#I just wish I could still wear all the cute clothes I collected in my early 20s :

[jellogram]

None of my clothes fucking fit me anymore and I'm like leaning over the bathroom counter gritting my teeth going "this is fine this is fine this is fine" because I'm trying to dress cute for my night out but I haven't dressed cute in so long that none of my cool clothes fit me and I look ridiculous and I want to cry. I'm trying really hard to be okay with my weight but I have this really nice leather jacket I got for my birthday a few years ago and it's too small for me now.

[mommypieck]

𑄽୧ toys with yuuta 𔓘 ᰍ

kinktober day 21: dick isn't enough!!!

✿ yuuta okkotsu x reader

✿ warnings: sex toy usage, orgasm denial

"Hi, honey. Are you home?" the front door of your apartment opens, revealing your boyfriend Yuuta. He's wearing a shining smile as always. Yuuta is like a little puppy, always wagging his imaginary tail when he sees you.

"I'm right here," you yell from your work office. You're currently on a hunt for something that's going to spice up your sex life. It's not that he's not good in bed… well, maybe it's because it is.

You met Yuuta when he was a virgin. Your first time together was fine, and the fact that he didn't make you cum is understandable. The worst thing is that it never happened the other times. No matter how many times you tell him how you like it, he's just clueless.

"Why are you looking at sex toys?" Yuuta exclaims beside you, wrapping his arms around your neck. You wish he could do that while you fuck. You explain that you're trying to find some toys because your friends told you about them. He isn't too convinced but lets you order it anyway. He can't resist the look you give him when asking for his credit card.

The day everything arrives is anxious for both of you. And when you finally cut through the cardboard box to take out the things, you don't waste any time dragging him upstairs.

"What should I do with it?" he asks you, looking confused at the toy. You're already naked on the bed while Yuuta decides to keep his clothes on.

"Press it against my clit." you groan in frustration. You want to feel something, but instead, Yuuta is scared as always. The toy finally touches your clit, making you jump. The pleasure is good but not enough for you.

"Turn it to another volume." he looks skeptical at your request but does so. These vibrations are better as they shoot all around your pussy evenly. You let yourself be pleasured by the toy, relaxing on the bed.

Yuuta is not having any of this. The fact that you bought toys to replace him hurts. He knows he's not the best in bed, but the way your face scrunches makes him feel jealous deep inside his stomach.

He glares at the dildo beside him, and he almost feels jealous of it. He grabs it, the thought of how you might look once he fucks you with it is more appealing than feeling jealous.

He brushes it through your folds, collecting your wetness on the plastic. You're already soaked from the other toy, and he needs to see you even more fucked out.

The tip of the toy finally enters you, it's a bit smaller than Yuuta, but the stretch is pleasurable. He moves it a little, trying to find your sweet spot. You whine, why can't he be rougher?

"Fuck me with it," you yell in frustration as you try to fuck yourself on the dildo. Yuuta honestly thinks you are possessed, there's no other explanation for this situation. You were always the innocent vanilla girl, and suddenly you're a cock longing slut.

The toy suddenly plunges inside of you, making you scream. He fucks you with it with all he has, his arm already cramping. If you want to be fucked with it roughly, he's going to give you everything. He grabs the wand again, placing it on your clit while he drills the dildo inside of you. You're sure this is what heaven feels like.

You're so close already, just begging for him to let you cum. He's not that easy to convince. You like this toy more than you like his cock, and you're gonna face consequences.

"No cumming." he says as he turns the wand even higher in vibrations. He wants to see you struggle, he wants to see you cry. Your body shakes on the bed, and he has to hold you still. You are so close, you might even get on your knees to beg him to let you cum.

"Let me cum, I've been a good girl." you moan, giving him the best puppy eyes. His gaze softens, and his demeanor changes. He can't believe he would want someone so cute like you to cry. It's true, you're a good girl, and you deserve to cum.

"Come on, pretty. cum on the toy." you cum right away after the last word, creaming on the toy. He fucks you with it through your orgasm, giving you even more pleasure.

"Are you okay?" yuuta questions when you cum from your high. You just smile at him, you're okay and more than satisfied.

You both realized a few things with this. For Yuuta, he might want to work a bit on his stroke game. And for you? That you have him wrapped around your finger, and he will give you everything if you look at him cutely enough.

taglist: @mcharris747 @huuuuut30 @krispsprite @bejewelledd @cawwn @veryninjanacho @jamayah @dngerwayz @nwptune @universlypiratecolor @ffakegucci @merachannie @d1lf-luvr @th3girln3xtdoor @nobody289x @iheartpieck @gia999 @kawasgirl @st4rrlighttt @candyeyeroll @7haze @banchangsbbbg @nigthmar3moon @softlilpeachxx @d1gitalbathh @jaenniii @armahnsie @satorustar @balenciagarette @erp1007

[sminiac]

hello can i req a bf!jinsik headcanon pls😵‍💫😵‍💫

💌 — Gotchu bestie😜 I intend to get to every Xikers member, esp Hyunwoo, I’ve just been experiencing Jinsik brainrot after looking for inspo for this 😋

It’s was 5 am, I just slammed a redbull and all I can think about is:

Bf!Jinsik who is such a sentimental person that you can find stashes of memorabilia and keepsakes from you everywhere. Movie tickets, receipts, even candy wrappers that he just can’t bring himself to throw away that have been taking up unnecessary space in his wallet for months now.

Ex: he has these little sessions where suddenly he’s pulling out everything he’s associated with you ever and just sits and smiles like a love sick idiot, recalling the specific moment/day spent with you, he’s been caught a lot, sometimes the members become worried for his health because of how frequently they find him hunched over a piece of garbage, cradling it in his hands like it cost him an arm and a leg. They just don’t get it😩 + he absolutely refuses to give them any context for his collection of seemingly mundane items, those are his and yours alone.

Bf!Jinsik who not so quietly adores you, I think that if you’ve ever left a belonging of yours long enough he’ll just start wearing it as his own, like, remember that bracelet you forgot at his dorm last week? Yeah, already on his wrist, along with this I have a deeply rooted feeling that one of his favourite traits about you is your aesthetics, so he lowkey reassembles his wardrobe to subtly reflect your style, it’s all done subconsciously too which is so😞😞 he’s so cute, it hurts my heart, he’s so boyfriend.

Ex: he without a doubt would wear any clothing piece you’ve gotten him until it’s a mangled mess, and despite already having a replacement he gets so sad when you suggest finally letting it go. “But I wear it all the time.” “I know sweetheart, I can tell.” Eventually the both of you settle on him keeping whatever it is he cant physically part with, and he’ll retire it for the new item, will still occasionally pull it out when he misses you extra, like when he’s out of the country and you aren’t able to come:,)

Bf!Jinsik who gets teary eyed whenever you compliment him for doing well on stage, maybe it’s been a particularly stressful day, maybe he just hasn’t been able to see you as much as he wished he could, maybe it’s just because he loves you so wholeheartedly, whatever the reason is he’s smiling sadly as his cheeks fill out the empty space of your palms, the front of his brows are pinched up and now you’ve got his lip twitching, he’s so sweet, kisses you as much as he can even with such little time, his lips soft, damp from his tears ADHDSGGSSSAA god he’s so. As he’s being pulled away that ache you get when you’re homesick fills out the stretch of his chest. Let me stop there.

Bf!Jinsik who doesn’t know how to keep his affection to a minimum around you, goodbyes can never just be brief, with hasty words and quick hugs, no, he needs a whole 15, sometimes even 20 minutes because his hugs are looong, and they’re always so self indulgent, he just loves the feeling of keeping you wrapped up in his arms, does the hand thing where he pushes you in closer to him wherever he feels you aren’t close enough. Face buried in your neck, hands rubbing up and down your back, sides, 100% getting a feel of your ass, you can’t blame him.

Ex: Whenever you’re visiting him and the boys in KQ’s practice room he’s always somehow found a way for you to sit on his thigh/between his legs, just loves having you all over him.

Bf!Jinsik who finds it so cute how well you get along with his members, he’ll stand in the background most of the time, that notable calm expression on his face, a slight smile, he never interrupts unless he’s feeling particularly deficient of his girlfriend, then he’s going up to wrap his arms around you from behind, cheek pressed against your head, a lot of the time the conversation ends up becoming background noise as he holds you so don’t expect him to answer that question about going on a coffee run with Junghoon and Hyunwoo anytime soon.

NSFW under the cut!

Bf!Jinsik who has a thing for oral, but can’t bring himself to choose between giving or receiving, but if he were to say receiving it wouldn’t be because of the pleasure of your warm mouth, but because of how sweet you are to him, he swears your sultry words of encouragement and praise is what really does it for him. He gets so incredibly whiny, like arm shielding his eyes away from your view, struggling to get out a solid breath, drool pooling onto his tongue kind of whiny. Don’t even get me started on when he’s settled himself down between your thighs girl. Love, love, loves eye contact!! Knows you love that certain look on his face🤭 Encourages you to move with his tongue when needed, has that stupid smile on his face when his tongue is working lines at your clit, finds the way you twitch and jump amusing. Has taken the time to learn the nuances of your pleasure, like the difference between the pressure of his fingers inside vs on, ykwim?

Bf!Jinsik who isn’t the most vocal, but the long shuttered out whines that you draw from his mouth make up for it. I think he holds back on talking because he knows he’ll be stuttering so bad you’d barely be able to comprehend a single thing.

Bf!Jinsik who occasionally dabbles into a more dominant role in bed, it’s unpredictable, sometimes his voice comes more firm, demanding, before your clothes are hurriedly discarded of like he couldn’t possibly get to you any faster, he’s huffing out a “Keep still.” As his hands are pushing your thighs up and apart, his expression sharp, many warning glares. He’d just want to make you feel good, but only if you listen.

Bf!Jinsik who is very… multifaceted😋🙏

[akwolfgrl]

LFT 45

Sanji wasn't sure exactly how he ended up in this exact position, naked his legs spread tied to the railing in the crow’s nest, hands tied behind his back with a tie Zoro stole from his collection, cock hard and leaking a puddle of pre cum pooling under his already overstimulated body. The cock ring that they had bought in town wrapped around the base of his penis, he knew it was gonna be a long night. A great night but a long one... Zoro did mention tying him up while they were doing the dishes but Sanji couldn't have guessed that it would involve having his weapons tied up as well.

He could see the endless sky and ocean from between the railings, but he didn't need his sight to know Zoro was still fully clothed. Sanji wiggled his ass high in the air as an attempt to get his muscle head of a boyfriend to hurry up and fuck him already.

“Zorooooooooooo…. quit making me wait! Hurry up and fuck meee,” Sanji couldn't keep the whines from his voice as he begged. “Please…”

“But you look so fucking pretty like this,” his deep voice cooed against his bare flesh. His hands bring the only warmth to his naked skin.

“Zoro! Stop teasing me!” He attempted to demand only for his desire and need to be filled by his man’s massive cock.

“Tch, and you called me impatient,” he states hands tracing lazily over every inch of his cook’s lean body. “And yet here you are begging for my cock, like my good perverted cook”

Sanji moaned and choked on a scream as Zoro's hand hit his ass cheeks, right across the middle hitting both hard enough to shake his whole frame. He heard his mosshead chuckle before another round of spankings shook his frame once more. Pale ass marked red from his boyfriend’s large hand stung mind numbingly well with each added smack. In pain Sanji found there was pleasure to be found, sweet torturous pleasure. At this rate, Zoro was making sure Sanji wouldn't be able to sit comfortably tomorrow, his ass still sore from the night prior. He was just glad he wasn't made to count; he had long lost his place.

“Aahh!” Sanji’s voice cried out as Zoro began to knead his poor blistered ass before spreading his abused cheeks nice and painfully wide.

“Dinner was great, but I think I'm ready for dessert,” Zoro’s tongue licked a single strip from behind his balls up to his twitching hole. Mind blank as the wetness cooled his stinging flesh, his needy hole flexing as the rest of his muscles tightened. More… He needed more.

Sanji moaned as Zoro dove in just as he had before, dipping in and around his plump rim. His tongue slipping past his edges as his blond panting desperately for air, gasping and choking on his wordless pleas. He lost all ability to speak yet again, he hardly recognized the noise pouring from his throat though he knew his lover was savoring every muted cry and odd begging noise he made. He could feel Zoro's saliva running down his crack and over his balls the air cooling the spit the difference in the temperature sent a shudder down his spine. After what felt like hours, he was given a soaking wet finger breaching his hole slipping in beside Zoro dexterous tongue.

“Putain! (Fuck!)” Sanji found his words finally. “More Zoro more!”

Zoro slipped in a second finger just as his needy cook demanded only to begin scissoring the fingers stretching him all over again. He loved the care that Zoro put into making sure he was ready, no matter how much he demanded him to go faster.

It was difficult to keep himself quiet, no matter how much he enjoyed being caught he really didn't wish to feel Namis justified rath if they disturbed her beauty sleep. What would she look like all messy haired and sleepy? Nami was so pretty when she mad. What cute little nighty would she wear? Would it be seen there? Short and lace? Long and elegant? Sanji shuddered and moaned. Oh Nami-swan!

[pensat-i-fet]

Sweet treats (Micky van de Ven x Reader)

**A lovely anon suggested this could be a cute idea for a fluffy imagine and it inspired me to write a quick one. Hope you guys like it ❤️**

Word count: 1750

Masterlist

Wattpad

Creating social media content was one thing people thought was very easy to do. But it really wasn't. Trends kept changing and the algorithm was absolutely ruthless. So life as a content creator was not that easy. Also, you hated the word influencer but kept being called that.

What you could influence, or should we say who you could influence, was your boyfriend. Because you had him wrapped around your finger and he'd do anything you needed him to do for you.

“Micky!”, you called while you walked around the house with your laptop in your hands. “I need your pretty face to get more likes. The last few posts didn't do well”.

“Huh?”

Micky took his earphones off to listen to what you were saying while he got up from the bench where he was lifting weights…shirtless.

“Give me a second…”, you said, placing your laptop on the floor and grabbing your phone to take a photo of your boyfriend. “That would get a lot of likes but it's going to my private collection. Not sorry”.

“What are you doing?”, laughed Micky.

“Brainstorming. I don't know what I can post next but I need you to be in the post. It gets more likes”.

“Brave of you to tell me you only want me for the likes”.

“I was literally drooling 10 seconds ago. I also want you for the abs”.

Micky laughed and kissed your cheek before finding a towel to remove the sweat from his face.

“We could do a couples workout. People like that”.

“It's not a bad idea”, you nodded, adding that to your list of potential post ideas. “I could get a brand to sponsor it if I wear their clothes”.

“I like it when you wear sexy workout clothes”.

“I bet you do…I'm fine with you only wearing your Spurs shorts like you're doing now. But wear a t-shirt if we film this video. Only I get to see you wearing so little”.

“You and my teammates”, he laughed.

“Yeah…lucky boys”.

At the beginning of your relationship, you were more reticent about posting about Micky. You were aware that dating him made your content more popular but you also wanted to build your own career without his help. Also, there was the worry that Micky would think you were just using him to get more popular on social media. But it was also so much fun to film content with Micky. And he joked but he didn’t mind being in the posts at all.

“I wish people knew how hard you actually work”, said Micky when he saw you sitting down on the floor writing.

So a week later, once you had the sponsorship you wanted, you both got ready to film the video. While you waited for him to get to the gym, you kept writing in your notebook the exact names of the clothes you had picked from the collection sent to you. You’d need to tag them on the post and people would want to know the exact model. Then you had to link the pieces on the stories you posted too…

“It’s a lost battle, babe. But let’s get ready for our video”.

The video performed well. You had told Micky to repost it on his stories a day after it was posted and that made the brand from the sponsorship happy because it drove a lot of traffic to their website. But reading the comments made you overthink. They were mostly positive but you noticed that what people liked were your interactions with Micky. They wanted to see the real you, not the parts where it looked like you were reading from a script. Because you were actually reading from a script.

“People like us”, you told Micky when you sat down next to him, still reading comments.

“I would hope they do…”.

“No, I mean they like our relationship. Our banter. There are so many comments calling us cute”.

“Well, we are cute”, said Micky, smiling and wrapping his arms around your waist to bring you closer to him. “We can make more videos together. You know I don’t mind”.

“Yeah…not so soon after this one. But I’ll ask people what content they want to see and I’m sure lots of requests will include you”.

“Your fans like me more than they like you then”, he teased.

“I can’t blame them for that. I like you quite a bit too”.

One of the things people wanted you to do was a Q&A. Easy content so you got a lot of questions ready for a live on Instagram where you could answer them.

“Alright, everyone. I thought I would make this a bit more fun by also baking while I answer your questions. And I’m terrible at baking so this should be interesting but…you can’t go wrong using cake mix, right?”, you looked at the camera pretending to be scared. “Right?”

The first few questions were the usual ones so you got those out of the way while you mixed all the ingredients. The oven beeped to let you know it had finished pre-heating so you put the cake mix inside of it and set a timer.

“Now I can answer questions better…”.

By the time you had already spent 10 minutes answering questions, you heard the front door. Micky wasn’t supposed to be back so early, which is why you were doing the live then.

“Hi! What are you doing?”

“Umm…a live on Instagram. Wanna say hi?”

The reaction to Micky joining the live was the one you’d have expected. But it also worried you because people would think you did it on purpose and you hadn’t.

“What were you doing? The kitchen is full of flour”.

“Baking…”.

“Baking a cake for me?”

“For both of us”, you laughed. “I also wanted to try and do a cupcake recipe but I already embarrassed myself struggling with the cake mix in front of our lovely audience”.

“I could help you do the cupcakes. So they all laugh at the both of us”.

The issue with livestreams was that you either were too worried about what people saw, like before Micky arrived, or you forgot there was a livestream going on. The latter happened when Micky joined you. It was so easy for you to forget the rest of the world existed when he was around.

“When did you learn to bake?”, you asked Micky, noticing how well he followed the recipe.

“I didn't”.

“You're really good at it for someone who didn't learn”.

“I guess I did a bit of baking with my family but I’m no expert”.

Once the cupcakes were ready to go in the oven, you both waited for the cake to be done and answered some more questions. The live had been going on for almost an hour by then.

“Should we decorate the cake?”

“What do you have for that?”, asked Micky, looking around.

“Frosting and sprinkles. I’m not going to the next edition of Great British Bake Off like you are”.

“They should invite me to the celebrities edition”.

“Hey Channel 4”, you said, looking at the camera. “You heard him!”

Micky thought you could write your names on the cake and then try and do some funny designs. A bit ambitious for someone who didn’t know how to bake.

“How big do you think this cake is, babe?”, you laughed. “Maybe we can write the names here and save the rest of the frostings for the cupcakes”.

“Ok…”.

You were also impressed by how nice his handwriting was…while using frosting. That just seemed unfair. But you were also used to Micky being good at almost everything he did.

“I’ll order my next birthday cake to the van de Ven bakery”.

“They’ll probably give you a discount too”.

“In exchange for what?”

“A kiss?”, he asked, leaning down to kiss you. Again, you had both forgotten about the livestream but the people watching were loving your interactions.

When the cupcakes were out of the oven, you mentioned decorating a few and ending the livestream. But when you were about to start, your mum called you.

“I need to answer this”.

“Ok guys”, whispered Micky to the camera when you were gone. “I made this one for her. What do you think?”

He showed the cupcake he had decorated with a bit of frosting to make a heart. Then he used sprinkles to write your initial. He saw the responses were mostly full of heart emojis and smiled.

“But we’ll need to finish this live now. It’s been going on for too long but it was fun. We’ll see you soon. Bye!”

Talking to your mum was always nice but you also couldn’t wait to eat some cupcakes so when you ended the call, you went back to the kitchen quickly.

“I ended the live”, announced Micky. “And made these for you”.

“Thanks…”.

Seeing all the different decorations on the cupcakes made your jaw drop. How on Earth did he manage that?

“You like them?”

“Are you for real? Have you always been an artist and kept that information from me?”

Micky laughed. “I just felt inspired today”.

“These are perfect”, you told him, kissing his cheek. “You’re literally the sweetest”.

“Sweeter than the cupcakes?”

You nodded, forgetting about the cupcakes to just focus all your attention on your sweet boyfriend.

What seemed like just an anecdote ended up becoming a tradition. A very sweet tradition. Soon after the day of the livestream, you went on a little work trip and came back home after 3 days out of the country. Knowing Micky was still at training when you got home, you just made your way to the room to take a shower. But then when you got back to the kitchen, you noticed a box on the kitchen island.

“No way”, you laughed picking up the box. It had van de Ven bakery written on it and when you opened it, you found more cupcakes baked by Micky. The order they were placed in spelled welcome home and your smile couldn’t get any bigger.

That started the tradition of Micky baking for you whenever you needed a little sweat treat. When you were working too much, when you weren’t feeling great or whenever you achieved something big. Micky always made sure to get cupcakes and cakes ready to make your life sweeter. But he still was sweeter than all the treats. 

[tealfling]

Little Headcanon Scenes

I imagine happen in my Amaranth playthrough that I don't have stories to go with.

- Amaranth flits around camp, ever the busybody, checking on the other companions and helping them with their chores. Asking if they need anything. Ever since she allowed him to drink from her, Astarion has been acutely aware of presence. Always a ping on the compass in his mind. But she'll do things that'll catch him off guard. Like sneak up behind him (hard to do) while he's reading. She'll grab him by the chin and tilt it up to her as she leans in to study his face. At first he's startled by the touch, but will relax when he sees it's her. He'll try to collect himself and not melt into the devastating warmth of her hands. Like always, he'll reflexively throw a seductive line at her, while asking what he can do for her, but she'll stroke her thumbs from the dark circles under his eyes down his cheeks. It's so gentle, caring. Astarion won't know how to react. Suddenly there's nothing to focus on but the sprinkle of white freckles across her purple cheeks, like a starry night, or the way her long silver hair has fallen around his face like a protective curtain. or the way her crystal clear eyes read him intently, almost concerned. He can almost feel himself blush from her heat. Her voice is be soft when she says "Just checking." Astarion's brows will crease confused. "On what?" It's a defensive snap, and harsher than he means. "On you. You look like you haven't fed well in a while, would you like a little midnight snack?" Amaranth's voice is low enough so only he hears, but her tone is playful and her cute little nose crinkles. Astarion couldn't help the small smile when he said, "How very altruistic of you. But if you're offering Darling, how could I say no?" He meant it to sound much more suave, but her smile grew. "Alright, I'll see you later then." For the briefest second, he thought she might say something else. Maybe it was the glance she gave his lips like she might press hers to his, but she just popped up, sauntering away, and Astarion wished she had.

- The first couple of days of their journey would have been hard for Amaranth to deal with only having one pair of pants. The pair she had on while abducted. Eventually she'd try to fashion her own out of some looted pair she finds. It's hard to get the right fit with a tail to consider. Why not get some at the Grove, from the tiefling refugees? Because, they're refugees!! Hasn't enough been taken from them?! And now you want her to take their pants? Absolutely not. Obviously she can make do with what she can find. She's a pretty good quilter after all, but not really good at tailoring. She's already removed all those bullshit sleeves from her shirts, how hard can it be? Those skills aren't as transferable as she thought, however. What, like, you've never had a meltdown over a seam ripper before? Astarion will swoop in to fix it bc how is he supposed to act when he finds she's crying with half her vast ass hanging out of some pillaged pants? Dry those tears and put away that pouty lip, it's.... making him feel bad. He'll take care of it for her, he's used to fixing his own clothes. It's the least he could do with everything she's given him. He'll also be stealing something better for her to wear as soon as he can. It'll be a nice little gift, something to repay her with.

- As soon as Karlach is touchable, Amaranth showers her bestie with all the hugs she can handle. Literally, hanging off her bigger friend half the time. [At least until she overheats, Amaranth still hates being sweaty, as much as she loves her friend.] Piggy back rides are a frequent occurrence. Occasionally, with Karlach on the receiving side, Amaranth is surprisingly strong, but Karlach actually prefers her little purple backpack, it’s a comfort thing. Being finally held by another. It’s around this time that the others in the party were starting to suspect something might be going on between Amaranth and Astarion. Lately they've been visibly inseparable, constantly whispering secrets and inside jokes. It's also been noted that when one seemingly disappears the other is also coincidently missing. So it’s kind of strange that Amaranth's suddenly very touchy with Karlach, even more so than Amaranth's normal chumminess with them. Astarion is never far behind the two tieflings, still seemingly at the purple one's beck and call, but the others can’t get a read on what’s going on there. Gale and Wyll are constantly exchanging glances. Who’s going to say something first? Wyll cracks first, not one to forgo the opportunity to poke at the vampire. He looks at Amaranth wrapped behind Karlach, then elbows the pale elf, “So, Astarion, you and Amaranth seem pretty close. How come we never see you carrying her on your back?” The other man never gets the chance to reply. Somehow Karlach beats him to a punchline, “Because she can ride me longer obviously.” Amaranth grabs the red tiefling from behind by the horns and shakes her head. “Karlach!” She exclaims with a nervous laugh while Karlach cackles. The elf clicks his tongue and crosses his arms, turning his head, clearly pouting. "Oh I assure you, I'm the best ride any of you could ever get," he bites. Amaranth tugs back on Karlach's horns so they can look at each other from the side, "Well, none of my rides have made me 'see stars' or taken me 'to the FeyWild and back,' so I guess we all have room for improvement." Karlach groans shamefully as the three men look at them. Gale and Wyll exchange confused glances, and Wyll mutters about being sorry he said anything.

[klonoadreams]

If I remember right scarnoa's main outfit is miriam's hand me downs right? Since she's basically adopted by the entire school staff are any of the other teachers contributing to her wardrobe?

The first set she gets are hand-me-downs, since Scarnoa's on the petite side, but Mimi eventually just buys her actual clothes - like new stuff that fits her super well. And the old stuff just becomes casual lounge wear of sort, since it's very comfy.

Raifort actually got Scarnoa the boots. Heard her lecturing Jacq for his chanclas (sandals) in the lab and thought it was hilarious, and just decided "have these boots. It's on me." Thank you for entertaining her by making a man know fear.

Tyme went all out on making sure that she got Scarnoa some quality tights and a nice thermal turtleneck that she KNOWS her sister wears at the Montenevera Gym, where there is snow and it's cold, and Ryme is knocking it out of the park in her dress. :V

Keeps Scarnoa's legs nice and toasty without having to really change much of her uniform wear. good for the Autumn uniform. Except she rarely wears the damn school uniform so oop.

Saguaro got her the thigh highs after she asked for some, because the sock catalog DIDNT have them and she WANTED them. Because tights are nice, but she doesn't WANT tights.

But also, Mimi's being doing so much for her, that she didn't want to bother her. and Saguaro also likes cute stuff too, so she's all "do you know where I can get some cute socks? The one that go up to the thigh?"

She's got a few more colors and patterns besides solid black, but yeah, that's something. Living the dream I wish I could have in this game sob sob.

Salvatore gives her hair accessories that his wife has been picking out, because she's been hearing a lot about the child that the school has collectively adopted.

And Jacq gave her a cute phone cases (and more) for her efforts but also as an apology for setting her off with his terrible lab habits. Please go easy on him, he literally just got hired alongside Clavell after they left their previous positions as researchers, where Jacq was Clavell's assistant (fun fact: this is probably why I see a lot of Jacq/Clavell art on pixiv, so...good for them - especially Clavell, get it old man. You somehow managed to land one of the handful of Pokemon characters that made the 2022 Yumejoshi popularity poll, in which Arven was #5 and Rika was #1, beating both Getou and Gojo - Volo was #38 and Steven, despite all these years, was #77...ftr, Jacq was #85)

(I didn't know the ship existed until I saw it at the side while I was looking up Larry/Rika on Pixiv, and then went "INTERESTING."...*adds it to my list of ships*)

Dendra is still looking for the perfect gift - it might not even be clothes, but just battle items, BUT SHE'S TRYING.

And Hassel contributed to MANY of Scarnoa's living expenses, because of how SUDDEN she appeared. And obviously, he's got the funds, so he just... "Here's your room."

Will find out what she likes and proceed to sent it to her room, like random plushes, figurines, cute curtains and throw rugs....want a different wallpaper? Here's a catalogue - pick what you want.

Hassel is genuinely still choked up about Scarnoa's situation, like...where are her parents??? IS SHE OKAY???

"Did I make you mad?" because she missed out on one of his math classes, only to find out that "oh, you got a badge." and then he immediately nyooms to the next gym the instant he gets a notification to congratulate her and give her a headpat, BECAUSE SHE IS STILL PLAYING HOOKY, GOD DAMN.

later finds out she just has shit memory, and that she still is attending school. Eases his concerns, but also, "Try not to get hurt - your Rotom Phone has an app for these sorts of things. It's excellent for keeping you on task, should you get distracted with thing such as the fineries of art."

She says she'll use it, and then promptly forgets about it until Hassel sets it up herself...and then her Rotom Phone decides "Nah, TOO LOUD."

Because each Rotom inside one's phone is unique and has its own personalities, so if you have one that clashes with you, you can either switch with someone else...or deal with it. Most people choose to deal with it because by that point, they're attached to that Rotom like people get attached to Roombas. :V

[themetalvirus]

Geniiuineee3 genuine it genuine ^_^ what do you most want ever in the entire world ever!

oh!!! ok uhhh UH uh

this got long. i have so many daydreams about items i would enjoy having in my life srry

in terms of like, hopeful pipe dreams, i want a proper midline pc so i can play games on my computer without it absolutely Melting, but that kind of thing is prohibitively expensive. in terms of needs, i honestly just need more jammy pants and stuff like that since i've got a lot of worn out clothes i can't really afford to replace with anything but more clothes that'll wear out quickly. i just want quality stuff that'll last me more than a year or two... i also need more shampoo/conditioner/body wash im running out of all three

but in terms of smaller stuff, a silver the hedgehog plushie would be really nice. or a bunch of high-quality loose paper for using on my typewriter (all i have is sketchbooks and i don't like ripping them apart). maybe a proper dip pen, or a fountain pen with a flexible nib?? that would be really nice. i would also love to have a complete set of splatoon squid cushions, i have three but i would love to have all the colors in the original splatoon 1 run of them! or misc splatoon amiibo i don't have (octolings, squid sisters, the splatoon 3 amiibo)

lemme see. i'd love. fair trade milk chocolate and an actually good tasting alcoholic beverage of some kind.

OH SHIT WAIT, for sonic related stuff, i have a lot of wishes. the retail incentive covers of idw issue 50 i'm still missing from my collection, i'd also just love to own more of the metal virus arc physically, maybe one of the book collection thingies would be nice? i'd just love more physical sonic comics. i'd also love any figurines (not articulated toys though since the sonic franchise ones usually look really bad), a sonic or shadow plushie as well as a silver one, uhh MORE SONIC GAMES would be so cool!!! i'd love to check out the ds or gba sonics :) umm or just. art of my eggys. thats another thing i've been wanting to buy (er, commission) for a while now but art is a luxury and i need. clothes and body wash.

oh man, i've also been wanting a desk easel for a while since leaning down to draw is hell on my neck!! and i've wanted a neutral-to-cool temperature desk lamp so i can actually see yellow pigmented markers when i use them (and take better photos of my traditional art). these kinds of things are what i'm most likely to buy for myself

I CANNOT BELIEVE. I FORGOT. DOLLS. i love dolls of all kinds. barbie, monster high, ESPECIALLY rainbow high!!!, lol omgs.... i absolutely love doll collecting, it's one of my favorite hobbies. just seeing a bunch of cute dolls on my shelf makes me so happy, and considering most of them were gifts, it just reminds me that other people care. yknow? it's nice. i wanna get into doll customization but that ALSO kind of has a monetary gate to it, i'd need a lot of materials and need to practice a lot and i just. can't invest in that kind of thing.

actually scratch everything, if i could choose one (1) absolute miracle for christmas it'd be for my mom to get five million UNTAXED dollars. so she could buy a house and live comfortably for the rest of her life.

but uhh an actually achievable gift is to toss me five bucks on ko-fi so i can learn to drive once spring rolls around. adult driving lessons with accommodations for Brain Complications are expensive. money is honestly what i really need

[eldritchsurveys]

1219.

Are you afraid of the dark? >> I am not. I don't recall ever having a fear of darkness, in fact. Not even as a child.

Do you watch American Horror Story? >> I watched a few seasons (Murder House, Coven, Asylum, Apocalypse, parts of others) a long time ago. I liked some parts of Coven but found other parts insufferable. I did think Apocalypse was cool, iirc. I don't know, it's hard to like AHS; it feels like something I should enjoy -- lurid, pulpy, smutty, all my favourite adjectives are here -- but then I watch it and I'm just like *sighs heavily*. I don't know, man. It just hits too many wrong notes for me, and those notes are usually very prominent elements of the show (a main-character casting, for example) so I can't just ignore them.

Does your hometown have any urban legends/scary stories? >> I don’t know any urban legends about any place I’ve lived. I’m sure they exist, but I never thought to seek them out.

What’s the scariest nightmare you remember having? .

Are you medicated? >> Self-medicated, sure.

Does your family/friends have a nickname for you? .

Who’s some of your favorite YouTubers? >> I have a pretty sizeable subscription list, but it's mostly media analysers. I'll name three faves: In Praise of Shadows, Jacob Geller, and TheGamingMuse.

Do you have any bad habits? >> According to someone, I'm sure.

What did you get for Christmas? >> Raycon earbuds, a pillow, a weighted blanket, and something else I've forgotten. All things from my wishlist.

Do you have any phobias? >> I do not.

What’s one of your biggest pet peeves? >> Whatever goes on with my Internet where it'll drop for a few seconds and then come back online. It's very annoying when gaming. Are there any scented candles in the room you’re in? >> There is one scented candle in my room. Pancakes or French toast? >> Neither, ideally. But I've had some French toast that I've liked.

Did you have anything for breakfast today? >> The first meal I had was this pork carnitas microwave meal thing that I got from the food pantry. It was Great Value brand so I wasn't expecting much, and yeah it was pretty lame. Still edible. At this point, I'm just glad for the variety.

Are there any apps you’re addicted to? >> I am not addicted to any apps. Did you have a favorite stuffed animal as a child? >> I don’t think I was particularly attached to any of them.

Do you still collect stuffed animals? >> I enjoy plushies now way more than I did as a child, I think. I have like 30 of them.

How do you feel about Spongebob? >> I don’t like Spongebob.

Do you have any nervous habits? >> Maybe by someone's standards. I don't call anything I do a "nervous habit", so I couldn't say.

What drink do you normally order at Starbucks? >> I don’t normally order at Starbucks.

Do you shape/fill in your eyebrows? >> I don't.

Which way do you face in the shower? >> Facing the showerhead, always. I can't face the other direction, it freaks me out for some reason.

What’s your favorite comfort food to eat? >> So many, but I don't want to think about them right now because I can't have them.

What do you wear to bed? >> One of two pairs of pj pants, and a tank top or camisole.

Have you ever stolen/borrowed clothes from an ex? .

What’s the last movie you watched at home? >> Sound of My Voice.

What’s the last movie you watched in theaters? >> Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga. I wish I could afford to see Longlegs.

Do you/did you ever have a Neopets account? >> I did not.

When’s the last time you were camping? >> October of... 2015? Something like that. I would die to go camping again. Have you ever had eggs cooked over a campfire? >> I have not.

If you do drink, what’s your favorite alcoholic beverage? >> I'm not sure now. Drinking is an expense I can never afford much anymore.

Are there any songs you’ve been listening to repetitively lately? >> I don't usually do that, no.

What’s your favorite coffee mug look like? >> It's white on the outside with a cute lil cactus design and it's yellow on the inside.

Do you have any pets? >> I personally do not.

Are you passive-aggressive? >> Not as a rule. It is a strategy I've learned from the myriad passive-aggressive people I've known, but I prefer more aggressive approaches personally.

Do you have social anxiety? >> I wouldn't say so. I'm easily triggered in social scenarios, so I can be anxious about the inevitability of that, but I wouldn't say I have social anxiety per se.

Have you ever had fried pickles? >> Sparrow likes them so I might have tried one if they ordered some. I don't recall.

Where’s your favorite place to go out to eat? .

Do you like plaid button-ups? >> They're all right, but I can live without them. There are plenty of other similar garments that I prefer.

Do you have any Valentine’s Day plans? >> I never have plans for that.

Have you/would you ever go bungee jumping? >> I mean, I could be tempted into it.

What’s the last theme park you visited? >> Disney World.

Cereal, granola, or oatmeal? >> I like all three.

[alsjeblieft-zeg]

357 of 2023

Part one.

I have a iPhone 4 instead of having a phone & an iPod. My favorite skin/hair care line is Kiehl’s. I still go on a website that I frequented as a child. If I’m dying my hair, I would only use the pump/foam kind. One of my favorite things to do daily is grab the mail, but I’m usually disappointed to find nothing in there. I collect either products with my favorite animal on it or favorite cartoon character on it. I love shopping a little too much for my own good. The top languages I would learn would be American Sign Language, French, German, & Russian. I can’t walk in heels to save my life, but I’m trying. I sign up for basically any loyalty program I can. If I had the money, I’d buy lots of items on Etsy. I don’t ever want to get married I say I always need to clean but wait until the last second to actually clean. I work in a clothing store. I prefer Reddit over 9gag or any website that is similar. I really hate bumper stickers & rarely find one that I think is cute or is something clever. Headphones or earphones, I don’t really care which one I’m using just as long as it does the job. I use a comb rather than a brush. For the most part, I love my outside appearance but I would change a few things about my personality if I could instantly. When I say I am laughing on the internet, I rarely actually laugh out loud. It doesn’t mean I’m not actually laughing on the inside though. I could spend ages in store such as IKEA or big department stores. One of my favorite things to eat during holidays would be dinner rolls. I hope one day, I’m completely happy with my life & myself. My bedroom walls are a bright colour. My house really needs a makeover. Having my own talk show would be super fun. My dream job is to be an author. I wear my hair up most of the time. Someone has confessed to liking me recently. I feel like a ghost most of the time. Grapefruit is the best smelling body wash. Cucumber is the best smelling body wash. I have seen a real live tiger before. I’ve ripped a purse before from having so much stuff in it. I’ve hurt someone with a knife before. Salad is delicious. My fingers are really short. I read and love fanfics. My family has french ancestors. Boys always smell good. I’ve been told I could be a model before. I say whatever’s on my mind. I say ‘horrifying’ instead of plain old ‘scary’. I’ve proposed to someone before. I’d be miserable if I couldn’t go on the computer for a month. I’ve been told I’m a waste of air before. I tell my pets I love them. I’m allergic to so many things. I’d rather eat nothing but hot dogs than eat nothing but oranges. I am happy with who I am. I live with an aunt or uncle. Bzoink = best site ever. I know someone who is due to have a baby any day now. I haven’t had fast food in years. I never ask permission for anything: I just go ahead and do it. Most of my wardrobe is black. I make the BEST spaghetti. I went to church this week. I have no idea where my dad is right now. I don’t know a lot of people in my facebook friends. There’s no way I’d ever move from the city I live in right now. Reese’s Pieces are the best snack for all-nighters. I own a pair of cowboy boots. I just woke up. If someone looked in my closet right now they’d think I’m a neat freak. Blueberry pancakes are soo much better then chocolate chip ones. I’ve changed diapers so many times before I don’t even mind it anymore. There’s a hammock in my back yard. I prefer to hear the truth, no matter how mean it is. I wish I could go out with Jude Law.

[scuttling]

Paper Rings

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 10,191 Tags: SFW, Fluff, Literature, Friends to lovers, Everyone thinks they're dating, There was only one bed, Some angst with a happy ending, Confessing love in the rain, TW fire and blood/wound Summary: Some of my favorite tropes rolled into one cute fic inspired by Taylor Swift's Paper Rings. (lyrics and music) Link to A03 or read below! “Good morning, my friendly neighborhood crime fighters,” Penelope says as she enters the briefing room, wearing a dress that is bright bubblegum pink, with fingerless gloves and glasses to match. You, Derek, and Spencer groan your replies, because you just got home from a case last night, with less than seven hours between arriving at your apartment and returning to the office, and that is everyone’s least favorite thing.

You can’t deny that her typical sunny disposition makes you smile a little bit brighter, but you’re still exhausted, and even your usual extra large travel mug of breakfast blend is barely taking the edge off.

That’s probably why, when Aaron enters with trays of steaming espresso drinks from the cafe down the street, and a striped box of donuts, you act like a kid on Christmas morning.

“Oh my god, I love you. Thank you, I love you.” He got an array of basic drinks based on everyone’s usual orders, and you scan for one that has something with latte, but he takes one out and hands it to you, smiling when you take a sip and sigh—okay, he’s smiling with his eyes, but you are well versed in his body language and facial expressions, and he’s practically grinning at getting your order (triple one pump hazelnut extra hot latte) correct.

You are not the only one to notice.

“Get a room, you two; it’s just coffee,” Derek says, taking the white mocha from the tray and drinking half of it in one sip. “Now if you tell me there’s a bear claw in there, I’ll confess my undying love too.”

“I don’t know; I asked for an assortment,” he says, and it’s clear he did, but your cup has your name on it; you cover the ink with your hand and take another grateful sip. “I do know there’s a plain glazed in there, though,” he says a bit lower, just for you, and you smile, give his wrist a squeeze, and dive for it before Jennifer Jareau can get her hands on it.

That’s all the morning meeting consists of—bickering and bantering and caffeine and carb consumption—and when the group disperses, you follow Aaron to his office and sit down in the chair across from his.

“Thanks again for breakfast. You definitely raised the morale of the troops,” you say with a sip of your perfect latte, and he shares the hint of a smile.

“You’re welcome. It helps that you’re all so easy to appease.” He flips open his bag, pulls out a small, worn, paperback book, tosses it toward you. You pick it up, run your hand over the well-loved cover, and hum.

“The Call of the Wild—this made it into the Aaron Hotchner Nightstand Collection?” He arches a brow.

“It’s so overrated that it’s underrated; no one ever actually reads it, they just assume they know what it’s about. It’s a great book, if you’ll give it a chance.”

“Hey, you’ve read all of mine without complaint; of course I’ll give it a chance.” You take the last, sad sip of your latte and stand up, point out the door with your thumb. “Speaking of, mine’s still downstairs on my desk. I’ll be right back.”

Exchanging books started as an offhand comment one night, on a flight home from Georgia, when he’d mentioned that he never buys new books, only cycles through the same ten or twelve he’s been reading since college. He knows what he likes, finds something different in the text each time he reads, and you’d found something so profoundly beautiful about that that you’d asked for the list. You wanted to know more about the books that tug at his emotions enough that he’s read them day in and day out for over twenty years with no boredom in sight.

He’d done you one better, said he’d be happy to lend them to you, if you’d like, and that was an offer you couldn’t refuse. Seeing college-aged Aaron’s notes in the margins of battered paperback novels was a prospect too good to be true.

Of course, you couldn’t accept the gesture without returning one of your own, so you’d offered to share your favorite books with him too, only... you don’t exactly give him your favorite books. You purposefully buy the cheesiest romance novels you can get your hands on, pass them off to him while he hands you poignant, classic novels that have won literary awards and Nobel prizes.

Today’s is called Lord of Scoundrels, complete with a shirtless man on the cover, kissing a woman with dark, flowing hair and a light blue dress; you snicker the whole way to your desk and back up to his office—earning curious glances from the rest of the team—and when you drop it on the desk in front of Aaron, you watch closely for a reaction.

As usual, he doesn’t really give you one, just flips the book over, skims the summary on the back, and nods.

“Sounds interesting,” he says, and your heart does a little flip.

He could easily hand the book back, laugh in your face, refuse to read something so clearly out of his wheelhouse, but he thinks these novels are important to you, and he never fails to read them, offering his favorite parts the same way you do for his.

The world probably doesn’t deserve Aaron Hotchner; you definitely don’t.

“I think you’ll really like it. Sebastian and Jessica start out kind of indifferent toward each other, but the more they interact, the more they find they have in common. It’s very acquaintances to friends to lovers, if you’re into that.” He looks up with an expression you place as uncertainty, even if you’re not quite sure the reason for it. You smile softly. “I should get to work, but thanks for the book. I’ll see you at lunch?”

It’s been so nice lately that you started taking your lunch outside, sitting on a bench beneath a huge, shady oak tree, and Aaron had taken to doing the same; you both quickly realized it was stupid to sit outside together, apart, so you meet up in the bullpen now and walk out side by side, spend the hour talking about your books or the team or Jack or life in general. He shakes the uncertain expression, nods his head.

“Of course. Thank you,” he says with a wave of the book, and you head back downstairs to start your day.

You’ve become mostly accustomed to the feeling, but it still surprises you a little when all that gets you through the day is thinking about your next conversation with Aaron. A week later, you’re on a case in Pittsburgh, and you and Aaron are paired up to room together. That’s nothing unusual—it seems like you’ve been rooming together more often than not lately, which is fine by you; he’s tidy, quiet, always interested in a late night snack, pretty much the perfect roommate—but when he opens the door and you step inside, the single king size bed in the middle of the room takes you by surprise.

“Uh… do you think it’s a mistake? Or maybe they just ran out of doubles?” you suggest; he's kind of frozen in place, and while it’s not ideal, you know it’s not actually going to be a problem. You’ve shared a bed with JJ before, and Spencer, and even though you don’t feel the same way about them as you do about Aaron, you think you can manage a couple nights in close quarters.

“Probably just ran out of doubles,” he agrees after a moment; he doesn’t bring up calling the front desk to ask for another room, so you don’t either, just hang your clothes and head into the bathroom to change into your pajamas and do your nightly routine.

It’s a little awkward at first, and you don’t know why; over the last six months or so, he’s actually become your closest friend on the team, and conversation usually comes easily, but silence settles over the room uncomfortably as you slip between the sheets on your side of the bed.

He goes into the bathroom, does his own nightly routine, then comes out in his pajamas and turns on CNN.

You take out your book, pay no attention to Aaron, but the longer he sits on the edge of the bed, staring at the news ticker on the television screen but not actually watching it, the more you wish he’d just get over himself and come to bed. If he’s trying to wait for you to fall asleep, he’s going to be waiting a while.

“So you were right; I love Buck,” you say as a way to start some conversation, to bring some normalcy to this unusual situation. You hold up the book you’re reading, the one he let you borrow. “His struggle between remaining loyal to his owner and answering the call of the wild—I love dogs, but I never imagined a book about a dog could be so moving.”

He turns back with a soft smile, then switches off the tv and heads over to his side of the bed; he pulls back the comforter, slides between the sheets, meets you toward the middle of the bed.

“I told you you’d like it; what chapter are you on?” He leans over to look, so close it wouldn’t take much to lift a hand and brush it over his hair; it looks unfairly soft, and part of you wants to card your fingers through it, to tug on it and mess it up a little. He probably wouldn’t even mind if you did.

“Chapter 7—I only have a few pages left.” You snuggle more comfortably against your pillow, lean into his shoulder, and move the book so it’s more evenly between you. “Want to finish it with me?”

He does, and you read silently at a similar pace; he reaches up to turn the pages, and you think about how these hands have flipped through this book so many times before, what he might have been thinking, feeling, while reading. It’s a more intimate act than you’ve shared with anyone in a really long time.

When you finish the book, you sigh, let the feeling of reading a really great story envelope you; you turn to face Aaron, and he’s looking at you… and then there’s a knock at the door that startles you both.

He gets up, walks over and checks the peep hole, then opens the door.

“Are you sure?” you hear JJ ask, and he steps back so she can enter the room; when she sees you tucked snugly into the middle of the bed, she shoots you a soft smile and mouths you’re welcome, which makes absolutely no sense without context. You’ll have to bring it up to her later and ask what exactly you’re supposed to be thanking her for.

“So you said the detective called?” Aaron prompts her, and she looks away from you, nods.

“Yes, he wanted me to ask if we could have a few agents meet him at the second crime scene tomorrow instead of the precinct, figured it could save a little time.” Aaron looks confused, like he doesn’t see why this couldn’t have waited until tomorrow, but he ultimately agrees.

“Sure. You, Reid, and Prentiss can head straight there, if that’s what he wants. I’ll let them know in the morning.” JJ nods, and looks over at you, and then back at Aaron, who makes a kind but curious face. “Was there something else?”

“Huh? Oh, no, that’s it. I just didn’t want to forget. I’ll let you guys go—enjoy the rest of your night,” she says with a smile and a wave, and when he closes the door behind her, you both exchange a look.

She’s definitely acting a little weird, but it’s late, so you give her the benefit of the doubt.

You scoot over to your side, put the book on the nightstand and switch off your lamp; Aaron climbs back into bed and switches his off, too, and he turns to face the wall while you lay on your back and stare at the ceiling.

It takes about half an hour, but he falls asleep first; you turn to face him, watching his back, following the rise and fall as he softly breathes in sleep, and the peaceful rhythm lulls you into submission, and you drift off as well.

When you wake up a couple hours later, he is on his stomach with his face pressed into his pillow, and you are draped over his back with your cheek against his t-shirt. It’s soft, and warm, and smells like him, and you glance at the clock and realize it’s too early to do anything but get comfortable and fall back asleep, so that’s exactly what you do.

The next time you wake up, to light creeping in between the curtains, Aaron is no longer in bed, but you’re holding his pillow, still warm beneath your cheek. He doesn’t act weird when you get up and start moving around, just pops out of the bathroom with his toothbrush dangling from his mouth.

“Got you a latte,” he says around it, gesturing to the desk and the pair of paper cups that sit on it, and you grin.

“Seriously, you’re my favorite human,” you answer, and you grab your coffee and lean against the doorframe, sipping and sighing until you’re a little more clear-headed. “Sorry if I crushed you; guess I was restless last night. I usually don’t move around that much.”

He just shrugs, spits out a mouthful of foam into the sink.

“You didn’t crush me. I’m pretty solid, if you hadn’t noticed.”

“I’ve noticed,” you tease, looking at him over the lid as you take another sip. “Now hurry up and quit hogging the bathroom if you want to leave here at a decent hour.” He rinses, zips up his toiletry bag noisily for dramatic effect, and slips past you, rubbing a hand over your unruly bed head as he goes. The day passes quickly, with lots of interviewing witnesses, following dead-end leads, and bad police station coffee. When Aaron calls it and tells everyone to get some dinner, you all split off into smaller groups—Spencer and Derek go for Chinese, JJ and Emily opt for pizza, and you and Aaron end up at a retro diner with burgers and milkshakes and a plate of fries between you to share.

“I think we should be focusing more on the docks,” you say, dipping a fry in ketchup and taking a bite. “Even if that’s not where the bodies end up, it seems to be where the unsub is meeting with the victims. We could stake it out tonight, maybe. If you want.” You never want to step on his toes, because he is the boss, the leader, even if you’re friends too; you try to be careful how you phrase things, especially in front of other people, because you don’t want your comfort to look like disrespect, however unintentional.

“That’s a good idea. You and I can head down there after this; I’ll let the others know to patrol nearby, in case we need backup.”

He dusts off his fingers and pulls out his phone, types out a text, and you look around the restaurant—the place looks like it was ripped right out of the 50s, with a checkered floor and lots of red vinyl, a shiny jukebox in the corner. Out of place is a flatscreen tv behind the counter; during the day, when it’s busier, it might play news or sports, but you two are the only ones here at the moment, so the staff is hanging out beneath it watching a movie. It’s Titanic, you realize, when the iconic ‘Rose floating on a piece of debris’ scene plays, and you snort, take a long drag of your chocolate shake.

“I always hated this part. They could have found a way for him to survive, too. Unnecessary death for the heartache factor,” you say, and Aaron looks up from his phone to the screen, makes a sound of contemplation.

“I always thought it was kind of romantic. When you love someone, you’d do anything for them to be okay, even at your own expense. Even if it’s stupid.” You look over his face, study the features you know like the back of your hand, and you guess you can kind of see that, but you can’t say that, so you just sigh.

“I suppose you think Romeo and Juliet is romantic, too,” you tease, and he looks back at you, rolls his eyes.

“It’s very much of its time; it's a lot harder to suffer a miscommunication like that these days. And there is something to be said for star-crossed lovers—people who shouldn’t be together, for one reason or another, but can’t help but drift close anyway.” You swirl your straw in the metal cup, thinking briefly of how that happens to describe the two of you, and when you look up at him, you think you see a hint of that same thought on his face.

More likely, that’s just wishful thinking.

“I like the sword-fights,” you say to lighten the mood, and he laughs, and you both polish off the rest of your food and then head for the docks.

Two hours in and absolutely nothing has happened, but just when you’re ready to complain, or suggest playing I Spy or something, there’s movement from one of the shipping containers to your right. You nudge Aaron, point to the container, and you both creep closer, trying to make out the situation.

When you’re just around the corner, it’s clearly two men fighting, but you obviously don’t know if this is your unsub, two random guys having it out on the docks, or what, so you mutually agree to wait until you have some kind of sign that this is your guy. When one of them pulls out a hunting knife that looks vaguely similar to your murder weapon—as close as you can tell in the dark, anyway—you raise your guns and identify yourselves as FBI.

The unsub drops the knife, but fists his hands in the other guy’s jacket, manhandles him to the edge of the dock, and shoves him into the water, then jumps as well. You swear, and Aaron takes off his jacket, throws it on the ground, then his phone on top of it, and looks back at you.

“Stay here and call for backup,” he instructs, and then he jumps in too; you call the team from your comms, get a response from Emily, and then toss your phone onto Aaron’s jacket and follow him.

He, of course, went for the victim first, so you look for the unsub, who is not visible above the water. You completely submerge yourself, feeling for more than looking for him, because the water is cloudy on a good day and pitch black at ten o’clock at night; when you pop your head up for air, you see Aaron getting the victim up onto the dock, and the unsub bobbing a bit further out. You swim to him, limbs aching, and he seems to know it’s time to give up.

He’s winded, gasping for breath, so you keep him above the water to your own detriment, dragging him by his wet jacket instead of cuffing him, because you’re not trying to kill the guy or lug his unconscious body back to shore. You just barely keep your own head above water most of the time, coming up for big gulps of air when absolutely necessary.

You finally make it to the dock, and your team has arrived, so Derek pulls him out of the water, makes sure he’s alright, and puts some cuffs on him. Aaron’s hands are on you right after, getting you up on the dock, wrapping a towel around your shoulders.

Despite the warm spring breeze, the water was freezing, and you can feel your teeth chattering. He rubs your arms for warmth, crouches down to look you seriously in the eyes.

“Thought I told you to stay here,” he says with an arched brow, a scowl you can tell is more concerned than angry. You wet your frozen lips and try your best to smile.

“You jump, I jump, Jack.”

He looks at you like you’re an idiot, but fondly, if that’s possible, then hugs you so tightly, guides your face to press against his warm neck. How he’s not teetering on the edge of hypothermia is anyone’s guess.

“Your lips are practically blue. Stupid,” he murmurs, but his mouth dusts over your temple in what is unmistakably a kiss, and when you’re able to feel your lips again, you reciprocate, press them a little harder against his throat while you shiver in his arms.

It doesn’t mean anything except I’m happy we’re both alive. Probably.

That night in bed, he faces the wall, and you stare at the ceiling, but you wake up with your nose against the back of his neck. The way he’s breathing tells you he’s not asleep, and when you wrap your arms around him, he holds them tight. Things don’t change after Pittsburgh, and that’s okay. You are comfortable with the way things are, and you love what you have—lunches under the oak tree, the exchange of books, late night texts when you both can’t sleep, hands brushing when you walk to the parking garage, glances shared across the jet. All those things make it easy not to focus on what you don’t have, what you’re not even sure Aaron would want anyway.

You exchange books again on Friday at lunch: he hands you Beloved by Toni Morrison, a book you already know and adore, and you hand him Ravished by Amanda Quick.

“Dubbed the Beast of Blackthorne Hall for his scarred face and lecherous past, Gideon,” Aaron shoots you a glance—“that’s purely coincidental”—“was strong and fierce and notoriously menacing. Yet Harriet could not find it in her heart to fear him. For in his tawny gaze she sensed a savage pain she longed to soothe... and a searing passion she yearned to answer.”

You hold back a smile.

“It’s a modern retelling of a classic story—Beauty and the Beast,” you add, taking a bite of your sandwich. He looks you over like there’s something he wants to say, but he just tucks it under his arm and steals a piece of melon from your lunch.

“I have Jack this weekend, so I probably won’t get to read much, but it sounds intriguing.”

“Well I hope you like it when you read it. Tell him I said hi; it’s been too long since I saw him. I bet he’s looking more like you every day,” you say, popping a piece of melon into your mouth. He smiles softly.

“A little, but Haley says she sees her father in him, and I have to agree. We may have to wait a few years until he looks like me; he’s too cute for that now.” He doesn’t sound self-deprecating, just fond, but you can’t let a comment like that stand, regardless.

“You’re cute; the difference is that kids are cute all the time. You’re an adult, so sometimes you’re handsome, sometimes you’re cute, sometimes you’re hot… it can be hard to reconcile.” This time, he looks you over with something light and playful in his eyes, and it’s something you want to explore, but the timer on your phone goes off, indicating that lunch is over, so you just exhale softly and pack up your things.

You don’t talk much after that—his Fridays are usually busy with meetings, and he leaves in a hurry to pick up Jack, which is understandable.

Emily, JJ, and Penelope invite you out for drinks and dinner—“because we know Hotch is busy,” Penelope says, which has literally nothing to do with your weekend plans, but you don’t correct them—so you don’t linger either.

You go out for Italian, so you are sleepy and full of wine and pasta by the end of the evening, and you smile at your friends.

“Thanks for inviting me out tonight, guys. I had a really good time.”

“Of course,” Emily says, taking her last sip of Pinot Noir. “We barely see you anymore; it was long overdue.”

“Definitely,” you agree. “I should really try to drag my ass out of bed more often.” You can’t help it, though, that after a long day, your bed and a good book just call your name. You’ve always been introverted in that way. JJ laughs softly, chin in her palm, elbow on the table.

“Honeymoon phase. Give it another couple months and you’ll be past that.” You do have a new memory foam mattress that has made sinking into the pillows and blankets all that more indulgent, but you didn’t think JJ knew about that. And you’ve never heard of a honeymoon phase for a mattress before.

“Eh, I don’t think so. There’s literally nothing more satisfying on this earth.” The three of them exchange an amused look, but your phone vibrates, and that catches your attention; you smile when it’s Aaron, sending you a photo of Jack with a toothy grin and his hands covered in fingerpaint. You look up to the sound of chairs scraping against the floor.

“Alright, we’ve lost her. See you all Monday,” Emily says, pulling you in for a hug; when she steps back, she smiles. “And tell Hotch we said hi.”

“I will,” you promise as you hug the other two. You hang back a moment, type out a reply—Looks like you’re having lots of fun without me!—and get into your car to head home.

You change into comfy clothes, drink a glass of water, and climb into bed with Beloved, and at around 9:30 you receive a reply.

Having the most fun we can without you. Maybe next time Jack is over, we can tempt you with dinosaur chicken nuggets and fingerpaint?

You smile, the happiest you’ve been all night—and that’s saying something, because you really did have a great time—and send back, It’s a date. Come Monday, you’re feeling pretty good, well-rested and relaxed from probably too much time in bed, but Aaron looks upset when he walks into the morning meeting. He keeps it short and sweet, and everyone disperses quickly, giving you sympathetic looks as you hang back to try to have a word with him. He clears off the white board, tidies up the table that doesn’t need tidying, and you place a hand on his back, gentle and comforting. He sighs, and you can feel the tension leave him almost instantly.

“Hey. What’s bothering you?” you ask softly, leaning around to try to catch his expression; he looks tired, sad, and maybe a little conflicted, leans into your touch.

“Taking Jack back to Haley’s was rough last night; it always is, but yesterday was really bad.” You know a little about this from weekends past, how Jack always cries when Aaron has to leave, how he feels terrible about it for the rest of the evening, but it must have been extreme for him to still be so upset. “And Haley…” He sighs again, runs his hand through his hair. “It’s like it’s one step forward, two steps back with her sometimes.”

“Why don’t we go sit in your office and you can tell me more?” You want to continue discussing this—that’s what friends are for, and he’s clearly in a bad state emotionally, you think it could help—but he just shakes his head.

“No, I… it’s okay. I don’t want to weigh you down with my problems.” You take your hand off his back, lean a hip against the table and look up at him.

“I’m not just your friend when it’s all easy breezy, lunch in the sunshine, talking about our favorite books,” you say with a sad smile; he reciprocates a little, which is more than you expected. “I’m here when things are complicated, when you have bad days, too. The Monday blues especially.” One of his hands rests on the table, and you cover it with yours, lean in to press your forehead to his shoulder. “Let me be here, okay? Even if all you need me to do is listen.”

It takes a moment, and his eyes are wet when he finally responds; he inhales deeply, nods, and brushes his free hand over your head in something of a hug, murmurs a rough, “okay.”

You sit in his office for an hour—which, again, is more than you expected—listening to him talk about his weekend with Jack, how heartbreaking it was to take him back to Haley’s, how he tried talking to her about taking him more often and she just wasn’t sure she could trust him to do what he says he’ll do. He understands where she’s coming from, knows he’s been unable to keep his word in the past, thinks he doesn’t deserve the benefit of the doubt; he hasn’t asked for advice, seems to just want to vent, so you just listen.

“Then I mentioned you, that you might come for dinner next time he’s over, and she was worried about that,” he says, exasperated, and you frown.

“Why would she worry about that? I’ve been around him lots of times.” It doesn't make sense, because Haley has always been nothing but sweet to you; Aaron looks up at your question, and it seems a little like maybe he hadn’t meant to say that part, though you can’t imagine why.

“It’s just different now… because he’s older,” he says after a brief moment of hesitation. “She doesn’t want him getting attached to someone who might not always be around, you know.” You sigh softly, because if that’s all it is…

You lean forward, take his hand, squeeze it tight.

“I’m always going to be around, Aaron. I can talk to her, if you want, tell her that.”

“No, it’s—you don’t have to do that.” He squeezes your hand back, closes his eyes for a beat. “Just hearing you say it, it makes things easier. I’ll talk to her again next time.”

You talk a little more, and he seems a lot better afterward, even if he is a bit less expressive during lunch; you figure any progress is good, but it makes you sad to see him so down, so naturally, you formulate a plan to help get him back to the Aaron you know and love.

At the end of the day, when he makes his way to the bullpen, you spin around in your chair, take him by the sleeve.

“You’re coming home with me tonight,” you say in no uncertain tone of voice. “For a few hours. I’ll bring you back for your car.” He agrees with a fond look, and you lose yourself in the expression for a moment, then stand up, grab your things, and walk with him out to the garage.

Rush hour traffic is what it is, and you leave Aaron in charge of the music, which means you get The Beatles and The Who, Rolling Stones and Neil Diamond, and you’re both singing along and so much happier by the time you pull into the parking lot of the bodega nearest your apartment.

“Just running in for provisions—be right back,” you say with a grin, and when you return with two paper bags of loot, he looks at you like you might be his favorite person in the world with an age in the double digits. It’s a look you love putting on his face.

“Do I get to see what provisions you’ve acquired?” he asks, teasing, but you shake your head and tell him he’ll see it when you get there.

With a pit stop in your apartment to grab a blanket and a few throw pillows, you take him up to the roof and get things ready for your makeshift picnic. There is white wine, still mostly chilled; cubed cheese, far from gourmet but no less delicious; crusty french bread that was fresh this morning but at this hour is a little extra crusty; blueberries, because they didn’t have grapes; dark chocolate, because you share a fondness for it; and paper cups for the wine.

Aaron takes a look at your bounty, spread over the blanket, and smiles the first real smile you’ve seen all day.

“Fancy,” he teases, and he takes off his jacket, gets on the ground with you. You pour each of you some wine, pop a blueberry in your mouth.

“No, but I thought a meal—and I do call it that loosely—under the stars might do you some good.” You lift your paper cup and tap it against his, brush your fingers over his hand. “To the best boss, best dad, best friend I could ask for.” You take a sip, but he doesn’t at first, watches you with something simmering behind his eyes.

“Do I get to make a toast?” he asks after a few beats, and you smile, nod, and hold up your cup. “To the only person stupid enough to jump into a freezing cold river after me. To the only person I would consider eating a bodega dinner with. To the only person who sees me the way you do.” You both take a sip, which is hard to swallow around the lump in your throat. He looks into your eyes, then breaks the dark chocolate into slivers and hands you a piece like he didn’t just say the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to you before.

You eat, and talk, and drink, and when you’re done with dinner you put everything back in the bags and lay back on the blanket, side by side, and stare up at the stars. The moon is high and full, shining while the stars twinkle around it, and you can’t think of a single time you’ve ever felt more at peace.

“This was really perfect,” Aaron says, almost a whisper, after about twenty minutes of companionable silence. “I can’t thank you enough for being there for me today.” You turn to face him, hands curled up under your chin, and he turns toward you as well. He’s so handsome in the moonlight your heart almost aches.

“You don’t have to thank me. I just wanted to see you happy.” You feel your eyes well up with tears, because he deserves to be happy; you sigh, blink them away, and he leans in and presses his lips to your forehead, rests them there for a long time. When he eventually pulls back, you bring a hand to his hair, brush it back at his temple, and then the creaking of the door makes you pull back, sit up.

It’s your neighbor from 422, who you’ve seen on the roof a handful of times, sneaking away from his wife to smoke a cigarette. He squints in the dark, recognizes you, and waves.

“Hey, 418! You’re not alone tonight.” Aaron sits up too, and you laugh softly.

“Nope, but we were just leaving. The roof is all yours.” Aaron stands, pulls you up, and you grab the blanket and pillows while he grabs the bags, and the two of you head back down to your place.

It’s after ten when you get the groceries put away, and you stand next to Aaron in your small kitchen, contemplating what you want to say next. Your mouth betrays your brain, says what you’ve been thinking but weren’t quite sure how to approach.

“It’s late; I know I said I’d take you back to your car, but you could stay here if you want. I have a spare toothbrush, and I know you have a spare suit at the office, and it’s not like it’s the first time we’ve shared a bed before.”

You’d completely understand if he’d rather go home—you hate when your plans are changed at the last minute, and you prefer to do your full nightly routine for your sanity’s sake—but he only nods, and you lead your way to the bedroom, show him the master bath.

You are in your pajamas, tucked into bed, when he comes out in his boxers and undershirt; he hangs up his suit in your closet where you’d left him some space, then climbs in beside you. He looks over at you, then past you, at your nightstand, which has a stack of books on it—none of them romance novels. You grin, busted after months of book exchanges, and he leans over you to look at the titles.

“Persuasion, To Kill A Mockingbird, One Hundred Years of Solitude—Beloved.” He looks from your copy of the novel to his, which you hold in your hands, and you shrug sheepishly.

“I like reading the notes you put in the margins,” you say meekly, hoping he’s not angry, but all he does is laugh.

“Let me guess: you don’t actually like romance novels.” He leans back against your pillow, and so do you, resting the book on your lap.

“I mean, I don’t not like them… but I’ve been buying those just for you.” The smile on his face is brilliant, and only makes you yearn for him more; things you have been purposefully not feeling are flooding your heart and mind and body now, with him so close, laughing over this stupid secret you’ve been hiding for so long. “And you, sweet man that you are, have been reading them, and discussing them.” You put your hand on his shoulder, and he ducks his head to laugh again.

“Since we’re being honest… I didn’t read all of them. I tried,” he says when you act offended, shoving the shoulder you’re resting against, “but some of them were so bad. I just flipped through, found something I thought could pass as my favorite part, and hoped to hell you didn't ask too many questions.”

You both laugh until you’re breathless—he is so different from how he was this morning it makes you want to cry—and when your laughter dies down you look at each other, sharing breath, two heads on one pillow; is it any wonder you bridge the distance, pull him close for a warm, gentle kiss?

When you break the kiss, you are instantly worried about what Aaron will do—you aren’t drunk, aren’t even tipsy, so you know he can’t be, so much bigger and more solid than you, but will he think it’s a mistake? He kissed back, you’re pretty sure, but maybe that was an accident, something done on autopilot—

He leans in for a second kiss, mouth deceptively soft, and you curl your arm around his back, press into it with lips desperate not to let this end now that it’s started. When you separate, you are both looking into each other’s eyes again, breathing a bit heavily, and you meet in the middle for a third kiss, the best kiss you’ve ever had in your life.

That kiss ends when you yawn in his face, and he chuckles softly, leans over and switches off your bedside lamp; you smile at the ceiling, and he wraps his arms around you, presses his lips to your shoulder, and tells you good night. The next day, the two of you arrive at work early so he can shower and change into his fresh clothes without anyone on the team noticing—not that you think they would really care, but they’re nosy, and a little annoying, so you both agree that’s probably for the best.

You don’t talk about the kisses, even though they’ve been the only thing running through your mind since they happened; you promise to discuss it at lunch, though, and that’s such a sweet, romantic prospect that you think you prefer it better that way anyway.

Only, you don’t ever get to lunch, because there’s an urgent case in Minneapolis, an all hands on deck situation, meaning even Penelope joins you on the jet. You debrief on the flight, hunker down in the conference room, and split up to cover more ground; you barely get to speak to Aaron the whole time you’re there except to be given instructions and to fill him on what, if anything, you’ve learned.

You don’t even make it to your hotel that night, working around the clock to catch the people responsible for terrorizing the city. It takes not one, but almost two full days, and when you board the jet on Wednesday evening, everyone is dead on their feet. You barely remember the flight or the trip home, and you fall onto your bed fully clothed and crash just like that.

Thursday is your birthday, which you almost forgot, and so you assumed everyone else would too. You should have known better, because even if your team can be annoying, they are still your friends, and they love you, so you are well and truly spoiled.

You are treated to a latte and bagels from Emily, purple cupcakes with silver sprinkles from Penelope, a piggy back ride from Derek, a book of poetry you’ve had your eye on from Spencer, and a card from JJ—really, it turns out, from all of them.

“Enjoy a romantic getaway on us?” There’s some kind of certificate in the card, and when you flip it over, you discover that it’s for a hotel and spa that offers couples massages, mud baths, intimate aromatherapy? You arch a brow. “Uh, thanks, guys. Are you trying to tell me something here?” JJ’s face falls a little and she points to the card.

“It’s a romantic getaway. For you and Hotch? Since things have been so hectic lately,” she says, but your ears are kind of ringing and your brain is stuck on the for you and Hotch part.

“Oh. Um. Sorry—it’s just kind of soon, I think? How do you guys even know about that?” you murmur. The two of you haven’t had time to discuss Monday yet, and you haven’t spoken a word to anyone; you wouldn’t have guessed Aaron would have either, but there is a gift certificate for a romantic getaway in your hands, and you’re kind of spiraling.

“Well come on, we haven’t exactly been pretending we don’t know,” Emily says, and you can feel the confusion in your features when you look up at her. “And you guys haven’t been exactly secretive. We’re happy for you, though.”

“I mean, we haven’t been secretive, but we haven’t really had a chance to talk about it yet. It’s only been three days.” You are met with looks similar to the one on your own face.

“What do you mean, three days?” Spencer asks with a frown. “You and Hotch have been dating for almost two months. Right?” he says, looking at the others, and they nod, but it’s tentative. Your first reaction is to flush, and you close the card, fan your face with it.

“You guys think… You guys thought…” You look at them, then up at Aaron’s office; there’s no way he can know that you’re having a moment, but he chooses then to come downstairs, coincidentally. He’s smiling at first, but it falls when he looks at your face.

“Hey. Is everything okay?” He presses a cool hand to your hot cheek, flicks his eyes over yours, and JJ makes a noise; when you glance over at her, she’s gesturing between the two of you.

“I’m sorry, we were wrong? What were we supposed to think?” Aaron frowns, not following, and you take a deep breath.

“They got me a gift certificate for my birthday. To a spa. For you and I to have a romantic getaway, because they were under the assumption we’ve been dating… for two months.” The way he pulls back quickly makes your stomach ache a little, but you say nothing. You should have known.

“You say I love you,” Derek begins like he’s listing evidence. “You have lunch together every day. You’re always smiling at each other.”

“Seriously, some of the softest, gooiest smiles I’ve ever seen,” Penelope adds.

“You eat together on cases, you’re texting all the time when you’re not together.”

“I’ve been pairing the two of you up in hotels since I first figured out you were dating,” JJ says, and the whole ‘you’re welcome’ thing suddenly makes some sense. “I booked you that room with just the one bed so you’d maybe feel more comfortable about us knowing, so you’d see that we don’t mind.”

“You’re always looking at each other, always touching,” Spencer says. “In Pittsburgh—that was the first time you really hugged or kissed each other in front of us. We were trying to pretend it wasn’t a big deal, but it was kind of a big deal.”

You look over at Aaron, try to gauge his reaction, but for the first time in a long time you can’t tell what he’s feeling. You can’t really tell what you’re feeling, either. Sadness. Worry. Loss? But what have you lost?

“We’re friends,” you say, even if it sounds weak to your own ears. “We’re… close.”

“We wouldn’t exactly make sense as a couple, would we?” Aaron asks rhetorically, and your heart clenches when he says that. He told you this morning that he’d made dinner plans for you, both for your birthday and to discuss the kisses, what they mean, where you go from here, but that doesn’t sound very promising anymore. “We’re just—”

“Star-crossed,” you say, but you feel like your eyes are vacant. You can hear your heartbeat pounding in your ears. You’re stupid for kissing him, for letting yourself think he could feel the same way you feel, have felt for a while. Isn’t friendship enough? Don’t you already have this special bond so unlike what you have with anyone else in your life? Why press your luck? You know better than that. “We should get back to work.”

You don’t look at Aaron, so you don’t know whether or not he looks at you. JJ does, and you can tell she knows you’re upset, but she just nudges everyone on their way, and you take a seat at your desk—it’s covered in balloons and streamers, the Penelope special.

You’ve never felt less like celebrating.

At lunchtime, Aaron stops at your desk, and the two of you walk out to the bench, open your bags in silence. You’re almost halfway through the hour before he tries to speak.

“Uh. I. About earlier,” he finally gets out, looking down at his sandwich, and you shake your head even though he’s not watching you.

“It’s fine. We don’t have to.” You take a bite of your salad even though you don’t taste it. “You’re right, it doesn’t make sense. You are who you are,” smart, sweet, handsome, tender, caring, “and I am who I am.” Too quiet, too young, too impulsive, too silly, too emotional. He nods, looks at your face for the first time in a while, swallows.

“Right.” You’re due to exchange books back—his is on your lap, yours is on his—and he picks them both up. “I’m like this,” he says, holding up Beloved. “Faded cover, dog-eared pages, scribbles in the margins: middle-aged, divorced, a little broken, barely holding it together for the kid I don’t get to spend enough time with. You’re like this,” he says, holding up Ravished. “Fresh and glossy and shiny and new, with your whole life ahead of you, the whole world ahead of you. You could do anything, with anyone.”

You frown, because this is not what you meant, at all. How could he think that about himself, when the well-loved cover and the dog-eared pages and the scribbles in the margins are all the best parts of him?

“Aaron,” you say, but it sounds like pleading; you reach out to put your hands on his arms, but he pulls them back. His eyes are rimmed red, lips pressed together to hold back everything he’s not saying.

“I think lunch is almost over.” He packs up his things, leaves you with tears in your eyes and a wilted salad and a brand new romance novel you’re never going to read.

Later, he cancels dinner, says something came up, and you go home to your empty bed and watch Titanic and bawl your eyes out when Rose tells Jack she’ll never let go. Friday, you get another case. Weekend cases are no one’s favorite, but especially not yours, when you desperately needed that buffer of time away from Aaron to sort out your feelings and get back to some sense of normalcy. Instead, you’re flying to a small town outside of Nashville to catch a serial arsonist, and when you get to your hotel, you and Aaron are sharing a room.

At least there are two beds, this time.

You go with Emily and Spencer to a crime scene, walking around a house that was once picture perfect and is now all charred wood and ash, and you quickly tell yourself to get a grip and not look for metaphors for your own life while trying to solve a case. What kind of investigator are you? Pathetic, apparently.

You work until evening, and when it’s time to break for dinner, you buy a sad looking assortment of items from the police station vending machine and eat in the conference room by yourself.

It’s a good thing you do, because they get a call about the fire while everyone is still away, and you and a few locals are the first on the scene.

It doesn’t start out bad, mostly located in the back of the house, but you know how quickly these things can spread, and the fire department is working hard to put it out. One of the officers is talking to the family, and the mother is crying, so you come closer to figure out why.

“She said the daughter was supposed to be staying at a friend’s, but sometimes she changes her mind at the last minute and comes home. She can’t get ahold of her,” the officer says, and you nod, thinking.

“Where would she be? The front or the back?”

“Her room is in the front, second floor; if she’s here, that’s where she’d be,” the mother says, wiping her eyes with a tissue, and you tell the officer to stay with them, that you’ll take care of it. You talk to the firefighters—this town is so small there are only two that were able to respond, and they’re both busy trying to put out the fire, but they clear you to go in if you stick to the front of the building and get out of there as fast as you can.

Your team isn’t here yet either, too far out for comms to be effective, and you can’t get ahold of Aaron, so you make a judgement call and head inside.

The front of the house is so eerily normal it’s almost easy to calm your nerves and pretend the back isn’t in the process of being destroyed. You open the front door, run up the staircase, and call out for the girl; she answers, not from the front of the house, but the back—a bathroom maybe? Flames lick up the wall beside it, but you can get to the knob, and she comes rushing out, into your arms, terrified. You weren't expecting that, and you both fall back: your head hits off the floor, but she seems okay, so you tell her to run out the front door and find her mom.

You press a hand to the back of your head, and it comes back tacky with blood. There’s ringing in your ears for a couple of minutes, and then your favorite voice in the world comes through.

“Where are you? We’re here, where are you?” You’re getting hotter, and when you crane your neck up, you can see why: the fire is getting closer, creeping toward the staircase, creeping toward you. You inhale, cough, and press your walkie button.

“I’m upstairs in the hall; hit my head. It’s not safe.”

“I’m coming for you.” You groan. Stubborn man.

“It’s not safe, Aaron.” You hear the crackle of static, hope maybe he heard your warning and will wait until more firefighters arrive—but knowing him the way you do, that’s just wishful thinking. His voice rings out again, and despite the pain, you can’t help but smile.

“You jump, I jump, Jack. Just stay put; I’ll be right there.” You close your eyes, drift in and out of consciousness; when you see him, all you can think is how ridiculously in love with him you are, and that you really hope you’ll be around to tell him. You are, of course, fine. Your head is the worst of it, even the smoke inhalation was mild, and the fire didn’t touch you, so there are no burns. Aaron doesn’t leave your side the entire time you’re being checked over, looks serious and concerned, though he smiles when the mother comes over and squeezes you so tightly you wince a little. It starts to rain, making the firefighters' jobs a little easier, and it feels oddly cleansing, after the day you’ve had. Someone offers you an umbrella, but you decline.

The fire is successfully put out, and the half of your team that didn’t respond to the scene responded to a call for suspicious activity, which ends up being your unsub. You are all happy no one was killed this time, and since you’re staying the night again, the group decides to grab a drink to celebrate. You don’t have a concussion, but your head still aches, so you pass, and Aaron passes with you.

You head to the hotel, park in the lot, but you don’t even make it halfway across before you stop, a hand on his arm.

“I need to say something,” you tell him, and he looks up at the dark sky like, right here? Right now?, even though you’re both already drenched. You nod, because if you don’t do this now you might never—almost dying always gives you an unhealthy amount of confidence, which you attribute to equal amounts of adrenaline and stupidity. “When we first met, I didn’t think we’d have a lot in common. We’re both quiet, but in wildly different ways, and I’m quick to trust and let people in while your guard is almost never down.”

He looks a little sad at that, and you realize you’re kind of doing what he did, putting the two of you into completely different categories, emphasizing the ways you don’t belong together. But that’s dumb, so you don’t give him time to focus on that for long.

“But being your friend, Aaron—the more time I spent with you, the more I came to feel like no one has ever understood me the way you do. No one has ever seen me the way you do.” Rain is pouring down all around you, beating against the pavement, flattening your hair against your head, but you don’t care. Regardless of his reaction, this is actually kind of perfect. “I didn’t mean to fall in love with you—that was an accident, I admit. But that doesn’t mean you aren’t the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” You step closer to him, put your hands on his waist; he doesn’t pull away. “I don’t need shiny, glossy things; you're the one I want—faded cover, dog-eared pages, notes in the margins. I love you exactly as you are.”

He is gorgeous in the rain, water in his hair, dripping off his nose. His expression looks hopeful, and you pray to god that’s not wishful thinking.

“Say something, anything,” you beg, anticipation killing you, and he presses his hands to your cheeks and pulls you close for a deep, passionate, soulful kiss that says it all.

The words are nice to hear, though.

“I didn’t mean to fall in love with you either,” he breathes against your lips when the kiss breaks. “I told myself it was just a crush, because someone so young and beautiful was paying so much attention to me, treating me like more than just the guy giving orders. But the more time I spent with you, the more undeniable it became. You are everything good about the world—bright, optimistic, caring, funny, sweet. How could anyone not fall in love with you?”

You swallow hard, lean up to press your lips against his again.

“When you said we wouldn’t make sense as a couple…” He shakes his head.

“That was just me chickening out. After we kissed, I was all but ready to ask you to go steady,” he says, and you both smile, because he’s such an old fashioned dork, but god, do you love him. “And then we found out that the team thought we’d been together for months, and you looked freaked out, so I freaked out. I’m sorry. I should have made us talk about it sooner.”

“Classic pointless miscommunication,” you say with a laugh, and he chuckles too, kisses you again.

“Let’s go inside and get dried off; there’s a birthday gift in my bag I’ve been meaning to give you.” He takes your hand, and you head up, duck into the bathroom to change into dry clothes, squeeze the water out of your hair. There is a small, flat, wrapped present on your bed when you emerge, and you smile, sink down to open it.

It’s Romeo and Juliet, a brand new copy, but when you flip through it, there are blue inked notes in the margins. Aaron comes to sit beside you, touches your face like you’re something precious.

“The course of true love never did run smooth,” he murmurs, and you smack him on the arm with the book.

“That’s from A Midsummer Night's Dream, and I know you know that,” you say with a grin. He nods in admission, and you wrap your arms around his shoulders, lean in for a warm, loving kiss. When you pull back, it’s with a soft smile. “Give me my sin again?”

“My pleasure,” he whispers, and you sink into his embrace and promise never to let go. The following week, you both leave work at noon on Friday so you can enjoy your romantic getaway. You drive to the spa, and Aaron reads over the brochure on his phone with a tone you find hilarious.

“Mud bath—I’m not bathing in mud. That’s counterintuitive.”

“It’s special mud; more like clay,” you say, but he snorts, scrolls.

“Seaweed wrap—nobody is wrapping me in seaweed. That sounds like a nightmare.” You laugh softly and take your exit.

“It’s supposed to be rejuvenating. JJ recommended it.”

“JJ weighs fifty pounds. It would take all the seaweed in the Atlantic to wrap me,” he says, and you roll your eyes, jab your finger into his ribs.

“But what if I get to unwrap you?” you ask, eyebrows raised; you briefly glance over and he makes a face of contemplation.

“Okay, that’s a maybe. Intimate aromatherapy—what does that even mean?”

“I think it means we do something that makes us smell good and then we go back to our room and kiss and stuff.”

“Now that doesn’t sound half bad,” he murmurs. “Foot massage? I’m not letting a stranger touch my feet, that’s weird.” You look over at him, squinting.

“You literally plugged someone’s bullet wound with your finger yesterday, but someone touching your feet is where you draw the line? Will you do anything on the list?” He scrolls down it, and his extended silence makes you laugh.

“Meditation. Couples massage,” he says, reaching over to rest a hand on your thigh. “There’s a sauna.” You think of him, sweat-drenched in a fluffy white towel, and take a deep, calming breath. “I bet the room is nice; did you bring a book?” You smile indulgently, reach out a hand to brush through his hair.

“Yep. It’s called A Duke’s Wild Kiss…” He gives you a mildly withering look, and you lightly tap the bridge of his nose. “Just kidding. I brought To the Lighthouse by Virginia Woolf.” His answering smile is brilliant.

“Are you serious?” You nod, and he gestures to the backseat, where your bags are. “That’s what I brought, too.”

You spend too much of your romantic getaway in your room, but it is really nice; you do the couples massage, though, and aromatherapy, and the sauna, and then you take turns giving each other a foot massage while the other reads To the Lighthouse out loud.

The world probably doesn’t deserve Aaron Hotchner; you definitely don’t, but somehow you get to keep him anyway. A/N: Though I snuck in a few parts of a few different lyrics, two lines in particular inspired this fic: 'Now I've read all of the books beside your bed' and 'I hate accidents except when we went from friends to this.' A lot of my fics lately have incorporated books... guess I better get reading!

Taglist ❤️: @thaddeusly @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul @ssamorganhotchner @heliotropehotch @angelhotchner @qtip-blog @gspenc @wishuhadstayed @averyhotchner

[differentkettleoffishalltogether]

Missing You

A/N: This is just a little smutty one-shot. Thank you guys so much for all of the notes on my last fic! I really thought it was gonna get like 4 notes so that was a really amazing surprise. If you haven’t read it you can check it out here: I Would Do Anything You Asked Me To

Masterlist

Read the (sort of) part 2: Up In The Air

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: Y/N gets creative in her attempts to convince Spencer to get a phone from this century

Category: Pure smut baby

Warnings/Includes: smut, graphic descriptions of sex, dirty talk, phone sex, innocence kink, masturbation (both male and female), please let me know if there’s anything I’ve missed

Word count: 2200 words

“I don’t need one Y/N” he says exasperated, neatly folding clothes to put into his go-bag. This wasn’t the first time they’d had this conversation but Y/N continued to insist.

“I’m not saying you need one Spence, I’m saying that it would be nice if you had one. Your phone now just does the bare minimum, calls and texts, does that thing even get your emails?”

He rolls his eyes, “You know that’s exactly what I like about it, why would I want any other functions? Plus I like the tactility of the buttons. Humans have been conditioned to find stimulants like the feedback from pressing a button satisfying, it helps us feel like we’re solving problems, essentially.” He deflects.

She takes a step closer to him, placing a hand gently on his arm, “Do you know what could be more satisfying than that?” She questions him, and he shakes his head, eyebrows coming together in confusion, “If I could send you pictures while you were away? Or if we could video chat when I miss you at night?” She pulls him around to face her so he can see her expression, the way she’s looking up at him with half lidded eyes, hoping he doesn’t miss what she’s getting at.

He smirks, and lets out a laugh that’s just shy of scoffing, “You know we can do that with just audio?”

“Are you serious?” He just nods in response, “so you don’t think the visual component is necessary?”

“Necessary’s not the word I would use. It would be nice to have, but I’ve got enough visual aids stored away up here” he taps his temple as he speaks. She groans at him, her point failing to land.

“We can’t all have your memory! Sometimes I don’t just want to think about you getting off in a hotel room, I want to see it” she whines and he gives her a small laugh.

“Look, we can talk about this later but I have to go” he places a gentle kiss on her forehead before he zips up his bag and is out the door.

— — —

When he gets back to his hotel room that evening he collapses back onto the bed. He should have a shower but he’s not sure he even has the energy for that. He was reserving it for his phone call.

He and Y/N had an agreement. Whenever he was away he had to call her each night he was gone. It wasn’t a possessive thing, it was more of a safety thing. If she could just hear his voice for even 30 seconds she could sleep easy. Sometimes it would be just that, a quick ‘hello, love you, goodnight’ other times there’d be plenty to talk about, good and bad. Sometimes he needed the call more than she did. But they never had phone sex.

Spencer was confused why she’d seemed so adamant that it was something he should upgrade his phone for when it wasn’t something they typically even engaged in.

But he didn’t know what she had in store for him yet.

He got changed into sweatpants and a t-shirt and lay back into bed, propping himself up against the pillows. He dialed Y/N’s number.

“Hi there.” her voice was smooth like honey and he missed her already.

“Hi.” he breathed

“Did you find my present yet?” He had no idea what she was referring to. Sitting upright in his bed on instinct.

“No?”

“Shame, will you check that little inside pocket of your bag for me? The one with the zip?” he hops straight up to root for it, finding a small sealed envelope. He settles back into bed before he rips it open. It contains a small collection of Polaroids, all of them of Y/N.

She knew what he liked. He’d never say it in so many words but he had a thing for innocence, something about seeing her in white lingerie, or sometimes baby pink. He would always get a little more excited than usual, grabbing, and pulling, and ripping on occasion. But he didn’t recognize the set she was wearing in the Polaroids. It was white satin, with some ruffles, she had a suspender belt around her waist with thin white stockings attached as she stretched out on their shared bed.

His eyes poured over the images, in another it was just from her chest up, giving him a perfect view of her breasts, the expanse of her neck, the frame cutting off just above her lips which were delicately covered in lipgloss. He could see sheen of where the cameras flash had bounced off it.

“Fuck” was all he could think to say. All other words escaping him as he turned his attention towards the photo of her with her hands inside of her own panties, her back arched off the bed beneath her.

“So you found ‘em?” She spoke, her voice sultry and laden with tension.

“I, uh, yeah” he breathes down the line, feeling his cock twitch at the sound of her voice coupled with the images in front of him.

“Are those— the underwear, is it new?” He already knows the answer but he’s not sure what else to ask.

“Mmhmm” she hums, “I thought you’d like this set, I was saving it for a special occasion but I thought, what the hell.”

“I do, I like it a lot.” he reaches his hand inside the waistband of his sweatpants without really thinking about it.

“You know Spence, I really wish you were here right now” she toys with him playfully, “So you could see this set in person, I’m looking at myself in the mirror right now and those pictures really don’t do it justice.”

Spencer almost stops breathing, “You’re wearing— now?” He asks in disbelief.

“This is what I usually do when I miss you Love. I’ll get all dressed up in something I know you like, and I’ll fantasize about what you’d do to me if you were here.” her tone is soft but teasing, still standing to admire herself in the mirror.

She could see why he liked her in white, it made her look so sweet, and cute almost. Whenever she wore underwear like this she went all out. Applying a mascara she knew would run down her cheeks with even the slightest tear, lipstick or lipgloss that was sure to smear or leave stains all over the parts of Spencer that she’d kiss. He loved that, the juxtaposition of the before and after. The adorable angel that he got to ruin.

“What do you do when you fantasize?” He questions, letting his own mind drift as he wraps his hand around his now painfully hard cock.

“Well I’ll think about you, how you like to hold me down by my hips while you eat me out, or how much better your fingers feel” she moans, slipping her own fingers into her panties as she lays down in their bed, “mine just don’t fill me up like yours do.”

Spencer can imagine it perfectly, the way she’s probably splayed out on their bed right now. “God I wish I was there. I’d have my fingers so deep inside you, you’re always so wet for me” he groans into the receiver, “tell me how wet you are for me baby?”

She’s impressed that he’s getting the hang of this so quickly, obliging him right away. “Fuck Spence, I’ve been dripping wet since I heard your voice. I’ve been thinking about this all day. Do you want to hear?”  

She doesn’t wait for a response, she just brings the phone down towards her pussy, lining up the microphone next to it as she pumps her fingers in and out, so that he can hear the wet sounds that fill her bedroom. When she brings the phone back to her ear he’s breathing heavily.

“Fuck Y/N. I wish I was there so bad, I wish I could fuck you right this second” he’s almost whimpering, she can tell he’s touching himself already.

“If you were here with me in bed right now, how would you fuck me Spencer?” She takes a moment to root her vibrator from the drawer in her beside locker. If she concentrated, or stopped concentrating maybe, she could pretend it was him.

“I’d grab you by that fucking suspender belt, and flip you over. Have you face down on the bed for me, your perfect ass in the air.” His sentences are punctuated by harsh breaths, bordering on gasps. “For being such a tease I’d have to rip those tiny little panties off you, as if they were really covering anything in the first place.”

As he speaks she hooks her fingers in the sides of those panties and pulls them off her legs so she’s got better access now. Lining the head of her vibrator up at her entrance, pushing it in slow and steady, waiting until it’s completely sheathed inside her before turning it on.

“I’d grab you by your hips and pull your ass up so my cock is right there, so I can push the head up against your pussy, feeling how fucking wet you are for me”

She’s moaning now, and if he can hear the vibrations he doesn’t say anything.

“Then I’d push into you, your tight little cunt, I always have to go so slow for you to take all of me. I’d keep going, deep as I can so I can feel you squirm under me, feel you clench even tighter around me”

She had no idea he had a mouth this dirty but she was loving every second. “I fucking love it when you fuck me from behind” is all she can string together, writhing on top of their sheets.

“And that’s exactly what I’d do next baby, I’d start to fuck you. Slow, and deep at first, then fast, and rough. I love the sounds you make when I get rough. Those pathetic little whimpers and cries while I fuck you into the mattress. I can even hear them with your face buried in the pillows. It’s even better when you cry just a bit, mascara all over your little cheeks ‘cause you just can’t take it.”

He’s panting now, his boxers pushed down his hips so that he can properly work his cock, his fist pumping up and down faster and faster as he’s about release.

“Where would you cum Spence?” She says it but she almost doesn’t recognize her voice, it’s more of a strangled cry and it goes straight to his dick.

“You know I’d cum deep inside you, fill you up while you tighten around me, god I love those fucking noises you make. Cum for me” he demands, and she’s got no problem obliging.

With her back arching up off the bed, her hands fisting the sheets, and the vibrator still buried inside her, imagining it’s Spencer, she cries out. Moaning louder than she intended, her phone on loudspeaker beside her. She can hear him too. His hand working himself through his climax as it coats his stomach and fingers and little gasps and groans he lets out that sound an awful lot like her name.

Once they’re both spent they lie in silence in their respective beds for a moment before Spencer breaks the tension.

“That was a surprise”

She bursts out laughing. “Well that was the idea”

“But why?” He asks, deliriously happy but confused.

“I thought it might convince you to invest in a phone with a camera?” She says like he’s silly for even asking.

“Why would I want that? This just proved that we don’t need that” he explains, and he’s not wrong but he’s missed the point.

“Spencer, I’m gonna take some pictures of myself right now, and I’m gonna send them to your email. I want you to grab your laptop and open ‘em up for me okay?”

“Okay?” He agrees unsure, and she hangs up.

Several minutes later and he’s opening up an email with the subject heading:

“pros of dr. reid getting a new phone”

There’s no text, just a series of photos of Y/N. She’s staged them perfectly.

The first is a selfie, messy hair, smudged lipgloss, and mascara stained cheeks on show as she’s blowing him a kiss. Another is just her mouth, but she’s stuffed her discarded panties inside, leaving the wet stain obviously visible to him. There’s others of her, taken of herself in the mirror, fingers inside herself, in the next she’s got those same fingers in her mouth, lips closed tightly around them, cheeks hollowed out. Spencer has to stop scrolling or he’ll just get hard again.

He hears his phone ping with a text message.

You could’ve been looking at these the whole time, might’ve even gotten a video if you were lucky x

He rarely likes to admit defeat but in this case it might just be worth it to concede.

I’ll buy a new phone first thing tomorrow x

—

Masterlist

Read the (sort of) part 2: Up In The Air

[timextoxhajima]

Boundary [Dana’s 700 Special]

Track: Fever - Enhypen / TiO - Zayn / Close - Nick Jonas, Tove Lo

➣ Member: my og bias owo

➣ Genre: idol! ju x stylist! [fem] reader

➣ Warnings: swear words and if you squint, some smut

➣ Word Count: i’m like 100% sure it��ll be as long as accelerate [i was wrong it’s nowhere near but whatever]

➣ A/N: Thank you for 700 followers. You are all nothing but amazing ♡

➣ Taglist: @taesty-wander-lust​ @tbzzhoe​ @suzy-rainbow​ 

He’s going to be the absolute death of me.

The thought is loud in your head, and you were almost sure you would’ve blurted it out had the filming studio been empty. Breaking Dawn was blasting from the speakers behind the MV director, experimenting with some strange angles that you’ve never seen any other MV director try with the group before. 

If you thought Reveal was dangerous, this might be worse.

“Okay! Let’s do that hook into the chorus first and we’ll see how that angle goes!”

“Breaking Dawn, I see-”

“Cut! Juyeon-” The director snorts while staring at the monitor from the camera. “That was great but um, we’ll need to rate the video if we release this one.”

Never mind. It is worse.

“Yah, Juyeon!”

“Ahh... seriously?”

“You already have enough screen time, why are you so greedy?!”

The members crowd around Juyeon and shove him playfully as the director films that part from the monitor, and brings his cellphone over to the group to see. You can barely hear the music from the phone, given how far you were standing from the filming area. 

The group of 11 burst into loud yells and frustrated groans, with Younghoon and Chanhee giving their iconic ‘OoO’ faces to Juyeon. The main man chuckles, embarrassed, and shakes his head while waving it off.

“I didn’t intend to make it so suggestive, sorry!”

“It’s alright, that was great, really!” The director assures him. “It’s just that we can’t release that without rating the MV, and you guys don’t really have that kind of reputation yet so, we won’t do that for you guys now. But anyways, can we get a 10 minute break and we’ll pick up where we left off?”

The boys celebrate in unison, Eric immediately rushing off for the washroom, some members going to the staff to ask for their phones, others going for the monitor to check their progress and the remaining approaching their stylists for appearance maintenance.

So, when Juyeon approaches you with that sly-mixed-with-shame smile, you can’t help but to shake your head at him. 

“Really? He asks you to go all out and you look like you want to eat the camera,” Pulling open your little kit, you set it on the table next to you. You pull out the comb and hairspray and start adjusting his hair again - all that dancing’s pushed some strands out of its rightful position.

“Aw, so you agree that I looked good enough?”

“What?” The pitch is higher than expected, but you hope your feigned annoyance camouflages the pinch of jealousy. “Please! The director said it’ll be rated!”

Juyeon laughs, standing with his feet a little more apart than natural for you to have easier access to his hair. 

“Well, you’re the one who did my hair and makeup. If it’s anybody to blame, wouldn’t it be you?” 

His words halt the sharp end of your comb in his hair, and you poke it into his scalp for good measure while puffing out your cheeks. He chuckles it off. 

“Excuse you, sir, Cre.Ker gave me a color palette and a set of reference pics. Ever since they cracked the code with you with Reveal, they just won’t stop with this genre of style on you.”

“I mean... I definitely prefer my current style over what they did to me in Boy.”

The memory cooks up a bunch of images in your head, and you fail to stop the giggle that runs off your tongue when you return the comb to the kit. 

“Aw, come on, that was cute,” Picking up a brow pencil, you fill in the tiny fade-out. “You were, what? 19? No reason for you to look as raunchy as you do now.”

“It’s a pity you only met me just before I become ‘raunchy’.”

“Why? I mean, ‘Juyeon’s not a good boy’ though. Raunchy’s closer to that than what you did pre-Reveal.”

“I meant it!” Juyeon widens his eyes and his brows shift up his forehead just as the tip of the brow pencil lifts off his skin. “I’m happy Cre.Ker’s letting us show what we want to.”

“And I’m happy for you too,” You finish up on his foundation where it’s starting to wear off. “But one day, you’re gonna cross a line and break some hearts.”

Juyeon smiles as you cap on all your equipment and close your kit. Resting one hand on your hip, you quickly give his hair one last poke before he resumes his normal standing position.

“What if I only want to break specific hearts though?”

A frown befalls your face and you forge an ugly look by crooking your lips. “What? Was that an attempt to flirt? Please stop,” Waving him off, you turn and pick up your kit, walking away on your heels as Juyeon tails you.

He’s just practising flirting on me at this point. Best friends and best friends for what? Get MY heart broken? PLEASE.

“Flirt with Kevin if you want, he’ll give you better advice,” You turn to the film area and sure enough, Kevin was busy twerking into the camera and Changmin’s just face palming himself. 

“Oi Kevin! Stahb it!” You yell across the space and Changmin points to you, turning to yell at Kevin.

“Yah, even y/n’s telling you to stop!”

Chuckling, you turn into the dressing room as another hair stylist finishes with Sangyeon in the mirror. 

“Hello sir, you look kinda tired today, are you resting well?”

“Don’t get me started. Schedule’s packed into June,” Sangyeon subtly shakes his head, but his stylist holds his cheeks and shifts his face back to face the mirror.

“Sangyeon, please face the mirror. It’s not my fault if your hair gets messed up again,” The hair stylist grins as he picks up the hairspray.

“Sorry,” Sangyeon blinks at him and purses his lips. Juyeon crashes into the two seater-sofa in the corner of the dressing room and groans tiresomely, resting his head on the top surface of the headrest. 

“Well, you should get some rest before Kingdom kicks in,” You place the kit on the dressing table and sit down in the two-seater next to Juyeon. “It’s not going to be an easy fight, y’know.”

“Right! You used to be ATEEZ’s hairstylist!” Sangyeon’s eyes widen and you can see him struggling not to turn to you directly instead of trying to find you in the strangest angle of the reflection in the mirror. 

“Yeah. Those guys are intense, and I mean intense! Six out of eight are known for performance skills and the other two... one produces 99% of their tracks and the other belts out notes even I can’t reach.”

“You sound like you were sent from KQ to intimidate us-” Sunwoo struts in and waves an annoying finger in your face.

“I’m not-” Swatting his finger away, Juyeon leans forward and pulls Sunwoo’s hand. “I’m just saying for good measure- it’s not going to be easy. Stray Kids is also going to be great competition, not to mention iKON and-”

“AhHH, we get it!” Sunwoo shushes you, swinging his hand with Juyeon’s.

“No matter the outcome, you all need to know that you guys were stellar last year. I was new then, but it was absolutely stunning to watch you guys work and put so much effort into your performances.”

“Oh my God, yeah, you could not shut up about the Danger performance,” Sangyeon cooes, letting his stylist finally finishes and shifts to pack the hair equipment. 

“I’ll bet it’s cause your best friend over here got the most screen time,” Sunwoo perks up a mischievous brow and smirks at you.

Juyeon’s eyes widen and stares at the youngest, “I didn’t get the most screen time.”

“If not you then who?” Sangyeon butts in as he stands.

“Uh... Changmin?”

Sunwoo and Sangyeon go quiet. 

“Yah, you had a good amount of screen time too!” Sangyeon turns and blurts out at Sunwoo, playfully shoving him. 

“Y’all are being loud in here,” Kevin’s head pops out from beyond the door frame, one of his stylists tagging behind him and struggling to pat down his clothes. 

“No, tell me if Sunwoo had more screentime than Changmin in Danger from last year,” Sangyeon wraps an arm around Sunwoo and slowly walks him out. 

“What? I don’t know, Changmin had the opening and the dance break...”

Sangyeon’s hairstylist follows closely, and by instinct, he shuts the door behind him, leaving you with Juyeon in the dressing room. It’s humid, from all the lights turned on in the room, and the leather seat wasn’t the most comfortable thing to sit on.

Turning to Juyeon, his eyes are gently shut, and frankly, he looked like he was about to fall asleep. The backrest of the sofa sinks when you lean back, mimicking his position.

“You have like four minutes left so don’t even think of falling asleep.”

“I’m not sleeping,” He offers a tiny smile on his lips, eyes still shut. 

“Sure, you’re not.”

“Wake me up when the director needs me.”

“You wish,” The leather under your legs squeak when you push yourself off, but he sticks out an arm at your stomach and pushes you back down. Judging by the miniscule smirk on his face, he’s just messing with you. “What do you think you’re doing? I have a job to do and you have a music video to film.”

He remains quiet. Someone shouts at Eric outside.

“You’re being fucking weird today, sir,” You lift a hand and grab his arm to move it away, but he swiftly wraps his fingers around your wrist and yanks you forward instead. 

Using your palms to keep the distance between your faces, you’re hovering above him now, breath on his upper lip. The sweat’s begun to collect in the lines of your palms, stuck to the arm rest by his side and the cushion he’s leaning on. 

Your vision immediately darts to his face upon the bold move, and he’s got that slight smile prancing on his lips when he’s thinking of a joke or something funny and doesn’t want to say it. It’s been a good year of being Juyeon’s best friend (apart from the members), so you’ve definitely grown to know how to read him by his actions.

You sigh, rolling your eyes and removing your legs from next to his thighs.

“Juyeon-”

And then he cuts you off by holding you in position with his arm around his waist, challenging your knees to hold you up - because if they buckled, you’ll land right on top of him. 

“What the Hell do you think you’re doing?” 

Knock knock

“y/n, are you done with Juyeon’s hair? Filming’s resuming!”

There’s an awkward tension between you and Juyeon now, with his eyes wide open and staring into yours, arm still around your waist. But having his nose just inches away from yours and his breath breathing down on your philtrum feels so surreal. It feels like it’s a dream that you’ve failed to pull yourself out from.

He parts his lips, then purses them, and sighs through his nose. 

“Yeah, she’s done! I’ll be out in like, two seconds!”

Your gaze finds his and you’re panicking when he’s moving again. Within two seconds, you’re flat on your back on the length of the couch - and this time, he’s holding himself above you.

“What the- I-”

“We’ll continue this later back at the company, I promise,” Then he rounds your cheek and presses a kiss into your cheekbone instead.

He pulls back, offering you his kind smile and a ruffle into your hair for good measure. Nothing in your body is working when you hear him shuffle for the door, and it clicks shut behind him, with Breaking Dawn already blasting in the filming space.

Sucking in a deep breath, you don’t realise how hard your heart is thumping in your head until you hear your own shaky exhale. You don’t know where to look, you can still feel his grip on your waist and his breath on your upper lip, and everything’s just a mess right now.

What the Hell just happened?

“Eric - Dior Shirt Size M...” You mumble under your breath, fingers gripping the pen to the clipboard so hard, your writing would probably leave a mark in the sheet under. 

“I think this is the last luggage!” Younghoon’s stylist drags the black case in, lining it up with the last unopened one. “Need help?”

“Yeah, just open the luggage for me and separate Sangyeon’s clothes from Jacob’s, but otherwise I can handle it on my own.”

She nods, laying it down and unzipping it for the clothes to spew out. “How’s working here? It’s been over a year, right?”

“Mhm,” You glance at her, obviously tired. “It’s alright, but thanks to your advice since last year, I don’t think it could’ve been better.”

With a kind smile, she looks up at you, placing Sangyeon’s pants over his stack. “You’re experienced from ATEEZ, so it wouldn’t have been that hard anyway.”

She stands, resting her hands on her hips as you walk over, squatting to check Sangyeon and Jacob’s clothes. 

“So... what’s going on with you and Juyeon?”

I’d like to know too.

“Huh?” You look up at her, head tilted to the side with a sneaky cocked brow. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, please- All the stylists here know you and Juyeon are like- hanky panky nowadays. Pretty sure the boys know too, or at least have some idea.”

A cackle runs your throat dry as you graduate your attention to Jacob’s clothes. “Is that what they’re calling it? ‘Hanky-panky’? Cute.”

“Do you know why they’re still in a meeting this late?”

“No, why would I bother? As long as I don’t lose my job, it’s none of my concern.”

“They’re in meeting to be informed that their dating ban has been lifted.”

Your grip around the pen tightens, but halts abruptly. 

“Ah...” She sighs, contemplated with herself. “Cat got your tongue? Or should I say... Juyeon got your-”

Interrupted by the practise room door being pushed open, both of your attentions immediately flit to the new commotion. 

“Oh, Juyeon! Meeting’s over?”

“Yeah,” He turns and closes the door behind him. His hair was still waxed up from the day’s schedule, makeup still on but fading. Clothes snug around his shoulders with his belt tight around his hips. Those stupid jeans never did you any good since day 1. “Sangyeon said he left a ring in one of the luggages so he sent me to come get it while he counsels Kevin for twerking.”

“y/n’s just going through Sangyeon’s wardrobe, so she might find something,” Your colleague’s begun to take small, insignificant steps towards the door, and your anxiety begins to increase with every inch she places between the two of you.

“Which is why I’m here,” He stuffs his hands into his back pockets.

“Right, right,” Now, she’s already got her hand on the door knob, glancing past him and at you with wide, glistening eyes. “I gotta go check your wardrobe for tomorrow so... I’mma go now, and uh... security comes by around 12am. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“What-” You blurt out, receiving a sharp, surprised look from Juyeon.

“Bye! Bye Juyeon!”

“Bye,” He waves. 

“No, wait-” 

And so, the door clicks shut behind her, and her shadow behind the translucent material disappears down the corridor. 

The whir of the air-conditioner in the practice room fills all the awkward openings in the room, but all you can hear is the rapid thunk of your heart in your brain - as if that was even possible. 

Thunkthunkthunkthunkthunkthunkthunkthunkthunkthunkthunkthunkthunk

“About earlier today-”

“Give me a moment while I look for Sangyeon’s ring. What does it look like?” Standing up too fast, your vision goes white and a second of dizziness throws you off your balance.

So, of course, Juyeon rushes over and holds you by your waist before your ankles or knees give way. The incessant blinking makes you wish you could actually pass out right now, because your weight’s in his arms and you can’t bring yourself to look him in the eye.

“Iron deficiency much?” The corner of his lips curl up into his cheek before releasing you. “Do you need to sit down?”

Clearing your throat, you turn away first. “No, I-”

“Good, because I have some points to make and you’re gonna stop running away from them like you’re doing now.”

The change in tone runs chills down your spine and goosebumps erupt all over your skin - thank god you were wearing a blazer, safe from his observation. 

“How have you tolerated it so much?” He folds his arms across his chest, tilting his head innocently but his eyes say otherwise. It’s always his eyes that tell a whole different story from the person he’s known to be. 

“Y’know, being around me but you’re so calm and collected and I just...” He shakes his head, and to your dismay, takes a step forward - which drives you backwards. “How?”

His voice is too sing-songy. It’s too calm and collected for you because you’re about to barf up your dinner, which was a good 4 hours ago now. There’s nothing left in your stomach to barf up. 

He takes another intimidating step and you wince at your inability to look him in the eye.

Another step back. 

“Like, I know we’re friends but my God-” Shaking his head, he sinks his teeth into his bottom lip.

Another step forward. Another backward.

“It’s upsetting that I can look ‘raunchy’ and it doesn’t seem to do anything to you... But seeing you the way you are every other day makes me want to- just-”

Another step forward. 

One more one back.

And your breath halts.

Your back hits the wall, the rear of your skull lined with the pillar. 

Oh, no.

Gritting your teeth so tight, your jaw starts to ache and your temples are throbbing. 

“I’m not seeing things, right?” A flicker of curiosity sparkles in his eyes when you muster up the courage to look at him - only to regret it instantly. “It’s not in my head that you feel the same way I do, right?”

“I... Don’t know what you’re talking about- You’re an idol... and I’m- I’m just your stylist and I-”

“‘Just my stylist’?” The comment forces his brows into a slight frown, before he lifts his hand and covers the bottom half of his face with his palm. “Rethink what you just said.”

Sucking in a deep breath, your chest wells with a horrid mix of desire and self-discipline. Those two don’t go well together. 

“We can talk about this some other day,” You choose to say, dragging your body along the pillar in a bid to shift out from the wall-Juyeon sandwich like a fool. He lifts his arm and presses his palm into the pillar behind you, caging your poor, poor soul in this fateful corner of his stupid practice room.

“Juyeon, we need... boundaries in this industry. One scandal and it’ll destroy your career.”

“Boundaries?” He buckles his elbows, shrinking the gap between your noses. “Boundaries are for idols who still have a dating ban.”

Breathing down your nose, he’s too close for comfort. You can smell his cologne, the scent of his hair wax and see the bumps on his cheek under the faint layer of makeup. You don’t realise you’re trembling until he tilts his head ever so slightly, free hand reaching up to your chin to steady your face.

“Stop running from me,” Shaking his head painstakingly subtly, he whispers into your lips. “You were mine from the start and you know that.”

The adrenaline rush through your nerves sets off fireworks all over you when he slots his body against yours, lips fitted with yours like puzzle pieces; against the wall, with his palms on your cheeks. There was no care or consideration with how much strength he was channeling into this kiss - it feels so pent-up, so frustrated. Without warning, your body resigns as you circle your arms around his shoulders.

Gripping the rim of his collar in your hands, his hands drop to your waist and holds you closer, if it were even possible. A million thoughts race through your head - and at the same time, none. This moment was something you didn’t even know you needed. 

Juyeon’s hands roam the small of your back as he keeps you against the wall, relaxing into the kiss and sighing into it instead. 

This bliss comes in the form of him. Him who provides you all the sinful wants deep down inside you. 

But this bliss doesn’t last, for the practice room door swings open violently and tears Juyeon off you.

“I told you to find my ring, not hook up with your crush!”

[myherowritings]

PART 5. THE INHERENT EROTICISM OF BUTTONING SOMEONE’S CLOTHES

SUMMARY. Todoroki Shouto was a wealthy, young CEO who inherited his father’s enterprise. You were a barista at a local cafe who wouldn’t mind some extra cash. One day, Shouto came in during an early morning shift and tipped you such a large sum of money, you were certain it had to have been an accident. To your surprise and complete pleasure: It was not.

PAIRING. ceo!todoroki shouto x barista!reader

WORD COUNT. 3.0k

GENRE. ceo/barista au, fluff, eventual smut

WARNINGS. sexual tension !! and umm sexual frustration ;p, not explicit but prob rated 16+, just read the title of this chapter BAHAHA

A/N. sorry this is coming a little later than planned ! :( but i hope the dressing room scene can make up for it u.u tysm for reading and for all the feedback! enjoy :3 xx sof

SERIES MASTERLIST

© myherowritings — all rights reserved. reposting, modifying, copying, or translating of any kind is not allowed. do not read my writing as asmr. do not plagiarize.

What were you supposed to wear to a shopping date? you asked yourself. Not that today was a date or anything. Though maybe you sort of wished it were… 

The Naruhata Charity Gala was in a little over a week and Shouto would be coming over to pick you up in less than one hour and you still sat in your room with nothing but a towel on feeling more and more hopeless. 

It was a strange dilemma. He met you in your work apron wearing an unflattering work shirt and work pants. And when you met up over the weekend previously, you never paid too much mind on what you would wear. In fact, you were positive he wouldn’t even care how you looked. So why was it such a big deal to you now? 

Probably because of your recent admission of your growing feelings towards him, you thought crossly. 

In your defense, it wasn’t like it was your fault! Right? Seeing someone everyday… Wanting to see someone everyday… Texting regularly about the most random things, having the most banal objects you saw throughout the day remind you of something Shouto did or said… With all those occurrences it would’ve been practically impossible to not start crushing on him! 

Time passed as you stared at your ceiling blankly. If you kept this up, he was bound to show up in your house and find you half-naked. (Now that you mentioned it, that didn’t sound like the worst idea. But it wasn’t something you’d randomly spring upon someone.)

“Get up, Y/N!” you scolded yourself, rolling off your bed and heading towards your closet. 

In the end, you ended up settling for another variation of your usual go-to outfit and called it a day. It happened to be perfect timing since, by the time you finished getting ready, you got a new message on your phone. 

Shouto: Parked in front of your place

Shouto: Sorry I’m a little early. You can take your time getting ready :)

Y/N: it’s okay i’m ready now!! 

After hitting send, you put your shoes on, gathering your belongings you wanted to bring with you, and headed out the door. Excited to hang out with Shouto again, you walked with a skip in your step down the path until you reached his car. 

“Hi!” You waved through his half-opened, tinted window. To no one’s surprise, his car was a sleek black color with dark, tinted windows, and gold details along the sides. If it didn’t look so oddly sexy you would’ve laughed at how cutely dorky he was for matching his car with his credit card. “This is one hot car.”

He turned his head to the side when you entered the passenger’s seat. “Should I turn the AC higher?” 

“Huh— Oh!” You stifled a giggle when you processed the pun he made. “You’re funny, Shouto.” 

He only looked a little confused. “Thank you.” 

The interior of his car was no less—for lack of better term—sexy than the outside. Leather seats, a large screen for the radio and carplay, and the dashboard and side doors lit up a nice blue color. 

“Pretty!” you complimented, poking at the colorful light.

“Want to pick a color?” 

Your eyes widened. “It can change colors?!” 

Shouto nodded.

“Can it be pink?” you asked intently. 

“Light pink or hot pink?”

“Light.”

He swiftly obliged and with a hit of a touchscreen button, the interior lighting changed from blue to pastel pink. 

“Green!”

It turned green.

“Orange!”

Cue the orange. 

“Purple?” 

Purple. 

Once you were thoroughly satisfied with Shouto showing you the whole color selection (you were almost embarrassed to admit it kept you entertained for a good ten minutes), you settled on a bright turquoise that reminded you of the color of his left eye. 

“Ooh, this color! My favorite,” you said simply, giving him a wide smile. 

A faint blush dusted his cheeks as he developed a sudden interest in adjusting his rearview mirror. “Hm.”

Shouto drove the rest of the way in a comfortable silence, occasionally asking how your week was outside of work and what type of outfit you wanted to wear so he could have a better idea on where to take you. 

“Did you eat?” he suddenly asked when he hit the next stoplight, one hand holding the wheel and the other resting comfortably on the gear shift. 

His hands looked nice and slender and soft to the touch. Pretty hands, you thought but shook yourself out of it because you could go down a rabbit hole of examining his hands and going into detail about them. 

You remembered the single, measly granola bar you had due to your rush getting ready. “I didn’t really eat yet, no. Did you?”

He shook his head and pulled into a food plaza with lots of stores to choose from. The two of you agreed on a noodle restaurant that apparently had some of the best cold soba (once you learned it was his favorite food, you wanted to be able to have some with him and today was the perfect opportunity to do just that) and promptly headed to the location. 

In the shop, a waiter sat the two of you down at a dimly lit booth with the perfect amount of ambience that if someone were to casually look over, they might even mistake this outing as a date. 

You grinned at the thought. 

“Excited for the soba?” asked Shouto, examining the smile on your face thoughtfully. 

That’s not why you were smiling, but it was close enough. “Mhm. And the udon. You can never go wrong with noodles!” 

Yes, you got both udon and soba. But in your defense, where else would the fun in life be if not in sugary sweets and carbs? 

As the two of you waited for your main dishes, you ate some fish cakes and edamame while talking about the ways in which capitalism could be dismantled. Rather sexy of him, if you did say so yourself. 

Before you knew it, you were done with your meal and headed back into his car to go fancy-people shopping. On the remainder of the ride, you asked yourself what color you should pick that would match well with both you and Shouto. After all, nothing said a cute couple who totally liked each other going on a totally real date to a gala like color-coordinated outfits, right?

He parked in front of a street of buildings with a dark glass reaching from ceiling to floor with security guards at the door. Just standing near it made you feel fancy. 

“This is a place my sister told me she liked,” he said, leading you to the store front with his hand on the small of your back to guide you. “I hope you’ll find something to your liking.”

You tried your best not to pay too much attention to the warmth you felt both on your back and your stomach from the fuzzy feelings that spread. 

“Hello, welcome!” the both of you were greeted as you walked through the doors. The interior of the store was lined with designer dresses, some long, some short, and all incredibly stunning. There were only a few other patrons in the store, but all of them looked so elegant as they tried on their dresses. “It’s so lovely to see you again Mr. Todoroki.”

Shouto nodded subtly. “Hello. This is Y/N, my date to the gala who’ll need your assistance today.”

“Hi!” you chimed in at his cue. “Nice to meet you.” 

The worker smiled and made her way over to you. “And you as well. I’m Masuda and I’ll do my best to make sure you leave the store satisfied with your purchase! Did you have a particular style or perhaps color in mind?”

“Umm,” you said sheepishly, looking around the wide variety of clothings and unsure where to start. “I’m not too sure. It’s my first time going to one of these things so maybe something comfortable, but also still...fancy?” You scratched the back of your neck. “Does that even exist?”

“Of course— Just have to find something that feels comfortable to you.” She told you to hold on one moment as she disappear into the rows of fabric. 

As Masuda collected some starter dresses for you to try on, a customer walked by with bags of clothes in her hands, her gaze lingering on Shouto, though neither of you paid her much mind. 

“In this setting, you look almost fit to be a sugar daddy,” you said jokingly, looking around in awe at the sophisticated yet lavish dresses. “You take all your sugar babies here?”

“Only the ones I really like,” he teased back. His voice was deadpan but there was the telltale hints of a smirk on his face to let you know he was only messing with you.

The door chimed to signal that a customer left and by then Masuda had returned with bundles of fabric draped on her arm. She led you away in a hurry and you hesitantly looked back at Shouto who followed in a safe distance. Seeing your moment of panic, he gave you an encouraging smile that somehow was enough to ease a significant fraction of your nerves. This may be new and confusing territory, but at least he was here to help you through it. 

Masuda set a dressing room up for you—it was one of those rooms in the middle of the store with curtains that reached the ceiling and mirrors all around—and placed a bunch of outfits she thought would suit your taste. It reminded you of when a bride would go wedding dress shopping with their family. When you had enough outfits for the first round, she told Shouto to sit down on a leather seat in front of your dressing room while he waited for you to try the different dresses on. 

In a way, it felt oddly intimate: Shouto sitting just a few feet in front of you as you undressed, only separated by the veil of a curtain. Would he offer to help button the back of your dress up, fingers brushing against your bare skin? The thought made you feel almost hot inside as you changed out of your street clothes and into the first dress. 

Unfortunately for you, this dress had no such difficult buttons to reach. 

“How’s it look?” you asked shyly as you emerged from the dressing room. 

The dress was pretty and didn’t feel uncomfortable to walk in, but there wasn’t any sort of attachment you felt towards it. In other words, it was simply...meh. 

Shouto looked up from his phone to take in the sight of you. He smiled. “You look amazing as always.” 

“You think so?” You spun around and curtseyed jokingly and he chuckled. “I don’t think it’s bad, but I’m not sure if it’s the right one.” 

“We’ll be here until you find the right one you want, then. Take your time, Y/N.” 

His voice was normally on the deeper side, but it sounded even more sensual and gravelly at this very moment. You felt goosebumps on your arms and it wasn’t just because of the sleeveless dress you currently had on. 

“T-Thanks, Shouto,” you murmured, turning around and walking back into the changing room to hide the look on your face. You didn’t even know what kind of look you had on your face, but you knew it was one that might give too much away. 

It wasn’t fair that he had to be so sweet and caring and thoughtful and handsome and rich… Most guys you met barely fit into one of those criteria, let alone all five. (Sure, the last two weren’t necessary in your opinion, but you couldn’t deny they were a nice bonus.) It was too bad you had no clue how he felt about you. 

There were moments where he felt flirty and teasing, like maybe he viewed you in a more-than-friends way. But other times he was so polite and proper and you couldn’t help but wonder if he was just being nice because that’s simply the sort of person he was to everyone. 

While you were trying to sort through all your thoughts, you completely forgot to change into a new dress the whole time you were in here. 

You saw a shadow at the floor of the curtain before a voice said, “Y/N? Are you okay in there?” 

Jumping at the sound, you scurried to put the next dress on, a blue one with almost translucent fabric and a delicate neckline. Judging from the proximity of Shouto’s voice and the shadow of his shoes, he was right next to you as you changed. 

“I’m okay!” you managed, hoping you didn’t sound as wobbly as you felt. You held the dress closed at the back, fumbling with the fastens. “I just, ah, needed help buttoning this one up.” 

A light ruffle on the curtain then a pause. “Should I...come in and help?” 

Your eyes widened, not expecting him to actually offer to button it up like you fantasized earlier. You fully thought he might called the worker to aide you just so he wouldn’t risk making you uncomfortable. (Not that he would’ve. At all.) 

“I apologize,” he said somewhat tensely after you didn’t respond. “That was indecent of me—”

“No, no!” you said profusely, poking your head out of the curtain while holding the fabric at the front of your dress to your chest. You tilted your chin to meet his gaze with a determined one of your own. “I’d love your help, Shouto.” 

With a dusting of pink coloring his cheeks, he nodded and entered your dressing room. “This dress is a nice color on you.” His voice was loud against the silence. 

Shouto ran his hand down the length of your spine and then up to unfold the column of buttons on your dress that curved inwards at your movement, his knuckles grazing against your skin like lightning striking water. You jolted at the sudden feeling but he didn’t remove his touch when he felt it.

“Sorry.” His voice was low, almost like a whisper. “Was just getting the buttons out.”

“N-No worries!”

His fingers began working on the bottom-most button at your lower back as he applied a steady pressure on the base of your spine to control the motion. Shouto slowly began his way up, fingertips cold to the touch. But you knew that wasn’t the only reason you felt yourself shiver. As he fastened the dainty buttons with immense concentration (much more concentration than was actually needed to fasten buttons, you were sure), you felt the heat of his breath tickling the back of your neck. You almost couldn’t keep yourself from arching your back in a mixture of anticipation and delight at his constant touch. 

When he finished the last button, Shouto let one hand rest on your hip, grasping the fabric between his fingertips to examine its silken texture. Your breath caught in your throat as you stepped back and bumped into his chest, but he was already there to steady you. 

With his arm on your waist and your back leaning against his chest, you made eye contact through the mirror in front of you. You weren’t sure if the pounding you felt was from your heart or his or a combination of both. 

There was something almost erotic about holding each others’ gaze in the mirror after Shouto just helped you dress, the two of you still not letting the other go despite the task being complete. 

“The dress… You look gorgeous,” he said, not taking his eyes off you for one moment. 

You nodded slowly. It did look amazing on you. And it was breathable and soft. (Plus, Shouto liked it, which made you happier than you’d care to admit.) “The only downside would be I need help getting into it.”

“We could get ready together so it’s no issue.” 

“I’d...also need help getting out of it.” 

You held your breath as his eyes darkened, his grip on your waist tightening ever so slightly in a way that made you curve your back before you remembered you were flush against Shouto and he could feel even the most subtle of movements coming from your body. But by the time you stopped yourself, it was too late. He already felt it and you wanted more.

His voice was hoarse. “I could help you with that too.”

Instead of beginning to unbutton the dress like part of you thought he would, he surprised you by spinning you around to face him, your shoulder blades pressed against the cool glass of the mirror and your palms lingering on the muscles of his warm chest. The contrast of the cold glass and Shouto’s body heat left a shiver down your spine.

“And how do you plan to help take off my dress when you can’t even see the buttons?” you said challengingly, a smirk on your face despite knowing full well your body was showcasing just how affected you were by this situation. By Shouto.

He tilted his head to the side in response to your daring tone, hands swiftly finding their way to your back and unbuttoning the top five buttons. It wasn’t enough to completely expose your breasts, but it was enough to loosen the fabric at the neckline in a way that made you gasp. 

“Seems doable to me,” he commented. 

You tugged him down slightly by the collar of his shirt. “I don’t quite believe you. Maybe you should prove it.” 

A guttural noise sounded from the back of his throat as he cupped your jaw and leaned in closer. You inched forward, eager to meet his lips. But before they could touch, a knock came from the wall next to the curtain, causing the two of you to freeze in your spots, bodies pressed against each other in an intimate flush.

“Hello, Y/N?” said Masuda cheerfully, blissfully ignorant about what was about to happen in a public dressing room in the middle of the store. “How are the dresses coming along? Did you like any?”

“Ah, actually…” you trailed off, exchanging frustrated but amused glances with Shouto. “I think we’ll take this one.”

a/n: so...mirror sex/sex in a dressing room as a bonus chapter? u.u why yes of course. i’m one step ahead; did u even have to ask? LMAO and hm i wonder if y/n’s fEeLiNGs~ are reciprocated skfkfkdg ALSO THEY WERE SO CLOSE TO KISSING BUT DIDN’T I CRY hopefully the wait will be worth it ;3

what to expect in the next part:

GALA TIMEEEE

yes y/n finally gets the fancy candy they so desired

we get to see shouto’s sexy penthouse

shouto says eat the rich >:c

[fruitcoops]

Hi! I love your writing! I live for every notification that you've posted something new.

I really like your fics where Coops are being fluffy and adorable, and the team finds them and are all adorable about it, like the Sirius cuddle one. I think that's my favorite.

Would you write Coops skating together before/after practice, and the team finding them and quietly going mushy watching?

I love those moments, too! This was an interesting (and difficult) fic for me to write, since I've never written Cole before, but I'm so looking forward to him in Vaincre. The song playing at the rink is 'American Gods' by ONR. SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

Cole frowned. Upon Katie Dumais’ request, he had listened to “Hoedown Throwdown” enough times in the past two weeks to know the rhythm in his sleep, and that third beat just wasn’t lining up. He paused his attempt at working through the mess of his stall and straightened up, removing one earbud—sure enough, different music drifted from outside the locker room.

Someone else was at the rink.

He scanned the locker room, but saw no gear other than his own; two voices burst into faint laughter. Not the janitor, then. “Hello?” he called cautiously. It wasn’t against the rules for him to be at practice early, but maybe it was frowned upon by the others. Oh god, what if he became known as ‘the early guy’? The last ‘early guy’ he knew had become a suckup Coach’s pet, and everyone hated him for it.

There was a clatter, then more of the voices. Cole took his earbuds out and crept into the hall, wincing with each squeak of his sneakers.

Dumo’s at home, so it’s not the kids…Cole bit his lip as he tiptoed around the corner to the rink. “Oh, shit!” someone yelped before dissolving into laughter. He spotted two duffel bags on the bench, still full of gear, before a blur of movement flashed past and he had to duck behind the wall again to stay out of sight.

“Did you just trip over yourself?” Remus shouted across the ice from the other end with a wide grin. Cole craned his neck in time to see the captain nod, red-faced. “The great Sirius Black, everyone. Bravo, sir!”

Sirius skated over and checked him lightly—neither of them were wearing their pads, just skates and regular clothes. It was an odd sight. Cole felt a little like his two worlds were colliding. Off the ice, Remus and Sirius were kind (if a bit intimidating), and close with the team in a way he desperately wished for himself. On the ice, Cap and Loops were a wicked one-two punch that he idolized. They were careful with their words, and closed-off whenever media was around.

But out there, in their street clothes with well-loved sticks and a scattered collection of pucks, they looked so very different than the people Cole thought he knew.

A new song came on and Remus started doing the Sprinkler; Sirius had to sit down for a moment to catch his breath from laughing so hard, only to be dragged back to his feet and pulled along as Remus skated backwards. “If I have to get up, you have to sing for me,” he said with a groan, though his fond smile was visible from twenty feet away.

“Tell me all of my secrets, tell me all of my lies,” Remus sang, then paused. “And something, something, something…oh, American gods.”

Sirius shook his head. “Hopeless. Isn’t this your playlist?”

“I only added it for the drumbeat!” Remus protested, spinning him in a slow circle. “What, do you want to change it?”

“No, I want to watch you try to remember the lyrics while I push you over.”

“Wh—” Remus cut off with a squawk when Sirius let go of his hand mind-twirl, nearly sending him to the ice. “Son of a bitch!”

“Yes?” Sirius bit his lip and made a dash for the other end of the rink as Remus raced after him; Cole would never understand how someone so compact could build up that much speed in mere seconds. They chased each other in loops and swirls around the fresh ice, their voices echoing off the empty bleachers that didn’t hold a single fan or camera.

Realization trickled in like summer rain and he rested his shoulder against the wall. If he didn’t know them, Cole would have thought they were just some random couple, instead of two of the most famous modern athletes. He wasn’t watching Cap and Loops warming up for practice—he was watching Sirius and Remus screwing around in their free time, on the equivalent of a date.

Remus tried to dip sideways—a move that had helped him evade countless opponents, though Cole could never figure out—but Sirius caught him around the waist at the last second and lifted him off the ice. “Dirty play!” Remus called, sticking two fingers in his mouth to whistle. “Ten minutes in the box.”

“Ten minutes?” Sirius laughed. “I don’t think there’s an official penalty for picking other players up.”

“You wounded me.”

“Wimp.”

“My emotional state is in tatters,” Remus insisted as he kicked his legs halfheartedly. “I’ll never recover from this.”

“Are you sure?” Sirius set him down and turned him around, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“I feel short when you do that.”

“I hate to break it to you, but you are short.”

“Tremzy is short. I’m above the national average for men’s height by four full inches.”

“Shortie.” Sirius caught his hands and pulled, skating backward across the ice as the next chorus began. “Show my life in a mirror, through the opposite side—”

“Singing won’t get you out of this.”

“—and we kill for that moment, when we long to take flight—”

“How do you even know this song?”

“Because I actually remember lyrics when I listen to music,” he teased, turning them in a wobbly circle.

Remus leaned back, using his momentum to slide closer until they bumped chests. “Poet.”

Cole forgot that they were people, sometimes. Just people, enjoying some well-deserved time out of the spotlight.

“Cute, aren’t they?”

Cole jolted and clamped a hand over his mouth to stifle his yelp of surprise.

James shot him an amused look. “They do this before every afternoon practice.”

“Really?”

“Mhmm.”

“It’s so…normal.” He knew his bafflement shone through every word, but Pots seemed unbothered. Ahead of them, Sirius was lip-syncing to an old Paramore song as Remus tried to skate around him to get to the goal.

Pots raised an eyebrow. “What were you expecting?”

Cole made a vague gesture. “I dunno, actual practice? Running drills? The captain face?”

“The what?” James laughed quietly.

“The captain face.” He felt heat rise to his cheeks. “The one where it looks like you’re about to get reamed out by Cap at any given moment. It’s terrifying.”

“Reyes, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but that’s just his resting face.” Pots clapped him on the shoulder. “He’s the definition of RBF.”

Cole blinked at him. “This whole time, I thought he was gonna kill me if I slipped up.”

“Yup.”

“I’ve been afraid of him for two months and that’s just his face?”

“You get used to it.” He turned Cole back toward the ice, where Sirius’ smile was brighter than every fluorescent light in the building. “But he only looks like that around Loops.”

They stumbled a little going through an awkward attempt at a waltz, but they recovered at the last second, and Remus pulled him in for a light kiss. Cole felt his blush creep to his ears. “Should we go?”

Pots shrugged one shoulder. “They won’t notice either way.”

“This isn’t…creepy? They’re basically on a date.”

“They’re at the rink, remember?” A gleam entered his eye behind his glasses. “That means we get to chirp them for PDA in the workplace.”

Cole paused for a second and looked back, where Remus was playing keepaway with Sirius’ beanie. They darted around each other, practically flying over the ice—their footwork looked as natural as if they were born doing it. “It must be hard for them.”

“What?”

“Finding time to do this.” He glanced at James. “Everyone is expecting them to be one way all the time. I expected them to be one way all the time.”

James’ face softened and he draped an arm over Cole’s shoulders, leading him back down the hallway. “That’s what we’re here for. The best thing about this team isn’t our cohesion on the ice, or the Cup we won, or any of that. It’s that we’re friends, on and off the ice. As long as you remember that, you’ll never have to fit yourself in one specific box.”

Cole blinked at him. In two months of mentorship, he had never thought of James Potter as wise. “I swear you’re the same person that put shaving cream in everyone’s skates and blamed Harzy for it.”

James barked a laugh and ruffled his hair. “No boxes, Reyes. No boxes.”

[genshin-hours]

fairy aesop hcs (gn reader)

basically just tiny aesop. I think fairysop is so cute and I wish I could put him in my pocket and carry him around with me. also thanks to remini for making this photo somewhat clear. I couldn't find a nice, clear picture of fairysop 💔

so, fairysop at first most likely just observes you while he is hidden in your garden. he sees you carefully tending to the plants and flowers, smiling as you water them tenderly.

he rarely ever wanders outside of the deep woods where the fairies live, but you have intrigued him enough to come and hide in your garden.

aesop was always warned to be cautious of humans, and he is probably the most careful fairy there is.

so you can imagine his surprise when he hears you comment about how peculiar it was to find a "set of tiny footprints" in your garden.

eventually he tries to let you know he exists without coming outright and telling you. he leaves you tiny gifts like flower crowns they make back home, small buttons he collects, small, pretty rocks, and more. he always leaves them on your windowsill, and when he returns to check, he is pleased to see you have accepted the gifts

in return, you start leaving out things like cake crumbs on a napkin or something pretty you found, and of course you are surprised when you see they're gone. you wonder if there really is some type of pixie or something taking the treats.

eventually, you do meet aesop face to face, and you can't help but admire how adorable he looks. he looks so elegant and well dressed for such a tiny person, and his wings are so cute and shiny, fluttering lightly as he floats up to rest on your open palms

he tells you his name by coming up and speaking into your ear. he is naturally soft spoken, even by fairy standards.

when you tell him you appreciated all his gifts, he turns a little pink and thanks you back for the nice things you've gifted him. especially the rocks and buttons. he doesn't find many nice human buttons because people don't usually lose pretty buttons in the woods.

but you gifted him the prettiest glass beads and buttons that he has already set up around his house

he likes sitting in your pockets as long as he can stick his head out and look around.

he enjoys when you take him around with you to different places like the grocery store or the park or even to a friend's house. he won't reveal himself, but he enjoys tagging along with you.

aesop probably goes back and forth between your house and his world, and you can bet he will one day bring some of the other fairies with him. tracy is the first one. she's super fascinated by all of the technology aesop says you have.

if he stays the night, he likes to sleep in a bed made of some small pieces of cloth on top of a pillow. though sometimes he might flutter over and rest himself next to your head on your pillow or on your chest depending on how you sleep.

if you have any rings, he would love to try them on as crowns. if you call him "little prince" he gets very shy

he tends to be very quiet, and he will sometimes disappear for a few days before he returns. he usually brings back something from his home with him for you.

brings you back some treats that seem a little heavy for him, and you're surprised he carried them all the way back. you can imagine how strange it sounded to whoever made these that aesop needed a version that was half his size.

once you brought aesop along with you around town, and he was fascinated by a display window of a toystore, pulling your sleeve gently and asking to go in.

he really likes some of the doll clothes. of course they're not nearly as well made and tailored to him as his own are, but they still hold some sort of unique charm to them.

if you get him anything, get him some striped pajamas. he loves wearing them at night when he stays at your house.

overall, getting to spend time with fairysop is always a 10/10 experience