#tired bee with big ideas

[artemismoorea03]

DPxDC Prompt: I Got You Brother

Danny has been in Gotham for a while after things went south with his parents. But that's what happens when one's parents are convinced by the G.I.W. that Phantom killed "Real Danny" and took his place as a way to fill his sick obsession of "being alive" which - they couldn't be further from the truth - but his parents were so convinced by the evidence that they refused to listen. Vlad expected Danny to go with him and when Danny refused it made part of him snap.

Danny fled from his parents, the GIW and Vlad in the dead of the night. No family, no friends, nobody knew where he was and that was how he liked it.

He lived at the cave with the bats but refused their offer to come upstairs. He knew who they were and that they were safe but he also knew that if he took one step onto that elevator they would be his family. They would be his family and he couldn't risk losing another family.

He thought that living in the cave would prevent any of them from getting attached. So quickly his schedule turned into a cycle of patrols. Start patrols, stop in for lunch, patrol until dinner, patrol until breakfast, patrol again until lunch. Repeat day in and day out.

He told the team he didn't need to sleep and told them that he was fully a 'Ghost' from another dimension. As many details as he could keep from them the better.

Or so he thought.

Until after nearly a week of these endless patrol things changed. A fight with a particularly powerful ghost had wiped him out and while he managed to stay on his feet when he tried to continue patrol his vision blurred and his transformation dropped.

And so did Danny.

Danny wasn't even aware somebody was tailing him until a thick rope wrapped around his wrist and stopped his fall. Danny swung, hitting the side of a building with a tired grunt as he looked up.

Orphan.

"New brother! Got you!" Orphan called down to him as Danny tried to get his powers to respond, desperate to do anything to protect Orphan who was sliding closer to the edge.

Spoiler showed up within seconds, grabbing Orphan's ankles just as Orphan went over the edge and Red Robin grabbed Spoiler around her ankles. Frantic shouting echoed as Nightwing grabbed Red Robin around his ribs, the weight threatening to pull them all over before Red Hood grabbed Nightwing.

Danny reached up, trying to grab the rope when another wrapped around his free wrist from next to them. Batman was there and by his side was Robin, also there to help Danny and the others up.

He hadn't wanted a family.

He had run from who he was and the ones he loved.

But he found more people to love him.

It wasn't until Signal showed up - having been alerted to the situation and called to the scene - that Danny let the tears drip down his face.

He was home.

[lunarcrossingart]

Species swap :3

[cressidagrey]

Love Letter

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x Felicity Leong-Piastri (Original Character)

Summary: Other people write love letters, Felicity Piastri reengineers tire degradation. 

Notes: Big thanks to @llirawolf , who actually knows what she is talking about and is the genius behind the science. She said this science "was understandable and accurate enough for fic." (Also I am aware that this is not believable, but hey, let me have fun 😂

(divider thanks to @saradika-graphics )

By the time McLaren hit mid-season in 2024, Andrea Stella had become something of a veteran in the art of bracing for impact — the kind that came not from a crash, but from the Piastri household.

He had gotten used to it.

Oscar’s precision. His unnerving calm. The way he drove with the composure of a man triple his age and none of the ego.

Felicity, who wasn���t technically on the payroll, but might as well have had a desk in R&D. Who was so liked in the engineering department that Andrea had overheard an engineer asking Oscar like an overexcited puppy when his wife was going to come back and play with them. 

Felicity was always lingering at the edge of a race day.

Always watching. Always noticing.

And then there was Bee — small, serious, and so wildly intelligent it made his engineers nervous. She had literally seen an issue with their suspension during her first trip to the garage. Now, she asked about downforce balance mid-lunch and then drew airflow diagrams on her juice box.

Andrea had learned to expect brilliance from them.

But what Felicity handed him that morning wasn’t brilliance.

It was revolution.

It came in the form of a single-page drawing.

A3 paper. Hand-sketched. Neat annotations in clean block lettering.

She passed it over casually, like it was a grocery list. “Was thinking about deg last night. Couldn’t sleep. Just a theory. Don’t know if it’s actually useful, sorry.”

Andrea glanced at it.

Then really looked.

And stopped breathing.

At first glance, it looked like a cooling solution — rim cooling, a variation on brake duct design. Not uncommon. Not radical.

But then he saw it.

Phase. Change. Materials.

His eyes darted to the margin where she’d written:

PCM core set to activate at 276°C. Peak drawdown window ~30 seconds, reset threshold <210°C. Tapered air channel design for directional retention. Modeled after CPU heat-sink transfer.

Andrea looked up.

Felicity just shrugged. “Everyone’s been trying to brute-force cooling through airflow. I figured… maybe it’s not about keeping it cool. Maybe it’s about controlling the peak.”

It wasn’t theoretical.

It was elegant.

Andrea’s brain kicked into high gear. 

PCM — phase change materials — had been a whispered concept in F1 circles for years. The holy grail of thermal management. 

The idea that you could insert a material that would melt in response to a precise temperature range, absorbing energy as it changed state — holding a system in a stable thermal window. It worked in CPUs. Data centers. Rocketry.

But no one had ever made it viable in an F1 brake drum environment.

Not until now.

Not until this.

Not until it came from Oscar Piastri’s wife, at 2 a.m., in the quiet space between insomnia and motherhood.

Andrea blinked hard. “You know we’ve had engineers — PhDs — trying to crack this for years?”

She just shrugged. 

He had no words.

Just respect.

And the rising sense that something seismic had shifted.

He handed it straight to the sim team. They ran a closed simulation. Quietly. Then another. And another.

By the time they tested it under controlled parameters, the engineers were whispering about windowed degradation curves. About temperature floors. About thermal consistency that shouldn’t be possible.

Oscar was suddenly able to manage medium compounds like they were hard. The performance drop-off curve flattened — flattened. Andrea had never seen anything like it.

No magic bullet in F1 ever worked this fast.

But this?

This wasn’t a magic bullet.

It was physics. It was material science. It was control — without compromise.

They ran it again during a private test at Silverstone. And then — stealthily — implemented portions of the system into the race package.

By the time the 2025 season came around, Red Bull was accusing them of cheating. Mercedes was sulking. Ferrari was confused. 

The paddock wanted to know what the hell McLaren had done.

The answer?

Felicity Piastri.

When Andrea called her into his office, holding the latest race run data in one hand and a calculator in the other, she sat across from him sipping tea out of a mug with Bee’s name on it.

“You realize you’ve just solved one of the biggest unsolved problems in modern F1?” he said.

Felicity blinked. “I was just tired of watching Oscar hemorrhage tire life while driving perfectly.”

Andrea stared at her.

She added, a little awkwardly, “I didn’t… mean to change the whole season. I just wanted him to stop overcompensating for a thermal flaw no one was fixing.”

Andrea leaned back in his chair and said — for the first time in his career — “I am both terrified of and completely in awe of your entire family.”

Felicity just smiled and said, “Would you mind printing a copy of the new tire envelope profiles? Bee wants to compare the heatmaps to the old ones.”

Andrea buried his face in his hands. “Tell her to go easy on us.”

“I’ll try. No promises.”

They were rocket ships now. Every track. Every compound. Consistent, controlled, deadly fast.

And somewhere, deep in the McLaren server, the drawing still existed. In a scanned file. Named Piastri_Insomnia_Fix_v1.pdf

Andrea renamed it later that week.

"Found the Window."

Because that’s what it was.

A window — held open by a woman who thought differently. Who didn’t need the spotlight. Who just loved someone enough to stay up all night figuring out how to protect him from heat, chaos, and failure.

And somehow, she’d done the same for all of them.

***

Mark Webber had seen a lot in his career.

Title deciders. Broken bones. Politics dressed up as progress. He’d seen technical miracles and driver meltdowns and the rare, perfect moment when both came together and worked.

But he had never seen a technical revolution arrive folded in half on a single piece of A3 paper, annotated in gel pen and handed in like someone had just scribbled down the grocery list.

And he certainly hadn’t expected it to come from Felicity Piastri. Maybe he should have. 

He was standing trackside in China when Andrea Stella handed him the printout — not the PDF version with simulations, but the original. The drawing. The one that changed their 2025 season from promising to dominant.

“She gave me this on a Tuesday,” Andrea said, voice flat with disbelief. “Said it was just a thought. I’ve had people with entire departments fail to model this. She did it because she couldn’t sleep.”

Mark turned the page over once. Then again.

It was neat. Clean. Not showy.

Pressure curves, airflow vectors, the highlighted activation band of the phase change material she’d used to stabilize tire temp near the brake drum.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered. “She’s a genius.”

He knew that. He had been aware of it for years. But it was something else entirely to see it in action. 

Andrea didn’t argue. “She just… wanted to help Oscar.”

Mark stared at the drawing again.

That’s when it hit him.

This wasn’t a flex.

This wasn’t about glory. Or proving herself. Or showing up a paddock full of men with degrees and dynos.

It was a love letter.

Written in airflow.

Signed in melting point theory.

Stamped in the stable temperature range of a tire that could now go ten laps longer without falling off.

Felicity hadn’t just solved degradation.

She had — quietly, brilliantly — rewritten the way Oscar raced.

Because he was hers.

And this was what loving him looked like.

Not flowers. Not poems. Just… making the world easier for him. A little softer. A little kinder. A little less brutal at 300km/h.

Mark let out a slow breath.

“Do you think she knows what she did?” he asked.

Andrea shrugged. “I think she knows why she did it. That’s probably enough.”

Mark folded the paper again — carefully, reverently — and tucked it back into the folder.

And in that moment, he didn’t see the terrifying engineering breakthrough.

He just saw a woman who loved her husband enough to change the laws of tire life —So he wouldn’t have to carry the weight alone.

***

Oscar had just come back from a long run on used mediums when Andrea called him into the office.

Nothing dramatic — just a quiet, “Got a sec?” as Oscar peeled off his gloves and handed his helmet to a mechanic. The kind of thing that sounded normal. Routine. Like maybe they were going to go over sector data or tire drop-off or which curb had tried to kill him today.

So when Andrea closed the office door behind them and reached into his drawer without saying a word, Oscar raised an eyebrow.

Then Andrea handed him a sheet of paper.

A3. Slightly folded. Faint graphite smudges along the margin.

 The original one. Still folded along the crease Felicity had made when she handed it to Andrea like it wasn’t the single greatest thermal breakthrough in modern tire strategy.

Oscar took it automatically.

Looked down.

And stilled.

There were notes in clean block print. Equations. Angled airflow paths, subtle thermal gradients, annotations on phase change material melt points and rim temperature drawdown.

Oscar’s throat went dry. His eyes scanned the drawing again, heart starting to race—not from adrenaline, but from recognition.

He knew that handwriting.

It was so her. The tidy script. The neat arrows. The absence of drama.

Just a brilliant mind trying to fix something that made the person she loved suffer.

He’d seen it on post-it notes stuck to Bee’s whiteboard. On margin scribbles in books Felicity had left lying around. On every note she slipped into his suitcase before he went to a race….every note that he then slipped into his racing gloves. 

Oscar looked up, voice quieter than it should’ve been. “This is Felicity’s.”

Andrea nodded once. “She gave it to me three months ago. Said it was probably nothing. Just an idea she had when she couldn’t sleep.”

Oscar sat down.

Because suddenly, his knees weren’t quite up to the task.

He stared at the drawing like it might vanish.

This was it.

The fix. The reason their tires held. The reason he didn’t fall off in stint two. The reason strategy meetings had shifted from damage control to aggression. The reason the car felt like it trusted him back for the first time in forever.

He felt it like a punch to the chest.

“She… she did this?”

“She did,” Andrea said. “And she didn’t want credit. Said she just wanted you to stop overcompensating for bad thermal management. That you were too good to keep bleeding lap time for other people’s mistakes.”

Oscar swallowed hard. His hands were shaking.

He looked back down at the paper.

At the numbers.

The calculations.

Oscar turned the page over.

A post-it was pressed to the back, Andrea’s handwriting.

“From Mark: ‘This isn’t just engineering. This is her love letter to Oscar — making the world around him easier.’”

Oscar’s heart stopped.

He stared at the sentence for a long, long time.

He read it again. And again.

The words didn’t feel like compliments.

They felt like someone had taken a flashlight and pointed it directly into his chest — illuminating something he hadn’t dared to articulate, even to himself.

Because that’s what it was, wasn’t it?

The sketch. The concept. The whole damn thing.

Felicity hadn’t set out to change a season.

She’d just wanted him to stop hurting.

To stop watching his tires fall apart under perfect driving. To stop fighting physics he couldn’t control. To stop carrying all that frustration on his own.

She’d stayed up at 2 a.m. not because it was her job — but because it was his dream.

She had never once made him feel like he had to win for her.

But God, she made him believe he could.

He blinked hard.

Thought about the way she kissed his temple when he came home late. The way she labeled Bee’s lunchbox with thermal guidelines for optimum snack temperature. The way she never said I love you like a performance — only like a truth.

Then he looked up. “Mark… he really said that?”

Andrea’s voice gentled. “He did.”

Oscar stared at the page again.

“Yeah,” he said hoarsely. “Yeah. That’s her.”

And in his chest, where the engine noise usually lived — Where the pressure, the expectations, the sheer weight of competition settled — He felt something loosen.

Because winning was nice. The championship would be incredible.

But this?

Being loved like this?

That was better than anything he’d ever drive for.

***

The house was dark when he got home.

Not silent — not entirely. There was the low whir of the dishwasher. The cluck of a chicken outside, ruffling in its sleep. The soft creak of floorboards as he kicked his shoes off at the door and padded down the hall in his socks.

It was late. He hadn’t texted. He hadn’t needed to.

The bedroom door was open.

Bee was curled up in the middle of the bed like a starfish in mismatched pajamas, one hand still clutching the tail of her stuffed frog. Felicity was beside her, lying on top of the duvet, eyes closed, one arm slung across Bee’s little body like she was anchoring her in a dream.

Oscar stood in the doorway for a long time.

Just… watched them.

His wife and his daughter. One terrifying genius and one tiny one-in-training. Both of them unknowable and brilliant and his.

He swallowed around the knot in his throat and moved quietly to the other side of the bed, careful not to wake Bee as he lay down beside them.

Felicity stirred almost immediately, her breath catching as her body registered the warmth beside her.

Her eyes opened — drowsy, soft.

“Oz?” she murmured, her voice rough with sleep. “You’re home late.”

Oscar didn’t answer at first. Just slid his hand beneath hers and laced their fingers together. His thumb brushed over the back of her hand, slow and steady.

She didn’t push.

Didn’t sit up.

Didn’t ask.

Just waited.

And because she didn’t ask — because she already knew — he found his voice again.

“Mark saw the drawing,” he said, barely more than a whisper. “The one you gave Andrea.”

Felicity blinked slowly. “Oh.”

“He said it was a love letter. That you were making the world easier for me.”

She was still for a beat.

Then: “He’s not wrong.”

Oscar exhaled sharply. Pressed his forehead to her shoulder. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know.”

“I would’ve figured something out eventually.”

“I know.”

“But you did.”

She turned her head just enough to press a kiss to the crown of his hair.

Her voice was quieter than ever. “I’d do it again.”

Oscar’s breath hitched.

“I’d do it again tomorrow,” she said. “And the next day. And the day after that. If it meant you could breathe easier. If it meant you didn’t have to fight so hard just to keep pace with people who were working with better tools.”

He closed his eyes. Let the weight of her words settle over him like a blanket. Warm. Certain. Steady.

She ran her fingers through his curls once, twice.

And then she whispered: “You make the world easier for me, too. You just don’t notice it. You make it softer.”

Oscar kissed her shoulder. Didn’t move.

Didn’t need to.

Because she knew.

And he’d carry that with him — into every debrief, every qualifying lap, every moment on the podium.

This wasn’t just about racing.

This was home.

And it felt a hell of a lot like winning.

***

Lando found out in the most Lando way possible: completely by accident and one week too late.

He was in the simulator debrief when the topic of “thermal management integrity stability” came up — words that immediately made him want to die a little inside.

They were talking about their tire performance. Again.

Specifically, the fact that they could now absolutely cook it through mid-stint without falling off the cliff. And no one else could.

Lando was half paying attention — until one of the engineers muttered something about “F. Piastri’s material integration concept.”

Lando blinked.

“Sorry, whose what now?”

The room went quiet.

Andrea didn’t even look up from his screen. “Felicity. The drawing. You’ve seen it.”

“No, I have not seen it. Unless it was attached to a meme or came with a side of banana bread, I was not included.”

Will Joseph — Lando’s race engineer — slowly slid a printed diagram across the table.

Lando took one look.

Paused.

And said, “Wait. This is her?”

Andrea nodded without looking up. “Came up with it over insomnia. Gave it to me like it was a shopping list. It works.”

Lando stared at the airflow map, the PCM trigger temperatures, the annotated note that literally said ‘the goal is to stabilize the moment he usually starts slipping — give him room to breathe.’

He felt like someone had sucker-punched him with science and sentiment at the same time.

“Wait, wait, wait,” he said, sitting up straighter. “You’re telling me Felicity Piastri — as in, Oscar’s wife who wears motor oil like perfume and once fixed the coffee machine with a literal wrench — came up with the strategy that made our car an actual rocket ship?”

“Yes.”

“And it works.”

“Yes.”

“And she just gave it to you? No credit, no fuss, just… ‘here, I fixed the entire concept of high-deg tire strategy because I couldn’t sleep’?”

Andrea finally looked up. “Correct.”

Lando sat back, stunned.

He knew Felicity was scary smart. Knew she could rebuild a gearbox while calculating orbital velocity. Knew Oscar worshipped the ground she walked on and never made a big deal out of it because he didn’t need to.

But this?

This was something else.

“She didn’t do it for the team,” Lando said quietly, the realization hitting all at once. “She did it for him.”

Andrea didn’t say anything.

Didn’t have to.

Lando looked back down at the page — the margins, the equations, the gentle note that said “he’s too good to be held back by bad thermal behavior.”

And he felt it in his chest — that familiar ache.

Because that wasn’t engineering.

That was love.

The quiet kind.

The kind that doesn’t shout or show off.

The kind that stays up at 2 a.m. fixing something no one else thought could be fixed — just so the person you love can breathe easier.

So he doesn’t have to carry it all alone.

So he can go faster, safer, freer.

It was a love letter.

Not in flowers or poems.

In airflow and melting points.

Lando leaned back in his chair and exhaled. “Jesus Christ. She built him a better world.”

Will snorted. “She rebuilt tire degradation, but sure, let’s make it poetic.”

Lando didn’t even blink. “It is poetic. He’s the quiet guy. And she’s the quieter genius who knows exactly where he hurts and rewrites the laws of physics to help him anyway.”

Andrea tilted his head. “You’re getting sentimental again.”

“I’m right,” Lando shot back, still staring at the page. “He’ll win the title because she didn’t want him to bleed for it.”

He tapped the margin with his knuckle. “This is the kind of love that never asks for a podium. Just builds the car to get him there.”

And for once — no one had a comeback.

Because they all knew it was true.

***

They were in the driver’s lounge two days later, when Lando struck.

He’d been waiting for the perfect moment.

And Oscar, blissfully unaware, had just taken a bite of his protein bar like he wasn’t about to get emotionally roasted.

Lando stretched out across the sofa like a cat in a sunbeam and said, far too casually, “So… what’s it like being loved so much your wife reinvented tire degradation for you?”

Oscar blinked mid-chew. “…Sorry?”

Lando grinned. “Just curious. I mean, some of us get love letters or handmade birthday cakes. You? You get full-phase material integration strategies and temperature-controlled brake ducting. Romantic stuff.”

Oscar groaned, immediately regretting not hiding in the sim room instead. “Lando.”

“I’m serious,” Lando said, sitting up now, fully energized. “Felicity took one look at your stint data and said, ‘this man needs help. Let me just rewrite thermodynamics real quick.’”

Oscar rolled his eyes. “It wasn’t—”

“No, no,” Lando cut in. “Don’t you dare downplay this. The rest of us? We have to manage deg. You? You have a thermodynamic guardian angel in your marriage bed.”

Oscar flushed, the tips of his ears visibly pink. “She had a theory. That’s all.”

“‘Just a theory,’” Lando mimicked, using air quotes. “‘Just a casual bedtime sketch that turned McLaren into the most stable tire platform on the grid.’ My God, Oscar. She loves you so much it’s physically measurable.”

Oscar sank lower in his seat, muttering, “You’re insufferable.”

“You’re married to the Nikola Tesla of tire temp control. I deserve to be insufferable.”

“Lando—”

“She built us a better car because she hated watching you suffer.” Lando flopped dramatically. “Imagine. Being loved with that level of efficiency. Can you even comprehend?”

Oscar sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “She’s just… always been smarter than all of us.”

Lando stopped mid-rant.

And smiled, softer this time. “Yeah. I know.”

There was a long pause.

Then Lando added, “Anyway. If she ever wants to fix my brakes, tell her I’m emotionally available.”

Oscar snorted. “Absolutely not.”

“What about Bee? Can she be bribed with juice boxes and data sets?”

Oscar shook his head, laughing now. “She’s already running her own simulations. She’s got standards.”

Lando grinned. “Just like her mum.”

Oscar looked down at the McLaren logo on his hoodie — the one Felicity stole all the time — and felt something warm settle in his chest.

He didn’t say anything else.

He didn’t need to.

But when he went home that night, he kissed Felicity extra softly — and whispered thank you against her temple like a promise.

And Felicity?

She just smiled, wiped her grease-smudged fingers on her jeans, and said, “Don’t thank me yet. Bee thinks we can improve the airflow angle by three degrees.”

Because love — in their house — was always a work in progress.

And always worth the effort.

***

[sturnioz]

shy!reader is agitated and upset after spending so much time studying only to fail one of her assignments. she’s overwhelmed, overstimulated, and can’t stop crying—fratboy!chris knows one idea to calm her down… and to shut her up.

you're a sniffly and sobbing mess in your bed, staring miserably at the scattered pages of your assignment, the written 'F' in big, bold, red marker mocking you in your face.

no matter how much you want to shove it away from you, to make it disappear, your hands refuse to move. instead, it just sits there with you, the weight of failure pressing down heavily on your chest, squeezing out fresh tears that make your vision blurry and spill down your cheeks.

it's devastating—humiliating, even—how much of yourself you poured into this. you gave it your all; hours upon hours of studying and sleepless nights, using every ounce of your energy. and yet, in a pan of a few cruel seconds, all that effort was reduced to a single letter.

the ache in your chest deepens, raw and relentless, and it sends you spiralling into another wave of sobs, your shoulders trembling as you try to hold yourself together. But it’s no use, you’re failing that too—you’re failing everything it seems.

bee isn't home, either. you had no one to confide in and comfort you, which only makes you feel ten times worse than you already feel. you wanted to text her, to be selfish and ask if she could come home early. 

but you can’t do that. you’re not a selfish person, you never have been. 

plus, she’s hanging out with her family, and it wouldn’t be right of you to pull her away from that just because you can’t handle a bad grade.

you don't even hear the door open over the sound of your ragged breathing and the occasional hiccup, rubbing your nose with your sleeve as you sniffle, only lifting your gaze when your bedroom door creaks open and chris steps in, pausing in the doorway.

he doesn't utter a word at first, just stares at you with your tearful eyes and wobbly bottom lip. you know how you must look right now—pathetic, weak, and a complete mess.

and of course, it's just your luck he'd walk in right when you were in your feels.

"the fuck you cryin' for?" his brows furrow, glancing at the paper briefly, then back at your face. "seriously. what the fuck?"

you suck in a sharp breath and wipe at your cheeks, although the tears won't stop. "i failed," you whisper. "i worked so hard on my assignment, and i still failed."

chris just lets out a slow, irritated exhale, rubbing a hand over his jaw like he's trying to make sense of your reaction. "you're cryin' over a grade?"

it sounds so ridiculous when he says it out loud—like you're being some dramatic, childish person. you flinch at that, turning your face away, embarrassed all over again as the tears drip onto the paper, creating a blotchy effect.

you could only wish that the water of your tears would erase that 'F'.

"this is, like, stupid. y'know that, yeah?" he says, tossing his jacket onto your desk, knocking over a couple of your sonny angels that you had no place for yet in the process. "you're cryin' over one bad grade, bun. s'not the end of the world. you're bein' dramatic."

it might not be the end of the world, but it surely feels like it, especially as you watch your collectibles hit the floor with a thud. you're already a wreck, but oh, that breaks you.

more tears fall—harder and messier—your breath stuttering out in short, quick hiccups as your hands tremble. you're completely overwhelmed now, your head pounding heavily, your chest hurting. everything feels too much for you to handle.

you physically can't stop crying.

chris watches you, clearly annoyed, his jaw tightening as he runs a hand through his hair. "jesus chri—are you seriously goin' to do this the whole fuckin' time? 'cos i didn't come here to babysit you, kid."

your shoulders shake harder. you're too tired, too devastated, and now too emotional to even form words while chris is huffing long and loud, muttering curses under his breath as he shakes his head, shoving his hand into his pocket.

you glance up at him through wet lashes, watching as he fishes around for something. when he pulls his hand out, you spot the familiar, colourful lollipop wrapper, crumpled and empty in his palm—your favourite kind.

he stares down at it, tongue pressing into the side of his cheek in annoyance and frustration before he scoffs, the wrapper crinkling as he closes his fist, shoving it back into his pocket.

your crying only seems to make him more agitated, the sniffles and soft whines soundly like nails on a chalkboard, and he exhales sharply before he starts unbuckling his belt, the metallic clink loud and attention grabbing.

you blink watching him as he steps forward and pushes your failed assignment off the bed with the back of his hand to take its place, sitting down and leaning back against the headboard, legs spread.

chris beckons you over with his finger. "c'mere," he says, voice flat.

you blink again, unsure, not understanding what he's doing or what he even wants.

"don't have what you need to shut you up," he says, licking his lips. "so, you're goin' to suck on somethin' else instead," when you still don't move, he adds. "don't make me repeat myself."

you nod your head, dragging your body toward him, moving the last few inches until you're settled between his legs. he reaches out to grab your cheeks, tilting your head up, his eyes narrowing as he stares at you.

"look at you. messy," he tuts, letting your face go to tug down his jeans and boxers mid-thigh, freeing his cock. "need to shut that brain off for a bit, yeah? gotta stop thinkin' for a while."

this isn't exactly the comfort you had been wanting from the start, but this is chris. this is somewhat his weird, mean, selfish version of comfort—but he's still offering you something to distract yourself with since he didn't have the lollipops he was originally going to give you.

you find this oddly kind, but you blame your emotional headspace for that.

your gaze casts down to his cock shyly. he's half-hard, not at his full potential, but you still find yourself slowly leaning down, parting your lips to take the head of his cock into your mouth like you've done a thousand times before—yet it always feels like the first time. 

his cock sits in your mouth, the weight heavy on your tongue as you breathe steadily through your nose. you sniffle once, then again, and again, trying to get control of your emotions. your shoulders still tremble, and a few stray tears slip free down your cheeks, but you’re settling—slowly—back into yourself.

your fingers twitch against chris’ thighs, curled into loose fists, the pressure of disappointment and that awful tightness in your chest beginning to soften just as you feel chris’ cock grow in your mouth. 

you don’t take much notice of what you’re doing as your tongue swirls around his tip while he thickens, staring mindlessly as you suckle. hut when you swallow, your throat contracting around his cock, you hear a faint hiss slip from chris’ lips, and his hips push upwards, pushing himself deeper into your mouth and causing you to gag. 

“shh, jus’ take it,” chris murmurs, and you flinch when you feel his fingers ghost across your neck, pressing down slightly just to feel the shape of him lodged down your throat. “shiiiiit, bun.”

your grades and negative emotions are swept away, your head empty as chris thrusts in and out of your mouth while you continue to suck him, your plump, swollen lips wrapped tight around his throbbing cock, tongue lapping at him. 

you’re glad he’s not looking at your face right now, not wanting him to see the teary, snotty, gagging, and drooly mess you are. it’s a sight that even makes you flustered when seeing yourself in a reflection or when he decides to take pictures to keep in his photo album. 

“no. keep goin’.” chris suddenly warns you when your jaw grows slack, feeling his fingers grip your hair and push down on the back of your head to continue taking him in—to repeat the motions you were once doing. “tryin’ to kill two birds with one stone here, kid. keepin’ you quiet while i get sucked off.” 

he pauses for a moment, a hum rumbling in his chest.

“unless you wanna start cryin’ over somethin’ else instead,” he murmurs, gripping your hair to suddenly yank you off his cock, and you whine at the sting spreading across your scalp, your wide, glassy eyes meeting his. he stares at you, his own gaze roaming over your messy features as his lips curl into a smirk, tilting his head to the side. “wanna start cryin’ over my cock, bun?”

divider credits. @issysh3ll

© STURNIOZ est 2025 𐔌 . all rights reserved.

[cerisereids]

𝐖𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐝 𝐆𝐞𝐭 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞, 𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐌𝐲 𝐅𝐚𝐜𝐞, 𝐈𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐅𝐚𝐫 𝐀𝐰𝐚𝐲- 𝐀.𝐇.

Pairing- Aaron Hotchner x Girly!Assistant!Reader

WC- 7.5k (LORDDDD) (literally belle shut up challenge level impossible)

Summary- With your birthday around the corner, you decide to throw a blowout bash. The people you work with have no idea how to let go. Least of all your boss, Aaron Hotchner. Yet, he doesn't show.

Contains- 18+ MDNI, angst to fluffy smut(ish), girly!reader, reader has long hair she can run her fingers through, spicy but no explicit smut (still 18+ tho don't play), non-explicit sex scene, reader standing on business, discussions of Hotch and Haley's divorce

A/N- divider from @thecutestgrotto !!

The satisfying click of your white kitten heels fill the hallway as you bounce off the linoleum tiles. You’re in a delicate balancing act, juggling a tray of your famous cupcakes as well as glittery pink invitations. Gold lettering splays across the front ‘You’re Invited!’ They’re cheesy little things you had made at the local print shop, but you couldn’t help yourself. Your gloomy office needs some cheer. 

You push the door open with your hip, backing into the room with small little steps as you enter the BAU. Your instantly relieved by a pair of strong arms guiding your through the doorway. “Got it, sugar?” Derek’s voice asks, his hands hovering in precaution. 

“I am just fine! Here! Take one!” You set the cupcake tray down, plucking one out for him, handing it to him with an invitation. His brow quirks, a small smile rising on his lips.

 “What’s all this for?” He asks, bemused. 

“Well, my birthday is coming up, so I thought I’d have a big, blowout, bash! It’s been too long since you guys loosened up, really got to let go and have fun!” You squeal, stepping back slightly as the rest of the team quickly finds the dessert. Like bees to honey, you like to say. 

“So, you decided that instead of celebrating yourself, to insist on us celebrating you?” Emily inquires around a mouthful of cupcake. 

“Pretty much!” You pinch her cheek affectionately, and she giggles. Your gaze turns ever so slightly, catching the window of your boss’ office. Bile rises in your throat. He won’t be so easy to coax out. Both now, and to the party itself. The mere thought of it makes you nauseous. 

Emily saddles up beside you, lightly nudging her elbow with yours. She nods to Aaron’s office, and blood rushes to your cheeks. Your gaze drops to the ground, which you scuff with the bottom of your shoe. You lift your head up, your hair falling down your shoulders like a waterfall. 

“He in?” You ask, resuming your naturally bubbly state, a wide smile plastered over your anxiety. 

“Yup, when is he not?” Emily responds, curious, like a cat. You snap out of your anxious state, giving a playful shrug. You bat your lashes and turn, grabbing the tray and remaining invitations. 

“Hey, I wanted seconds!” Spencer calls after you. You roll your eyes, your clicking heels once again the only noise as you walk away. It’s no secret who you’re going to see. 

Aaron’s office door is slightly ajar, so you enter the same way you did earlier, by hip. His brow quirks upon your arrival, but you don’t forget to clock the way his eyes catch you, scanning up and down your frame. You wore one of your favorite dresses today, a pink, ruffly number that resembles a sunset. It cascades down your body like it was made for you. By the way Aaron’s looking at you, he thinks so, too. The way he looks at you is electric, like a bolt of lightning cracking your spine as you take each other in. Your breath shortens, catching in your throat at the sight of his tired, brown eyes. 

“Hey, big guy,” you lilt, your voice in its usual effervescent tease. You don’t miss the way he flushes down to his neck at the nickname. 

“What is this all about, hm?” he raises a brow, his voice smooth like silk. His eyes widen as you set down the tin of cupcakes, revealing their chocolatey goodness to him. His favorite. You hand him an invitation, nerves bubbling in your stomach as he reads it over. Your cheeks heat, like you’re 17 again waiting for an invite to the prom.

Then, he glances up at you. There’s a sparkle in his eye when he looks at you. You’re not sure if he knows it’s there, but you cherish it. You cherish the way he looks at you like you’re the only person in the room, the world. You cherish the way not a single other colleague receives the exact gaze you do, soft, patient, kind. It’s your best kept secret. 

You breathe out a sigh at that look, relief washing over you like fresh sunlight. 

“Did you make these? They’re beautiful,” he inspects the card in his hands, and your heart thuds against your ribcage, nerves buzzing once again. His nonchalance is like a tightrope, inching you closer either to safety or certain death. 

“Thank you,” you reply. It’s quiet. You’re afraid that if you raise your voice, your heart will come out of your throat. “I make them all myself.”

You settle on his desk, resting a light hip on it while you watch him intently. He studies you, eyes flitting over your face as he takes in the glitter of your eyeshadow, the soft swipes of gloss on your lips. His own are parted, tongue peeking out in a tantalizing way that sets your heart aflame. 

You raise a brow, asserting an effective upper hand. You watch his brow go soft, and you know you have him. It doesn’t take much for you to convince him. Of anything, really. Since you started working for him, he’s taken actual time off (rarely, but he has), eats dinner at a regular time each night, and manages to get a little more sleep. The team calls it witchcraft, sorcery. You’d call it the sheer force of the desire to keep the man you’re deeply in love with alive and healthy. That’d be too complicated, though, so you bat your lashes and accept their praises. 

“That’s really incredible,” it’s soft, his tone. Gentle and low in a way that’s reserved only for you, for these quiet moments in his office. Whether you’re talking about a case, your weekend plans, or the next set of nails you’re getting, he saves this special cadence just for you. Smooth and velvety, liquid chocolate spilling from his tongue. 

“Thank you,” your eyes glimmer as you shift on his desk ever so slightly. Your hip pops toward him in a way that has him licking his lips. Confidence surges through, you sit up taller. “Will you be there?” You bat your lashes, your prettiest doe eyes on full display. “It would mean everything to have you there.”

“Of course. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Hook, line, and sinker. 

“Yay!” You squeal, hopping off his desk. You fix him a cupcake, taking the last one on the tray and placing it delicately on a pink napkin. 

“You’re only allowed to eat this if you’ve had lunch. Have you?” You’re all business again, in the blink of an eye. You poise a sassy hand on your hip, your brow arching. 

“I had a piece of toast and a pickle,” he admits. It’s sheepish, and you roll your eyes. 

“That’s a disgusting combo. Have another piece of toast before you eat that,” you roll your eyes playfully before stalking off. A barely audible ‘yes, ma’am’, follows you out. You pause, smiling to yourself before heading to your desk. 

“You really think he’s gonna show?” Penelope asks, her tongue swirling around her third daiquiri of the evening. You sigh, popping your hands on your hips as you take a step back from your large window, inspecting your decorative work. 

It’s the night before your big party, an event you normally thrive on hosting. Now, though, it’s the cause of the anxiety sparkling inside you, like your heart’s swimming in carbonated water. You adjust the rollers in your hair, the fluffy sleeves of your pink silk robe falling to your elbows as you do so. 

You center yourself for a moment, focusing on the comforting way the delicate fabric frames your body, falling over your tank top and sleep shorts. You wiggle your feet, currently stuffed into pink bunny slippers. Your gaze finds the moon, full and round, you absorb it. You welcome anything that helps you not crush under the debilitating weight of your affections for Aaron Hotchner. 

“I don’t know! He told me he’d be there!” Your voice is antsy, you wring your hands together with a small smile on your face that doesn’t reach your eyes. While Penelope’s brilliant, she’s not a profiler. She’s also drunk. You pray these two things add up in your favor.

“I can’t remember the last time I saw him go out. Not since the divorce, but if he were for anybody, it’d be for you. That much I know,” she pats a supportive hand on your shoulder, though it does nothing to quell the nausea that comes from the d-word. 

You’d been a strong reliant for your boss while he’d finalized his divorce, almost a year ago now. Getting him late night coffees, sitting on the couch in his office while he completed paperwork, bringing in little treats just to make him smile. They always did, everything you did garnered a smile out of him. 

That’s why you were teased in your first week on the job, after you’d questioned the team’s comments about their stoic leader. “He smiles all the time, what are you guys talking about?” Their sarcastic grins and chuckling was the first time you were fully aware that the relationship you had with your boss was…different than the others. The amount of time that’s passed since then, the bond you’ve made with your boss, makes your head spin.

Still, you aimed to be respectful everyday. No matter how many details you knew about his issues with Haley, the stress of taking care of Jack while he was away, you kept a professional distance. You would not cross that line. In the year since he’d taken the ring off, though, it’s been…different. A wall has come down, a layer unshed. You don’t know what to do with it, with him. 

“Hey, does this look good over here?” Emily calls, snapping you out of your Aaron-induced haze. You plaster another smile on your face, though this time it’s not too difficult. You were thankful to merely witness J.J. propping Emily up on a stool so she can pin a pink disco ball in the center of your expansive living room. Relief washes over you, the love for your friends momentarily distracting you from the ache in your chest. 

“Looks great, thanks Em!” you pat her ass playfully, laughing when she squeals. 

“Anything for you, my darling!” She calls after you as you make your way through the living room to the kitchen, grabbing your own glass of the elixir that now has Penelope fully slumped forward on your kitchen island. 

“Pen? You good?” You nudge her slightly, and she jumps at the contact. 

“Oh! Yeah! Yeah, I’m great! Cool as a cucumber!” She adjusts her own pajamas, a buttery yellow silk set that comes with a matching eye mask. 

You laugh, shaking your head as you pour your own drink. “You really think Aaron will come tomorrow?” You ask her, your voice is meek. You hate it, that this is what he does to you. 

“I would be truly shocked if he didn’t, my sweet,” she answers, and though her words are slightly slurred, her tone is serious. You smile. 

“I agree!” Emily calls, walking into the kitchen to refill her own cup. J.J. trails behind her, nodding emphatically. 

“I mean, have you heard anyone else here call him Aaron? Like…ever?” J.J. says. You jokinglya move your head side to side, rattling the thought around your head. They all giggle at your response, and your cheeks heat up. You rest your chin on your shoulder, avoiding eye contact with the giddy group. 

“He’ll show. Don’t even worry about it,” J.J. states, the others nodding in agreement. 

You blow out a sigh, downing the rest of your drink in one swig. 

The bass from the speaker reverberates through your house, the walls nearly shaking from the vibrations. You’re only slightly tipsy, a bit dizzy as you slide open the glass door leading to the patio. Nearly every square inch of the pool is full of people, bodies bobbing around, elbows above water to preserve red solo cups. 

The wind blows through your hair, your eyes falling shut. You try to bask in it, absorb the setting sun as you had with the moon the night before. It’s not working. Aaron still hasn’t shown. Your attempts to not get upset about it are weak, feeble, an embarrassment. You thought fresh air would do you some good, but now, in your tipsy, clouded haze, you scan the crowd of faces. Some of them you know, most of them don’t. Above all else, you still don’t see the one you want. You feel stupid for thinking you would. Your heart splinters, cracks in the foundation breaking the whole. 

You sit on the porch step, your face falling to your hands. What’s wrong with you? Throwing parties is like a love language to you- Gatsby himself would be jealous. It’s not atypical for friends of friends of friends to find themselves in your yard. Tonight, though, you’re upset. Upset that none of them are there for you. Upset that you don’t even matter. Upset that the one person who could fix this feeling hasn’t shown. He isn’t here for you. After everything, everything you have done for him. After he promised. Tears prick the insides of your eyes, and you release a shuddering breath.

“Hey, Party Princess!” You look up to find Penelope, arm in arm with Derek. Both of them look a bit too drunk for their own good. Penelope’s face falls immediately upon seeing your teary gaze, your pouty lips. 

“Oh angel! What’s going on?!” She squeaks, sitting down beside you immediately. She wraps her arms around your shoulders, and you lean into them instinctively. 

“Someone special not here, pretty girl?” Derek asks, crouching down to meet your eye level. The acknowledgement of your situation only makes the tears fall. 

Penelope forces your head parallel to the ground. “Look down! Don’t let the tears streak your makeup!” You release a wet laugh at that, inspiring laughter from Derek and Penelope as well. You can hear the relief in theirs, that Aaron Hotchner hasn’t rendered you incapable of laughter. 

You feel Derek’s hand over the expanse of your shoulder, a warm, comforting grip that soothes you only slightly. Your gaze is still on the concrete, shame creeping up your spine at your emotions. “I’m sorry, guys,” you splutter, tears falling faster now. 

“No! No, don’t apologize,” Penelope squeals, finding a tissue in her bag and handing it to you. “Blot those pretty eyes, hon, and let’s go dance! Don’t spend your birthday crying over some guy!” 

You do as she says, closing your wet eye so your lash meets the tissue, small bits of mascara left as residue. You finally lift your head up, meeting Derek’s gaze. “There she is!” He smiles, “the most beautiful girl in Quantico.”

“Hey!” Penelope smacks his bicep. He laughs, holding a hand there in a show of faux pain. 

“Sorry, one of the two most beautiful women in Quantico,” he responds, walking backwards to the bar. He grabs you a shot of tequila, your favorite, and propositions you. 

“That’s much better,” Penelope smirks, satisfied. She moves from beside you, ready to assemble a lime and some salt. You stop her, a hand to her forearm. “No need.” You throw back the shot, your head tilting all the way back as you down the burning liquid. It singes your throat, and you wiggle your head from side to side as it goes down. 

That same counterfeit smile curls your lips, your eyes just as sad as they were before. “Let’s party!”

Aaron Hotchner  is a piece of shit. He knows this. His ex-wife knows this. Hell, Jack probably knows it, too. But now she knows it, and for some reason, that’s his final straw. He stands at her front porch, suit jacket long abandoned, tie forcefully loosened from hours of hunching over his desk. His hair is messy, thanks to his fingers running through it every 5 minutes. The bags under his eyes have darkened throughout the night, and he can tell from his reflection in the window that he looks like hell. The last place he should be is at a party, let alone this party.

He takes in her expansive house, a gift she inherited from her parents once they moved to Calabassass, she told him once. The front is made of classic white stone, a baby blue trim framing the door and windows. It looks as if it hasn’t been touched in years, only to fine tune and keep it looking pristine. Though, the perfection on the outside provides a direct contrast to what little he can see going on inside. He has a view of the kitchen from where he stands, empty beer cans line the kitchen island, pink streamers and popped balloons litter the floor. 

He sees the outline of someone familiar enter the kitchen. Penelope, if the bouncing blonde hair streaked with hot pink was any indicator. He watches as she stumbles about, a large figure, Derek, holding her up by the elbows as she attempts to make a mixed drink. He hopes it’s not for herself. He then realizes what a creep he must look like, a dark figure standing alone in front of a house that’s not his, staring in the window at a party he failed to attend. He turns, ready to leave, firm in his decision that this was all a big mistake to begin with. 

He stops, though from the opening of the door. He whips his head around, relief and disappointment washing over him to see Emily. He’s not sure what he would’ve done if it had been her opening the door. Fall to his knees, grovel, probably. His cheeks tint a bright red at her knowing, disappointed stare. “You fucked up tonight, Hotchner,” her affirming tone washes over him like he’s been dipped in acid, singeing his skin and finding its way to his guts. He’s nothing but a puddle. 

“Where is she?” He asks. It’s meek, feeble. A tone nobody he’s ever worked with heard him use. Emily raises her brow at that, both in shock and suspicion. 

“The backyard, near the pool. She’s had a lot to drink, though. So be careful. You may not be someone she wants to see right now.” Emily’s pitiful smile only makes him feel worse. He can’t leave now that he’s been spotted, though. It would catapult him from normal amounts of jackass to the jackass Olympics, something he’d never be able to recover from. Not when it comes to her. 

He follows Emily in, the remnants of what seemed like a blowout bash now diluted to a handful of bodies in each room. Most of them are the team, who are shooting him looks of shock and pity as he makes his way through the house. His heart beats through his ears as he slides the glass door open, stepping under the pink balloon arch to find her. 

She’s sitting alone on the edge of the pool, her feet dipping in slightly. He takes her in, giving him a brief moment of selfish reprieve before she sees him, before he has to confront the ways in which he’s broken her heart tonight. A floral pink dress flows around her, the sleeves billowing in the wind. The ruffles of the tiered dress are bunched around her hips as she sits, the hemline raised to prevent wetting the fabric. She’s a vision, the pale moonlight ghosting over her frame like a spotlight made just for her. His heart breaks. All of this, and he’s left her so lonely. He is a piece of shit. 

The creak of the porch step calls her attention, her head swinging around her shoulder to see who’s come to join her. The look on her face as she sees him…it’s too much to put into words, even for a profiler as experienced as Aaron. He watches each emotion cross her face. Her instinctual reaction was relief, her eyes brightening like a lightning flash through his heart. Her brows furrow soon after, discontent clouding her features. Anger is soon to follow, the pink gloss on her lips shining as they curve downward. 

She lands on anger. Stays there as she moves to stand, not caring where the water splashes as she swings her feet out of the pool. She stomps over to him, feet smacking against the pool deck as she barrels into him. The force is light, her drunken state impacting the collision. He still stumbles a bit, catching both her and himself as they tumble. 

“Where were you?!” she spits, the fire in her eyes paralyzing. He’s speechless. “I waited for you! I waited for you all night! You said- you said you’d be there! You promised!” Her voice gets louder with each syllable, her fists colliding into his chest with each breath. She turns, walking toward the water once more. 

He follows slowly, tentative. His hand reaches to her elbow, fingers lightly touching the skin. She turns, smacking his hand away. He flinches at the sudden contact, not expecting such force from her. “No!” She exclaims. Tears prick her eyes now, her hand is shaking as she holds up a finger in his face. Aaron’s heart splinters at the sight, guilt searing his veins like a deadly disease. 

“You don’t get to touch me, you don’t get to act like you’re the victim here. You. Didn’t. Show.” She spits, venom punching every word. He can see the group forming at the door out of his peripheral vision. It’s just the team, thankfully. Though he knows he’s lost this right, he’s relieved random strangers aren’t privy to his colossal fuck up. 

“God, I feel so fucking stupid!” She exclaims, running ten fingers through perfectly tousled hair. “Sitting here in this dress, that I picked out for you, at this party, that I only threw for you!” Her voice cracks on that last word, tears finally spilling over her lash line. 

“Me?” He mumbles. It’s the first word he’s said to her all night. It makes him feel like an idiot. There’s heat in her gaze, a deadly forest fire. But she’s silent. He keeps going. “You threw this party for me?” He sounds dumb. He knows it even before she rolls her eyes. A fantastic idiot, that’s what he is. 

“God, Aaron!” She’s yelling, now. The use of his first name knocks the wind out of him every time. This time, though, with the pain lacing her tone, it hits like a tornado. “For the best fucking profiler in fucking America, you have no clue how to read people!” 

He raises a brow at this, and she yanks at the root of her hair, a loud, desperate, ‘ugh!’ tearing from her lips. “I’m so hurt, Aaron, You hurt me. I’m so angry, and I’m so, so in love with you, that I’ll probably fucking forgive you in the morning.”

The words hit him like a bullet train, slicing him clean in half. His mouth falls open, a small ‘o’ that only serves to make him stupider. She stalks over to the bar on the deep end of the pool, leaning over and grabbing a bottle of vodka from the interior. She takes a long swig, eyes falling closed. Tears fall down her cheeks, streaking her perfectly applied makeup. She stumbles a bit, nearing the edge of the water, and his heart rate picks up. He makes the mistake of reaching for the bottle. It only results in a forceful shove, the bottle falling between the two and shattering on the ground. 

Her fury only intensifies now. Her vindictive gaze could turn him to stone. He looks down at the mess, catching her shoeless feet. He grips her wrist before she can move. Her bare feet, drunken state, and the shards of broken glass are a recipe for disaster. He doesn’t care how big of an asshole he is, how much she might hate him right now, but he can’t risk letting her get hurt even more. He’s expecting her reaction, an immediate instinct to shove him off of her. He can’t even register the impact it has on his already fragile heart, because in her alcohol induced frenzy, her shove knocks them both in the water. 

The splash envelops Aaron like a slap to the face. He opens his eyes immediately, and he doesn’t even register the sting of the chlorine in his eyes. His only mission is to find her, to make sure she’s safe. He sloppily wraps himself around her, bringing them up to the surface. They both gasp upon arrival, breathing as if they’d never get the privilege again. He splays a hand across her back, pushing her toward him until they’re chest-to-chest, until she can’t wriggle out of his grasp. He won’t let her go until she’s safely out of the water.

The frantic rise and fall of her chest against his steadies him. It’s enough to ground him, to help him find his bearings as he spots the ladder leading out of the pool. He feels her relax slightly in his arms as he begins to move, her own wrapping around his neck. He lets out the smallest sigh of relief. She doesn’t completely hate him. With how he acted tonight, he’s surprised he’s even been afforded that much. 

He lets her go first, hands finding her waist and lifting her to the first step. His hands hover around her as she stumbles up the ladder, ready for any possible disaster to strike. He follows quickly, his white dress shirt sticking to his skin in a way that would make him feel exposed around anyone else. He rolls his sleeves up to his shoulders, shaking his hair out like a dog. She flinches when he sprays her, giggling quietly. The sweet, fluttering noise is contagious, Aaron laughs himself before muttering a quiet, “sorry.” 

He watches her face change as she remembers again. Remember why they ended up in the pool,  why she’s mad at him in the first place. Light, joyful eyes darken into a cloudy, stormy gaze. Her eyes are like a bow and arrow aimed right at his heart, ready for the kill. He’s ready to admit defeat, to just lay there and let her skin and eat him alive. He avoids her gaze. Cowardly, he knows. 

“So. Fucking. Unfair.” They’re punctuated by a look of desperation and disdain, desire and destruction. His head shoots up again at that, shame creeping up his spine once more. It settles in his neck, constricts his airflow. 

“I know. I’m sorry. I’ve treated you terribly tonight and-”

He’s cut off by a groan that could spark an earthquake. She pulls at the roots of her wet hair in frustration. “Not that. Well- partially that. It’s fucking unfair that you get to skip my party, break my heart, show up, and then emerge from my pool looking like some sort of Adonis. Un-fucking fair, Aaron Hotchner.”

She moves closer to him with each passing word, to the point where his name is merely a whisper, uttered to him only inches from his own face. He studies her, the water droplets falling down her tear-stained face, the look in her eye, now softened to one of desperate devotion, despite all he’s put her through tonight. She’s breathtaking. Just as she was the day they first met, and everyday since then. An otherworldly beauty that has seemed to captivate him, mind, body, and soul. 

She inches even closer, her fingernails raking up his bare forearms. A shiver unzips his spine, invoking a light chuckle from her. As her lips inch ever so closer to his own, he nearly lets himself get lost in it. When she releases a shaky sigh against his mouth, the potent stench of vodka strongly reminds him that she is in no place for such an activity tonight. He scoops her up, folding her over his shoulder as he turns to get her indoors. 

He ignores her squeals of protest, the splattering of her palms on his back, though he can’t help but imagine this exact scenario in a different light- one where she’s sober, and he’s carrying her through his bedroom door. He opens the glass door with one hand, sliding it the rest of the way with his hip. He thanks his lucky stars that the only people left are Penelope and Derek, who likely stayed in case of any possible drownings. He nods at them, a succinct, ‘we’re good, get out.’

The message is heard clearly, the two of them shuffling out the door, but not before taking multiple glances at their boss, who’s carrying his hammered employee like a sack of potatoes. He’s in for an absolute earful come Monday, he’s sure of it. 

Her room is easy to spot, a bright pink door with her name plastered at the top. He smiles to himself, his heart swelling at the way she revels in her inner child. Sparkly room decor, birthday party invitations, a birthday party in general. He’s almost envious of the way she effortlessly mixes her childish woe with her adult sophistication. Even around the office, she clacks around in whatever heel came out of her rotating closet that morning, all while spouting off fine tuned details of any current or prospective cases. 

These are things he’s lost touch with as he’s aged, that whimsy, the wild eyed gaze she gives to new challenges. He hopes she never lets it go. He hopes she’ll be 80 with bedazzled glasses and  the best hair in the room. Knowing her, he has nothing to worry about in that regard. 

He plops her down on the large couch on the far end of her room, not wanting to douse her bed with chlorine. She needs a good night’s sleep. She whines as she attempts to wiggle out of her party dress, the straps proving to be very stubborn as she maneuvers around the couch. He turns instinctively as she figures it out, her dress bunching around her thighs before she lifts it up over her head. The small sliver of thigh he did see is burned into his brain forever, though. There’s no escaping that. 

“Aaron, I need my pajamas,” her voice is soft, tired. 

Aaron clears his throat awkwardly. “Where are they, honey?”

He practically hears her gleam at his words. He knows she’s basking in his pet name the way she always does, like a cat who got the cream. “Top drawer. I want the silk pink set,” her voice has a certain lilt to it now that nearly has his eyes rolling in the back of his head. Pink silk. He’ll die. He could just die. It would probably be less painful than handling her delicate sleepwear, throwing it behind him without turning around. 

She giggles as she puts it on. “You can look now. I’m all covered.”

He turns, eyes trained on the floor, just in case. He’s truly not prepared for what he sees when he turns around. Her smooth legs are crossed at the ankle, her plush thighs filling out the fabric of her soft pajamas. The top is barely enough fabric to be called such, a thin tank top leaving so little to the imagination, he nearly combusts on the spot. The peaks of her nipples are enough to do him in permanently, to put him in the ground for all eternity. He’d deserve it, too. 

“I can’t move. Need you to get me to bed,” she mumbles, her body falling limp against the couch. He rolls his eyes, moving to scoop her in his arms, bridal style this time. The implication makes him choke on his own spit. 

“Wait!” She exclaims, just as he’s reached the foot of her bed. He stops in his tracks. “Need to get the rest of my makeup off, Aaron. Need the bathroom.” Her head falls against his chest, and he can’t say no. Sighing, he adjusts her in his arms and carries her to the ensuite bathroom. 

He sits her down on the closed toilet, covered in a pink, fuzzy fabric. She wiggles, getting comfortable as her eyes fall shut. 

“The soft, fuzzy washcloth on the counter automatically takes off makeup with water. If you could just wet it, I can get the rest.” She’s truly sleepy now, the alcohol taking her over almost entirely now. 

He won’t make her do all of that work, not after everything he’s put her through tonight. He heeds only part of her request, wetting the washcloth and ringing out the excess water. He crouches in front of her, putting a gentle hand to her jaw as he begins to lightly scrub the remaining bits of makeup off. She sighs, one of content and exhaustion. His heart soars. He thinks he may have to start going back to church just to make up for the grace he’s been granted tonight. 

After he moves through the next two steps- cleanser, then moisturizer, per her instruction- they’re back where they started, at the edge of her bed, her nestled in his arms. He lays her down gently, turning to sleep on her couch downstairs. He’s stopped in his tracks with a single tug to the wrist. His heart stops. 

“Stay,” she mumbles. He’s powerless. He peels off his wet clothes, making peace with sleeping in damp underwear, before she mumbles something more. “There’s extra sweatpants in the room to the right. Take them.” He has no choice but to listen. 

You wake with a pounding head, the morning light filtering in like a knife designed to split you in two. You groan, rubbing your eyes to adjust to the sober reality you’ve been thrust back into. You’re caught off guard when you roll into an absolute brick wall of a man, panic rising in your throat before you realise who it is. The only positive is that he’s familiar, that you know it’s not some random guy you hooked up with and let stay the night. On the other side of that coin, you’re waking up next to your boss, the day after you confessed your love for him. 

The arrival of that memory triggers the rest, and they flood in like a broken dam. Your tears, the vodka, the broken glass, the pool, the way his pecs looked in his white shirt, soaked to the bone and clinging to his chest. 

You shake off the thought, though the motion only wakes Aaron. You curse lightly under your breath. It takes everything in you not to crumble at the raspy groan Aaron lets out, seemingly just as surprised to be waking up in a foreign environment. His eyes widen when they find you, pure shock lacing his features before he slowly pieces together the events of the night before. A small smile curves your lips. “Good morning, party pooper.”

Aaron at least has enough gentlemanly instinct to make breakfast. He’s quick to tie your pink apron around his waist, cracking eggs and frying bacon with ease. You perch on one of the stools at your kitchen island, still littered with beer cans and empty solo cups. You sip your coffee as you watch him. You hate how gorgeous he is, how he has the right to look like that even when you’re mad at him. 

Sweatpants hang low on his hips, the lack of a shirt tantalizing. Your eyes zone in on the slivers of skin afforded beyond the apron. You squeeze your thighs together at the hair on his tummy, the hair that trails lower, and lower…

You jump as he puts a plate in front of you, not expecting for him to be done so soon. “Oh!” You squeal, the sound muffled slightly by your coffee mug. You’re using the glass dish as a crutch now, holding it in front of your face like a shield. You know he can tell exactly what you’re doing, and why you’re doing it, but it doesn’t stop you. He should know how you’re feeling right now, with him in front of you, looking even more delectable than the fresh, sizzling bacon. But he’s still the same man that broke your heart merely hours ago. 

He plates himself before nodding his head towards the semi-clean kitchen table. “Let’s eat there, so that way we’re not talking over pyramids of Sam Adams.”

You smile softly at this, swinging your legs around to hop off the stool. He takes your plate before you can, sitting it at the head of the table. You sit, and take a bite. It takes everything in you not to moan. If it weren’t for last night, maybe you would’ve. You sit in silence for a moment, soft chewing and forks clinking against plates the only noise. The only noise, at least, until Aaron looks directly at you. 

“I’m so sorry. I know that there’s not enough apologies in the world to make up for how I’ve treated you. I just- I couldn’t…” his voice trails off. The hairs on the back of your neck stand. 

“Couldn’t what?” It’s quiet as it leaves your lips, hanging between you two like a ticking time bomb. His eyes flit to the table, his hands clasped together in what looks like silent, desperate, prayer. 

“I couldn’t face rejection again,” he states, plainly. The wheels start turning in your head. Moving, but still unsure of the destination. “You saw so many details of my divorce, the ugly ins and outs. I couldn’t even fathom the thought that you’d be- that you would have any sort of feeling towards me. That you would love me in the way that I love you. Now that I know what I know…”

You’re there. You’ve reached your destination, and you can’t help but collapse your head into your hands and laugh at the stupidity of it all. His eyebrows shoot up to his hairline at the noise you emit, but it’s all worth it at the smile that appears on his own face, cheeks bunching up around his eyes. It makes your heart swell. 

“So, you’re telling me…you didn’t come to my party because you were afraid I’d reject your feelings, and I spent the entire night drinking and crying on rotation because I thought you were rejecting me…” You spell it out, wild hand motions matching the absurdity of the situation. 

“We’re quite the pair, aren’t we?” He smiles, and heat rises to your cheeks. A silence settles over you then, the gravity of what this means hitting the both of you like a truck. “I’m so, so sorry I hurt you. I never meant to, though I know that sounds redundant because of my actions.”

You let out an incredulous chuckle at that, a huff of air conveying multiple emotions at once. “Aaron…I need to know that you won’t just run when things get hard. I know that you and Haley had something…else. I don’t want to be a repeat of that in your healing journey, or get in the way of your duties with Jack, or-”

“Hey, hey, hey,” he soothes, a warm hand grazing your forearm over the table. “You’re not just a part of my healing journey. I learned a lot when Haley left me. You saw it. You held a heavy hand in that change. You gave me something to strive for, a glimmer after I’d thought I messed everything up. And instead of treating you the way I know you deserve, I ran right back to my old patterns. I can’t explain how sorry I am. How can I make it up to you?”

You raise a tentative brow. “The self awareness is a good sign, Aaron, but I need you to know that I’m a one and done kind of girl. Typically a none and done kind of girl. I’m making a very special exception here, sir.” He nods at this, eyes boring into yours. “You’re not going to keep me if you keep your old patterns. It’s one or the other, and you can make it up to me by making that decision. Do you think you’re ready for that?”

He nods emphatically, fingers lacing between yours across the table. You sigh, a true, genuine smile on your face for the first time since before last night. You finish your breakfast in a content silence before dragging him back up to your room. 

“It’s one of the only spots in the house not littered with alcohol!” You’d told him, your reasoning quite sound in your eyes. Aaron rolls his, though a smile persists anyway. 

You fall onto your mattress, lifting your arms up for Aaron to join you. He lays beside you, your finger grazing along the waistline of his sweatpants. You revel in the way he shivers at the contact. He makes himself comfortable and you sling a leg across his hips, neck craning up to look in his eyes. A tense silence falls over you two then, thick and wanting. He tests the waters, slowly inching his face closer to yours. You bridge the gap, greedily smashing his lips to yours. 

He kisses you like a man starved, his arms curling around your back as he tries to consume as much of you as possible. You break from the kiss, only for him to pepper multiple tiny ones on your lips, his own drifting to your chin, your jaw, your neck. You turn on your side so your chest to chest with him, the feeling of your tits pressed up against his was enough to make your head spin. His rigid body relaxes in your arms as his lips find yours again. 

You clutch at his shoulders, a small whimper fleeing your lips in between greedy kisses. “You’re so beautiful, y’know that? Drive me fucking crazy,” he mutters, hands finding the soft skin under your sleep tank. “Yeah?” you coo, and he groans. 

“Yeah,” he nearly moans, and you clench your thighs together. His ravenous hands frantically search for every spare part of your body they can find. “Walking around the office in those skirts, those cute fucking heels,” he punctuates his statement with more kisses. Your head is spinning. 

“I’m glad you like them, I pick them out just to drive you crazy,” you joke, and revel in the way his eyes roll back in his head. You rock against his hard length, and he shudders. 

“I need you. Now.”

Aaron lays still under the covers, fingertips raking up and down her back as if she’s made of porcelain. He releases a shaky breath, lips pressing to the top of her head. She’s drifting in and out of sleep, and the selfish part of him wants her awake, to be there with him, to kiss him some more. The nurturing part of him knows that she needs the sleep, that her hangover likely isn’t helping in her fight to stay conscious. 

“I can hear you thinking, y’know?” she murmurs, her words smushed in his chest. He laughs, a small, breathy sound escaping his lips. 

“Yeah?” He inquires, voice coated thick with love. “Just thinking about you. About what you need to feel better,” he exaggerates this point by rubbing thick fingers along her scalp. She shudders in response. 

“Think I need to sleep,” she mumbles, her lids half shut. 

“I think you do, too,” he answers, his never ending smile still on his face. “But I want to be with youuuu,” she drags out the last word, her lips pouty. He kisses them eagerly. She responds with the same fervor, her arms slinking around his neck. 

He can feel himself stir again, his now naked frame hiding nothing from the woman in his arms. 

“I think you want the same thing,” she says, suggestively. Her eyebrows wiggle as her fingers slide dangerously low. Against his body’s wishes, he grips her wrist gently. She pouts again. He kisses her again. He’ll never get tired of it. 

“Boo!” She pouts, and it’s so adorable he almost pulls her on his lap to finish what they started. 

“You need sleep, honey. I’m going to clean up downstairs, you let me know if you need anything, okay?” She nods as he slides out of bed. He jumps when she swats his ass. 

“Hey!” He exclaims, but she just smiles, resting her head on her propped hand. 

“What? Like it’s my fault you have a cute butt!” She shrugs. He shakes his head, cheeks flushing as he moves to put on his now-dry clothes from last night. 

“Sleep,” He orders. She wiggles her brows in challenge. 

It takes all his will power to leave her there, naked and wanting. It’s for the best right now, for both of them. Her lids have returned to their half closed state, and he ghosts another kiss over her lips before he goes. 

“I love you,” she whispers against his mouth.

“I love you, too. Get some rest.”

“As long as you’re here when I wake up,” she mutters, nestling into her pillow. 

After last night, he couldn’t dream of being anywhere else.

[mimikittysblog]

♡21:40♡

Pairing: Poly! Ateez x Fem! Reader

Genre: Super duper fluffy

Warnings: some mxm, pet names, reader is very sick

A/N: Hope you guys like this as much as you like the texts 🥺💕 tho ngl the ending is a bit meh. Anyways likes, replies and reblogs are so appreciated!

Tagging: @faeprincess777 @starygw3n @bee-gremlin @pinkpearlstar @sweetinsaniiity (if you wanna be tagged in my next poly ateez story, texts or not then please let me know!)

.✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ✧.

You were sick.

Like very sick.

You had been for a while and you really thought it would just go away after some time and with a few cups of good tea. However it was just one of those times where it didn’t and it lead to where you were now.

Flopped on the couch after a long days of work so sick, tired and weak to the point you didn’t even take off your shoes, let alone take a shower.

You knew you should’ve taken the day off and even more so you should’ve informed your lovely 8 boyfriends of your condition. However it was so busy for not only you but your boys this time of year. Your job really needed you around and the boys had to be on their A game.

Not like they weren’t always were. Those boys are so admirable when it comes to their work ethic and determination. It’s one of the things you love about them. It’s just this time of year is when they really have NO room to slack off. So you didn’t have the heart to tell them.

You barely see them around anyway, as they come home late and you leave early. You couldn’t bare the thought of them having to deal with you when they’re already so busy with work, no doubt dealing with so much pressure and stress. Even though deep down you knew they wouldn’t care and would drop anything to make sure you’re okay.

‘Cause you would do the exact same thing.

About an hour after you practically passed out on the couch, Yunho and San arrived home.

Thankfully they were able to get all the work they needed to get done super quick today, so they got home much earlier than usual. As they walked into the living room thats when Yunho spotted you.

He chuckled at how cutely you looked and then pointed you out to San who awed at you. They thought you just got home too and decided to close your eyes for a bit.

“Princess we’re home.” Yunho called sweetly.

“Come on now silly butt, get up so we can shower together.” San said with a big smile at the thought of relaxing under the shower with his lovers.

However you didn’t respond.

They both pouted and furrowed their eyebrows as they got closer. You were asleep? That’s quite unlike you. They knew how much you love a refreshing shower after work then to change into one of their hoodies. Were you that tired?

“..sweetheart?” Yunho said as he crouched down next to the couch. He softly moved your hair out of your face to check up on you.

Just from that very soft touch alone he was able to tell how hot your skin was. His eyes widened and as he looked at San with worry.

“Baby you’re sick??” He asked surprised as he looked back at you wondering how he and the rest had no idea.

“What?” San questioned softly as he crouched next to Yunho.

He then places the back of his hand properly on your forehead. His eyes also then widened with worry as there was no denying it.

You were incredibly sick.

Their hearts clenched at how they truly had no clue how sick you were, how much you needed them and how you didn’t tell them..

.✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ✧.

Yunho: Guys. Come home. Now.

Seonghwa: what why? What’s the matter?

San: Princess is sick. She has such a high fever and from the sound of her breathing her nose is stuffed. She’s literally passed out on the couch rn and god knows what other sicknesses she’s having.

Wooyoung: WHAT?! She didn’t tell us anything! 🥺

Yunho: I know and at this point that doesn’t matter rn. She needs us. Hurry.

After they sent the texts to the rest of them they quickly got to work.

As Yunho picked you up softly and carried you to bed, San prepared a small basin filled with cold water and some towels. As Yunho was undressing you, San brought in the basin and they both started cleaning you as softly as they could.

Truly not long after they started, they heard the front door open and peeked in Jongho, Seonghwa and Wooyoung.

“How bad is it..?” Jongho asked as he softly entered the room with the rest.

“..bad..” Yunho muttered.

Seonghwa then carefully approached you and placed his hand on your forehead too and almost gasped.

“She’s burning up.. Oh God our poor princess..” he said as he softly ran his hand through your hair.

Wooyoung then approached Yunho with a hoodie from their closet and your shorts.

“Thank you love.” Yunho said softly as he gave Wooyoung a kiss on the head and started dressing you as soon as San was sure you were dry.

“Seonghwa hyung and I are gonna go make her some soup. Yeosang is already on his way home, Hongjoong hyung and Mingi are going as fast as they can to finish recording. They’ll be home soon..” He mumbled to the two who arrived home first.

“Okay.. I’ll go help you cook too, you two will watch over her?” San asked

“Yeah of course.” Jongho confirmed as he sat down next to you and softly stroked your hair.

Yunho then nodded as he gave wooyoung another kiss and sent him on his way.

“You’ve eaten Yunho?” Seonghwa asked.

“Uh.. no not yet hyung. We got take out but we haven’t eaten it yet...” Yunho explained as his eyes trailed back down to you.

“Hmm alright.. I’ll make Sannie eat then once he’s done you can eat and San will watch over.” Seonghwa said as he reached over to grab his hand.

“Alright hyung.. thank you..”

“Of course.”

With that he gave yunho’s hand a comforting squeeze then gave jongho a sweet pat on the head before leaving to join the others in the kitchen.

“Could she really not tell us she was this sick..?” Jongho asked softly still stroking your hair.

“I.. don’t know.. we’ll ask her when she’s awake and feeling better.” Yunho replied as he sat down on the bed as well softly holding your hand.

.✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ✧.

As they continued to watch over you, after a while they heard the front door open and some muttering. Soon the door to the room opened again revealing Yeosang.

“Oh princess… she looks so pale..” He muttered as he made his way to her. “Has she not woken up yet?” He asked as he stood beside Jongho.

“No.. we should just let her rest before we wake her up to eat.” Jongho replied.

“Hmm. I bought some medicine on my way home.. Hopefully they’re enough.. if not we can take her to a doctor…” Yeosang informs the two boys as he placed the medicine on a nearby table.

“Thank you Sangie..” Yunho said before continuing to ask if the soup is ready. And right on cue, Wooyoung popped his head in again.

“Soups ready. And yunho baby, Hyung wants you to eat now.” He said.

The lovers in the room then nodded.

As softly as he possibly could, Yunho began to wake you up.

“Princess.. princess.. wake up please..? We need you to eat and take some medicine…” He said oh so softly with some extra soft shakes.

“Baby..? Baaaabbyy..” Yeosang also called out to you.

Your eyes soon started to flutter open as you take in your surroundings. You however closed them again quickly as the headache in your head began.

“Ugh..” you groaned

“Oh baby what is it..? Your head hurts..?” Jongho who was still stroking your hair asked.

You could only nod.

“Honey bun.. do you think you can get up..? You need to eat..” Wooyoung asked

Slowly you opened your eyes again and finally realized your sweet boyfriends were home.

“Wait.. you guys are home? So early..” You muttered, voice so hoarse it made everyone frown.

“Yes we are sweetie.. we’ll talk about that later.. now we should get some yummy food in that belly okay..? Do you think you can get up..?” Yunho replied then asked.

Your head was still pounding and as much as you wanted to try, you knew its best to just stay, so you softly shook your head.

“Okay I’ll tell hyung, come Yunho you still need to eat.” Wooyoung then said as he retreated back to the kitchen.

Yunho didn’t really have an appetite after seeing how sick you were and he wanted nothing more than to just stay and make sure you’re okay. However he knows his boyfriends and even you will scold him if he doesn’t eat. So with that he gave you a soft kiss on the forehead and got up to go eat.

“I’ll be right back okay..? Jongie and Sangie will be right here.. Eat well darling.” He said to you before leaving.

You could only nod back before looking back at your boyfriends.

“When did you guys get home..?” You asked

“Yunho hyung and San hyung got home first and found you.. told us and then I, Wooyoung hyung and Seonghwa hyung quickly got home after that. They just finished cooking your soup.” Jongho explained.

“Hmm I just got home, and I’m pretty sure Mingi and Hongjoong hyung will be home any minute.” Yeosang added.

You then hummed before Seonghwa and San came into the room carrying a tray of a big bowl of soup and some of your favorite tea.

“Hi our darling..” Seonghwa greets you as San puts down the tray in your lap softly.

You weakly smiled at them and began to open your mouth to greet them however Yeosang cut you off.

“Shhh.. don’t talk to much pumpkin.. your voice sounds so hoarse… your throat must be very scratchy and painful hmm..?”

With a soft sigh you nodded.

“Okay then.. lets get some food in you okay? Can I feed you?” San asked

You made some gestures indicating that you could do it yourself however they weren’t having it.

“Let us take care of you. You’re extremely sick okay? Your pouting game will not work tonight honey.” Jongho said

Of course you were outnumbered so you just sighed and opened your mouth to let San feed you as the rest began preparing your medicine.

.✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ✧.

Once your bowl of soup was almost empty, the front door was opened and the footsteps of the last two can be heard. Said two as quickly as they entered the house, quickly entered your room guilt, concern and sadness evident in their faces.

“Oh princess…” Mingi said as he walked closer

“Baby.. oh you finished your food, good girl. Medicine?” Hongjoong praised then asked with a pet to your head.

“Right here.” Seonghwa said as he gave you the medicine to drink.

Wordlessly you took the medicine and drank some of your tea.

“Okay.. good… How are you feeling now darling?” Hongjoong asks.

“..better..” you said as softly as you could so you wouldn’t harm your throat even more.

“Thats great love..” Mingi said.

Soon the last two that were missing from your bedroom entered again and were pleased to see you finished your food as well. Now all of your boyfriends were here and sitting somewhere in your bedroom.

“Sweetheart..” Seonghwa started as he sat beside you holding your hand. “Why didn’t you tell us you weren’t feeling so well..? You’re so sick.. this must’ve been going on for a while… and none of us had a clue?”

You took a deep breath before carefully replying, being mindful of your throat. “We were so busy… I.. didn’t want to distract you… a-and I thought It’d get better on its own..”

“You still should’ve told us princess.. you know we would’ve taken some time off to help you get better… and you should’ve taken time off yourself.” Yunho chimed in.

“I didn’t think you could afford to spare some time… and my job needed me..” You pouted looking down playing with seonghwa’s fingers.

“Darling… you hurt us… do you not know we’d stop time for you if we could? You know we literally would do anything for you… We 100% would’ve figured out a way to make sure our work still gets done and be able to take care of you… like we always do. I’m sure you know that..” Mingi said.

You looked up at him to see nothing but sincerity in his eyes. As you looked around, you see sincerity in all their eyes.

“I do… I just.. I don’t know… I just really didn’t want to be a bother. I don’t want you guys to be more stressed than you already are and if I caused you guys to fall behind th-“ You were cut off by Wooyoung shushing you.

“Nope. No. You would never be the reason for that. We would never blame you and you know we would reprimand anyone who thinks that. Sweetheart. You’re our precious girlfriend… you would never be a bother to us.” Wooyoung said full of reassurance.

“Baby… We understand. You wanted us to do well and you were worried for us and wouldn’t want to add more stress or something. However like everyone here has said. You’re no burden. No trouble. And especially no bother. We love you and want you healthy and happy alright?” Hongjoong said as he stroked your hair.

You all looked at them and softly nodded. Heart filled with love and you give them a smile that they find so precious.

“Alright. Now please promise us you’ll tell us if you’re sick? Even if it’s just the tiniest cough or sneeze, you’ll still let us know? And yes we’ll promise to do the same.” Seonghwa asked.

“Promise. Now all of you cuddle me to sleep please?” You said with a pout and arms out.

Everyone then let out a soft chuckle and nodded.

With that, they got to work to cleaning up your dishes as San scooped you up and carried you to the master bedroom where that room is specifically for big cuddle sessions. and other stuff 👀

San tucked you in as he got in beside you. Soon enough loud footsteps can be heard as a couple of them (Wooyoung, Yunho, Mingi and Seonghwa) were racing to be on the other side of you. Which ended up going to Jongho as he slipped in while the others were still fighting by the door.

Eventually all of them got into a comfortable position.

“I love you all so much.” You mumbled softly into the darkness.

“We love you too our love.” Mingi said softly.

“Get some rest.” Said Yeosang.

“Tomorrow we’ll make you an even better soup!” Wooyoung then exclaimed loudly.

“Sleeeeppp!” Jongho groaned.

With that you all kinda giggled with each other a little bit longer than you would like. Making sleep not as easy but you all really wouldn’t have it any other way.

.✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ✧.

© mimikittysblog 2024

[starkwlkr]

Hiii, I loved little family!! Could you please write something about reader and old man Logan having a babygirl and how it affects the dynamic between them and Laura? Maybe she gets jealous with the new addition to the family but then they have a conversation with her and she starts getting more comfortable about her sister? Thanks! ❤️

baby blues | old man logan

The arrival of baby Ada changed everything. Your sleep schedule kept changing, your body, even the relationship between your daughter, Laura. After you gave birth, Logan was the one taking Laura to school, he packed her lunch and made sure her homework was in her backpack.

“Where’s my mom?” Laura asked one day after school. The girl had a school project due in a week and she wanted you to help.

“She’s resting. You hungry?” Logan looked through the refrigerator for something to eat.

Laura stayed silent. Instead she walked up the stairs to your room where you and baby Ada were asleep. The young mutant quietly made her way towards your bed and poked your arm repeatedly until you woke up.

“Hmmm?” You could barely open your eyes. “Logan?”

“It’s me,” Laura replied. “I need help.”

“Help. . . With what, honey?” You rubbed your tired eyes then sat up carefully, turning on the small lamp on your bedside table in the process.

“Project on bees.” Laura replied. She took her backpack off and emptied it out on your bed.

“Sweetheart, can this wait until later? Your sister is sleeping and—”

Was sleeping.

Baby Ada was now screaming her little lungs out. Logan wasted no time barging in. Even at his old age, whenever he heard Ada cry, he would drop everything and be with her until she calmed down.

“Laura, I told you—” He stopped talking when you shook your head at him. “Want to help? I’m sure Ada would love that.”

“Help?” The girl wasn’t sure how she could help. What was she supposed to do.

Logan helped you sit up properly on the bed then walked towards the upset baby. Once he had Ada in his arms, the baby stopped crying. She was a big daddy’s girl. Logan placed a kiss on her cheek then passed Ada over to you then started getting her bottle ready.

Once Ada was in your arms, Laura stepped closer to admire her baby sister. She placed a finger on Ada’s tiny hand and watched as Ada wrapped her tiny fingers around Laura’s single finger. The whole interaction warmed your heart.

“She’s so small,” Laura said as a smile formed on her face. “Can she stay in my room?”

You chuckled at her suggestion. “Maybe when she’s older, sweetheart. Right now she stays here with us. If you’d like, you can stay here in our room.”

Laura loved the idea.

“I’m getting kicked out of my bed already?” Logan teased. He handed over the bottle to you and watched as you told Laura how to hold the bottle correctly. Laura was so interested, she wanted to do it right. Maybe you and Logan were worried about nothing at all.

[orchidsarchives]

Hello I'm literally obsessed with how you write jason todd and how you invision him I binged your jason todd list and it's so good. I was wondering if you could write one where he has like a bubbly golden retriever girl who is obsessed with him and would leave any conversation to just go to him

First of all, you’re a literal sweetheart omg! Thank you so much for reading, I’m so glad you like my work! And second, I am so so so sorry for how late this is!! This idea is so cute, Jason totally deserves a cute and bubbly gf!! This is a little bit long, but I hope you like it!!

Jason had once again invited you to another one of Bruce’s galas as his date. Formal events were never your scene, but you couldn’t say no to Jason, especially when he’d ask so politely.

He’d stare at your face lovingly with his big doe eyes. His calloused hands would cup your face gently as his thumbs delicately grazed your cheeks. His bitten lips would turn into a small smile and you couldn’t bear to say no to his pretty face. That’s how the story always went, he’d stare at you innocently and you’d always agree to attend.

Jason hated attending galas, but he hated going to them alone even more. Hence why he brought you, he wanted you there for moral support. 

He always tried his best to be gentleman when it came to these types of events. His eyes never leaving you for a second.

A few years ago he made up a code for when you’d attend formal events together. You still remember the look he gave you when he explained the “rules.”

His gaze was gentle and his hands were laced with your own. He spoke in a soft, hushed voice, “okay pretty girl, listen up. One squeeze, means you’re done with the conversation. Two is for when you’re ready to leave. Got it?”

You almost never had to use the code though, somehow Jason always knew when it was time to head out.

Galas and formal events were always so consuming, exhausting almost. The politics and business were far too confusing. You never found yourself wanting to engage with most people as it felt awkward to initiate conversations sometimes.

You’d spent most of the evening stuck to Jason’s side with his hands firmly on your waist or tangled between your fingers. 

However, despite your views of the galas, you were a star. Men and women alike frolicked around you, like bees to a flower. You were always a source of wonderment— polite, kind and beautiful. 

You always greeted everyone with a soft, welcoming smile. You were bubbly and made an effort to look engaged in conversations when people approached you. Whenever you’d do this, Jason couldn’t help but smile to himself. It wasn’t your element, but here you were immersing yourself into these empty conversations for him. 

This particular gala felt similar to most of Bruce’s events. Noisey chatter and expensive gowns engulfing the room.

You were starting to feel tired and Jason was starting to feel antsy too. But he was cornered by three men in matching black suits and it was too awkward to leave. You and Jason rarely got separated at such places, but it had seemed to be just one of those nights. You took a seat at the nearest table, as the pair of stilettos on your feet were starting to cause an uncomfortable ache.

You stared into the crowd, a smile small on your face when you’d accidentally make eye contact with someone. You were in your own head, paying no mind to your surroundings when a tall man walked over to you. 

“May I sit here,” he said, pointing to the seat next to you. You nodded your head with a polite smile. 

Minutes go by and you notice the man trying to gather the courage to speak to you, but it seemed that every time he tried, he got nervous. You tried to ignore his behaviour and found yourself looking around the room for Jason. He still seemed to be preoccupied with the men.

Jason’s jade eyes met your gaze from across the room and his stern expression slowly morphed into a small smirk, making the scar near his lip more pronounced. 

He nodded along with the men, but his attention was on you. He stood up taller, trying to fix his posture. He ran a hand through his styled hair, making it just the right amount of messy. He looked good in his navy suit and your eyes raked his body. He looked pretty today and he knew it too.

A voice brings you back to reality and you look over into the direction of the sound. It was the man from earlier. 

“Pardon,” you asked softly and the man smiled. 

“Oh, I was just saying that it’s quite lively here tonight,” he said fixing his tie anxiously.

“It really is, it’s very loud tonight” you kept your answer short. The man looks up at you, his eyes fixed on your lips. 

“So I was wondering-” the man’s words don’t seem to register, you’re too busy looking at Jason. He was done with his conversation and was making his way over to you. You quickly get up in excitement.

The man still seemed to be talking and you find yourself interrupting him. 

“I’m so sorry but my boyfriend-” and Jason pulls you in by the waist, paying no attention to the man. 

“Hey pretty girl, I’m sorry I took so long,” he says. His voice low and sympathetic. You grin in response, happy to see your boyfriend again.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders, “let’s go home Jay. I’m so tired and my feet hurt,” you confess, pouting. 

Jason smiles gently. You look beautiful to him. He takes a strand of your hair and tucks it behind your ear and you can feel your face getting hot. Even after years of being together, Jason still had this effect on you. 

“Let’s go, want me to carry you,” Jason giggles and you smack his chest playfully. 

“I’m fine, let’s just leave,” he intertwines your fingers in his and leads you out the door. 

The man’s face looks stunned, he didn’t expect you to run off with your boyfriend mid conversation. 

[starrieangel]

🎮Mouthwashing Crew playing Minecraft with you🌾

I said I was gonna write it.. well here it is

Features: Curly & Reader, Anya & Reader, Daisuke & Reader, Jimmy & Reader

Tags: Could be read as Platonic or Romantic, Normal!Jimmy (lol)

rb if you like ♡!

Curly

Does Not understand

He's such a dad, he has no idea how to work this thing or why everything is blocks..? but you told him it's really fun, so he'll give it his best shot!

First thing he does: "Whats this thing?" *runs directly up to creeper*

"Why did he do that to me !!? I was just saying hi D:"

He gets the hang of it pretty quickly after that, though. You get distracted mining and when you come back he has a double chest full of nothing but oak logs (He thinks the game is just about chopping trees)

Gets uncharacteristically excited about seeing a fox for the first time; spends next 30 minutes trying to make it his pet

Eventually gives up, and you don't even end up building anything out of the logs, you guys just end up watching a movie afterwards. He's says next time, you guys are gonna build a big house! (Spoiler: he builds a giant cube house out of nothing but wooden planks)

Anya

A thousand times worse than Curly, except she's played this game so many times before she. really has no excuse to be this bad

Gets scared because she's only ever played on peaceful mode...

Spends the whole time gathering animals. Let the woman farm!!!

Would also probably build pixel art out of the wool from her sheep farm

Long story short, there is a funeral, eulogy, and headstone for her late cat. You swear you dont know how that lava got there...

Ends up noping out of the game after you make her go to the nether for the first time XD

Daisuke

Grew up with this game, has beaten it more times than he count

He lets you build the base and decorate it while he mines, or you both go on epic cave adventures..!!

Soo so many funny moments involving falling into giant pits, burning in lava, being exploded... etc.

Daisuke screams into the mic a loooot. Like, a lot. Look up perfectly cut minecraft screams, that's how he plays this game

You end up playing. FOR HOURS

Daisuke is still finishing up his nether hub, its almost 2 am, and you are so so tired... he tells you to get some sleep, while he finishes building..!! When does this guy sleep..?

Jimmy

Does anyone else get the feeling Jimmy plays COD with his headset plugged into his xbox 360 controller or is that.. just me ???

Yes he's tried the game a few times, but he's always thought it was more for kids. Plus he hasn't seen any of the updates since the original console release, so he gets on and is like "Wtf is this shit"

Tries to fight the warden ... does not pick up on the sound mechanic at all ... tries to collect honey ... insta killed by swarm of bees ... and other similar misfortunes befall poor Jimble

You guys don't even make it to the nether before he decides maybe you should play something else XD

Ends up waking you up from rage quitting CS:GO (You fell asleep after he forced you to watch him play)

🎮🌾⛏️

Let me know what you thought in the replies and if u liked it !! or send me an ask with your mouthwashing headcanons ♡♡

[mookiesspace]

《《 𝑇𝑂𝑋𝐼𝐶 𝑃𝐴𝑅𝑇 2 》》

ony x black fem reader , implied cheating , strong language , smut , angst , toxic relationship , jealous ony , picture links , images in story , pov switch (reader to ony back to reader) , mdni 18+

a/n: this was sooo time consuming and I feel like I really did my one two on ts 😩 !! I hope the pov switch ain't confuse nb so that's why I put onys pov in green (when you get to the switch) & readers pov is in white ! && ony is represented with a "☆" above his pov while readers is "♡"

♡

**beep! beep! beep! bee-** the sound of your alarm before smacking it off. "shit.." you mumbled. you seriously didn't wanna get up after last night. damn what did happen last night for you to be so dam tired?? "damn 7:30 already? it's to damn early for this shit broo." you moaned forcing yourself outta bed while lazily dragging your body to the bathroom. looking in the mirror you sluggishly rub your eyes while your other hand ran your fingers thru your messy hair, slowly opening your big brow eyes to see your reflection in the mirror while getting ready to start your day.

"fuck.. why did i do that." sighing softly. right. you slept with ony again. why did this become such a natural thing?? why couldn't you just leave that stupid nigga alone, what was so hypnotizing about him that couldn't make you pull away?? walking to your messy bed you find a note lying on the dresser next to it reading 'sorry about last night mama, meet at 8 tonight so I can make it up to ya?' groaning at the note you quickly balled it up before tossing it into the trash. you had other things to focus on and worry about, other things excluding ony. he of all the was the last thing you needed to worry about yet along see. you were growing sick of the constant fighting and fucking all over the same shit, him being a no good cheating ass nigga. what you finally needed was a night out, a night to focus on you and your life damn well not his! you didn't belong to him, damn you ain't belong to anyone you're a boss bitch and you deserve better. and well all know you were gonna get it if it's the last thing you did!

"damnn bitch you i missed youuu!!" sasha squealed squeezing you tightly it had been forverr since you seen your girls sasha & mikasa and like always it was never a dull moment with the two "we missed you boo, how you been?" mikasa added pulling sasha off you. "shitt ion even know anymore," you giggled before taking a sip of your drink "I did fuck on ony last night tho.." you muttered "YOU WHAT BITCH??" "didn't he cheat on you? GIRL you need to sta-" "stay away from that no good ass nigga yes I know sasha. whatchu think I've been doing?" you groaned slouching onto the couch beneath you "clearly not good enough if you let him into yo panties." mikasa snickered at you an sasha's annoyance "don't laugh and help me!!" you whined only for mikasa to sigh loudly "I'm with sash on this one boo, ony's no good and you know that." "ughhh you two are so frustrating" groaning again as the two giggled with one another "let's just go out tonight hm? like we used to do! that'll get ya mind off him for sure" sasha implied. at first, going out sounded like a bad idea.. what if you ran into ony? what if he tried to talk to you and you gave in all over again?? what if- "cmon girl it's been forever!! pleaseeeee" your best friend begged. rolling your eyes while deeply sighing you gave in "ok ok. let's do it, I need a distraction anyways.." your friends cheered lovingly as they planned the entire night out but all you could think about is how badly you wanted ony still, you missed him. the old him.. him touch, his taste, his affection.. his everything. but that was over now, it's been over and now all you really needed was that night out. a night without thinking about anything but you and yo girls, a night without him.

"fuck I look good.." you muttered while looking in your tall bedazzled mirror. yeah you were bound to get some tonight and it wasn't gonna be with him that's for sure. you pull out your phone to post a pic on instagram posing in your big living room mirror, arching your back ever so slightly giving the perfect view of your round fat ass while lookin bad as fuck now waiting to link up with your girls for the best night ever.

☆

"yea bro ionk I for real miss ha" he sighed, taking a long hit of the blunt before passing it to his homeboy eren, man spreading as he pulls out his phone to browse her instagram. "damnn man, I mean I wouldn't be surprised if she ain't tryna fuck with you again." eren added, Connie snickering alongside him in response. "mann you ain't helpin. and shut yo ass up connie that's why she didn't want yo ugly ass" the man groaned, connie following with an irritated sigh before hitting the shared blunt. "not my fault you cheated, man you seriously fucked up & I ain't ugly ho" he replied with an eye roll. ony knew what the two were saying was true but he seriously didn't mean it, he got drunk and it jus happen.. it shouldn't of happen he knew that.. he shouldn't have went to that damn party, he shouldn't have fought with you that day. maybe if he just listened to you.. things would be back to normal.. well not anymore shit what is there left to redeem? everything was all fucked up- "DAMNNN" connie laughed, what was that nigga lookin at?? "oh shitt bro, you definitely ain't getting her back now" eren added, laughing with connie in response. "huh?" raising an eyebrow he snatches erens phone to see not only you at a party you had no business being at but your his ass backed up against that no good ass nigga jean. "hell na." he huffed growing irritated by the second before reaching for his own phone to text his babygirl..

the tall man gritted his teeth harshly, rubbing his fingers through his waves. "fuck wrong wit-" "I'm thinking." seconds pass with pure silence. Eren and Connie's suspension rose quickly before he spoke sternly. "ight pull up y/n location and let's go." "whatcu finna do crazy??" eren spoke, rising an eyebrow, connie nodding in agreement. "what I say?" the two men watch as their homeboy took off out the front door, clearly leaving to his car. "mannn, if he shoot up the place again, im go be pissed." "still wondering how he managed to cheat on ha and STILL be crazy about that girl." they both share a laugh before heading out the door themselves to follow behind ony.

♡

you scoff loudly, kissing your teeth in pure irritation. "jean babyyyy.." you speak softly into the man's ear, voice silk like smooth honey, running your long manicured nails up and down his neck. "what's up baby?" he spoke, big hands gripping at your waist ever so tightly sending shivers down your spine. "let's go somewhere more.. private.." standing you your tippy toes you lean into his ear while your hands explored his muscular body "she needs you baby.." that along made his dick grow hard, a sly smirk began to display on his face as he grabbed your hand and began walking with you through the crowd of people. safely making it twords a secluded area you hear your phone ding, you roll your eyes knowing the text was most likely from ony, or so you thought.. *ding!* *ding!* *ding!!* "damn mama who blowing yo shit up?" jean chuckled as he rubbed fat of your ass "no one it doesn't matter, let's go baby" you added, following along to the door moving yet through a crowd of people once again. the faster tou get outta here the fucking better you thought, just seconds after you feel a strong hand grip onto your wrist pulling you back "Hey!?! what the fuc-" words cut off once you were facing the one man you prayed not to run into tonight. Onyankopon.. "fuck you doin here?" he growled, looking up to see that you clearly weren't alone he scoffed, sucking his teeth as he looked the other man up and down "and you tryna leave this this pussy ass nigga?" laughing he rested his other hand on his forehead, licking hip plump pink lips, his gold grillz peaking out. You snatched your wrist away from him and rolled your eyes moving back towards Jean "we ain't together Ony, and last time I checked it wasn't yo damn business who I talk to or go with. I'm a grown woman" "yeah well you MY woman, so bring yo lil ass over here and let's go before shit stir up." he barked back, God you hated how he always had to say something you glared at him intensely, feeling the heat of the situation rise more and more. just before you could say something else to end things Jean let out a low laugh "fucks funny nigga." ony now glaring at jean, both men & you now slowly becoming the center of attention, what you didn't want tonight. "baby let's jus' go-" "funny how you claim she's yo girl, yet she here with me?" he spoke, a smirk appearing on his face as he looked directly at ony. shit, he's mad. really mad. you can see him clutching his fist while eyes you and him. "got nothing to say pussy? or are you just mad yo 'girl' ain't really yo-" BAM! before you knew it jean was knocked the fuck out on the ground, the crowd was filming and shouting all kinds of shit, all while you were being pulled away by Ony..

"s-shit! ony slow downnn AH!" your pretty little moans falling against deaf ears fuck why was he fucking you so rough? your wet pussy was clenching around him so tightly sending sparks and tingles right down to his already hard dick. "y-you always gotta show out, almost got that pussy ass nigga f-fucked up... shit.." he groaned, big hand sending harsh, firm slaps to your plump brown ass "ion give no fucks whatchu say mama, we gon' work thi shit out. ya hear me?" he grunts, low eyes shooting daggers at the back of your head. you can feel how hot the tension is but you can't focus, how long has it been?? your pussy is so stuffed and full you can barely speak as it is, head sinking down into the pillow you let out more shallow cries and moans, choking on your own tears and hiccups as his pace speeds up, and his thrusts deepen inside you "I'm talking to you girl." he's basically demanding a response, no. he IS demanding a response from you, sending more angry slaps to your fat ass he grabs you by the back of the neck pulling your limp body up against his "answer me." he demands, pussy clenching tighter against his thick dick your head hangs low "I- I can'ttt... ugahhh" you mumbled, words all twisted and fucked up worse than before. it feels so good, to damn good. he let's out a low chuckle before flipping you over on your back, grabbing ahold your neck before fucking you dumber "ian got no time for games mama you hear me?" thrusting harder than before at his last few words making you yelp "y-yes! fuckkkk onnyyy!!" you cry, you feel your stomach bubble and thighs tighten as he's deep in you, your soft gummy walls sending shivers down his spine making the pleasure better than it was before. he let's go of his tight grip around your neck, as you try catching your breath he pulls your body up hugging onto your smaller frame, your long nails now clawing at his back leaving all kinds of marks for whoever to see eyes crossing, toes curling and mouth slightly agape as drool pool out. he's biting his bottom lip, now gripping your ass even tighter, spanking it again roughly. "you look so beautiful mama.. I missed this." he moaned out, fuck it feels so good you thought. you're unable to even speak, still mumbling whatever mess can come out of your pretty little mouth. you can feel your body growing stiff as you're getting close to your realse. "Onnnyyyyyyy-" you whined out, nails digging into his back yet again. he let's out a low grunt "I know mama, I know." he's fucking you so deep it feel so surreal you can't help but shove your head into his broad shoulders while chasing after your soon sweet release. "I'm sooo closee.. f-fuckkkk onyy~" you moaned, sounding so fucking perfect, looking so fucking perfect he thought. "let it out mama.." and before you knew it, you feel your lower body burst, juices spilling everywhere coating the bed and yourselves in your sweet arousal, ony quickly following behind filling you up so deeply.. so lovingly. you both sigh heavily, nothing but short quick deep breaths and low groans filling the room as he lays you down, slowly pulling out of you watching his cum pour out only to take his tumb and stuff it all back in "this pussy is mine ma, don't do no shit like that again ya hear me?" he grumbled, low eyes staring into yours. "yes ony.." your response causing him to raise a brow "yes daddy." you spoke lowly, looking up at him with wide doe eyes as he smirks, smile growing into a sick grin allowing his grillz to appear once again.

your body feels heavy, you sit up picking up your phone to check the time and your group chat with your girls.

"shit." you mumbled, rubbing your head lightly only to feel a thick arm wrap around your waist "what's wrong, ma?" turning next to you to see ony still in bed eyes still closed as he yawned "nothin, jus' the girls.." "mhm" silence. your chest feels heavy as you ponder with your thoughts, lost at words as you stare at the tall man next to you. ony pulls your body closer, you falling down right next to him, his arm now fully wrapped around you as you lay together in silence. "look at me, mama." he mutters lowly, voice smooth and clear. you turn to look at him, big brown eyes staring at his now opened one's, you look so beautiful right now.. morning sunlight, hitting your beautiful brown skin, he takes his hand rubbing his thumb against your plush cheek, kissing it gently. "Ian go leave you," he whispers, cool morning rushing against your skin causing you to shake. you wanna believe him, you really do.. but how many chances do you have to give him before you're really close to nothing? "I love you, y/n. I mean that." your heart starts to beat faster than usual as your eyes swell up with tears. "Ony-" "Ma, I wanna make this right." It's all to much.. "I can't keep doing this immature ass shit, I hurt you, baby, trust me, I know. I have to live with that guilt every damn day. I wish ian do it, I really do but baby I promise it was a mistake. something that should've never happened. I miss you ma, I miss us.." there they are. salty tears run down your cheek, ony wipes them away as he pulls you closer hugging you tightly. "how do I know I can trust you Onyankopon? I don't wanna go through this shit anymore.." "You won't have to baby, I promise. I just need you to trust me.. trust that I'll make it right.." you hesitate before speaking, trying to collect your thoughts. he kisses your head lighlty squeezing you tighter "we all the time in the world, don't worry ma. no rush.."

[raileurta]

A continuation of this post

Looking back on it Miko should have just told the truth. Sure yeah it's extremely embarrassing calling your resident overlord addict "dad" by accident but it would not have snowballed into this hot gaslighting mess.

Oh who Miko kidding she is reveling in the complete chaos she's caused.

Scrolling back to a few weeks ago Miko had just finished school. The girl had just previously pulled an all nighter to catch up on all her work and studying. (Got to stay in her exchange program somehow) So Miko was completely exhausted. She didn't even have a chance to sleep during school as for some Primus forsaken reason there was an important test in every class! Miko had planned on sleeping at the base but nooooo the universe had other plans. That day the decepticons decided to try to tail them without them noticing and try to find out their secret base. Of course her best bestie in the whole universe noticed them and quickly diverted his course. They drove for a few minutes before Bulkhead quickly went behind some rock transformed and did a surprise attack on them. It probably was an interesting fight but Miko was too tired to care or pay attention to.

Iterable now and still unwillingly awake they were ground bridge back to base. Jack being the good mom friend he is asked if she was okay. Miko doesn't really understand what happened in her brain that day that made her give that response but sleep deprivation is a scary thing. She had responded,

"Yeah yeah I'm good just some of Dad's goons being annoying again."

Silence greeted her. She looked around weirded out by everyone's shocked faces. They were staring at her like she had just grown another head.

"What's wron-" and apparently that's when her mind registered what she had just said. Miko's face twisted into the definition of abject terror and her brain in all it's horrible glory decided it would best to follow that up with,

"Scrap you weren't supposed to know that."

What the hell brain?!?? Could you have worded that any less suspiciously? Could have said something like "I didn't mean to say that." Jesus Christ.

Miko obviously knowing on some instinctual level she fucked up big time immediately tried to book it. She didn't get too far of course, getting caught by Arcee real quickly. (She's slippery but not that slippery.)

The girl was half questioned half interrogated about what she had meant by that. Deciding it was a good idea to dig herself into a deeper hole Miko "revealed" that Megatron was her father. For obvious reasons they didn't believe her bs. Miko then decided to back up her claim with "evidence" if you can even call it that. She said she can understand Bee for instance. Bumblebee then chipped at her which had translated into, "What?? No way! If that's true what's my favorite dinosaur?"

She simply responded "Triceratops."

Everyone freaked out especially Bee. Miko couldn't really blame them. As she's been "acting" like she didn't know Bee's language and been lying to them since day one. The truth though was that Miko had in secret actually been practicing to understand him for a couple months now. It was going to be a gift of sorts and she was just fed up with not understanding him.

They still needed more evidence from her through. Yeah it was extremely suspicious that Miko hasn't said anything about this but Raf could understand Bee and he's a regular human. She then brought out the big guns and told them,

"Well I also know Megatron and Optimus are exes." Miko had bluffed. She didn't know 100% for sure that was true. She mostly just got this vibe from those two and nobody acknowledged it. It honestly was kinda annoying if she was being honest with here. The team instantly threw up protests and looked to their leader to disprove her claims. But they were met with a slightly blushing Optimus who was turned away. Ratchet making a comment under his breath about how did she know?

If Miko thought they weren't fully freaked out about the language thing they were totally freaked out now. It was really chaotic. Bulkhead was frantically asking why she didn't say anything and was Miko just using him for some evil plan?! At the same time Arcee and Bee were trying to get Raf and Jack away from her at the same time. While Optimus was kinda breaking down about not knowing anything about this and Ratchet was consoling him. She thankfully managed to convince Bulk that yes they were in fact best friends and no she wasn't going to hurt anybody. Being the saints they are autobots tried to look past her "heritage" and still be a family. Optimus even giving her a grand speech about how your blood doesn't define you and what you choose to be.

God was that awkward.

After a bit of more talking Miko finally was permitted to rest and once the best sleep of her life was over reality hit hard for her. If she wasn't freaking out about the whole situation at the time Miko would have laughed herself dizzy at how easily the bots were fooled. They didn't even ask about her quote unquote "creation." Calming down a few minutes later Miko started to really think about what to do now.

And well in for a penny in for a pound, she decided to double down and commit to this weird bit. So for the next few days Miko started dropping "lore" about herself and in general messing with everyone. Ratchet even made a comment about how it was kinda obvious looking back as Miko apparently was a mini Megatronous with her personality.

Okay wow. She was kinda offended by the comment but really couldn't say anything.

She did however get some cool information about Megatron. Like apparently how he was a very lively prankster. This info would come in handy about two weeks later.

Miko had ran through the ground bridge as usual, got caught up in some dangerous battle, then to shake things up was caught in another cave in. (Those are never as traumatic as the second time around) As fate would have it she was sorta saved by buckethead himself. Holding up a huge rock preventing them both from being squished making him unable to harm her. Not one to waste this opportunity she tried to recruit him into her scheme.

It went something like this:

"Okay look I need for you to hear me out."

"No."

"I didn't say anything yet!"

"I don't care to listen to the ramblings of a filthy organic."

"Ugh why couldn't it have been a different pretend dad decepticon?!"

"what...?"

"Long story short I have been gaslighting the autobots into believing your my dad- well sire for the past few weeks."

Megatron was rendered speechless.

Well briefly anyways.

"I'll be damned Starscream was right. All you insects are completely insane."

"Probably. But that's besides the point; I need your help to keep this lie going."

"Absolutely not."

"Come on....."

"No."

"Yes."

"NO."

"YES."

"NO."

"YES."

"IT'S NOT EVEN BIOLOGICALLY POSSIBLE!"

"Does it look like I care????? The autobots believed me and that's all that matters!"

"Wait a minute- you got the autobots to believe you?"

"Surprisingly yes. In all honesty it was too easy."

"....."

"Don't you want to fuck with them?"

"Imagine how much psychological damage Ratchet and Optimus would take."

"Aren't you tired of being nice?"

"I'm never nice."

"Don't you want to go ape shit?"

"Why are you doing this?"

"Why go through all this effort to keep up this lie?"

Miko should have said that it was because she didn't want to be caught lying and was scared about revealing the truth; but that would be a lie.

"I'm doing this because I can. I do it for the love of the game."

"Your psychotic........"

"It's nice to meet you daughter."

Cew evil canned laughter.

[Part 1] - [Part 2?]

[creator4favestuff]

I've been thinking, and given the valveplug I've seen on Twitter, I have a few ideas for random characters. Also no beta we die like npcs.

Megatron having a small valve. It would be a shock, and something the warlord can't let anyone else know about, so an offer here, and a contract there, leads to him meeting up with you and allowing you to eat him out or use his valve however you please. It's easy to pinpoint what makes him twitch with pleasure and what makes him squirt. His node would be the most sensitive, and a guaranteed way to make him weak in the knees. He's stuck between liking your rough treatment to his valve but also liking the moments you tease it with gentle touches... But of course, you won't hear anything like that unless you tire him out and he's covered with his own transfluid, but even then it's possible he'll just moan rather than compliment you. :(

And in tandem with the Megatron idea, Optimus has a big spike. I think it'd be funny but also fit somehow??? I don't know- He's also a version of Optimus I can see being a top, or a switch. If you want him to bottom? He'll be embarrassed, but happy to oblige. If you want him to top? Still embarrassed, but won't ever say no. Optimus just isn't used to all of this, and he's a bit quick to reaching release sometimes, but you're so nice to him, he can't help it... Just know that if you do suck his node, he will squirt multiple times and ride your face until he can't anymore. Secretly likes when you're rough with him physically while pampering him word wise.

If it's you, him and Megatron, he'll use his spike to mess up said Decepticon, especially when he teases the Autobot. Megatron usually controls the tempo at first, but by the end Optimus takes control, like a battle of who's REALLY the top. Optimus- (It's you. YOU'RE the true top lol.) They want you involved, someway, somehow, regardless of it's being gentle and patting them, giving encouraging words or being rough with them and demanding another overload. If you want to watch them get each other off, that's fine, but they expect you to hold them afterwards.

Bee would have that clingy nature, regardless of if it's you pounding his valve or him doing the pounding. Always begging for more, for you to stay and allow him to feel your warmth. He likes holding some part of your body, but his favorite is either your hips or your hands. It just feels so more intimate to him... Bee is very much a cuddle bug after lovemaking, so hopefully you won't have to be anywhere for a while. Another thing I feel he would like is fragging in a public setting. A part of him would feel embarrassed at having so many eyes on him, but the other BIG side wants people to see just how good you make him feel, HEAR how good you make him feel- But for now, he's happy to keep it between you two! :)

Prowl is loud. He just can't seem to keep his voice down, especially at the beginning. He's able to control it later on, but it's still easy to wind him up, just give his node a few strokes and pinches and viola, he's squirting and crying out. Another thing to note is that Prowl's also clingy when it comes to love making. At least one of his servos has to be holding your hand cause it doesn't "feel right" for him. He would be the one to introduce new kinks into the relationship, and it usually becomes a favorite of his. (But that's really because YOU'RE doing it-) I think he'd be into semi-public to see if he can keep quiet enough, and it excites him. Sure, it would be a bit embarrassing having people possibly see him so exposed, but at least he'll be with you.

Ultra Magnus...Another bot I can see having a small valve for his size, and something he would desperately wish to keep hidden from Cybertron, so he does a trade as well. It's humiliating, really, to have this happen to him. And yet, he finds himself enjoying the feeling, the roughness of your pace. Maybe it's because no one else would do so given his title? But given how little experience he has, it's much harder for him to keep his voice down. How could anyone stay quiet when their valve is being pounded, or his node is being sucked on, with a pinch here and a slap there to his behind? His past self would be mortified, but he just can't find it in himself to care that much in the moment. Sure, he'll scold himself later, but he ALWAYS crawls back to your side to let you use him however you see fit.

Ratchet would get pillow princess treatment. He'll complain about it, mainly due to embarrassment, but quickly accept it. The guy isn't used to being pampered, so it'll take some getting used to. Another sensitive one who overloads over and over again, but wants to continue feeling the pleasure. Sure. he'll SAY he's "too old and that he can't keep doing this" but he'll complain if you go easy on him and treat him like a fragile bot. This is the one time in the day Ratchet gets to be all soft and vulnerable with you, so pamper him damnit! Make him overload multiple times, tell him such sweet words as you ruin him over and over again. Secretly a cuddle bug too, but he usually waits until you're asleep.

Swindle likes interfacing with you, and takes it as a form of payment. The further you go, and the more intense, the better the deal. It seems so simple at first, but he likes adding wacky things in the bedroom: Toys, kinks, all the work. The one and only time you offered money, given you were tired that day, he felt happy yet so offended. Swindle LOVES money, and getting free stuff make his spark sing, but it also feels like a slap in the faceplate! If you can't move, then HE'LL do it! So you can just relax as he does the work, and it's a good deal to take, since not just anyone can get this from him. He'll tell you that it's a good way to blow off steam, and that is true, but he's just obsessed with the way you make him feel, how his valve responds to only you. Just as good as getting a great deal...if not better.

[aloesarchives]

JJK Drabble #2

Tw/Warnings: Fem!Reader, Fluff, Fluff Brainrot, Domesticity, Family Man Toji, Usage of Wife and Mom, JJK Oc added

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x Fem!Reader

Reader: Female, Usage of Wife and Mom

AU: Modern/"Toji Lives" Au

(A/N): I'm back! Well, kinda of. Long story short, dealt w/college stuff and had a health scare that kept me away from writing. Also had a mini burnout too. More is explained here!

Thinking about Toji taking up crocheting and knitting because he saw how expensive yet cheaply made certain items like blankets are made. So he buys a simple set to try it out, following Youtube tutorials and watching videos for ideas. Once he masters the basics, Toji is LOCKED IN once again. Making full on hand-made blankets, scarves, hats, mittens/gloves, stuffed animals, covers/cases, bags, scrunchies, even damn rugs. Anything you ask him for, he’ll make it. This ends up being very practical to Toji because he saves so much money by just making them at home himself. It has to be the premium, natural, good quality type. Organic cotton, wool, cashmere, alpaca/llamas, silk, linen, mohair, bamboo, hemp, all of that. Tell him about polyester or something and he tells you to put that shit back. He buys the premium yarn nearby, locally, or gets them imported internationally. Gets every and any colors because he never wants to be limited when making his projects.

There was a throw blanket you wanted for the couch but it was expensive and the size was a lot smaller than you hoped. The next day, you come home to see Toji making it for you. The same color but better quality and inexpensive, and it was the size you wanted too. You were happy and amazed that he made it within a day. Living off your praise and approval, Toji just makes everything. Since he can’t get carpal tunnel or arthritis, his hands and wrists never get tired from working. Though, his posture does get bad and his back aches from being hunched over. The blanket in your bedroom with Toji? He made that shit with fucking love and care. He actually made multiple ones depending on the weather and season. 

Man has even made throw pillows, regular pillows, water bottle cases, table cloths, coasters, bags, cushions, and made your own curtains. I mentioned before that everything in your home was either made, customized, or renovated by Toji. This stays TRUE because almost all the pillows and blankets in the house are his creation. The blankets and pillows that cover Megumi and Tsumiki’s beds? All Toji. Both pillows and blankets match each other and are in respective colors for the two. Megumi has one at his dorm because it gets cold over there and he hates sleeping in the cold. 

If you are a stuffed animal fiend, like me, you ask Toji to make you any stuffed animal you want. Definitely make squishmallow dupes for you if you asked him. In your personal room/office, there’s a pile of stuffed animals in the corner from Toji that you pluck one from the pile and hold it while relaxing or walking around the house. The ones he loves to make are bees, dragons, whales, dolphins and dogs. And they’re so soft and huggable, you squeeze them all the time. Toji just grins to himself knowing the things he makes brings you and the kids happiness.

Toji “Anything my wife wants, my wife gets. No questions asked” Fushiguro

It’s normal for you to come home to see Toji crocheting/knitting away at something. You either find him in three places at home: the engawa in front of the courtyard and garden, the family room with the shoji doors open, or in his personal room/office. Mostly, he sits outside sitting on the engawa working away at something. It makes him work better, or so he says. Makes his own needles and hooks because of his big hands. Megumi still has his crocheted stuffed puppy when he was younger, still going strong even though it’s been worn down from love. Tsumiki has all the Sanrio characters knitted/crocheted as gifts from Toji.

Tsumiki always wears her hair up in a ponytail, Toji makes her scrunchies in her favorite designs and colors. Her favorite cardigans and pullover sweaters that keep her warm during fall and winter were made by Toji because he wanted to try making outerwear. Luckily it worked in his favor. Tsumiki asked Toji if he could make her a tote bag because she needed a bag for outings. She comes home from school one day to see three of them in different sizes. She has those cute little flower keychains on her school bag and outing bags too because she asked Papa Toji for them. The massive white and blue circle rug in her room is from Toji.

Megumi’s winter scarf, earmuffs, and hat are made by Toji too. Megumi will never admit it out loud but he appreciates that Toji made it for him. They keep him and he doesn’t feel the wind chills nipping at his face. Megumi also appreciates his dad for making his stuffed animals. I’m projecting here but Toji made a set of plush stuffed animals after his shadows. His divine dogs, all of them. Megumi keeps them on his stuffed animal net in the top corner above his bed. Megumi wears a jacket and hoodie made by Toji all year round because of how versatile they are. In general, they’re Megumi’s favorite clothes to wear too.

Thinking about asking Toji to make a present for Nobara and Yuuji on their birthdays. You asked Nobara what her favorite color and style was while Yuuji said he wanted a new hoodie. Toji makes them pretty fast and the two are in love with their gifts. Nobara is wearing her bag EVERYWHERE, and I mean, EVERYWHERE she goes. Yuuji, like Megumi, ends up loving his hoodie that you always see him wear when he’s in casual clothes. Since Nanako and Mimiko grew up with Megumi and Tsumiki, one of Nanako’s cardigans and a pair of her socks are made by Toji while Mimiko only has a random plushie Toji made for her when she was younger because Suguru had to clean the other one.

Not me thinking about how Tsumiki, Megumi, and Mayumi(JJK OC) baby blankets are handmade by Toji himself with their own individual design and patterns. Megumi and Tsumiki’s are still in good condition even though they were lovingly used by the two throughout their whole life. Their baby hats, socks, and certain outfits were all made by him. He keeps them all in individual boxes to not lose them. Gets sentimental and nostalgic that you catch him staring as he holds the small clothes in his big hands. Reminiscing about Megumi and Tsumiki being babies and small children, now realizing that they are growing up before his eyes.

God, all of it is thoroughly well knitted and crocheted that people thought you bought it from a store. “No, actually my husband made it for me. Isn’t he skillful and amazing?” Your friends and co-workers lowkey ask you if Toji is willing to take commissions for them. They’ll pay for it obviously but they want good quality home-made items Toji makes which gives you an idea. You asked Toji if he considered making orders for other people besides his family. He did think about it but he said he would get overwhelmed when receiving orders and packing them up. You asked him if dealing with the orders and packaging them would help him change his mind. So you unintentionally set up a small business with Toji. His shop consists of blankets, bags and baskets of any kind, pot holders, rugs, coverings, and pillows. It runs where one week is for receiving orders, one month is for making them, and another month to send them out. Making a spreadsheet/list for Toji to show what he needs to make. Probably gets finished with all the orders in two weeks or something.

For some reason, Toji wears eye-glasses when he knits and crochets. You don’t know why but it makes him more handsome that your brain rots/short circuits every time you see him working away. He got you all flustered and down bad it’s insane(but absolutely valid). But you don’t understand why he would need them since he already has better vision and eye-sight than 99% of the population.

“Honey, since when do you need glasses?”

“I need it so I don’t strain my eyes when working on them?”

“Can you, like, squint? You already have 20/10 vision. You don’t need glasses when you have superhuman vision, Baby.”

“Doll, just because I have good eye-sight doesn’t mean my eyes aren’t as sensitive. My eyes are still bugged by light, shit hurts and gives me headaches. Anyway, can you pass me the blue yarn in front of ya?”

Megumi and Tsumiki always see you with their Toji. You’re chilling and minding your own business with their baby sister napping away while Toji is working away at a rug because he is bored. Even though he’s been doing this since they were young, the two still can’t get over how their dad can make a king-sized blanket(start to finish) in four hours. Or when they come home from school and see Toji finishing up on a big and long green dragon, turning to Megumi and Tsumiki asking them, “Do you two think your mom would like this?” Or they could be chilling then Toji asks them to try on the projects he finished to see how they look. Tsumiki and Megumi are his main critics, you are too but you aren’t bothered by certain details to criticize Toji’s projects so he leaves it to the kids.

Mayumi(JJK OC) is chilling by Toji as he’s working away, either sleeping away or playing with her stuffed animals close within sight. Being the three year old she is, she sometimes hides underneath the unfinished blankets and pops up from under to surprise Toji. Papa Toji gives his iconic DILF chuckle that has you  GEEKING and GIGGLING like a damn school girl when you get the chance to hear it every time. He just pats her head, calling her a little rascal or princess, then resumes.

I’m projecting once again but you know those cute crochet dolls? Like the ones with the big black eyes, big head, small body, and no mouth? Toji made those of the entire family. There’s one of himself in his iconic black compression shirt, white sweatpants, and kung fu slippers. He added a little scar too where his mouth would be. Then there is your’s, all pretty and pristine with your iconic outfit. Toji getting your colors and features down to the bone. Next is Megumi and Tsumiki, literal carbon copies of their real versions. Toji said Megumi’s hair was the hardest part to make lol. Then Mayumi’s doll is later added once she’s born. The mini Fushiguro Doll set sits on the top shelf of a pristine black display case, next to the tv, in the family room. 

He’s the type of guy you wouldn’t expect to be good at a skill like this then later found out he’s an absolute master and god among men. Toji doesn’t parade around craftsmanship because he knows how some guys have fragile egos. But he won’t shy away when people ask him about his work. Pulls out his phone to show people the things he made with two needles, one crochet hook, and a shit load of yarn.

Satoru, being the shitter he is, tries to tease and bully Toji about it. To which you reprimand and scold him for it. But Toji doesn’t care about dealing with his antics because it’s a practical skill and keeps him out of trouble. Then you remind Satoru that his winter scarf he always wears was made, the one you gifted him for his 18th birthday, was made by Toji at your request. Satoru never wore any scarf because he thought you made it for him. But for you to tell him Toji actually made it for him, Satoru shuts himself up and doesn’t shit on Toji anymore.

Toji loves it when his family uses/wears the things that he made. Usually wears a goofy smile or grin on his face to conceal his prideful yet satisfied self, knowing his creations are appreciated and loved by his family.

Tag List:

@luqueam @ploylulla @tqd4455 @wolywolymoley @captainbabybear @ravenswife

Tag List(@ w/ no links):

@szillx @g0th1xac1d @SleppyAnn @kneelarhmstrung

[cozzzynook]

Transformers one

Part two : baby on board

After b-127 sparklings are born, everybody in the decepticon base is surprised, because the sparklings are quite chubby and a lil big, bee is tired after emergence but happy with the babies,after a few days everybody in the base got to meet and hold the sparklings from rumble and frenzy (the self proclaimed cool uncles) to the always mean constructicons (thet didn't want to until they got glared by megatron and had to hold the babies before passing them between each other and then back to bee and uncle (¿grandpa?) Megs.

Some cons will get crushes when seeing bee taking care of his sparklings, sadly now if anyone wants to date bee they will have to fight megatron like it was the dark ages.

I LOVE this au/idea

Megatron is so dad/big brother coded in transformers one towards b 127 & i just know he is so protective & has open and bias favoritism for the bitties and Bee.

Bee doesn’t even abuse it, just takes care of his sparklings while staying out of the way and often around high command who literally verbally fight each other over who gets to play with and keep the bitties.

Its almost always the trine wining due to Starscream cheating or Soundwave who is a natural favorite since he’s such an amazing cassette carrier.

Poor Shockwave enjoys his turn when Bee is taking a short recharge nap but he’ll take what he can get.

Megs?

Infinite time to see and hold the bitties.

Literally the safest place they can be besides Bee’s arms.

I love this au 😭 thank you for sharing

[starscream-is-my-wife]

https://www.tumblr.com/starscream-is-my-wife/790162628073947136/if-soundwave-was-to-be-in-the-nature-documentary

So I had a thought-

If we’re saying that the humans would assign gender based mostly, though not solely, on the robots having big tits, would they think Shockwave is a girl?

Further more, Shockwave is purple -At least empurated Shovkwave is so I’m using that version of him for this- typically a ‘girly’ color, and paired with Soundwave is undeniably the more feminine shaped of the two.

Would the humans consider them like how sea horses work? Like obviously if they think Shockwave’s the ‘girl’ and Soundwave is the ‘boy’ with the cassettes as their children, then clearly the idea of the children robots popping out of the dad robots chest would be weird. So maybe the humans think of it like a sea horse situation, where the males carry the young.

Idk, just me having very tired thoughts. Sorry for the really long ask, your au and art just inspires odd (odd in the best way possible) thoughts in me.

Thanks! Also ur good, I like reading them! I think the way they assign gender to non human or animal things is less "are they male or female" and more like "this is male by default unless there is another one of the same species and if it's smaller and more feminine then it's female". We see this in characters like Donald duck (who is a duck) and daisy duck (duck who is pink and with a bow) especially since this is in the 90s I'm guessing it will be harder for a bot to be categorized as female?

Chest sizes aside, Ratchet is very expressive and has a face while not being perceived as dangerous. Like more of a really inteligent animal rather then a machine, and that opens up the potential for them to have different sexes? I think that wavewave will have a harder time garnering the same response of being more then a robot, plus they have vibes that are just off? Probably because they dont have faces. If they weren't so unsettling maybe the humans would speculate more, but Shockwave transforms into a gun! His gender? A threat.

I think I mentioned this more early on, but even Truck King is scary. He's a giant masked robot that just appeared one day. If it wasn't for Bee, tensions would have been a lot higher, and he was trying to be peaceful! As much as Pete and Zeke misconstrue things, they did contribute a lot to the bots images as a non threatening family, I don't think they would have done the same thing for wave wave and the cassettes.

Bee is around 9 feet tall? Frenzy and Rumble are 6 feet tall. Sure its smaller then Bee but that's just a tall human man. And theyre menaces. Imagine encountering them out in the woods or something and then they spot you. The ground starts to shake, you start to run but you keep tripping and falling, the other one is approaching. That's terrifying!

And then theres an even bigger robot that they go into? Are they controlling it? What is it thinking? Is it staring at you? Does it even have eyes? And then purple robot appears, it's the most non humanoid robot yet, and just as large if not larger then the blue one. Is there tinier robots controlling this robot too? But even without a face, you do know that this one is staring at you, with one bright, yellow, orb.

This is scarier then if they could talk! At least you have known what they were thinking!

Whoops, got a bit off topic there but I think that while some people may speculate about robot reproduction between those two, more would like to not think of them as a family, because that adds guilt for when they have to fight or kick them out. And with the way they act, they probably don't have feelings, it's better to get them out of here before they hurt someone!

I did do a sort of spin off with megatron and starscream as like a crack thing, but they put on a really good show and the humans really liked their drama to offset the potential threat, wavewave is reclusive and just threat 😭

Angel, Truck King, and Bee dont transform into a gun and act silly in a non harmful way, so people humanize them as a way to like them more, and a part of that is assigning them to human social structures, Ratchet just so happens to fit all of the criteria for the mom to their understanding: kind to kids, doesn't do hard physical labor (because he's a medic), rushes over whenever Truck King or Bee gets hurt (because hes a medic), kind of a bitch (hes just like that)

Also kinda spoilers but...

There's already a boom box with cassettes on the way to earth with two big boobed bots, and you read my mind cause I was also thinking about mentioning seahorses lol

[ihaznoclue]

I'm so nervous about making this request. Could I request Bumblebee, Knockout, and Optimus Prime with a reader who's a technical expert? Reader is skilled at building, handling and fixing all kinds of machinery, technology, gadgets, and gizmos.

Pairings -> Bumblebee, Knockout, Optimus Prime X Reader

Warnings -> None

Note -> Reader is an expert and skilled on building, handling and fixing machinery, technology, gadget and gizmos (Also in this you can understand bee)

Genre -> Fluff

Bumblebee

You were sort of like Raf a technical expert but with machinery and fixing some gadgets and other stuff that you could easily fix in no time

You were quite the expert in fixing stuff other than Ratchet

You could easily fix on of the autobot's weapons if you could but that could take a while but at least you were helping

Now you wanted to try something in order to fix Bumblebee's t-cog that got damaged

The scout felt helpless in battle since he couldn't really transform into his alt mode or deploy his weapons to shoot down the Cons

So you wanted to help and you did but it did take a while to fix since it was quite big

So you spent all night to fix his t-cog instead of Ratchet transferring his

Now it was morning as you haven't slept at all, everyone was now awake as everyone went to do their business

Bee on the other hand questioned on why you looked so tired

You told him that you were fine and that he should look at his t-cog

He was confused so he went over to find his t-cog fixed

He told Ratchet as ratchet was amazed by how perfect the t-cog was back in shape

Bee wanted to thank you but saw you asleep on the couch about to fall so he took you to his berth to rest

Bee was grateful to have his t-cog back and it was all thanks to you

Knockout

Since you are quite good at fixing and building stuff back together

Let's just say Knockout came back with no car door on his arm which got you confused until he ranted on how Optimus just snatched his door off

So you had no trouble on fixing it for him even if it did take a while to fix since well he was bigger and taller than you but you managed

He was grateful to have someone like you on the team

You were great at fixing, building and handling all the weapons and tools of his

He is also grateful of how carefully and gentle you were even though you were more fragile than him alone

But he knew you were careful since you knew he didn't want his paint scratched or anything other than that

But knockout would always come to you if he was scratched, destroyed or simply broken on one of his limbs

He just knows your the right person to go to

Optimus Prime

You were quite good with technology like Raf

But you were quite the expert

You would always be there if there was a problem with the technology at the base

Of Ratchet would try to fix it by simply kicking it to see if that helps but its still funny to see

Right now you were in the base with only Optimus and Ratchet as the other were on a mission and suddenly the kids again seemed to tag along (It was Mikos idea)

So right now the ground bridge is broken as well as the commination link

Luckily for them, you were at the base to help with the problem

It did take you a while and you hoped the others could hang on for a bit more

Optimus was intrigued as you were working on the ground bridge, it had seemed you already knew what to do

Optimus was quite interested on how well you knew technology and you know what to do with the ground bridge that Ratchet build ages ago

Once you were done, Optimus then linked to the others as voices went though the comm link

Seeming that you fixed both the communication link and the ground bridge

Optimus told you that you did a good job on handling that on your own

Which made you feel proud

-A<3