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thisgirlisonfayeeer · 3 months
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WHOEVER TOOK THAT VID OF BILL HADER AND TAYLOR SWIFT TALKING AND TAKING A SELFIE, AND POSTED IT ON THE GOLDEN GLOBES IG LET ME KISS YOUUUU ILYSM U DESERVE THE WORLD BLESS UR SOUL đŸ„čđŸ’–đŸ’•âœšđŸ«¶đŸŒđŸ„°đŸ€—đŸ˜˜
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thisgirlisonfayeeer · 3 months
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thisgirlisonfayeeer · 4 months
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Like/reblog if you save 🐞
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thisgirlisonfayeeer · 4 months
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This is a sad year for sitcom fans 😔
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thisgirlisonfayeeer · 4 months
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UGH SO SWEEEEET đŸ„čđŸ’–đŸ«¶đŸŒ
something more
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pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!bau!reader
summary: you and aaron are friends with feelings more obvious than you think. or: 5 times the team suspects you and hotch are dating +1 time they know it.
word count: 6.6k
warnings: friends to lovers, the team being a little nosy, pining idiots!!!, probably inaccurate descriptions of bau jobs (for the plot!), a very small injury, a birthday, a first kiss, and fluff!
a/n: hiii this one has been a long time coming so thank you guys for being so patient with me!!! and special thanks to the anon who requested this one! i hope u guys enjoy it and please please let me know what you think <3 ily
àŒ„
Aaron Hotchner was never someone you thought you could be this close to.
Coming to the BAU, you’d been intimidated more than anything. As Unit Chief, he’s got a reputation that’s hard to ignore. Professional, brave, cold when he has to be. His success and talent were undeniable, and all you wanted to do was prove that you belonged there, too.
Then, you really met him, and he surprised you in a way you hadn’t expected. Hotch was kind right off the bat, welcoming you to the team with a smile that felt like some sort of prize.
He was an excellent boss. Understanding and protective, quick to defend anyone on the team like they were his own family. Except, he was so much more than just your boss.
Now, you’d call him your closest friend, someone who’s number you’d call if you were in trouble. He’s your closest friend and yet you feel so much more for him.
It started slow, a friendship blooming the way a plant does with just enough sunlight. It was a shared smile here, a nudge of the shoulder there. It grew to be a seat next to him reserved for you on every plane ride.
Today, it’s eating lunch with him in his office.
Aaron usually works through lunch, more eager to get things done than he is to worry about skipping a meal. Somehow, with two tupperware containers in your hand and a sweet smile, you’d managed to get him to take a break.
“Whatcha doing?” You’d asked.
Hotch looked up from his paperwork then, dropping his pen because you were in his doorway. “You know, Unit Chief business. Reports.”
“Sounds like you have time for lunch, then.” You set the containers down on his desk, making sure to avoid the papers he’d just been working on.
“I should really get this done-”
“Hotch,” you stopped him, “you and I both know that you’re always ahead on this stuff because you stay here so late. Lunch won’t set you back.”
With a shake of his head and the biting back of a smile, a simple twitch at the corners of his mouth, Aaron agreed and stacked his paperwork off to the side.
That’s how you’ve ended up in the chair that’s usually on the opposite side of his desk, only now it’s tugged to be next to his. Your knees touch every so often when one of you shifts, and the warmth stays with you even when the contact is gone.
“Sorry it’s nothing fancy,” you say as he opens the container you brought for him.
“Don’t apologize. It’s great.” Hotch has a way of saying things that make them sound true, no matter how few words he uses, so you accept it.
“Okay, good!” There’s a small silence, a lull as you both take your first bites. “Can I help with anything?”
Aaron looks from the paperwork to your face, your eyes already on his. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I want to,” you reassure him. “I think sometimes you forget that you aren’t the only one who can do this stuff.”
He knocks his knee against yours. Purposeful this time. A silent ‘thank you.’
“Like you said, I’m ahead anyways. I’ve got it.”
“Come on, Hotch. I’m already done with my report from our last case. I’ve got time. Let me help.”
He’s always been reluctant to accept help, to ask for it, but when you’re asking so sweetly, when it’ll give him an excuse to spend more time with you, it’s hard for Aaron to say no.
“Alright. You help for an hour, that’s it.”
You grin at him, like his acceptance of your offer was some kind of gift he’d given you. Your nose crinkles a little with it, and his hand flexes in his lap, like he’s fighting not to reach out to you.
“Okay, put me to work, boss.”
“We just started lunch,” he says, a little chuckle puffing out.
“Have you ever heard of multitasking, Agent Hotchner?”
Aaron laughs, shaking his head as he reaches for one of the files in the stack he’d made and hands it to you. He’d call everyone at the BAU a friend, but there’s something different, something more about how he’d describe you.
He’s grown closer to you than he usually lets himself get to people, like you’re the only one with the right tools to break through walls he’s put up. You see each other outside of work (on the rare days you aren’t working), and still, he feels like it’s never long enough.
Hotch briefly wonders if he could just move your desk into his office. He shakes off the thought and what it might mean.
Head bent, you’re now focused on the work he gave you, and Aaron takes the chance to admire you. His eyes flick over your profile, the light hitting your cheeks, the flutter of your eyelashes every time you blink.
As if you could feel his gaze on you, you turn towards him and smile—a small, closed-mouth smile, but a smile all the same—before turning your attention back to the page.
When you take a pause and take another bite of your lunch, a small drop of sauce lands on your thigh. “Oh, shit.”
Aaron grabs a tissue from the box on his desk, wrapping it over his fingertip before wiping the small spot from your leg, his finger a spark against you even through your pants.
“Good thing you wore black,” he says, tossing the tissue in the garbage. His hand, however, stays on your leg, and though the touch is light the weight of it feels the opposite. Heavy, huge.
“Good thing you’re here to clean up after me, more like.”
Your eyes meet, and you share a smile with Hotch the way you often do. Mid-conversation, across a room, it’s a smile you sort of reserve for each other.
In the main office below, Derek, Spencer, and JJ stand together, watching the interaction through the window into Hotch’s office. You and Aaron seem to be in your own bubble, completely unaware of your small audience.
“They’ve gotta be together,” Derek is the first to speak, waving a hand towards the office where you and Hotch are talking. “I mean, come on.”
“I don’t know,” JJ shrugs, “they both seem kinda clueless.”
“We probably shouldn’t speculate about them,” Spencer, always the sweetheart, says. “But, statistically, Hotch never eats lunch. Just saying.”
JJ pats Reid on the shoulder, huffing out a laugh before she heads back to her desk.
You stay in Aaron’s office much longer than an hour that day.
-
Punctuality is important in the BAU. Really, if you’re not early, you’re late. You’ve always got to be ready, wheels up in ten, or five.
You suppose that doesn’t really apply to outside-of-the-office parties at Garcia’s.
It’s rare that you’re all available at the same time, from late nights at the bureau to families, it’s tough to make your schedules line up when you aren’t working, which is why whenever she can, Penelope likes to host drinks for the team.
You’re on your way there now, or, you should be. Instead, you’re getting ready in your bedroom while Aaron waits in your living room.
Hotch has offered to drive you to these things every time, and with every offer, comes your easy answer of ‘yes.’ He’d been outside in his car for five minutes before he decided to call, because you’re usually in his passenger seat within seconds of him pulling over by your building.
The ringing of your phone had your eyes blinking open, squinted against the sudden brightness of your TV. You’d accidentally fallen asleep, and, still disoriented, picked up the phone. “Hello?”
“Hey, everything okay?” It’s Aaron’s voice on the other line, and you pull your phone away for a second to check the time before sitting up quickly.
“Shit, Hotch, I must’ve fallen asleep. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s alright, I can wait for you.” He’d wait as long as you need, he thinks. The thought passes through like a leaf blown in the wind, freely, randomly.
ïżœïżœHave you been waiting long?” You ask, fingers tugging at a loose thread in your pants.
“No, don’t worry. Barely five minutes.”
And he still wanted to check on you.
“Why don’t you come in? My couch is probably more comfortable than your car, right?”
“You sure?” He checks, like he hasn’t been to your place before, like you’d ever not want him there.
“Get in here, Hotchner.”
You hung up before he could reply, and he laughed to himself in his car before shutting it off and doing exactly what you’d told him.
So, now, you’re rushing to find an outfit while Aaron sits on your couch by himself.
Even though he’s in the next room, you can feel his presence around you, the steady security he gives you, the warmth that seeps out of him even when he tries to hide it.
You settle on a knitted sweater, a skirt, and some tights, which you realize as you tug them on aren't the speediest of options, but it’s too late to change your mind now. With your hair figured out and the mascara that had smudged during your nap fixed, you step back out into the living room.
Aaron made himself at home while you were gone (he often feels that way with you, at home), sitting on your couch with his arms spread across the back. He looks better than he should there, suit stretched across his shoulders, and you have to clear your throat to snap yourself out of it.
“Okay, sorry again for the delay. I’m ready to go.”
He looks up as soon as you walk in, eyes skimming over your legs and the tights wrapped around them, your waist, up your neck. His gaze lands on your eyes the way it often does, like magnets.
He shakes his head, “don’t be sorry. We’ll be what they call ‘fashionably late.’”
You laugh, because who would’ve thought that the words ‘fashionably late’ would ever come out of Aaron Hotchner’s mouth.
“Who taught you that one, huh?”
“I like to keep my sources anonymous.”
“Well okay, then. Let’s go be fashionably late, Hotch.”
He lets you lead the way to the car, only jogging up ahead to open your door before you can reach it yourself.
During the drive to Penelope’s, you take control of the music with little objection from Aaron, and when it gets to a song you know he likes, you sing along, encouraging him to do the same.
“Let’s hear it, Agent Hotchner.” You hold your fist out like there’s a microphone in it, looking at him with a grin on your face.
“I can't sing.” Aaron’s fighting off a smile, because you’re sitting beside him, not too shy to sing along, being all cute and, briefly, he thinks about reaching out and grabbing your hand and holding on.
“Sure you can! Everyone can sing, come on.” You unfurl your faux microphone-holding fist and tug on the knot of his tie, “loosen up a little.”
And, because you have some way of convincing him of things—first lunch, now this—he humors you by joining in for one chorus of the song. When your eyes light up a little, and your grin only widens, he can’t bring himself to be too concerned of how bad he probably sounds.
By the time you’re at Garcia’s door you’re a solid hour late, yet you and Aaron walk up to the door with matching smiles all the same.
“I’m getting you to do that every time I hear that song now, I hope you know.”
“That was a one time special,” he says. He reaches over your shoulder to knock on the door. His hand brushes against you, featherlight and quick, a crackle over your skin.
On the other side, Morgan says, “must be the lovebirds” when he hears the sound.
You and Aaron don’t hear him, only broken out of your little shared bubble when Penelope opens the door. “There you guys are! I made your drinks but the ice might be melted by now. You know, ‘cause you’re late.”
You know this is directed towards you more than it is Hotch, because Garcia’s a little intimidated by him still. You also know she’s only joking, and greet her with a hug before stepping in.
Aaron isn’t far behind you, though at these things, he never is.
You’re met with warm greetings from the team when you walk in, and you chat for a bit, but it isn’t long before things split off into smaller conversations. They all know that Aaron drives you to these things, and, as profilers, they’re also all able to see the way you look at each other, the way the knot of his tie sits lower than usual.
In the corner, Emily leans over to Derek, saying, “usually it takes at least two drinks for Hotch’s tie to look like that.”
“I told you, they’re together,” Derek shrugs.
“I don’t think they know that,” Emily replies.
This time, Aaron hears them, and he can’t help but look towards you in the room the rest of the night, thinking and thinking and thinking.
He ends up deciding that they might have a point. That maybe, that shift in his heartbeat when you’re around isn’t nothing, isn’t just friends.
-
The flight home from a case always feels the longest.
On the way there, you’re packing every hour with information about what’s going on, talking to Garcia, reading police reports. You’re all on edge, eager to get out there and help and do your jobs,
Then, on the way home, with another case solved, all you’re thinking about is going home, sleeping in your own bed, and time seems to go slower.
If your name happens to be Aaron Hotchner, you’d spend the plane ride home doing paperwork that actually can wait.
You and Aaron sit next to each other on pretty much every flight, though the seats have never been assigned. It’s an unspoken thing, like your names are written on the fabric of the same two seats on the jet and that’s just the way it is.
The first time was early on in your time on the team. It was a tough case for you, and Hotch seemed to know it without you having to say anything, so, when you got on the jet to come home, he smiled that small, twitch of his lips smile at you and nodded at the seat next to him. You’ve been sitting there ever since.
Today, your flight is on the shorter side, but feels long the way it always does. Trying to keep yourself occupied, you pull out your earbuds and shuffle your playlist, hoping that the songs will speed things up.
“Sick of me already?” Hotch speaks up when he notices your headphones.
You tilt your head to look at him. He looks tired, the way you’re sure you do, too, but never any less handsome. His eyes are soft where they meet yours, paired with a hint of a smile that you’re always able to catch.
“Sick of you, Hotch? Never.” You nod at the file he has open on the small table, “just didn’t want to distract you.”
“I thought you enjoyed distracting me. Always telling me I work too much.”
“‘Cause it’s true,” you say. “That doesn’t mean you listen.”
“I listen to you more than I listen to most people.” Aaron’s voice is gentle when he says it, the words sinking in and melting you just a little, sugary sweet. It could mean absolutely nothing, but with the way he keeps his eyes steady on yours, you don’t think it does.
“Listen to this, then,” you hand him one of your earbuds, and his fingers brush yours when he takes it from you. “But you can’t make fun of me if a musical soundtrack comes on, okay?”
“Okay,” he huffs a small laugh, and you feel a little brighter. “I promise.”
You’re aware of the team having their own conversations in the rows in front of you and Hotch, but you can’t bring yourself to join in, because you and Aaron are sharing your earbuds and his head is bent just a little closer to yours. It’s delicate, and you’ll do your best not to break it.
You talk a little longer, until it naturally fizzles out and Hotch is back to working on his files and you’re bobbing your head along to your songs. Only now, Aaron sits closer to you, his arm against yours.
He’s not sure what to do with his newfound realization that his feelings for you run far deeper than friendship. All Aaron knows is that he likes the feeling of you beside him, and that he’s planning on keeping you there as long as you’ll let him.
It’s quiet between the two of you aside from your occasional ‘this is a good one,’ and his hum of acknowledgement.
Eventually, you’re relaxed enough that your eyes grow heavy, the sleep you’ve been lacking suddenly catching up to you, and when you hit a patch of slower songs you’re fighting to stay awake.
When your head lulls onto Hotch’s shoulder, you jerk your head up, “sorry, Aaron.”
His chest does something funny. A jump. It’s not often you call him Aaron, and he’d listen to the sound of his name on your lips on a loop if he could. Because he can’t help himself, he scooches himself even closer to you.
He decides to call you something different, too, saying, “it’s alright, honey.”
You’re too sleepy to really read into that one, all you feel is the flutter in your stomach and Aaron’s hand on your head, gently guiding it to his shoulder.
When he’s sure you’re asleep, Hotch looks away from his files and over to you. Your cheek is squished against his shoulder, your lashes fanned shut. He thinks you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen.
Aaron doesn’t even feel the smile that spreads over his face as he reaches up and pushes your hair away from your face. He’s completely unaware of the eyes that catch him, far too focused on you.
Emily turned around when she realized she hadn’t heard your voice in a bit, and she did it just in time to catch Hotch’s movement. Instead of saying something, she turns back around and shakes her head to herself.
Hopeless, she thinks.
Sleep doesn’t come so easily with this job, with the things you see, so Aaron can’t help but try and stay steady for you, and if that leads to him letting his eyes close and resting his head on yours, then so be it.
It’s not until the end of the flight that the team checks on the two of you. As everyone stands and grabs their go bags, they notice the two of you, asleep next to each other, earbud wires hanging between you.
“Should we wake them up?” JJ asks.
“Hotch doesn’t get enough sleep as it is,” Spencer chimes in. “Neither does she, actually.”
Of course, Derek finishes with, “let’s leave the lovebirds to it,” before the team gets off the plane.
It’s only about twenty minutes later that Aaron does wake up, but he feels more well-rested than he has in a while, even with the kink in his neck.
Blinking his eyes open, he’s met with an empty jet and the comforting weight of your head on his shoulder. “Shit,” he sighs.
He debates waking you, ultimately deciding that you’d probably rather sleep in your bed rather than the seat of the BAU’s jet. Reaching up, he pulls your earbuds away, setting them on the table. With a brush of his fingertips to your cheek, he coaxed you awake.
“Hey, honey,” Aaron’s nearly whispering, like he’s afraid to scare you. Or, maybe, he’s convinced that if he moves too quickly, too loudly, this whole thing will fade away as if he’d been dreaming. “Wake up, we’re home.”
“Hm?” You grumble, scrunching your nose when he brushes your cheek again.
“We fell asleep, but we landed.”
“Oh, god.” You sit up properly, lifting your head. “I’m sorry, Aaron. Hotch.”
“Aaron is good,” he eases you. “Come on, I’ll drive you.”
Sleep-hazed, or maybe just happy that he can be Aaron to you, you agree easily and take his hand when he offers it, letting him lead you to his car.
-
You’ve been spending more time at Aaron’s ever since that flight. In the car, he’d convinced you to stay over at his place in the guest room, since it was closer. With your go bag already in his car and heavy, sleepy eyes, it was hard for you to do anything but agree.
It’s another slice of his life that he’s let you see, and you can’t help but feel like it means something, like you’re stepping further and further away from being coworkers who are friends and towards something different. Something more.
That flight feels like the catalyst, the thing that caused things to shift into what they are now.
Aaron’s couch is much more comfortable than yours, and though you’ve yet to spend the night again, you’re sitting there with him at almost every chance. The time off you get is rare, and Aaron wanting to spend it with you sends flutters to your stomach whenever you think about it.
You feel like you know him better, getting to see his space, how he chose to decorate, what colors he likes, which ones he doesn’t. You also know what temperature he likes to set his thermostat.
“Do you enjoy living in a refrigerator?” You ask, hands tucked into your sleeves. “Just wondering.”
Aaron laughs, a small huff, “I think you just run cold, honey.”
He’s been calling you that a lot, too. Honey.
“No way, Hotchner. Your house is what runs cold. Or maybe you’re cold-blooded.”
Not with you, he thinks. Years and years of doing what he does, Hotch might even call himself cold when he’s thinking a little too hard. But never cold with you. He thinks that might be impossible for him.
“Shhh, don’t tell anyone my secret,” he says, his arm brushing against yours from where he sits next to you on his couch. “Where are you cold?”
“Can’t feel my toes, Aaron. I might be out of commission for the next case.”
“Well we can’t lose our best girl, can we?” Best girl, he says. Like he means it, like it’s simple. “I’ve got some thick socks you can grab. Bottom drawer.”
Just like that, he’s cracked another wall of his down even further, giving you permission to go into his bedroom as if you’ve been in there a thousand times.
“Really?”
“Unless you’d rather not feel your toes-“
“Okay, okay,” you stop him, unable to fight your smile. “Thanks, Aaron.”
When you stand and head towards his room, Aaron can’t stop himself from thinking that you belong there, in his home, his room, his life. You fit in so seamlessly he wishes you’d never leave.
He stands up too, because the couch suddenly feels sort of empty without you beside him, without your warmth. He walks over to his thermostat on the wall and turns it up for you.
You’ve always thought that you can tell a lot about a person from where they live, and seeing Aaron’s bedroom now solidifies it. His place does too, but there’s something about his bedroom that feels much more personal.
Here, there’s more of him, little bits of his life scattered around. A picture of him as a kid with his parents on the dresser, the newspaper’s crossword sitting completely finished on his nightstand, his bed neatly made.
You smile at the framed photo before slipping the top drawer open and finding the pair of socks he’d been talking about. As much as you’d love to snoop, you don’t want to invade his privacy in any way. Besides, from Aaron, even a glimpse of his space feels special.
You slip on the socks before you leave his room, letting them bunch at your ankles.
As soon as you walk back into the living room, Aaron’s phone rings. Glancing at you softly, almost apologetically though he’s got nothing to be sorry about—you work with him, you know how important a call can be—he picks it up.
“Hotchner,” he says, holding it to his ear. His voice is different this way, more professional, controlled. Never any less pleasing to hear.
He’d wanted to say something about how good you look in his clothes when his phone rang, Garcia’s name flashing on the screen. Aaron wishes it was someone else, only to spend more time with you this way.
“Sorry to call late, sir,” Penelope says. “We’ve got a case. Missing kid; it’s urgent.”
“Don’t be sorry, Garcia. We’re on our way.”
“Wait, we?” She asks, curious as always.
“What’s going on?” You ask Aaron.
“Got a case. I’ll drive, honey.” He lets the pet name slip, like it’s a habit.
On the other line, Garcia’s grinning to herself in her office. She’d had a suspicion of who on the team Hotch would be with outside of work, and hearing your voice, and his use of the word ‘honey’ all sticky sweet, she knows she’s onto something.
“Oh, that’s ‘we,’” Penelope’s voice teases. “Tell her I’ll see you guys soon!”
Aaron shakes his head, fighting his smile. “Bye, Garcia.”
He hangs up and looks from his phone to you, your eyes already on him, corners of your mouth tugged up just a little like you’d heard what Garcia said, heard the lilt in her voice. Like you liked the idea of you and Aaron being a unit. We.
He likes that idea, too.
Back at the BAU, Garcia calls Derek next, who picks up with his classic, “hey, babygirl.”
First, she tells him that he needs to come into the office, that they’ve got a case, then, “you’re never going to believe this.”
Penelope loves to talk, and Derek’s happy to listen, so she tells him about how you’d been with Aaron when she called, and that you were on your way together.
“I give them another week, max, before they’re holding hands when they come in.” Derek laughs, because he can see yours and Hotch’s feelings so easily, plain as day, and he loves to be right about things.
“How mad will Hotch be when he finds out that we talk about his relationship?” Penelope’s mostly joking, only a fraction concerned.
“If the boss didn’t want us talking about it, he shouldn’t be so obvious, sweetheart.”
Once you arrive at the office, you don’t catch Penelope and Derek’s shared looks behind yours and Aaron’s—who happens to be carrying both his and your go bag—backs.
And if anyone notices the loose socks around your ankles, they don’t say anything about it.
-
You’re not supposed to go off on your own unless it’s absolutely necessary. You know that, the team knows that. Aaron, who is always trying to keep you as safe as possible, enforces it.
You guess that this time might be up for debate.
When it comes to what you do, you have to trust your instincts most of the time. And today, your gut told you to make a decision that might not have been safe, but to you, it felt like what you had to do.
Aaron had been on the phone with you, trying to figure out a way to make the car drive any faster to get to you. He’d heard it in your voice, in the tone of it, that he couldn’t convince you to wait for someone else to show up.
“I have to do this, Aaron,” you’d said. While the team would normally probably tease him about you calling him Aaron, as if it isn’t his name, they’d known not to interrupt this time. “You know I do.”
“You don’t have to.” His hands tightened on the steering wheel as he spoke. “We’ll be there soon, alright? Just-”
“I’m sorry.” And then, you hung up.
In the end, going in when you did had been the right move. A life had been saved, and you’d slowed the guy down enough that the police were able to arrest him when they arrived. All it cost you was a cut and a bruise on your cheek.
So, your instincts weren’t so bad.
Aaron, however, disagrees. Logically, he knows that he would’ve done the exact same thing you did, knows the rest of the team would’ve, too. But when it comes to you, he has a hard time thinking logically.
After you hung up on him, all he could do was breathe and breathe and breathe over the heavy thumping of his heartbeat and the worry spinning in his head. He drove the quickest he could manage, the car silent inside. A static.
It’s not that he doubts your abilities—he’s always thought you were incredible, even before the friendship, even before now—only that the idea of you being alone with such a bad man makes him feel sick.
He’d take your place in a heartbeat, if he could, just to make sure you’d be safe.
By the time he and the rest of the team get to the scene, you’re walking out of the building with a hand pressed to your cheek and a paramedic leading you to a nearby ambulance.
Aaron spots you right away, his eyes scanning the small crowd through red and blue lights and conversations surrounding him. When he spots you, everything goes quiet.
His first thought is, thank god she’s alive, then, it’s fuck, she’s hurt.
Without a word to anyone, he heads over in your direction right away. He meets you at the ambulance, where you sit on the small bench inside while the paramedic presses your cheek with gauze.
“Honey.” It comes out in a breath. Relief and pain all at once.
You look over to him, his hair a little messy, his eyes wide and roaming all over you like he’s checking for any other injuries. He cares about you, and it’s written all over him.
“Aaron. I’m okay.” You hold a hand out, and he grabs it, sitting beside you on the bench in the ambulance. “Promise.”
For now, he nods, letting the paramedic do their job bandaging up your cheek. When they’re finished, they hand you a spare bandage saying, “it’s gonna bruise, and it might feel sore for a bit, but you’re all patched up.”
The paramedic leaves after that, probably going to check on other people. The lights inside the ambulance seem to cocoon you, a bright difference to the darkness outside.
The first thing Aaron says is, “let me see.”
His hands reach for your face, rough fingertips gently holding your jaw, tilting you so that he can look at your cheek. It’s a little swollen, discolored where you must’ve been hit. There’s a furrow in his brow, something that looks like a pout on none other than Aaron Hotchner.
“Hey,” you grab his wrists, but his hands stay on your face. “I’m fine.”
Aaron’s always worried, he’s always cared about you and about everyone on the team, but this is different. He was usually able to hide things much better than this. Much better than with you.
Now, all he sees is the tiny bloodstain on your shirt and the bandage on your cheek. All he feels is your hands squeezing his wrists and your eyes locked on his.
“You should have waited,” he says. “I could have been there.”
“Hotchner,” your deadpan tone is intact, which he’ll take as a win, even if it’s directed towards him. “You and I both know you would have done the same. I had to.”
One of his hands shifts to cup your non-injured cheek. Normally, he’d be much more composed while working, but he can’t bring himself to care about how he must look right now.
“I know you did,” he tells you, because he does. “I just wish that you didn’t. I don’t like seeing you hurt.”
Your stomach is tumbling, rolling, your heart doing silly things in your chest. You can hardly feel the pain of your cheek anymore when his hand is on the other, his palm warm against your skin, his gaze even warmer.
“I’m hardly hurt, Aaron. Just a scratch.”
“Right. One that required medical attention. That’s more than just a scratch, honey.”
“If you say so, Hotchner.”
He shifts his hands so that they fall into your lap, palms up and fingers instantly finding yours, tangling together perfectly. Like puzzle pieces.
“Good job, by the way.” Hotch rubs his thumb over your skin once, back and forth. “You did the right thing.”
“Learned from the best,” you say.
You’re both oblivious to the fact that the team is watching from a distance, and that the two of you look so lovesick it’s ridiculous that you haven’t spilled your feelings yet. You’re both absolutely fucked.
Where she stands with the team, Emily shakes her head, “I haven’t seen Hotch like this since
 ever.”
Beside her, JJ merely shrugs, like it’s obvious, “yeah, they’re in love.”
Spencer looks at you and Aaron in that ambulance with a smile. “The odds of you guys being right are very, very high.”
-
+1
Aaron Hotchner was never the biggest fan of birthdays. Was never big into the cakes and making wishes, the song and the presents and the fuss of it all.
When he started at the bureau, it stayed that way. Days off were rare enough as it was, so he’d always work on his birthday. And while he kept the signed cards from the team, he treated it as any other day. Nothing special.
This year, you’re on a mission to change that.
While it isn’t the first of Aaron’s birthdays you’ve spent with him, it’s the first one since the two of you have grown as close as you have, since you’ve felt the way you do. You’re just hoping to make it a good birthday for him.
You’ve roped the whole team into it. Decorating the conference room with streamers and balloons and a sign that hangs crooked on the wall, bringing in a cake that reads ‘Happy Birthday Hotch’ in frosting, and keeping it all a secret.
Of course, you’ve all already said happy birthday to him, and you’ve got a present stashed under your desk for later, but you’ve been doing your best to act natural even when the anticipation of your surprise for him eats at your stomach a little.
Surprises are a tricky thing, and there’s no way of knowing whether he’ll like it or not. You’ll just have to wait and see.
While in his office, the team had made it seem like they’d all left for the day, saying their goodbyes to Hotch. Instead of leaving, though, they’ve been hidden in the conference room waiting for you to bring him in.
“Aaron,” you say, knocking on his office door. “I think I lost an earring. Do you think you could help me look for it?”
Because you’re the one asking, Aaron says, “‘course, honey. Where do you think it is?”
You smile, because he’s fallen into your trap easily, because you know that he probably would search for an earring with you if you’d actually lost one.
“I remember having it on in the conference room, so maybe there.”
He stands from his desk, gesturing for you to lead the way with his hand held out. You grab onto it before he can drop it, tangling your fingers and leading him behind you.
Aaron lets you guide him, and when you open the door to the conference room and flick on the lights, he’s met with the team’s grinning faces and a chorus of, “surprise!”
For a moment, he’s speechless, frozen in his spot in the doorway with your hand in his.
No, Aaron’s never been the biggest fan of birthdays, but maybe that’s because nobody’s ever done something like this for him. You came into his life all sweet smiles and now you’re throwing him a surprise party? He’s never ever liked someone the way he likes you.
So much that like is spilling into a four letter word and he’s happy to let it.
You know him well enough to know that he doesn’t like being the center of attention too much, so the only people in the room are those of the BAU. His closest friends. And you, his favorite person.
Before he can say anything he’s being spoken to by the team, getting a ‘happy birthday, boss,’ from Derek, a spill about how hard it was to keep this a secret from Penelope, a grin from Spencer, a tip about how you’d organized all of this from Emily, a squeeze to the shoulder from JJ.
When he finally gets the chance, the others split into their own conversations, Aaron tugs you aside to the corner of the room.
“You did all of this for me?” He asks, head bent to catch your eye.
Although you’d caught the signature Hotchner smile—closed-mouthed and quick—when he saw the surprise, you’re nervous about what he might say. You worry that you’ve done too much, that he’d been pretending to like it for your sake.
“I’m sorry if it’s a bit much,” you start, anxiously tugging at your sleeves. “I wasn’t sure if you liked surprises, I know not everyone does, but I wanted to do something for you because I care about you. A lot. And birthdays are meant to be celebrated, you know?”
Aaron can’t help but let a smile spread over his face as you speak; a real smile. His heart is light, his feelings for you melting through him like the soft pink of cotton candy. He doesn’t think you could ever do anything that he wouldn’t like.
“I’ll clean it all up, too, I prom-”
Your rambling is cut off with his lips on yours. He’s kissing you.
It’s soft, the press of his mouth against yours, and it takes you a second to push back. It stays delicate, a dance between the two of you like you’d practiced a million times before.
His hands skate down your arms to hold your hands, weaving his fingers with yours, squeezing like he’s making sure you know this is real.
You feel it all over, your stomach tumbling, your heart beating in a rhythm that thumps his name. Aaron, Aaron, Aaron, over and over.
It’s a kiss worth a thousand words that you haven’t said yet, a kiss full of feelings and meaning and you know it, just by the way he does it, because you know him and he knows you. It’s you and Aaron, and it feels like the beginning of something huge. Of the rest of your life, maybe.
When he pulls back, Hotch rests his forehead against yours, giving your head a gentle nudge, locking his brown eyes on yours.
“It’s perfect,” he says.
The next thing you hear is Derek Morgan cheering, “I knew it!”
Similar words come from the rest of the team.
“Finally,” from Emily.
“About time,” from JJ.
“This isn’t surprising,” from Spencer, who smiles while saying it.
A sweet, “yay,” from Penelope.
Distracted by Aaron kissing you, you’d sort of forgotten they were there. Bashful, you tuck your head beneath Aaron’s chin, forehead against his collar. He simply tightens his hands around yours.
And when it’s time for cake, this year, Aaron Hotchner makes a wish on his birthday candles. He wishes to spend every other birthday just like this. With you.
àŒ„
thank you so so much for reading!!! if you liked it, please please please consider reblogging/commenting and letting me know what you thought! love you <3
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thisgirlisonfayeeer · 4 months
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istg if another unavailable man (emotionally, romantically? maritally?? or whatever) hit on me imma start cutting off d*cks.
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thisgirlisonfayeeer · 4 months
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May the universe conspire to work in your favor, Zara! ✹
I am honestly amazed at how you've handled the past months with your ongoing thesis and at the same time writing quality fics! I couldn't do that and that's one of the reasons I admire you. But also, this is a really crucial time for you to focus on uni since you'll be graduating soon, so I'm happy for you that you decided to take a break.
That being said, we are rooting for you and take all the time you need lovelyyyy!! We know your fics are worth the wait! 💖💞
HI GUYS IMPORTANT PSA
I will be taking a short (long) break until next month. I didn't want to do this initially but as many of you know, I've been working on my thesis for some time and I'm hoping to be able to graduate by January. However, I just received word from my department saying that in order to do that, I will have to complete my thesis defense by mid-December. I'm running against time right now to catch this deadline and unfortunately, I don't think I can do that while running this blog :( I know I promised that my celebration would last for the entire month of November, so I will still be opening requests until the end of the month as originally planned, I just won't be getting around to any of them for a while. I sincerely apologize to everyone whose request is currently still sitting in my inbox. I'm not abandoning them, don't worry!! I will start writing again as soon as I'm done with uni and I'll get back to your requests asap. With that said, I'm still gonna be active once in awhile to check my messages or notifications if anyone still wants to interact xx I'm sorry again for the inconvenience guyss but I hope you can understand ❀ I love you all đŸ„șđŸ„șđŸ„ș✚✚✚✚
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thisgirlisonfayeeer · 4 months
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awww this is nice we fucking love u tooooo!! â€ïžâ€đŸ”„đŸ’ž
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thisgirlisonfayeeer · 4 months
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Y'ALL I'M SEEING YOUR SNL LIVE BLOGS AND I KNOW I'M MISSING OUT SO MUCH 😭
(this be one of the reasons why I wish I lived in the USA but like also.. no)
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thisgirlisonfayeeer · 4 months
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i’m gonna say this once and only once, but i am so fucking tired of seeing multiple writers on here getting hate from anons because of how the writers chose to write their stories. if you don’t like how the ending happened, then make your own story with an ending that satisfies you. if you don’t like a trope someone is writing about, simply scroll the fuck past it. it’s genuinely not hard to do so.
writers put stories out on this platform for free to entertain us all and take us into a beautiful world their mind and imagination created. shitting on them and their writing or their stories is not fucking okay. either you write your own stories the way you’d like to and have a plot and ending that’s up to par for you, or support writers you love by showing their work love with reblogging and commenting. there’s absolutely no need to sit behind a screen and send someone hate for something you simply could’ve just scrolled past or ignored instead.
and if you do send hateful anon messages, i hope you have the day you deserve.
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thisgirlisonfayeeer · 5 months
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thisgirlisonfayeeer · 5 months
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Your writing style just keeps getting better, honeyyy 💖💕💞💓💗 I'm hooked!!
ZAHRA I DEMAND (request) A PART TWO OF JEALOUS REID I AM BEGGINGGGGG đŸ§Žâ€â™€ïžđŸ˜©đŸ™ I am actually in love with the way you write spencer like MY GAWD. MY GAWD.
your request (demand) shall be my command, your majesty 🙏
Warning(s): gn!reader, more jealous spencer bcs apparently it wasn't enough in the first one, a cheesy narration abt "change" đŸ€ąđŸ€ąđŸ€ą bcs why not.
This is part two for this blurb.
This blurb was written as a part of the "Zara's Birthday Bash and Road to 1K" celebration.
Zara's Birthday Bash and Road to 1K Masterlist / Criminal Minds Masterlist
If there was one thing Spencer Reid always found peculiar about mankind, it would be the general lack of acceptance when it came to change.
Before today, Spencer never understood the science behind metathesiophobia: the fear of change. Unpredicted and terrifying as it was, change was necessary to keep the ubiquitous balance of the universe. Change existed in the smallest and biggest capacity of the world, and Spencer, for the life of him, had never been able to berate change for doing exactly what it was intended to do.
Until now.
As Spencer stood next to the copy machine just a few feet away from the kitchenette, eavesdropping a discussion he had no business injecting himself into, Spencer finally understood why many people in the world feared change. The noises coming from the machine in front of him were tumultuous, but Spencer craned his neck and ears to the best of his capabilities just so he could listen in better to the conversation.
"JJ," Spencer heard you say, "I'm telling you, I'm not interested."
"I haven't even told you anything about him yet!"
"Jennifer, it's not about the guy. I'm sure your friend is lovely, but I'm just... not looking for anything like that right now."
"C'mon, (Y/N)," JJ nearly whined. "Please, please, please, just think about this? How long has it been since you broke up with that Bran guy, anyway? You've been single for a while now, don't you think it's finally time for a change?"
Change.
The word tasted bitter as Spencer felt it burn all the way down his throat.
There was a beat of pause where Spencer's heart thundered inside its crate; reeling in suspense over what your answer was going to be. He heard your sigh before your voice arose once more, "Fine. Just text me his number and I'll handle the rest myself, okay?"
Spencer tuned everything out after that, safe for JJ's elated squeal that echoed nearly halfway through the bullpen.
The rest of the day unraveled like a tedious nightmare. After collecting his belongings, Spencer headed out of the bullpen with his car keys in hand. He was waiting for the elevator to arrive, internally cursing his decision for having driven to work that morning, when an unfamiliar voice suddenly appeared behind him.
"You're still here, Doctor?"
Spencer turned around to see you approaching from the direction of Penelope's office. The smile on your face reminded him of cotton candy: soft and sweet; just like the scent of your perfume as it engulfed Spencer's whole being.
"I thought you already left," Spencer muttered.
"No, I had things to take care of. How about you?"
"Yeah. Same."
The elevator arrived with a ding. You walked in after him and pressed the button for the lobby, your scent attacking Spencer's senses even more ruthlessly within the tiny metal box.
"You have any plans for the weekend, Doc?" you asked once the elevator started going down. "A hot date, perhaps?"
Spencer loathed the view of your cheeky smile, along with the teasing gesture of your eyebrows at the suggestion of him going on a date with another person. Here he was, propelling himself to the brink of insanity over the idea of you being on a date with anyone else but him, and you didn't even bat an eye at the prospect of Spencer being with someone else.
"No hot dates for me," he responded. The elevator opened with another ding. "Can't say the same about you, though, can I?"
Your inquisitive gaze slid his way.
"I heard you and JJ in the pantry." Spencer opened the lobby doors, allowing you to walk through before falling into step beside you again. "So, are you going?"
"On the date? I honestly don't know." The night breeze blew against your face. Spencer shuffled closer when he noticed your subtle shiver. "I haven't even texted him yet. I don't feel like it, to be honest. But JJ just seemed so excited about it, so the least I could do is try talking to him first, right?"
An interim silence settled between the two of you. Before long, Spencer spotted his Volvo being parked a few paces ahead. "This is me." Spencer gestured to the car.
"Nice ride." You smiled, humming appreciatively at the vehicle. "Well, I'll get going, then. See you Monday, Doc. Drive safe."
Spencer watched as you started to saunter away. A familiar flame had begun raging and licking up his spine since the moment you mentioned the phrase a hot date in Spencer's face, and now, he could feel that same flame taking a hold of the beating organ inside his chest.
"Don't do it."
You stopped in your tracks.
It took Spencer a few seconds to realize that the interruption had come from him.
"Don't text that guy."
You spun around fully to face him. "Why not?"
"Because I don't think you should go out with him."
You looked at Spencer strangely. "You don't even know the guy."
"I don't need to. I just—" Spencer's jaw hardened, "—I need you to swear to me. Please. Swear you won't go on the date."
Your forehead creased in confusion.
You knew what Spencer was saying didn't make sense, but what perplexed you even more were the words that came out of your mouth next, "Okay. I won't go on the date."
Spencer breathed out his relief as if you just granted him fresh air after years of being buried underground. He gripped his satchel tighter and fiddled with the strap, giving you a curt nod before he slipped inside the driver's seat of his car.
Spencer drove away after that, leaving you standing alone in the middle of Quantico's deserted parking lot as you stared feebly at the tire marks on the ground. A foreign fire had suddenly flickered inside your chest, and even if you didn't understand the significance of it yet, you knew that it must've had something to do with a specific genius profiler who just demanded you to back out of a date that hadn't even been planned yet.
After casting one last look towards his speeding Volvo in the distance, you turned around and headed for your own car, feeling the fire in your ribcage burn brighter with every single one of your steps.
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thisgirlisonfayeeer · 5 months
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Angelina Jolie using her platform to speak out against war crimes while every single one of her colleagues is scared of saying anything out of fear of getting blacklisted is truly awe-inspiring.
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thisgirlisonfayeeer · 5 months
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thisgirlisonfayeeer · 5 months
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Derek to everyone: 😠😠😡😡
Derek to y/n: 😳đŸ„șđŸ„șđŸ„șđŸ˜đŸ„°
AAAAHHH THIS IS SO GOOD ✹
(also, poor Anderson lmaooo but yay to defending him!)
What about bau!reader who gets shot on a case and Morgan gets angry? like really angry. i leave the rest up to you but i’m kicking my feet and giggling to the thought of morgan getting all angry and madđŸ€­
if any of you saw this post I made abt agent anderson, it was about this blurb lmao. ty for the request sweetie! I hope this is to your liking 💞
Warning(s): gn!reader, injured reader, talks of gunshot, derek is angry 😠, profanities
This blurb was written as a part of the "Zara's Birthday Bash and Road to 1K" celebration.
Zara's Birthday Bash and Road to 1K Masterlist / Criminal Minds Masterlist
Heavy footsteps thundered along the white stark hallway. People scampered like hunted rabbits when they saw him, but Derek didn't care. Nothing else mattered to him right at that moment except for reaching the destination in his mind.
Emily Prentiss was the first person Derek saw in the pristine waiting room. The black-haired woman stood to her feet the second her eyes landed on him. Emily had never seen such fury in the man's eyes. She didn't think she would even recognize him in this state if it weren't for the familiar face drilling holes straight through her skull.
"Anything?" Derek bellowed, his voice echoing against every available surface in the room.
Emily shook her head.
"How bad is it? Tell me."
"I don't know," the brunette lamented. "They already ushered (Y/N) inside when I arrived. I don't know anything."
"Well, somebody has to fucking know something." Derek started to pace, his posture domineering in the middle of the room. "Where is—"
Before he could formulate the name in his mind, the person in question appeared from the hallway with Spencer hot on his heels. Agent Anderson faltered in his tracks when he spotted Derek in the waiting room, his countenance getting paler as the latter stalked towards him.
"You," Derek seethed. "You tell me what the fuck happened out there, right now."
Anderson couldn't even look at Derek's face without trembling. Spencer stepped in between the two, trying to push Derek away by his shoulder but the older man wouldn't even budge.
"Morgan, this is not the time nor the place," Spencer warned.
"I'm not doing anything. I'm just asking a question," Derek sneered. "Am I right, Anderson? We're just having a conversation, right?"
"R-Right."
"Good. Now tell me what fucking happened."
The atmosphere thickened in the room. Anderson's eyes darted everywhere as if looking for a reprieve. It was a futile attempt, really. There was nowhere that the man could run where Derek couldn't follow.
"It was supposed to be routine questioning. We didn't—we didn't know that the guy had a warrant against him. I only heard the gunshot before I found (Y/L/N) in the backyard."
"Where were you? Why weren't you two together?"
"We... we, uh, we split up."
"You what?"
"(Y/L/N) said—" Anderson stopped himself when Derek proceeded to glower, forcing the younger agent to backtrack and choose his words more carefully, "—like I said, we didn't think the guy was any threat when we arrived. He shot (Y/L/N) and ran while I was calling for help."
The muscles on Derek's face twitched. "So, not only did you put (Y/N)'s life on the line, but you also let the shooter go free?"
"What? I didn't—we weren't—the injury isn't even that fatal!"
Anderson regretted it as soon as the words left his mouth. Spencer physically winced after hearing the sentence, and from across the room, Emily was frowning, shaking her head in disapproval as if she was reprimanding her young child.
"I see. It's not even that fatal, is it?"
"T-That's not what I—" gulping down, Anderson tried to scour for his voice, "—I just meant that the, um, the bullet? It didn't even go through. It only grazed (Y/L/N)'s side."
Spencer let out a tired sigh from between them.
"Yeah? You're lucky it didn't go through, Anderson." Derek stepped forward, his index finger blunt but piercing as it fell on Anderson's chest. "Because if the bullet did go through, I would've made sure that you'd fucking pay—"
"Excuse me? Anyone here for (Y/N) (Y/L/N)?"
Derek's threats were cut short by the doctor's appearance in the room. Anderson breathed out his relief as Derek approached the physician.
"I'm the fiancé, Doctor," Derek informed. "Can you tell us anything?"
"Well, I've cleaned and patched up the wound. The bullet only grazed the side so there aren't any shrapnels in it. Just needed a few stitches, really. It could've been worse," the doctor disclosed.
Derek nodded along during her entire explanation. "Can, uh, can I...?"
"Oh! Yes, of course. Just head down this hall. It's the second room to the right."
Derek barely managed to rush out a quick thank you before sprinting down the hallway shown by the doctor. He knocked on the second room to the right, hearing you yell a come in! before he went to open the door.
"Hey, you," Derek said once he was inside the threshold.
You were sitting on a stretcher, your shirt buttoned only at the top as your fingers deftly did the rest. Derek caught a glimpse of the bandage on your side and his heart was in a peril of jumping straight out of his chest. The harrowing feeling was eventually chased away by the sight of your blinding smile.
"Hi, handsome," you greeted.
Your voice was still the same exultant lull that he knew and loved all too well. In fact, if he didn't know any better, there was no visible indication to reveal the horrific encounter that you just went through a couple of hours prior. You looked the same. Normal. Derek allowed the relief to flood as this knowledge dawned on him.
"Why do you look like you just suffered through a massive heart attack?" you asked, bemused as you reached out a palm to his direction.
"Because it feels like I did just have a massive heart attack." Derek accepted your palm and kissed the knuckles before securing your joint hands inside the pocket of his jacket. "You scared the living shit out of me, sweetheart."
"I'm sorry, love. We were blindsided. Didn't mean to worry you."
"You're okay, though?"
"Uh-huh. Just a little sore. And it kinda hurts when I do this." You extended your arm, flinching when a surge of pain instantly ran down your side.
"Stop it. Don't do that. Why would you do that if it hurts?"
"To demonstrate," you replied nonchalantly. "By the way, you shouldn't have been so harsh on Anderson."
"What? How did you know?"
"I didn't. But I know how you are, and your answer just confirmed everything to me." Derek didn't know whether to feel deceived or impressed by what you just said. "You should ease up on him. It's not his fault, you know?"
"I don't know, sweetheart. When two people are paired together and one of them ends up in the hospital with a gunshot wound, I think it's fair to blame the other half of the pair for it, don't you think?"
"But it's the shooter's fault, Derek, not Anderson."
"The shooter may have pulled the trigger, but Anderson didn't have your back." Derek used his free hand to brush a knuckle against your cheekbone. "You wouldn't be here right now if he did."
You huffed an aggravated breath, detangling your fingers from his own in a rebellious act of frustration. "If the situation were flipped, and it was Anderson who lay here instead of me, you would've gone well out of your way to convince me that what happened to him wasn't my fault."
"If the situation were flipped, Anderson wouldn't even be lying on this hospital bed in the first place."
"You don't know that!"
"Maybe. But you don't know what could've happened, either." Derek's hand slipped along your elbow, tugging it gently as he shuffled closer to you. "C'mon, baby. We need to get you home."
"No." You shook his hand away from your arm, getting off the bed as Derek blanched in surprise. "I can do it myself."
Derek watched dumbfoundedly as you staggered towards the table where your jacket, gun, and credentials were stowed. He kept an eagle eye on you as you tried putting on the jacket by yourself, cringing internally when he heard the wretched hiss escaping your lips.
"Okay, baby, stop. That's enough. (Y/N)." Derek snatched the jacket off your back, rearranging its position before helping you slide each arm into the sleeves. "Just let me help you, dammit. Why are you so stubborn?"
"I don't need help from someone who berates other people for fun," you grumbled.
"That's what you think? That I'm doing it because it's fun?"
You paid Derek no regard as you teetered towards the lone chair in the room, sitting yourself down slowly before bending to fix your shoes that had become untied. It turned out to be an arduous feat to do with your injury, and for the next minute, you found yourself shifting into various positions to find one that wouldn't feel like a dozen knives being plunged straight through your flesh.
Across the room, Derek stared at every one of your movements in agony.
"C'mon, baby. Let me do that for you."
"No."
"You're literally in pain as we speak."
"I can take it."
"Why the hell are you doing this?"
"You know why."
Derek sighed.
"Fine," he relented. "I'll apologize to Anderson. Happy now?"
You stopped fiddling with the end of your shoelaces. Your entire face lit up like a kid in a candy store when you found his eyes from the distance. "Really?"
"Yes, really." Derek strode forward, kneeling in front of you so he could help you tie your shoelaces. "Just let me help you when you need me to, okay?"
"Okay!" you exclaimed, leaning down to leave a kiss on Derek's forehead.
Your fiancé had to contain his smile from your adorable but unexpected gesture. "You're lucky I love you, sweetheart."
Even as he said it, Derek knew that deep down, he was actually the lucky one.
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thisgirlisonfayeeer · 5 months
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Well deserved, Zara! 💗💖💓💞💕
BTW GUYSSSSS JUST SO YOU KNOW
I've officially reached 1000 followers AKJSJSNDDJDJ
I'm sooo happyyyy, thank you so much you guys for the constant support and the enthusiasm for my event as well. I was afraid there would be minimal interest in this celebration and I was so SURE it would take me AT LEAST a month to reach my follower target. But it's not the end of November yet and we're already hereee!!! đŸ„łđŸ„łđŸ„łđŸ„łđŸ„łđŸ„łâœšïžâœšïžâœšïžâœšïž
Again, THANK YOU SO MUCH TO EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU đŸ«¶ the celebration is still on-going until the end of the month so it's not too late to send in your request(s), let's gooooo!!!!
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thisgirlisonfayeeer · 5 months
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Most purpose is more burden than glory. You just choose your burden. And trust me, you never wanna be the guy who avoids it ’cause you can’t live with the burden.
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