answers as to what happened to the only family she had, and a stubborn detective who just wouldn’t stop pushing all the wrong buttons...until he was shot. After that, you made an attempt to disarm William before he could hurt anyone else.

This was the next-to-last poor decision you would make.

Yet another gunshot rang through the old manor alongside a horrible shriek from you.You clutched your stomach as your body jerked backwards into the railing that was just low enough to bring about another tragedy. Regret immediately flashed over William’s eyes, he dropped the gun and both him and Ophelia tried to reach out for you once they saw you were falling backwards. It was too late, your body hit the ground with an awful crunch and your sight went black.

And then...and then you were floating. In some kind of void, you started to move forward until a body fell in front of you for the second time that day. “It’s not fair, is it?” It hissed at you.

No, it wasn’t.

Tears began to sting at your eyes but you held them back. In the distance you could hear voices, voices that were too familiar, and began to move towards them.

“He took everything from us.” The first voice started, “He trapped us here with this broken shell and no way out!”

“This whole time I thought it was the house, but I never thought he’d fall this far.” The second voice began to crack, laced with pain and guilt.

“And we played right into his hands. He’d been planning this for years and now that son of a bitch is out there walking around in my body!”

You approached two figures, with two auras, red and blue. The woman surrounded by red, a psychic you had met just hours before, glanced up at you. “Damien we can’t do this right now...” She warned him.

“Why not?! From where I stand we seem to have all the time in the world!” She rolled her eyes and nodded in your direction, and the moment he laid eyes on you the rage turned to sadness. “Y/n...”

You didn’t hesitate to go to him and he pulled you into his arms, the both of you having thought you’d lost the other forever. “Damien, is this...” You paused, having to push for the next words to come out of your mouth. “Are we dead?”

“It would seem so.” He said quietly. Once your fears were confirmed you broke, letting a sob escape as tears ran down your face. “Don’t cry, darling, we’re going to be alright.”

You laughed in disbelief. How? How could either of you be alright?

“You will be, death doesn’t mean the same thing here.” Celine’s voice echoed through the nothingness.

You pulled away from your friend to look at her, “What the hell are you talking about?”

“What Celine means by that is, this doesn’t have to be the end. You are trapped in here just the same as us but...your body, broken as it may be, it’s still out there.” Damien attempted to explain.

“Mark is not the only one who can use this place to his benefit. The same way I brought you here, is the way that I can send you back.”

“Send me back? I understand you want to help but that is just...unnatural.” You told the psychic, thinking back to the way you had passed.

“It wouldn’t be merely selfish. William and Elli are still in that house, clueless as to what’s really happening. And if William doesn’t pick up on it soon, well you’ve seen first hand he is just as dangerous as Mark.” Damien explained.

You nodded, beginning to understand. “So somebody has to stop the madness.”

“But... I’m afraid you won’t be able to survive on your own.” He started, taking your hand in his. “You are dead after all. But if you trust me, if you let me in, we can fix this together.”

“Together? So we’ll both be...”

“In your mind, yes. It won’t be pleasant, but it’s only temporary.”

You nodded again. Of course you trusted him, after all these years you had no reason not to. Celine began to push you to reality, a rush of wind surrounding and spinning around the two of you. ‘Damien?”

“Yes y/n?”

“...I’m Scared.”

“...I am too. But we’ve got this, we’re going to make things right.”

And in the blink of an eye you were back on the floor of the manor, gasping for breath as you felt unimaginable pain throughout your body. Yet the pain was overwhelmed by the shock of hearing two separate trains of thought in your head. Two separate voices commanding your body to sit up, to find your friends. Far as you could tell though, yours was still the one in charge. And of course you reminded yourself that this new voice belonged to Damien, that it was okay.

You pulled yourself up off of the ground and did not need to venture far, seeing William on a loveseat just a few feet away as well as Ophelia sitting in the archway with her knees tucked to her chest and a red blotchy face. Both were staring at you, one in awe and the other in terror. Every breath you were taking felt like you were inhaling glass, and you struggled to speak.

William sat up, holding his hand out to show he was unarmed in an attempt to comfort you. “We thought you were dead,” He barely muttered out. “I-I mean of course you’re not dead. How could you be dead? I wouldn’t have killed you. I didn’t kill you. I mean of course I...I...”

Your emotions kept twisting and turning and shifting. From concern and compassion for the person who seemed to be unraveling in front of you, to a sick, burning rage at the fact he was going through this at all. You wanted to reach out for him, but everything felt so heavy. Every movement you made came with stings and aches that shot through you. You instead remained blank, unmoving as you listened. Ophelia had begun to approach you cautiously. “I think you should sit back down Colonel.” She told him softly. The thought crossed your mind that this poor girl was never going to recover from today.

“I’m fine! Everyone is fine!” The Colonel exclaimed, setting Damien's cane down and running his hands through his hair. “I didn’t kill anyone I...ha! It was all a joke! Of course it was all a joke! Oh, Damien put you two up to this, didn’t he? Of course he did!” He waved you both off, wandering off almost with a drunk-like sway to go find his lost friends.

You realized your fists were clenched at your sides, and released them. Your heartbeat pounded in your ears, though it wasn’t all you could hear. Damien was trying to comfort you as tears stung your eyes and the unbearable pain left you shaking.

It was so difficult just to stand. Your head was pounding, it was too full. Too much happening at once.

Ophelia hesitantly placed her hand on your shoulder, an attempt to get your attention surely. “Y/n? How...how did this happen? I mean, you were gone. Cold.”

You held back a wince at her gesture, even that soft a touch was making you want to scream. The ringing in your ears was getting louder, screaching.

You tried to ground yourself to reality, to her voice, “Y/n, can you hear me?”

“Go get in your car Elli, get away from this place.” You finally managed to speak, your voice coming out shaky and low through gritted teeth.

“What about you?”

The words that came out next were not your own, that you were sure of. “I have some unfinished business to attend to.”

“Hold on just a minute.”

“Go.” Your voice dipped down to a growl and she was more scared now, looking at you as though she was pondering whether or not you had come back fully human. You weren’t quite sure either. After she rushed out of the house with the door slamming behind her, you braced yourself on the accent table in the hall. You now felt as though you were fighting for dominance of your own mind. You knew what you wanted, and that was to find Mark, no matter how long it took. Your better half disagreed. You wanted out of this house as quickly as possible, and grabbed the cane in front of you to support your broken body.

Wrong move.

Feeling chills up your spine at what you had caught a glimpse of in the corner of your eye, you looked up into the mirror, and saw a reflection that did not belong to you. Instead it belonged to the man you loved. Or at very least, a shell of who he was the night before. He gave you a sad smile, then closed his eyes and against your will your body moved, your head tilted to one side, then the other with harsh cracks coming from your neck. On the second, the mirror broke, nothing but static in the missing pieces. Static that resembled all of your buried thoughts in your mind. Instead of your confused pleas and questions as to what was happening, you heard his voice.

“It’s okay, my dear. You should rest.“

The very last thing you managed to get through, before the pain faded away completely; “Damien, please, don’t leave me.”

But as you already know, that plea landed on deaf ears.

You already know that he pushed you out.

That he left you behind.

That he let the darkness consume him in an effort to save you anymore pain.

So much for the dream team.

#Mayor Damien x reader #wkm damien x reader #markiplier egos x reader #Mayor damien fanfiction #wkm fanfiction

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