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#never stop giving me onions with your fics. never stop making me spiral. never stop being you
camelotsheart · 3 years
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You are magic itself. And there has always been, and always will be, magic at the heart of Camelot.
Happy birthday @shut-up-merlin ✨
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doctorstethoscope · 3 years
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The Right Chapter 4 || Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader
Hi besties we’re back besties :)))
Read previous chapters of this fic here!
 contains: brief mentions of a gun and domestic abuse, the beginning of ~feelings~ between hotch and reader
wc: 3.1k
The first thing you noticed when you woke up was the smell, which Reid would tell you was interesting, because smell is the sense that we lose the most in sleep. Hence, smoke alarms. Shaking the thought away with a fond smile, you padded into the kitchen slowly, finding Aaron with his jacket and tie long discarded, his shirt unbuttoned at the top and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. 
“It smells so good!” You announced. 
“It’s olive oil and garlic.” Hotch chuckled as he turned away from the stove to face you. “And you’re supposed to be sleeping.” 
You craned your neck to look at the stovetop clock behind him. “I slept for three hours, Hotch. And I’m sure you’re going to enforce my full eight hours later tonight.” 
“Well, this isn’t ready yet.” He said. 
“Really? You aren’t just feeding me oil and garlic?” You quipped. 
“Don’t be a smartass,” he smirked at you. 
“I want to help,” you told him earnestly, looking up at him from where you’d perched yourself in one of the barstools at his counter. “What can I do?” 
“Here, chop this onion,” he said, sliding everything you’d need across the counter so you could stay seated. 
He moved around the kitchen gracefully, combining ingredients and stirring a sauce and boiling water for pasta with the ease of a practiced chef. He refused to tell you what he was making, and you leaned forward in your chair, trying to see if the spices by the stove would give you any clues. They didn’t, but before you knew it, Aaron was plating pasta with chicken and mushrooms and broccoli in a sauce that smelled heavenly.
 “Will you tell me now?” You whined as you both sat down at the table to eat. 
“It’s nothing special, really.” he laughed at your antics. “It’s pasta in a lemon-dill cream sauce.” 
“You’ve been holding out on us,” you accused as you took your first bite. “Aaron, this is delicious.” 
He smiled back at you, trying to ignore how much he loved hearing his first name come rolling from your lips. “Well, you helped.” 
“Please. I chopped vegetables and used the can opener. I certainly did not, and could not, whip up a lemon-dill cream sauce on a moment’s notice.” 
You continued to banter over dinner, laughing and smiling in a way it felt like you hadn’t in weeks. Aaron, ever-efficient as he was, had handled most of the cleanup as he was cooking, so all that was left was packing up the leftovers and putting your dishes in the dishwasher. When you closed the fridge, Aaron spoke up again. 
“So, Jess is supposed to drop off Jack tomorrow.” Aaron mentions, with a certain forced casualness. 
“Oh, I can be out of your hair.” You said with a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes.  “I’m sure I can stay with Emily--”
“Woah, woah, slow down.” Aaron stopped you. “I’m not kicking you out. I was just going to say, I can ask Jess to keep him for a little while longer.” 
“Hotch, no way. He’s your son. I’m not kicking him out of his own house or keeping him away from his father.”
“Of course you aren’t. I can go visit him at Jess’s place and when you’re comfortable with him, he can come here.” 
“I’m plenty comfortable with Jack.” You assured him.  “I just meant, won’t it be weird for him, if I’m here? And I don’t want to intrude on your time with him.” 
“You’re not an intruder. Jack loves you. And I--” he started to say something, but caught himself. You decided not to think too hard about it. “I would be happy to have you here, with him.” 
You still felt uneasy-- you knew his time with Jack was precious. You took a deep breath, preparing to strike a compromise. “How about this-- I go stay with Emily-- listen--” you stopped him before he could cut you off. “I go stay with Emily tomorrow night. It’s Saturday. I need some girl time, and Jack needs some dad time. You and Jack can spend the day together, and then I can come back on Sunday and you can talk to him about me being here before I’m actually in his kitchen eating his cinnamon toast crunch. I know he loves me, and I love him too, but I don’t want to overwhelm him.”
You could tell that he wasn’t entirely sold on the idea of you being out of his sight for a whole day, but he wasn’t Josh-- he wasn’t going to try to use his emotions to control your behavior. He didn’t say anything, but you could see the discomfort on his face. You know that sooner or later, you’d have to have a conversation about where you’re actually going to live-- but you decide not to push him any further tonight. 
“I’ll be with Emily the whole time. After today, I’m pretty sure she’d shoot him on sight if given the opportunity. You don’t need to worry.” You told him, reaching over to squeeze his hand. Your touch grounded him, brought him back to reality.
He took a deep breath, resigning himself to give you what you wanted, just as he always would. “And you’re going to take your meds, and take it easy, and not--”
“Yes, dad.” You scoffed. “See, this is why I need you and Jack to take some time. You should get all of this out with him.” you laughed at him, and he grinned back at you. 
“You’re just as stubborn. That’s not my fault.” 
“Some people call that being strong-willed, Aaron.” you teased back, sticking your tongue out at him for good measure. 
Aaron panics slightly when he doesn’t find you in the guest room the next morning, but his anxiety evaporates when he sees you perched on the couch in the living room, your hair thrown up into a bun, sitting criss-cross with your feet tucked underneath you and your laptop on your lap. You’ve brewed a pot of coffee, and Aaron takes a minute to look at you fondly before that nagging voice at the back of his head reminds him that you’re his subordinate, that you were hurting, and that even if you weren’t, you could never love a bitter, old, broken man like him. 
“Working on something?” He asked, interrupting his own spiral. 
Your eyes shot up instantly, not having noticed his entrance. “Nothing important. The coffee’s still hot, I hope you don’t mind.” 
“Of course I don’t mind.” He reminds you, rolling his eyes goodnaturedly. “You’re not an intruder here. Especially not when you make a strong pot of coffee.” 
“Doing anything fun with Jack today?” You asked, shutting your laptop as he sat down at the other end of the couch. 
“It’s supposed to be nice, I think we’ll go to the park. He’s just about ready to take the training wheels off of his bike.” He smiled fondly. 
“Aw, my little man! I’m so excited for him.” You cooed, only brightening Aaron’s smile.
“What about you?” 
“I’m not sure. Emily said I should be ready for brunch and that she, JJ, and Garcia would handle the rest. She mentioned that someone gave her explicit instructions for me to take it easy, so I imagine we’ll probably be skydiving and binge drinking.”
“You think you’re real funny, don’t you?” Aaron asked dryly. 
“Yeah, actually, I do.” You smiled over at him, and the corners of his mouth quirked up before he could force them into their usual stoic line. 
There’s a knock at the door, and you shoot up. “That’s Em.” 
Aaron places a hand on your forearm as you trot past. “Hey.” His gentle voice stops you in your tracks. “Be safe, please? Be vigilant, and call me if anything happens?” He looks up at you, and you can see the lines of concern etched around his dark brown eyes.  
“Nothing’s going to happen, Aaron.” You placed your hand on top of his. “Enjoy your day with Jack. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 
There’s a moment that passes between you, and you almost think you’re going to lean and give him a peck on the cheek to say goodbye, but Emily knocks again and you’re both distracted. You roll your eyes at yourself as soon as your back is to Aaron. Clearly these painkillers were taking their toll on you.
When you and Emily arrived at the restaurant, JJ and Garcia were already at an outdoor table waiting for you. The four of you chatted and laughed over pancakes and coffee and fruit before walking around the downtown area shopping. Then JJ started leading you down a less-familiar street. 
“Where are we going?” you asked, picking up your pace a little to walk next to JJ, who was at the front of your four-person group on the sidewalk. 
“That is for us to know, and you to find out.” She winked at you with a smile before taking off ahead. You let her, falling into step with Penelope. 
“You know, too?” 
“Of course I do, kitten. But I’m not spoiling the surprise! Just be patient.” 
You know better than to even try with Emily. You just rolled your eyes, chuckling a little at your friends’ antics. Eventually, JJ is leading you up the steps of a brownstone, set back a little way from downtown. 
“What are we doing?” You asked breathlessly. 
“We’re just taking a peek.” JJ said, opening the door and leading you up to a second-floor unit. 
“This feels illegal.” You remark as Emily produces a pair of keys. 
“I know the owner,” she tells you, swinging the door open and letting you walk inside first.
Natural sunlight pours into the empty apartment. You look to the left and see a granite kitchen island, and crisp white cabinets situated between stainless steel appliances. The space that you assume to be the living area is open, and the room is of course void of furniture, but it’s not hard to imagine a loveseat in the center of the room, a chaise along the far wall, a coffee table in the middle, an open bottle of wine and all of your friends filling the empty space. 
“What are we doing here?” You ask with a little chuckle. 
“Well, we know that Josh’s name is on the lease at your current place.” Penelope starts. “And you just have a lot going on right now, and we wanted to help, so we were looking at some places for you. If you don’t like this one that’s fine, I have a whole catalogue of others sorted by distance from work and walkability and--” 
“You guys didn’t have to do that. Thank you.” You smiled. 
“We wanted to.” JJ tells you. 
“Well, what do you think? Go, look at the bedroom.” Emily prods, and you smile, swinging open the door across the room, revealing a large open bedroom and an en-suite bathroom with a truly gorgeous tile shower. 
“The place looks great, Em, it really does. I’m just going to have to think about it. There’s been a lot going on.” You understate. 
“Of course.” She responds. 
“Not to mention the fact that Hotch barely wanted to release me into your care for the night, so I’m not sure he’ll take well to me moving further than his guest room.” You laughed. 
“He’s got it, bad.” JJ comments offhandedly, and your jaw hits the floor. 
“Jennifer!” You chastise her.
“What? You can’t possibly play dumb here.” She asks. 
“I literally couldn’t have less of a clue what you’re talking about. Hotch has only ever been platonic and professional with me.” You denied.
“Well, of course, but he’s different with you.” Emily defends JJ. 
“Different how?”
“He’s--- he’s just different, sweet cheeks. He lets his walls down, and only by 10% or so, but for Hotch, that’s major.” Garcia supplies.
“He’s protective of you in the field.” JJ notes. 
“He’s protective of all of us in the field. We just get partnered up a lot.” You defend him, although you don’t know why. You’d want nothing more than to let them convince you that you meant something to Hotch the same way he meant something to you, but you couldn’t let yourself believe that. It would only mean more heartbreak later. 
“And who makes that decision?” Garcia reminds you.
“And it’s not just the field. He doesn’t even like it when the local cops look at you the wrong way or give you a hard time.”  Emily adds.
“You all need to get away from work more. You’re profiling when there’s nothing there.” You argue weakly. 
“You’ll see,” JJ smiles, rolling her eyes at you. “We’ll let you off the hook for now. But you might want to put a little thought into why your first worry about getting a new place is what Hotch would think.” 
The rest of the day found you back at Emily’s place, lounging around in comfy clothes and binging shitty rom-coms. You ordered a couple of pizzas for dinner, and passed around twizzlers and coca cola like you were at a middle school sleepover. It was nice. Great, even. Josh wasn’t the biggest fan of your coworkers, and you had grown more distant from them over your time with Josh. The conversation was breezy and light, the evening full of laughter. It wasn’t until later, when everyone was cleaning up and preparing to head out, that your tone became a little more serious. 
“Thank you guys, seriously.”
“You know you don’t have to thank us for eating takeout and watching movies in our sweats.” JJ tells you with a smile as she tosses some candy wrappers.
“And you know that’s not what I’m thanking you for. I know I wasn’t the best friend when Josh and I were together.” 
“Clearly that wasn’t your fault.” Emily reminds you. 
“Maybe not, but I still appreciate everything you all did for me today. I missed you.”
“We missed you too, bug.” Garcia said, wrapping you up in a hug. “Just don’t tell boss man that we stayed past your bedtime.”
You let out a laugh. “He’s so ridiculous.” 
“Ridiculously in loveeee,” JJ sings out teasingly. 
“Watch it, or I’ll tell him you kept me out late drinking!” You joked with her as you and Emily walked JJ and Garcia out the door. You and Emily bid your goodnights to each other as you slipped into her spare room, stretching out across the bed lazily. You feel your phone start to vibrate, but you can’t for the love of god remember which zippered pocket of your go-bag you’d left it in. When it stops vibrating, you let out a frustrated groan. Finally, you find it, in the pocket of the jeans you’d worn to brunch this morning. You have a missed call from Aaron, which you return immediately, flipping back over to lie against the mattress. He picks up on the first ring. 
“Hey, I didn’t wake you, did I?” 
You check the time briefly, rolling your eyes a little. It’s not even midnight. “No, I was awake.” You tell him. 
“Did the girls just leave?” He asks casually, but you know Garcia probably wasn’t joking about Hotch enforcing a bedtime. 
“A while ago. I was in the shower when you called.” 
“You’re an awful liar, you know.” He chuckles at you. 
“I thought we agreed that you were going to let all this parental energy out on Jack.” You responded, hoping he could hear the smirk in your voice. 
“I just don’t want you to push it.” Hotch confesses with a sigh. 
“Hotch, I’m okay. Really. You got me out of there and got me patched up. I’m good now.” you tell him, sitting up against the pillows. 
“I also let you go home with him that night after I saw him hit you.” He reminds you, and although you can’t actually see him, your mental picture of him, head hung and thumb running anxiously against his fingers, is startlingly real.
“I made that choice, Hotch. You gave me an out and I chose not to take it.” You reminded him. “That’s on me.” 
“No, it’s not. This wasn’t your fault.” He’s quick to correct you 
“Not yours, either.” You add.
“He pulled a gun on you that night.” He says, more to himself than to you. 
“Yeah, he did.” You said quietly.
“If I had let you go home with him, and he had--” He starts to spiral, but you pull him out of it. 
“Aaron. I’m right here on the phone with you. You came and got me out of there. I’m okay.” 
“I don’t know what I would have done. I can’t-- I can’t imagine a world without you in it.” He confesses, sounding breathless even though you were sure he was just sitting on the sofa at home. 
“You don’t need to. I’m right here.” You tell him. “Is that why you called?”
“It’s good to hear your voice.” He answers, in his own roundabout way. “Did you have a good day?” 
“Yeah, I did. What about you and Jack?” 
“Yeah, we did. We didn’t quite get the training wheels off yet, but we’re getting there. He’s so excited to see you tomorrow.” 
“He is?” You asked. 
“He is. Are you surprised? He’s not exactly shy about how much he likes you.” 
“No, I guess not,” you laugh, remembering a time he had nearly knocked you over in Aaron’s doorway with the force of his hug. “What did you tell him?’
“I just told him that you’d been feeling a little sick, and that you were going to be staying here until you were feeling better.”
“And he was okay?” 
“His exact words were ‘is she too sick to build legos with me,’ so yeah, I think he’s okay.” He laughed, and you tried to push down the sense of warmth that the sound of his laughter spread throughout your chest. It didn’t work. He interrupted your internal dilemma without realizing it. “I should let you get to sleep.” 
“Try to catch a few hours yourself, Hotchner.” You tell him. 
“I’ll see you in the morning. Goodnight.” 
“Hotch?” You say before he can hang up the phone. 
“Yeah?” He asks. 
“I can’t imagine a world without you in it, either.” You tell him in a whisper that’s almost self-conscious.
“You don’t need to. I’m right here.”
tagging:  @the-modernmary @greeneyedblondie44 @angelic-kisses13 @wanniiieeee @hotforhotchner11  @baumarvel @ssamorganhotchner
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In Other Words
Pairing: Joe Mazzello x (plus-sized) Reader 
Summary: You and Joe are having a dance party in your kitchen before an offhand comment sends you into a spiral about your body. Joe comes to comfort you, reminding you how beautiful and amazing you are.  
Warnings: Some angst (body image related), a lil implied smut, mostly just heaps of fluff <3
Word Count: 2.4k
Author’s Note: Did I cry while writing this? Maybe so. Thanks to @rogerina-deacon for providing some inspiration for this fic! The two Sinatra songs I reference in the story are “The Way You Look Tonight” and “Fly Me To The Moon,” so give them a listen if you’d like! While I have written this specifically with a plus-sized reader in mind, I think most of us can relate to being insecure in our appearances from time to time. I wish I had someone like Joe in my life to tell me these things when I feel bad about myself, but also, we can all be our own Joes and tell ourselves how much we love ourselves when we are down! Okay, before I get too sappy, let’s just get into the fic, shall we?
The moment you open the door to your apartment, you immediately feel at peace. You and Joe had moved in together a few months ago, and like all couples moving in together, you had to go through the slightly painful process of deciding what stuff was going to make the move. There had been small arguments about particularly heinous pieces of furniture (“Y/N, that chair looks like it lost a fight with an alley cat”) or questionable wall art (“Joe, does the Jurassic Park poster have to go above the fireplace?”), but for the most part, the shared apartment was a perfect combination of your two personalities.
However, your favorite thing in the whole place was one of Joe’s things; his record player. The machine was a mix of vintage and modern, with an old gramophone head sticking out of the smooth cherrywood base. The sound that came from the machine was rich and comforting, filling the apartment with a sense of peace and warmth that felt so special to you.
As you set your keys down on the entryway table, you hear the familiar sound of Frank Sinatra pouring from the living room. A moment later, the smell of garlic and onions hits you, bringing a smile to your face. Of course. Joe only breaks out the Sinatra when he’s making dinner.
You walk into the kitchen, smiling when you see Joe busy at the stove, singing along to the smooth jazz. He hasn’t noticed you yet, swinging his hips side to side to match the tempo of the song and taking a sip from the glass of wine perched on the counter.
“I’m home, babe” you say, stepping towards the cabinet to grab a glass for yourself.
Without missing a beat, Joe turns around and dances over to you, still singing along to the song.
“There is nothing for me,” he sings, pecking you quickly on the lips once, “but to love you,” then twice, “and the way you look tonight.”
He spins you around, keeping a hand loosely on your waist as you turn. Breathlessly giggling, you poke him in the chest, blushing slightly when you catch him grinning at you.
“Babe, has anyone ever told you how cheesy you are?”
“They don’t call me Mozzarella for nothing, darlin’”
With a wink, he turns back to the stove, muttering a quick “shit” under his breath as he turns the flames down, careful not to burn dinner. You pour yourself a glass of wine and take a sip before sliding up behind him and wrapping your arms around his midsection, peering over his shoulder.
“Whatcha making?”
“Pasta and red sauce,” he hums, sprinkling some herbs into the sauce bubbling on the stove, “I swung by the farmer’s market this morning and the tomatoes looked so good, I just had to get them. Plus, our basil plant looked like it needed a haircut.”
“It smells amazing, Joey,” you mutter, planting a soft kiss behind his ear.
The next song starts on the record and the two of you start swaying to the beat.
“Fly me to the moon,” Joe begins to sing, setting the wooden cooking spoon down on the counter and turning around. One hand slithers to the small of your back and the other grabs your left hand, pulling you close to face him as the sounds of pianos and trumpets fill your kitchen. The two of you slow dance around the room, bumping into the counters and stealing quick kisses, losing yourselves in each other’s arms. When the brass section swells, Joe spins you out, beaming at you as you curl back into his arm. He holds you to his chest, burying his face into his neck as he mumbles more of the sweet lyrics into your ear.
“You are all I long for, all I worship and adore...”
You blush, spinning away from him and looping your arms around his neck. As the final chorus starts, Joe takes your hand in his again and begins to box step, whirling you in circles. The song crescendos towards its finale, and Joe sings right along with a glint in his eye.
“In other words, I….love…you.”
Suddenly, to punctuate the last note of the song, Joe dips you. As your weight falls back onto his arms, his eyes open a little wider and he lets out a soft “oof”. Joe grins down at you.
“Sorry, baby, you were a little heavier than I expected.”
Your face, which just moments before had been glowing with a radiant smile, freezes with a panicked look. You quickly get your feet back under you and run out of the kitchen, embarrassed, ears ringing with the word Joe had used. Heavy.
You can hear Joe call confusedly after you as you run to the bedroom, accidentally slamming the door behind you. You wince at the sound, collapsing onto the bed as hot tears begin to flow down your cheeks. Heavy.
You had spent a lot of your teenage years hating the extra pounds on your body, punishing both your body and mind through terrible crash diets and grueling exercise routines, desperately begging for your body to be different. As you got older, you began to be more patient and loving with yourself, understanding that your weight and the way you look do not define your worth as a person. It was at that time that Joe came into your life, making you feel beautiful and desired and truly, truly loved. But sometimes, the doubt and self-hatred would come seeping back, making you feel like a teen again, taking you back to those times you felt unlovable. You hated your brain for making you feel so worthless, for latching onto one tiny word in what had otherwise been an adorable, love-filled night.
A soft knock at the door pulls you out of your mental spiral.
“(Y/N), can I come in? Can we talk?”
You mumbled out a mangled “okay” as Joe comes into the bedroom, gently pulling you upright into a hug. The gesture of affection makes you cry more, staining the front of his shirt with your tears.
“Oh, baby, I am so so sorry. I’m sorry I said that, it was really stupid and insensitive of me. I didn’t mean it, hon. You know I love you more than anything.”
You continue to cry silently into his chest.
Joe softly rocks you, gently carding his fingers through your hair while he whispers “I’m sorry, I’m sorry” over and over again.
“Joe, it’s okay. Really,” you manage with a weak smile, “you were just being honest.”
He looks you dead in the eyes, holding you by your shoulders.
“Babe, you know I love you. Every inch of you. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met, I mean that. I shouldn’t have made that stupid joke while we were dancing, especially because I made it sound like me not being able to dip you was your fault! It’s these stupid noodle arms of mine,” he says, wiggling his arms around for emphasis, “and hey, if I have to hit the gym a little more often so I can lift my beautiful girl, I’m sure my doctor and agent won’t mind,” he jokes.
You sigh, shaking your head, “Joe, I don’t want you to feel like you have to change any part of yourself to be with me. That’s not fair of me to ask.”
Joe’s face becomes more serious as he shifts to face you on the bed, taking your hands in his.
“(Y/N), I’ve already changed so much of myself to be with you. And they’ve all been good changes. I’ve stopped dressing like an overgrown teenager because of how amazing you look every time I see you, so you don’t have to feel like you’re on a date with some slob. I’ve started cooking instead of always ordering in because it means we can spend more time together, laughing and dancing in the kitchen. For God’s sake, I go to the damn farmer’s market now, and it’s not just because the veggies are amazing,” he says with a little chuckle, “It’s because it reminds me of all the Saturdays we’ve spent there, sipping iced tea and soaking up the sun with our arms around each other.”
You let a watery smile pass across your face, remembering all the wonderful things you two have done together.
“We’ve both changed quite a bit since we started dating, (Y/N), but I’d never, ever want you to think you should change the way you look for me. Because,” he growls, pulling you closer, “I think you’re pretty damn beautiful.”
A bright blush spreads across your face and chest at Joe’s words.
“What, you don’t believe me, babe?” he asks.
“It’s not…it’s not that I don’t believe you, Joe, it’s just…I don’t know. I don’t feel…,” you trail off, avoiding meeting his eyes. He cups your face, gently tugging your chin so you look at him. Tears begin to prick at the corners of your eyes again.
“Why me, Joe? You could be dating models or actresses, literally anyone you want…why date my boring fat ass?” you ask, sighing as you lay back on the bed.
“You mean gorgeous ass,” he says, moving to straddle you, “haven’t you been listening? I’m dating you because you bring out the best in me, love. You make me laugh, you make me think, you encourage me to reach for my goals, and you are so damn stunning, I swear every time you kiss me I think I’m gonna faint. I’m serious,” he insists, leaning down to kiss your forehead, “what’s it gonna take to make you believe me, beautiful?”
You just run your hands through his hair, shrugging.
“Really, Joey, you don’t need to do anything, I’m just sad.”
“That’s not cool with me, babe. You can feel sad but I gotta make you feel better. You need to know how much I love you,” he mutters, leaning down to press a sweet, passionate kiss on your lips.
“God, I love your lips,” he mumbles absentmindedly, “they’re so soft, so perfect for kissing…my favorite thing to do when I get home is kiss these beautiful lips. And my god, the mouth they’re attached to? That mouth can do some magical things…”
“Joe!” you shriek, swatting his chest.
“Just being honest, babe,” he teases, moving to suck on your neck and kissing a trail down your chest to your stomach, lifting your shirt up.
“I know you think this beautiful stomach is too big, too squishy, too…whatever. But I love your stomach, (Y/N). When we cuddle, I love to wrap my arms around you and feel how soft you are. It reminds me to hold you tight and never let you go. And I never will,” he says, peppering your stomach with soft kisses.
“And these legs? Lord, these legs are breathtaking,” Joe says, sliding your skirt up around your waist to expose your thighs, rubbing circles on the velvety skin.
“I know you’re self-conscious of the stretch marks here, but to me, they look like art, decorating this beautiful body of yours. Showing how amazing your body is for supporting you as you have grown and changed into the woman you are today. I think I owe a lot to these,” he murmurs, pressing soft kisses to the sides of your legs. Then, with a wicked glint, he nips at your inner thighs, causing you to gasp.
“Joe…” you moan, suddenly needy for him.
“Don’t worry, baby, I’ll make sure to make you feel extra good in a little bit,” he teases, “but I’m not quite done letting you know how beautiful you are.”
He rolls off you, extending his hands to you to pull you upright off the bed. You allow Joe to guide you over to the mirror hanging on the wall next to the closet. He has you stand in front of the mirror, perching his head on your shoulder and wrapping his arms tightly around you, pressing a kiss to your temple.
“I wish you could see yourself through my eyes, (Y/N). Look how exquisite you are. There’s not one part of you I would ever want to change. But the thing is, even if you do change, I’ll still love you. I always will, because it’s not your figure that makes me love you, even though I do think it’s damn fine,” he growls, nipping your ear lightly,” it’s who you are. I love you, (Y/N). There’s no one else in this world for me.”
The tears in your eyes this time are happy ones when you turn and press your body to his, rubbing your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. Without saying anything, you pull him in for a kiss, letting your anxiety and sadness melt away in Joe’s arms. After a few moments, you pull away, leaning your head on his chest.
“I love you, Joe,” you whisper, “thank you.”
“Anytime, beautiful. I love you, too,” he says as he kisses the top of your head. “Now, about making you feel good…”
You giggle, “as much as I’d love that right now, Joey, don’t you think we should go check on that dinner you were making?”
Joe’s eyes widen, realizing he forgot to turn the burner off.
“Shit!” he yells, flying out of the bedroom.
You giggle again, feeling unbelievably lucky to have him. You turn to the mirror again, letting your eyes wander over your body again before smiling at your reflection. Joe’s right. You are beautiful, and your heart swells when you think that no matter how often your brain or the world tells you that you aren’t, Joe will always be here to remind you how much he loves you, just the way you are.
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ashinan · 6 years
Text
so this is all @butteredonions fault because, okay, listen. LISTEN. I saw the art by @cherryandsisters that had Poe Dameron and Keith back to back and I kind of. died. a bit. because it was perfect. and then while talking to the darling Miss Onions, she said ‘what if?’ and now I’m here. this isn’t going to be the only fic I write in this sudden verse. I’m so mad at myself. but also screaming. anyway. here. have the voltron/star wars crossover that spawned overnight.
familiarity in misalignment
The stars were stunning here. D’Qar didn’t have such an unfettered view of the stars, and when Poe was in his X-wing, everything blurred by in a swirl of light and dark. Here, on the observation deck of a ship in another reality, it was - nice. Quiet. Different from the nightmares that pricked his memories full of holes.
Tucking the blanket under his thighs, Poe dropped his elbows on his knees. The constellations were just off, enough of a tick to the left to give Poe a headache. But compared to his hell of a night, it was soothing. Familiarity in misalignment. Poe snorted. Well, he hadn’t expected the nightmares to just leave him be because more exciting things were afoot. 
Yawning, Poe tucked his chin into his palm and smacked his lips. The stars blurred. The dark between reached like fingers, curled and vicious and digging - jerking his head up, Poe exhaled. Stars. Coping. Well.
The door behind him hissed. Poe frowned, twisting before the observation screen. Ah. One of their hosts. During dinner (which had been some of the strangest food he’d ever eaten, though Rey and Finn had been pleased as punch), Shiro had asked pointed and bafflingly specific questions about the lightspeed tech they had aboard their ships. He’d delved into the mechanics of it with Rey and the physics of it with Poe. Every inch the leader. Prodding for answers, uncertainty in the tense line of his jaw and the narrowed pinch of his eyes. Always on the defense.
Now, in the delicate light of the observation deck and with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, Shiro reminded Poe surprisingly of Finn.
“You’re up late,” Poe said. Shiro blinked, head snapping up in surprise. His shock quickly melted into a blank smile, fingers clenched in the blanket. Poe frowned.
Shiro cleared his throat, his tone stiff and formal. “I didn’t realize anyone else would be up. Are the rooms not to your liking?”
“They’re fine, kid. It’s not often I get such an amazing view of the stars, is all.” Poe gestured. “Come on in, pull up some floor. Do you know the constellations here?”
Shiro hesitated. The sweats he wore were too long, nearly covering his toes. His sleep shirt was too small. The metal fingers of his right hand twisted heavily in the blanket he’d wrapped protectively around his shoulders. Poe raised a brow. Shiro’s jaw shifted. He stepped inside and the door slid shut behind him, cutting off the light from the hall and bathing everything in a soft blue glow. Poe wiggled to the side, patting the floor beside him, and Shiro tentatively folded down beside him.
“So, constellations? You know ‘em?”
Shiro shook his head, adjusting the blanket around his knees. “Not in this quadrant. I knew the ones before, though. What are the stars like in your reality?”
“Slightly different.” Poe cradled his cheek in his palm, gaze bouncing over Shiro’s haggard expression. Circles under his eyes, sallow skin, hollow cheeks. Poe clicked his tongue against the back of his teeth. “You don’t look so hot.”
Scrubbing at his nose, at his scar, Shiro tilted his chin down. The stars caught on the metal of his wrist. “I’m fine.”
Poe snorted. “Mhm. I know a nightmare face when I see one, kid. Nighttime can be a load of bantha shit if you let it. This your coping mechanism?”
Blinking, Shiro furrowed his brow. He remained quiet. Watching. Weighing options. Poe waited, tapping a finger against his cheek, holding Shiro’s gaze. For a moment, he dropped the facade of a carefree and battle hungry pilot, allowed Shiro a peek behind the curtain.
Circles under his eyes courtesy of Kylo Ren and his fucking control issues.
A tick in his jaw he couldn’t quite contain.
Rippling shivers in the fine bones of his wrists, burned into his bones from the manacles he would never be free of.
A moment. An understanding. Shiro’s mouth dropped open. Poe quirked a brow. “Now you’re getting there.”
Swallowing, Shiro clicked his teeth together. Exhaled. Tucked himself deeper into the blanket. “How long have you had them?”
“The current ones I’ve only had for a few months.” Poe glanced out the window at a lazy comet spiralling between starlight. “The others are oldies but goodies from my glory days before the Resistance. Different horrors thrown together to make sleeping a right dick.”
Quiet stretched between them, as delicate as the spidersilk light of a fading star. Poe bounced his gaze from constellation to constellation, never straying into the darkness between, remaining stubbornly within the light. His thoughts were sharp but his body was fuzzy. The nightmares lurked, petulant.
“I’m -” Shiro started, stopped, started again, “I don’t remember the dreams. Just the feelings. Sometimes I catch glimpses but it’s just smears of colour. The feelings though. Those hurt.”
Stars, this was a mess. Falling into this reality had been disorienting, but war was the same across the board: a bundle of exhaustion and fear, of close calls and near misses, of not so lucky moments and screaming grief. The kid was young. Scarred in a way Poe couldn’t quite comprehend, more than the horror carved into his skin. Unfair, that. War was unfair. How it had hooked its claws into Shiro was even more so.
Sighing, Poe scrubbed his hands through his hair. “What helps?”
“Not talking about it,” Shiro said, quirking a smile when Poe laughed.
“See, I keep trying that and it does squat. Let’s try one of mine instead.” Straightening his spine, Poe lifted a hand and tilted his palm, spreading his fingers wide until each fingertip touched a star. “We don’t know the constellations here, but we can play around with that. Come up with some fancy names for stars we see and claim them as our own.”
Shiro laughed, a gut punch sound that rattled wrong. Poe nudged their shoulders together. “Come on, kid. If I’m doing your coping mechanism, it’s only fair you do mine.”
“What’s the hand thing?” Shiro asked, mimicking the wide spread of Poe’s fingers. His eyes narrowed and he adjusted the angle. Most pilots got it on the first try. Poe hid a smile. Finn never understood this exercise, but every single pilot Poe had coached had picked it up damn near immediately. Shiro was no exception.  
Tilting his head, Poe explained, “Helps you pick your stars. Each fingertip represents the beginning of a different constellation. Let’s see if we can’t come up with something to wow the others, huh?”
They spent the next hour or so locating and mapping the stars with their fingers. Shiro’s posture relaxed the further into the game they got, until a proper laugh escaped him when Poe explained exactly what an Ewok was and why the constellation beginning on his middle finger was the spitting image of one. The tense line of Shiro’s jaw eased; his shoulders dropped and his gaze went bright with mischief and excitement. A proper response to a game. The kid deserved a bit of nonsense considering the position he was in. A single night where the nightmares were secondary to a bit of silly fun.
By the time the lights started to mimic dawn in the observation deck, Shiro had laughed himself hoarse and tired, snickering as Poe recounted the story of Luke Skywalker and the Tauntaun. Poe picked out a last constellation, quietly naming it Bey before dropping his hands into his lap. The last prickles of darkness at the edge of his thoughts drifted away into starlight. Shiro exhaled shakily. Poe waited.
“Thanks for this,” Shiro whispered.
Poe shrugged. “Honestly, it helped me too. Talking is great and all, but sometimes just chasing the nightmares away with the light is more satisfying.” Poe quirked his lips. “Also, Finn doesn’t get it. He always ends up calling me a cheater.”
Shiro laughed, proper and worn. “How do you cheat at star naming?”
“That’s what I said!”
The lights grew brighter. Shiro broke their conversation with a truly incredible yawn. Poe pushed to his feet, groaning at the pop of his hip and the numb tingle of his thighs. Shiro followed him up, yawning again, blanket hunched up around his ears. They burned most of the night away playing chase with the stars. Hopefully, that was enough.
Poe clapped a hand to Shiro’s shoulder. Shiro blinked blearily at him. “Get some sleep, kid. I’ll keep everyone in line until you can join us again.”
“I’m okay.”
“Nope, none of that, we’re not doing that again.” Even though Shiro was taller, Poe marched Shiro to the door and nudged him back toward the Paladin quarters. “I didn’t share a top secret coping mechanism only to have you pass out in your breakfast. Now, go.”
Cracking a smile, Shiro staggered his way down the hall, yawning wide again as he disappeared around a corner. Stifling his own yawn, Poe picked his way back to the guest quarters, to where Rey would be fighting with Finn over the covers and the both of them would quietly ask if Poe wanted to talk. Strange new reality, strange constellations, but same concepts.
The lights rose in a mimicry of a sunrise.
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