#Guys I'll cry

[sy5t3merr0r]

dear followers and mutuals;

I am aware of my excessive yaribu reblogs, in my defense I AM NOT and will never be normal about ybc.

Forgive me for my unhealthy obsession with old and questionable yaoi. I won't get any better :P

Your beloved sy5t3merr0r.

[lovinnelily]

We need Brazil to win for national morale, so we can reclaim our flag. We need it because it is incredibly important for our international relationships. We need it to keep sticking it to the xenophobic and the racists. Football is more important to us than any of you could imagine.

[tennant-davids]

DOCTOR WHO Series 2 / Series 4 / 60th Anniversary

[ivysangel]

Jason as a nibbler, a neck biter, a vampire. Not literally, he doesn't need blood to survive, no, but the way his mouth somehow always finds your neck, always finds a way to catch his teeth on your carotid, you'd think he did.

He comes up behind you so innocently sometimes, his hands ghosting over your hips and his hair tickling your jaw. His beautiful, soft, jet-black hair that is so quickly replaced with sharp nips of his teeth. You pull away, pushing his head back with your hand, and he groans; what did I do, his eyes say when he lifts his head to look at you. "You're biting me." you point to the teeth marks on your neck, indents a little deeper where his canines were. "I'm loving you."

You patiently wait for the day he gets carried away and accidentally draws blood, the day when the permissiveness of your flesh gives way to this indulgent behavior of his. He'll nose at the tiny droplets of blood collecting around the puncture wounds, licking and laving as a pool of iron collects on his tongue. Pulling away, looking like a wolf who's just devoured its prey, with blood smeared on the tip of his nose and his pupils blown wide.

He'd tasted blood before when he'd punched too hard, when he'd been punched too hard; the taste was always bitter in his mouth, too metallic, and always lingering long after he'd washed it away with water, but not yours. No, yours was welcome, just as bitter and metallic but also sweet? Comforting? Welcome? Yes, welcome. He'd welcomed you into his life a multitude of times, made room for you in places he'd previously thought to be too cramped. In his home, in his mind, in his heart, but the one place he could never figure out how to integrate you was his body.

Of course, he'd had sex with you, let you touch him in ways he had never been touched before, seen him at his most vulnerable, but it would never be the same for him as it was for you. You could never be inside of him the way he was inside of you. He thought he'd never know how it felt to walk around with ghosts of you inside of him the way you did when he came too deep or stretched you out too much. He thought he'd never know what it felt like to carry a part of his lover around with him outside of a material object. Now, he knew otherwise; he knew there was an alternative—a painful, bloody alternative—but an alternative nonetheless.

[perpetuallyconfused10]

Im the one who asked about requests lol, I just have this Hotch thought and I can't stop thinking about it 🫂😭

Imagine Garcia "screaming" about a video, telling the whole team about it (except Hotch and Reader), and that video is on tiktok. When they spill something about the video, Hotch and Reader ask which video they're referring to, not knowing it's from a tiktok account where the person makes videos on Hotch x Reader (like edits taken from some interview where they look at each other, slightly touches and things like that) and it's a whole profile with a lot of videos like that! So the whole team teases them and they obviously like eachother!!

Feel free to change anything!!

Gone Viral, Gone Wrong

Thank you to this anon for submitting my first request! I might have written it (and especially Hotch) be a little (way) too sappy, but I love your idea so much and I hope I did it some type of justice! WC: 3.3K

GIF by ssa-aaron-hotch-hotchner

There must be something on your face. Toothpaste, maybe, or coffee on your shirt, or a tear in your trousers. Something to explain the numerous pairs of eyes following you as you dash for the elevator, just as you always do. 

This morning’s been one for the books. Between a text from your highschool ex-boyfriend, congratulating you on your ‘newfound fame’ — whatever he means by that, you don’t know — and the incomprehensibly slurred voicemails you woke up to from your sister, you aren’t quite sure what to do with yourself.

You tell yourself you’re probably imagining it. But Anderson doesn’t say a word to you as you both make your way to the BAU, just casts you sidelong glances between the rapid texts he’s sending. You hope to God it’s not you, that he's just having an awful morning, then scold yourself for it. If you’re not off to a good start, at least somebody should be.

It’s the silence in the bullpen that confirms your suspicions. Emily, JJ, and Garcia sit huddled around Emily’s computer, squeezed onto two chairs they’ve pulled together. Morgan leans over them to look at the screen. He’s in the middle of laughing at something Garcia’s said when you walk in. 

You don’t even need Reid’s not-so-subtle hiss of “Guys–” to know you’re not going crazy. The smirks that drop from their faces, the giggles that extinguish themselves as you enter through the double doors, are more than enough. 

Four profilers and a technical analyst, as it turns out, can be rather terrifying when the force of their stares are directed at you. 

A sheepish grin tugs at your lips as you hold up your peace offering: a tray of coffee. “Hi?”

You’ve come to know how the team works. You know exactly how they react when ambushed, how they spring to action like a well-oiled machine.

There’s something a little mechanical to them now, bared in their responses to your arrival. After giving you one of his usual tight-lipped smiles, Reid flips open a random file on his desk and begins to read. JJ grabs the computer mouse, clicks a few times, and turns away from the monitor to greet you. Morgan clocks the drinks in your hands and conjures a grin just a little wider than normal. 

“Morning, sunshine,” he says as he plucks the tray from your hands, thanking you with a squeeze to your forearm. 

Garcia, eyeing the gesture, nearly chokes on the end of the pen she’s chewing. She stands to usher you over to your desk, her chirpy voice a balm attempting to smooth over what has been a very odd start to your working day. 

“What were you guys looking at?” You ask her, eyebrows raised. If anyone’s going to tell you what’s going on, Penelope is, without a doubt, most likely to spill.

You’re disappointed – and even more confused – when she stands her ground. Through her ramble, you just about make out the words “cat” and “spa” before she’s kissing your cheek and speeding away to your lair. 

You sigh as you switch on your own computer. One thing is clear. The team doesn’t like to be ambushed. And, somehow, that is exactly what you have done. 

—

After finishing off one of your consults, you suffer through a morning briefing that ends up being far more complicated than it needs to be. It’s only a paperwork day, by the looks of things. In theory, this is the ‘easiest’ your job gets; if you’re not called out on an emergency, you can bank on a day of case reports and shitty coffee. 

Nothing is ever easy at the BAU, not even now. Everything is out of order. There’s none of the usual idle chatter that precedes a briefing, just a fragile silence. Rossi moves from his normal position to take your place between Reid and JJ. He mutters something about the chair being uncomfortable and shoos you away from your seat. Though you can’t resist the opportunity to call him an old man for his pedantics, you acquiesce and take his spot instead. You find nothing wrong with it. 

Then Hotch walks in to start the briefing, and you find about a hundred reasons to curse David Rossi. He’s wearing the gray suit, again, the one he likes pairing with his red tie. That should be a crime in itself. When he takes the only seat available — his usual seat, the one now next to you — you’re almost sure you hear JJ snort. Emily pats her on the back as she conceals it with a very unconvincing cough.

Hotch frowns in your direction, probably mulling over the change in seating plan, then turns his attention to JJ. “Are you alright?”

The blonde clears her throat. “Fine. Thanks, Hotch,” she says. 

Garcia rests her elbows on the table, her mouth concealed by the palm of her hand. 

Hotch nods, casting another short glance your way. “Good.”

Then he launches into the briefing, and you can almost convince yourself things are perfectly normal, that your face isn’t alight with heat and you’re not avoiding looking at him, that everything is fine. When you’re dismissed, you scurry towards the door fast enough you almost miss it. 

“Garcia?” His voice is quiet, his tone soft with something disapproving hiding beneath it. “My office, please.”

Everything is decidedly not fine. 

—

By noon, you can’t take it anymore. “Emily Prentiss, what the fuck are you doing?”

The question comes out louder and more harshly than you’d intended. In your peripheral vision, you see Reid’s eyes widen at the desk next to yours. Emily, halfway through a sandwich, freezes. 

“I’m sorry?”

The grin fades from her face. 

You huff. “You’ve been looking between me and your computer for the last half-hour. What is it? Is there something on my face?” Morgan laughs from the other side of the bullpen, and you raise your voice a little in desperation. “Seriously. Have I done something wrong?”

JJ must have heard the commotion, because she pokes her head out of her office door. She takes one look at you and sighs. “Probably best to get it over with, Em.”

When Emily hesitates, your eyes narrow. “Get what over with?”

She stands and beckons you over to her desk, firing up her computer screen as you settle into her chair. JJ comes down the stairs to join you. Though they don’t move, you can practically feel Morgan and Reid staring at the three of you from across the room. 

What you see projected on Emily’s screen doesn’t make things any clearer.

“That’s—” you pause, dumbfounded. “Why are you looking at me and Hotch?”

The picture is easy to place. It must have been taken a few days ago, during a small-town case. Hotch had asked you to deliver a profile to the media when JJ was working on something else. It was far from the first time you’d faced the press head-on during your time at the Bureau, but Hotch had stood by your side anyway. 

You’re not sure why she’s chosen this photo, if any, to look at. The wind’s blowing your hair into your face, and you’re midway through changing expressions so it almost looks like you’re in pain. 

“Just watch,” Emily says. She presses the spacebar and the picture bursts into action.

—

“—If you believe you have any information that may relate to this case, we’d appreciate you calling the following number…” you say. You proceed to rattle off the number for the tip line JJ’s set up, but only get halfway through before everything derails. 

“How do we know this isn’t all just bullshit?” 

The voice overpowering yours is weathered, and so is the man who pushes through the crowd of journalists to get close to you and Hotch, whose posture you see straighten in an instant. You watch as the reporters from the city turn to look at the interloper, pens out and waiting, no doubt, for either you or your boss to slip up.

For a long moment, Hotch watches the man, his face twisted in irritation. He merely restates the tip line number and your request for any potential witnesses to come forward.

But the skeptic doesn’t let up. “This guy’s an outsider. Not one of us. Everyone here knows each other, they have done for years—”

“We’re not trying to cause a panic,” you say, your tone even, “We don’t want you all to turn on each other. But the man we’re looking for knows this town. He’s confident finding his way around the forest, even the areas that haven’t been mapped out yet. He knows the shortcuts, which roads are quiet and which are too risky to take. We’re asking you to exercise caution, and to report anything suspicious if you see it.”

“So what? A few pins on a map and you’re convinced it’s one of us?”

Hotch’s jaw tightens. This case has been harder on him than most, and you can sense that he’s on the verge of responding in a way he’ll regret later. You put a hand on his forearm as he raises it to retort, squeezing it gently in the hopes he’ll get the signal you really don’t have the seniority to be sending him: stand down. He takes a deep breath, and you let your hand slide down to meet his wrist, guiding it just a fraction backwards to rest by his side. The contact lasts only a second, maybe two, before you let him be. 

When he finally speaks, his voice is measured, his eyes slow to drag themselves from your face. “We’re not here to defend the science behind criminal profiling. Our priorities remain finding the person responsible for these crimes and the safety of this community until we do. If you have any information at all, please don’t hesitate to contact us. We appreciate your cooperation.”

Even the most amateur journalist would know he’s done answering questions. Hotch gives a brief nod, turns and leads you out of the Georgia heat and back into shelter of the precinct. All the time, his hand hovers over your back, his gaze searching for any potential disruptions. 

Then there’s his voice, deep and almost inaudible. You feel his breath brush your earlobe. “Thank you.”

—

Oh. 

Now you’re looking at it from an outsider’s perspective, you do look a little…cozy with Hotch. Not enough to walk the line of unprofessionalism, but enough for you to notice it. 

Emily folds her arms, leans back in her chair. “What’s that about?”

Avoiding her eyes, you shrug. “What’s what about?”

“The canoodling,” JJ says with a smirk, and you slap her arm. 

You’re a profiler. You should know your little attempt at denial isn’t going to work, but it doesn’t stop you from trying. “Canoodling? Seriously, Jen? I don’t think anyone under the age of eighty has ever said the word ‘canoodling’.”

You hear Penelope’s kitten heels clacking against the floorboards before you see her. “Doesn’t mean you’re not doing it,” she sings. Her arms wrap around your shoulders from behind.

You groan. “Penny, you know I love you, but what are you doing here?”

“I got lonely,” she says, and her expression is so genuine that you can’t even bring yourself to be upset with her. “Just wait…”

Leaning over you to press the escape button, she exits out of full screen mode and points to the corner of the screen. When you read the number she’s showing you, your breakfast threatens to make a reappearance.

“Would you look at that?” Emily laughs. “It’s gone up.”

You blink. Once, twice, three times. And once more, for good measure. “Six-hundred-and-fifty thousand people have seen that?”

It all starts to make sense. The texts, the calls, the stares, the team’s behavior…you don’t know whether to be relieved or horrified. On the bright side, you’ve done nothing wrong, nothing that could get you fired. But more than half a million people have seen you practically mooning over your boss.

Emily makes a noncommittal noise. “Half of them were probably Garcia. And a good twenty-five or so were us, if that helps.”

“It doesn’t,” You resist the urge to slam your head against the desk. You’ll have to settle for burying it in your hands instead. “Six hundred and…fuck. And they all think–?”

“—That you’re in love with our boss? And that he’s in love with you? Yes.”

“Oh, fuck.” “They think that, too,” says JJ, sounding sympathetic. If it weren’t for the frankly dastardly smile on her face, you’d think she was on your side.

Picturing the general population witnessing you make an idiot of yourself is bad enough. How do you even conceptualize that many people? How many stadiums could you fill solely with people who have seen you head over heels for your boss? Even worse is the thought of Anderson, or your parents, or – God forbid – even Strauss having seen it. You’ll be suspended. Fired. Or, even worse, be called into a mediated meeting with Hotch and HR, where they’ll ask him if you’ve been making him feel uncomfortable. 

Emily’s voice pulls you from your shame spiral. “And there’s more, too.”

This world hates you. You’re certain of that as she opens Twitter, putting “FBI agents” into the search bar and bombarding you with hundreds, maybe thousands, of tweets with your image attached. Some are disturbingly sweet. Others poke fun at how obvious you are, and even more disturbingly, seem to think your feelings are reciprocated. That’s not a mental path you can allow yourself to go down. 

“So…” You say after a long ten minutes. “What do we do?”

Footsteps, then Rossi appears at the stop of the stairs. “You go back to work. Your break’s over.”

He’s lucky you’re so fond of him. Had it been anyone else (save maybe one person) to disrupt your shame spiral, you’d have been furious. More than furious. You’re still a little irritated now.

There was nothing wrong with his fucking chair. 

—

Your mission is simple. Avoid. Deny. Deflect. The rest of your afternoon drags along in a blur of paperwork and teasing comments you choose to ignore (mostly courtesy of Morgan — JJ and Emily have decided you’re nearing your breaking point and vow to leave you alone). 

Five o’clock can’t come soon enough. Even when it does, there’s no reprieve. Reid turns out to be the one to betray you as everyone else packs up to leave, their files in his hand. “Sorry,” he whispers. To his credit, he looks like he means it.

“Judas,” you hiss back, but you stand and take the reports from him anyway. 

Morgan raises an eyebrow at you. “Going somewhere special?” 

You flip him off, muttering something under your breath that sounds just a little like “your funeral”. 

The stairs to Hotch’s office feel much longer and much steeper than usual. At every step you reconsider. Reid’s probably still heading for the elevator now. If you catch him, you can guilt him into doing this instead. But your thoughts carry you close enough for Hotch to spot your approach through the blinds. He rises from his desk, opening the door before you can even reach for the handle. 

You can’t even look him in the eyes. “Hi.”

Stepping aside to let you inside, he says your name, and it sounds so warm coming from his mouth. You wonder if he knows about your newfound fame, too. He seems to be focusing his stare directly between your eyebrows. 

“I just came to drop these off.” 

As if your words aren’t explanation enough, you hold up the files for him to see.

“Thank you.” Hotch reaches out to take them, and you feel his fingers brush yours as he does. He stops before the exchange is over. “Are you alright? You seem distracted.”

It won’t be long now before the sun sets. It’s making its final play for glory now, golden light filtering through the window and settling over Hotch’s face. Hints of amber tones surface in his eyes, usually so dark and unreadable, making him appear much softer than usual. Safer.

You sigh. “I think some people got a little more out of that press release in Georgia than we intended them to.”

“Oh. Yes.”

“You know about that?”

You wouldn’t half mind if a wormhole opened up, right there in his office, and transported you to another universe where you don’t even have to think about this moment ever again.

“I do.” He winces. “Garcia’s computer system is the most secure in the FBI, but she doesn’t have an inside voice.”

The dry comment shocks a laugh out of you. “No, she doesn’t. But…it’ll die down, right? No one is actually going to believe that. Us being together would be—”

“Unprofessional,” Hotch supplies after a beat. “Very unprofessional.”

He reaches backwards to put the files you’ve given him on his desk, somehow managing to do so without actually taking a step away from you. If anything, he gets a little closer. 

“Exactly. Strauss would kill us if we even thought about it,” you say, “Not that we would, I’m just…”

Now he looks down at you, straight into your eyes. You swear his pupils are dilated, that he slips for just a half-second and lets his attention drift down to your lips. “There’d be a lot of paperwork.”

You nod. “Too much, really. You’ve got enough already. It’d also be…”

“…Nice.”

Hotch stops breathing, lips downturned in a frown. You’re sure you’ve heard him wrong. But half a minute passes, and he doesn’t retract his statement, though he looks as if he’s close to doing so.

“I’m sorry?” Your voice is barely above a whisper. He’s close enough you catch a hint of his cologne, and the woody scent of it makes your head spin. 

“I can say it again,” he says through a long exhale, searching your face for any sign of discomfort as he takes another step closer. His breath ghosts your neck. “Or we can forget this ever happened.”

Your answer is almost immediate. “Let’s not do that.”

Hotch tilts your chin up so you’re forced to look at him. You lean upwards to meet him halfway in a kiss that is soft and tentative, the sort that promises everything and asks for nothing in return. One of your hands cups his jaw, and both of his find their way home to your waist, rubbing circles into your skin through your shirt. You smile against his lips. He leans forward as if to chase yours when you pull away.  It hits you, now, that this is really happening. The months you've been agonizing over this - whether to make a move or to shut the part of you that cares for him away - have led you here. There's much you've got to think over: what this means for both of your careers, the risk to the team's dynamic, whether it'll even work in the long run, if Hotch wants that too. You know he's thinking the same thing; his face adopts the same mask of concentration it always does when he's considering something. You take a deep breath. It might be hard, but does that stop it from being worth a shot? In the end, you don't think it does.

“I think I’m gonna order takeout tonight,” you say quietly. “There’s a really good Thai place down the street from me.”

Hotch clears his throat. “That sounds nice.”

Shaking your head, you rest both hands on his shoulders, laugh at him. “That was my way of asking you if you wanted to join me.”

“Oh.” 

His brow furrows. For a terrible moment, you think he’s about to say no. And then, “Haley has Jack tonight. I…I’d like that.”

You beam, pull back, and head towards his desk to find a pen and a scrap bit of paper. “Here’s my address.” A quick glance down into the bullpen, which is thankfully empty. “Give it ten minutes, then follow me?”

“Okay,” Hotch says. Even you can tell he’s grinning like an idiot, and you make a note of the rare expression. “Okay. I’ll see you soon?”

Squeezing his hand, you kiss his cheek and walk towards the door. “Soon.”

You feel his eyes on you until you reach the elevator.

If you got this far, thank you for reading! I've watched a lot more Dharma and Greg than CM, lately, so I have a feeling that my version of soft!Hotch is currently just a grownup version of Greg Montmgomery????

[the-one-that-weeps]

I know the fandom loves making Rui cry. Hell, I love making Rui more than anything. But I think we're also missing that Rui— never cries.

I think it adds onto the subhuman factor. After all, monsters don't get to have emotions, was there ever a story where a monster cried? Exactly.

I think it's also remarkable that the time we see Rui close to breaking into tears — Curtain Call — he does NOT cry. In fact, Asahi describes it as "a weird face". suits him quite well, doesn't it?

Rui doesn't know how to cry. He can scrunch his face but... He just doesn't know how to.

And then we arrive at Our Happy Ending and he's laughing and crying with all his friends, a messy pile of hugs and arms and warmth and utter desperation for the lost. And he cries, and there are little tears in the corners of his eyes when he leaves the Wonder Stage. He doesn't realize it at first, but when Nene sneers at him and Tsukasa gives him a tissue he suddenly does.

Maybe monsters can cry too.

[thekittyokat]

you ever just have a lot, a LOT of feelings all at once about a character and not even remotely enough words or brainpower to FORM the words to describe everything you're feeling. so it feels like you may explode. yeah

[noxious-fennec]

"الخيل و الليل و البيداء تعرفني ... والسيف و الرمح و القرطاس و القلم" ، المتنبي

Translation: "the stallions, the night and the wasteland know me ... and the sword, the arrow, the parchment, and the pen", Al-Mutanabbi

A tribute of sorts to a man of many attributes.

[terrific-twist]

Drawin them makin out if this posts gets to a 400 in 3 days/jk

[citruscore]

sleepover redux

[buckttommy]

tommy kinard shaping up to being the taylor swift of the fandom.... you either like him or you don't but either way you ARE going to hear about him from a bunch of mentally ill queer people who are completely abnormal about his existence

[just-somedude]

.

[just-null-cult]

the way you drew kokichi .. i think im ascending to the heavens .. i see the light .. chest collapsing .. heartbeat flatlining ..

oho, a Kokichi enjoyer!! tysm!! it was my first time drawing him at the time so im glad i didnt fail him. i dont want to fail any of the kyoto group. i love them all!! even w my clear favoritism

he's nice too, a bit more expressive than Noritoshi so i can finally draw something that isnt :| or >:( even if it isnt by much- i like him too

I like how he's both a dick but also kinda sweet. He's a different flavor of tsun... i can use this. my knowledge on him is limited but FROM WHAT I SAW IN THE WIKI OH MY GOD???????? OH MY GOD!!!!!!!!!!!! KOKICHI!!!!!!!!!!!!! WHAT THE FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[scrollonso]

First Kiss (Birthday 1)

A strollonso AU where 18 year old rookie Lance Stroll falls helplessly in love with the notoriously mean world champion. (3.9k words, angst, alcohol, internalized homophobia, religious talk, teary eyed lance, unprotected sex, aftercare) [@v3lnys @biancathecool] {I love this chapter sm}

last part - masterlist - next part

Lance knew it was going to be weird, seeing Fernando the day after he stole his first kiss. It had been all that was on his mind for the past 24 hours.

Even while his mind was racing with the memories of the Spaniards lips on his he walked into the venue as if everything was normal. People were already filling the room, he wasn't expecting such a large party considering his birthday had already passed but when he considered the Spaniards success this season it made sense

People were distracted, everyone seemingly knowing everyone. Fernando excused himself from the conversation he was partaking in to welcome the Canadian.

"Lancito, I'm glad you came" He smiled at him, as if everything was normal, as if he hadn't had his hands on the others waist as their lips tangled together the day before.

"Hi- yeah, uh, I wouldn't miss it" Lance almost hit himself for being so obviously anxious, he felt the urge to talk about it, he needed to talk about it and Fernando was the only one he could speak to about it, he'd been too ashamed to even admit he had kissed the man to anyone.

"Let's get you a drink, eh? Loosen you up a bit" Fernando grabbed Lances hand, their fingers naturally locking together as if they were molded to fit perfectly together.

It wasn't the first time their hands had been together this way, considering how close they were the day before there was no reason for Lance to be so flustered by the small touch but he was. He almost tripped over his feet as he walked because he was so busy with his eyes glued at their hands, Fernandos skin seemed to glow in the lighting of the room, he wasn't dressed up, most people weren't, but he still looked gorgeous, the contrast of his light shirt and tanned skin was almost breathtaking, Lance would admire the Spaniards beauty forever if he could.

"What would you like, mi sol?" Fernando asked, turning to face Lance, the Canadians eyes quick to meet the older mans

"Uhm, I'm fine with anything" He pursed his lips slightly, eyes not leaving the Spaniards face as he continued admiring him, the way the waves of his hair fell perfectly, his brown eyes seeming to glow in the dim light of the room, the way the entire room seemed to fall silent as he was captivated by Fernando

He nodded, turning to the bartender to order for the younger man and himself.

Fernando was busy, of course he was, it was his party. Lance didn't feel welcome without Fernando by his side, sure, Nico was there, he liked Nico enough, but Nico didn't make him feel how Fernando did. Didn't make his heart flutter, didn't make him lick his lips any time he thought of him, didn't make him consider sinning in the ways Fernando did.

"You good?' Nico asked, a slightly watered down drink in his hand, too distracted speaking to anyone who passed to drink.

"Great" Lance flashed a smile and nod, downing the rest of his drink, trying to ignore the disgusting taste it left in his mouth.

Lance's eyes fell on Fernando, seeing how he laughed and how close he was to the women he was conversating with, he was annoyed, not sober enough to fight back the nasty look on his face.

Fernando turned his head, locking eyes with Lance and staying that way for a minute, the Canadian could've swore he saw the older man wink before going back to his conversation, his face changing from upset to confused, why would Fernando be winking at him when he's surrounded by beauitful women and has been all night?

Fernando was painfully obviously straight, he frequently had girls all over him but Lance never saw Fernando go to them first, never saw his eyes flicker from their eyes to their lips, never saw his hands grabbing their waist and pushing them against a wall, he felt insane for even thinking that maybe he was different to Fernando, it was a crazy thought, a sinful thought.

The night seemed to speed by for Fernando, as it got later and later people began to excuse themselves to return home.

Lance hadn't noticed as the new day began, having drank way too much to register how time works

"Lancito" A voice called, he looked up from his glass right away

"Nando!" He smiled, automatically wrapping his arms tightly around the spaniard

"Hello, mi sol" Fernando smiled, wrapping an arm around Lance while he used the other to pay for the youngers tab and push the glass away from his seat "Are you tired, Lancito?" He asked, earning a quiet no from the boy "Well, I think it's time to leave anyway"

Fernando hummed as he stood up, a familliar arm around Lances waist as he guided him outside, through the parking lot, and into the passenger side seat of his car. Nico had left earlier so this was the only way to get Lance home

"What's your room number, Lancito?" He spoke softly, brushing the hair from the boys face as he awaited a response

"I-" hiccup "I dunno"

Fernando smiled slightly, nodding and buckling the boy up before heading to their hotel, figuring having a drunk Lance in his bed again wouldn't be too hard.

Fernando opened his hotel door, a hand still resting on Lances waist as he guided the boy to a chair by his bed

"Sit, mi sol, let me get you some water"

Lance nodded, sitting down and rubbing his eyes, his brain slowly registering his surroundings and his body realizing how late it was

"Here, Lancito, drink" Fernando held out a glass, watching carefully as Lance took it and drank

Fernando sat on his bed as Lance began to sober up, he could feel the canadians eyes on him, watching every time he moved slightly. He eventually made eyecontact with the boy, he could tell there was something he wanted to say

"What is it?" Fernando asked, sitting up to take a good look at the Canadian

"I think i'm in love with you" He blurted out, eyes widening as he realized what he had just confessed "I don't- I didn't- uhm, I don't know why, I don't even know if I like boys, I don't know if I like you or I admire you- I-" He trailed off, Fernando's eyes on him as he waited for the boy to finish "I'm terrified"

"You are in love with me?" He echoed

"Fuck" Lance muttered, standing up, and running his fingers anxiously through his hair "I'm sorry- I shouldn't have said that." He breathed out, licking his lips as he avoided Fernandos gaze

"Lancito" He stood up as well, quick to go over to Lance and place his hand softly on the boys upper arm, encouraging the taller man to look at him "Is okay, what are you sorry for?"

"I can't love you, Nando- It's-" He furrowed his brows, not sure why the older man didn't just understand, Lance hardly understood, Fernando was older than him why did he have to explain this "It's wrong, It's a sin, If I continue to act on this, Nando, I-"

"Hey" He spoke softly, everything about the man was comforting to Lance "What makes you think that, Lancito? Is nothing wrong with this, you loving me is not a sin, is just life"

"It is, Nando, I know- I know you don't have faith, you don't believe, you don't have to but-" He stumbled over his words, tears threatening to escape with every blink "I do, Fernando. I believe, If God says that this is a sin, Fernando, I can't live with myself if I do this willingly."

"What exactly is this, to you?" Fernando asked, pleading for the boy to give him a straight answer "What are we, what am I to you? How do you feel about me, mi sol?"

"Nando, You know how I-"

"Tell me."

"Fuck, Fernando, I don't-" He looked away from the man, lip quivering as he broke down, hands rushing to cover his face as the tears began to fall

"Ay, mi sol" He breathed, quick to pull the boy into his arms, one hand trailing through his uncut hair, the other taking a familiar position on his waist

"I-" He felt like he couldn't breathe, hands grabbing onto Fernandos shirt as he cried into the mans chest, he felt weak.

"Te quiero mucho, Lancito" Fernando whispered into the boys ear, lips brushing against his skin as he continued "Please, mi sol, please let me. Let me love you. Let me worship you. I have no God, let me devote myself to you. Let me show you how deeply I adore you, por favor."

Lance couldn't speak, all he could do was melt into the Spaniards touch as he sat down on the corner of the bed with the boy, keeping him close as he patiently awaited a response, even if it was no, even if he was disgusted, he needed something.

"If I was a girl-" He started, breaking the silence of the silence to choke out the words, not wanting to believe them himself "If I was a girl, loving you wouldn't be a sin."

Fernando felt like he just got punched in the gut hearing that, his eyes meeting Lances who's were filled with tears broke his heart "Mi sol.." He breathed out, unsure what to say, he understood how Lance felt, he was well aware of Lance's religious family and what exactly that meant but hearing it from Lance hurt

"I want to, Nando, I really want to." His voice cracked, eyebrows practically knitted together as he tried to blink back tears

"You can, please, mi sol, is nothing wrong with this, with us, with loving eachother." The Spaniard tried to convince the boy, praying it'd be easy, he wasn't sure how much longer he could stand to see his Lancito so hurt because of him.

"But-" He started, unsure what he was going to say in protest

"No, I know i am right, is just me and you here, no?" Fernando asked, earning a nod from the younger man "Your God will forgive, anyone who truly loves you will be okay with this, am okay with this, is okay."

It made sense in Lance's head, Fernando always made sense in his head, he trusted him with everything. Both of them fell silent, doing nothing but looking at eachother, Lance couldn't shake the feeling that this was wrong but if they weren't meant to be this close then they wouldn't be.

"Can I kiss you?" The older man spoke again, seeming hesitant to even suggest it now, without even thinking Lance connected their lips, how his god felt about this meant nothing when Fernandos lips on his was all his heart desired.

The Spaniard was quick to move his hands to Lance's waist, pulling him closer as they kissed, the younger man sinking into his grip, following his lead.

Fernando opened his mouth slightly, teeth grabbing onto the Canadians lip as a way to pull them closer, they could never be close enough.

Lance gasped, Fernandos teeth digging in slightly deeper after he heard the response he got out of the boy, his light pants between each kiss like music to the Spaniards ears.

The older man moved Lance slightly, lowering the two of them onto his bed, having himself positioned perfectly on top of him before he pulled away

"Nando" Lance started, lust filled eyes staring up at his Fernando, the room was lit just enough that it looked like the boys eyes were sparkling, Fernando absolutely adored his eyes.

"Is this okay?" Fernando asked, moving his gaze away from Lance's face to grab the hem of the taller mans shirt. Lance followed his hands, he wanted to, he trusted Fernando, of course he did, but he couldn't help but be scared.

"I don't know how-" He practically whispered, breaking the eye contact between the two of them "I've never done this before"

"Let me take care of you." He spoke softly, making Lance's heart flutter, Lance knew he was safe, Fernando would never do anything bad to Lance and everyone had slowly came to realize that

"Okay" Lance nodded, looking back up to Fernando "Yeah, Yeah this is okay"

"Sit up, mi sol" He instructed, taking off Lance's shirt once he did, he could tell the boy was nervous, even after sobering up it made sense for him to be. "I'll be gentle with you" Fernando promised, planting soft kisses on the corner of Lance's mouth as he laid him back down, slowly moving his lips lower

Lance closed his eyes, moving his hands to cover his face as Fernando bit his neck softly, gasping at the pleasant feeling.

"So pretty" Fernando spoke against the younger mans skin, hand moving to his jaw to expose more of his skin, lips traveling up Lance's jawline and leaving kisses behind his ear

"Nando, please" Lance begged, voice shaking

"Please what, mi sol?" Fernando sat up, looking at Lance for direction

"Touch me, please, Nando, do something" He whined, reaching to grab Fernandos hand, he wasn't even sure how he wanted the older man to touch him he just knew he needed something, anything.

"Okay, Lancito, I will" He whispered, placing a light peck on the boys lips and interlocking their fingers before moving his other hand down to the Canadians belt, taking it off for him "You are sure? You want this?" Fernando asked again, not wanting to take advantage of the boy considering how much he drank and how he'd just opened up to him.

"Please, I need it, Nando please." As Lance spoke he got more and more desperate, Fernando feeling as the taller man brought up his hips in desperation, body begging to feel any type of friction

He nodded, finally going to give the boy want he wanted. He lifted Lance on his own this time, sliding his dress pants down and off, shoes already disgarded somewhere in the room.

After placing his pants at the foot of the bed he brought his attention back to Lance, squeezing his hand slightly as he brushed his thumb over the boys bulge, seeing his head arch back slightly, body still aching for more and who was Fernando to deny his sun of anything?

He moved his and Lance's hand closer to his mouth, kissing his knuckles softly before letting him go, using both hands to take off the younger mans briefs, not realizing he was leaving him fully exposed while Fernando still had every inch of his body covered

"Nando" Lance protested, reaching for the mans shirt, desperate to take something of his off as he laid down, his body on display for him.

"I know, is okay, Lancito" The Spaniard spoke, planting a kiss on the boys forehead before undressing himself, turning slightly in order to place his clothes on the floor, Lance sat up again, eyes examining his body since this was the first time he was seeing all of him, his gaze landed on the samurai tattoo decorating his neck and upper back, he wasn't sure why but the sight of Fernandos inked skin alone was enough to make his cock throb, a quiet whimper escaping his lips

He felt intimidated as the older man turned back to face him, finding himself leaning onto the bed before the shorter man even spoke

The Spaniard smiled, finding his way on top of Lance once again, a hand placed on Lance's thigh as he spoke "You're so good for me, Lancito"

The words didn't seem like much but to Lance they were life changing, he whined at the praise, moving his hips slightly in efforts to recieve any kind of friction, he needed Fernando to hurry up.

"So desperate, mi sol, I've barely even touched you" He cooed, finally moving his focus to the boys body, eyes landing on the tattoo placed on his upper ribs. He brought his hand up the boys waist, thumb brushing over the hebrew lettering before moving onto his core, littering soft kisses down the boys stomach until he reached the base of his cock, Lance already squirming under him "So pretty, you are so perfect, Lancito"

With each praise that came out of Fernandos lips it only left Lance more desperate, needing more, he was beginning to get impatient until he felt a hand brush over his member, applying light pressure that alone could've made Lance come undone on the spot

"Nando" He whined, moving his hand to grab onto the older mans wrist, bringing it back to where Lance needed it most

"Can not have you finish too soon, mi princesa" He explained, the use of a new nickname leaving Lance's skin even more flushed than it had already become, he loved every nickname the Spaniard gave him but something about being his always made him feel special.

"Please, I just need you to touch me, Nando" He begged, Fernandos lips curling slightly as he listened to the boy

"Okay, okay" He nodded, sitting down on the bed besides Lance as he instructed the boy to reposition himself, getting on his hands and knees with little hesitation.

He brought his hand up to the boys waist, squeezing his hips slightly as he leaned over to the bedside table, grabbing a bottle of lube he'd been given as a gag gift, now he was more than greatful for whoever decided to make the joke.

He opened the bottle and got some on his hand, thumb brushing the boys hip softly "Am going to start, okay?"

Lance nodded quickly, he needed him to start, he needed anything, anything Fernando gave him he'd take

Fernando inserted a finger, careful at first because he was well aware this is Lance's first time doing anything like this, the boy shuddered under him, eyes closing at the cold feeling of Fernando's single digit inside of him

"More, Nando, please" He spoke, gasping as Fernando did what he asked. He could feel his fingers opening him, getting him ready, it was a new feeling but Lance adored it, his brain foggy as the reality of the situation hit him. Fernando was good with his fingers, reaching places and getting reactions out of Lance that the younger boy didn't know was possible.

"Sound so pretty for me, Lancito" Fernando's voice made Lance feel different, he still spoke the same but the combination of the praise and the feeling of his fingers deep inside of him caused a pit to form in his stomach, cock twitching slightly every time he moved

"Fuck, Nando, Please, Please I need more" Fernando nodded at the boys words, leaning forward to plant a kiss on his neck before adding a third and final finger, stretching Lance just enough so the Spaniard could fit inside without causing the boy too much pain.

Fernando turned Lance around, taking off his own briefs before pulling the Canadian onto his lap, watching as he moved to hide is face in the crook of his neck.

The older man moved back, leaning against the headboard as he lifted Lance by his hips to line himself up with his hole, whispering praises as he finally put the tip in, Lance gasping as his body sunk onto Fernandos cock, eyes squeezing shut against Fernandos skin as he felt himself getting filled up

He didn't move at first, waiting for Lance to get used to the feeling of him. When the Canadian started grinding slightly, looking for friction once again, he knew it was time to start moving

"Let me do the work" Fernando whispered, kissing the back of Lance's ear as his hands settled back on his hips "I'll take care of you, princesa"

With that he began to move, Lance's arms draped over the mans shoulders, his hands finding their way to the mans back and digging into his tattoo slightly as he felt Fernandos length moving inside of him, whining into his skin with every thrust

Lance could barely bring himself to think about anything but Fernandos cock, if this was so wrong why was it making him feel so good?

Lance and Fernando were close, practically every inch of their skin that coud be touching was touching, Lance's cock trapped between both of their torsos, dripping with precum as Fernando found his prostate, adoring how Lance practically meweld every time the older man made contact with it.

"Nando, Nando I'm-" His voice was shaky, barely able to form words as his head spun, feeling euphoric because of how the Spaniard was using his cock

"Cum, Lancito, cum for me" He instructed, continuing at the same pace inside of him as he felt his orgasm building, the feeling of Lance beginning to clench around him pushing him closer and closer.

He leaned Lance back slightly, wanting to watch as he came for him, not regreting his choice as he saw the way the boy shook softly in his arms, his cum covering both of their torsos and finally pushing Fernando over the edge.

Lance's breathing was heavy, he was quick to melt into Fernandos touch as he rode out both of their highs, something so intimate about the position they were in

"You did so good, princesa, so, so good for me." Fernando raved, cupping the boys face with his hands to cover him in soft kisses

Lance hummed, a soft smile on his face as he felt Fernandos lips on his face, ending with a loving kiss on his lips, this was perfect.

"Let's clean up" Fernando spoke again, hand brushing through Lance's hair as he stood up, Lance whining at the empty feeling he was left with "We can sleep after" Lance liked the sound of them both sleeping, he liked the sound of both of them together, it felt almost unreal as he gazed up at Fernando, nothing but admiration in his eyes as he appreciated the man in front of him

"Come on" Fernando laughed, moving to help Lance up as they made their way to the bathroom, grabbing both of them a towel and running a bath for him and the boy.

As they got out Fernando wrapped a towel around hinself, moving to dry of Lance's hair before wrapping him up as well

"I can dry my own hair, Nando"

"I can dry your hair too" They both smiled, they hadn't been able to stop smiling since they'd gotten to the bathroom and when Fernando pulled Lance to lay on top of him after they got dressed they still had grins on their faces

"Thank you, Nando" He heard Lance whisper, laying his head on the Spaniards chest

"You're welcome, Lancito" He hummed, moving his hand to stroke Lance's hair once more, admiring the boy that was slowly falling asleep on him, his boy.

Nothing else mattered in this moment, he didn't care about anything else besides the person breathing quietly in his arms. Lance was right, Fernando didn't have faith in a religion, in a god, in a book. He had faith in Lance. The man he'd spend the rest of his life worshipping and devoting himself to as if he was a god if he'd only let him.

[m0rbs]

Jim's big hazel eyes that are on the verge of tears at the slightest provocation are something that can be so important and I shall never forgive AOS for taking them away

[sapphire-drawings]

AU STUFF BECAUSE I CAN AND IT'S GETTING KIND OF BORING SEEING THE SAME CHARACTERS OVER AND OVER AGAIN!!

Willow is supposed to be swapped with Wickerbottom and Warly ideally is swapped with Walani. I say "supposed" because it doesn't really makes sense, Like... they're the same but not really

These too are probably the ones with the most background unlike the ones I still have to design... I think

Anyway uhhh

AU STUFFFFF