#Like on someone's case about the way they stack words I start to get very annoyed very quickly

[ranvwoop]

i am deeply enjoying the app Polygloss to facilitate Languaging however the one thing I am NOT enjoying is that you have to mark every correction as helpful. I don't think that was helpful. I duly accept your feedback and am not choosing to apply it going forward

[headkiss]

something more

pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!bau!reader

summary: you and aaron are friends with feelings more obvious than you think. or: 5 times the team suspects you and hotch are dating +1 time they know it.

word count: 6.6k

warnings: friends to lovers, the team being a little nosy, pining idiots!!!, probably inaccurate descriptions of bau jobs (for the plot!), a very small injury, a birthday, a first kiss, and fluff!

a/n: hiii this one has been a long time coming so thank you guys for being so patient with me!!! and special thanks to the anon who requested this one! i hope u guys enjoy it and please please let me know what you think <3 ily

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Aaron Hotchner was never someone you thought you could be this close to.

Coming to the BAU, you’d been intimidated more than anything. As Unit Chief, he’s got a reputation that’s hard to ignore. Professional, brave, cold when he has to be. His success and talent were undeniable, and all you wanted to do was prove that you belonged there, too.

Then, you really met him, and he surprised you in a way you hadn’t expected. Hotch was kind right off the bat, welcoming you to the team with a smile that felt like some sort of prize.

He was an excellent boss. Understanding and protective, quick to defend anyone on the team like they were his own family. Except, he was so much more than just your boss.

Now, you’d call him your closest friend, someone who’s number you’d call if you were in trouble. He’s your closest friend and yet you feel so much more for him.

It started slow, a friendship blooming the way a plant does with just enough sunlight. It was a shared smile here, a nudge of the shoulder there. It grew to be a seat next to him reserved for you on every plane ride.

Today, it’s eating lunch with him in his office.

Aaron usually works through lunch, more eager to get things done than he is to worry about skipping a meal. Somehow, with two tupperware containers in your hand and a sweet smile, you’d managed to get him to take a break.

“Whatcha doing?” You’d asked.

Hotch looked up from his paperwork then, dropping his pen because you were in his doorway. “You know, Unit Chief business. Reports.”

“Sounds like you have time for lunch, then.” You set the containers down on his desk, making sure to avoid the papers he’d just been working on.

“I should really get this done-”

“Hotch,” you stopped him, “you and I both know that you’re always ahead on this stuff because you stay here so late. Lunch won’t set you back.”

With a shake of his head and the biting back of a smile, a simple twitch at the corners of his mouth, Aaron agreed and stacked his paperwork off to the side.

That’s how you’ve ended up in the chair that’s usually on the opposite side of his desk, only now it’s tugged to be next to his. Your knees touch every so often when one of you shifts, and the warmth stays with you even when the contact is gone.

“Sorry it’s nothing fancy,” you say as he opens the container you brought for him.

“Don’t apologize. It’s great.” Hotch has a way of saying things that make them sound true, no matter how few words he uses, so you accept it.

“Okay, good!” There’s a small silence, a lull as you both take your first bites. “Can I help with anything?”

Aaron looks from the paperwork to your face, your eyes already on his. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to,” you reassure him. “I think sometimes you forget that you aren’t the only one who can do this stuff.”

He knocks his knee against yours. Purposeful this time. A silent ‘thank you.’

“Like you said, I’m ahead anyways. I’ve got it.”

“Come on, Hotch. I’m already done with my report from our last case. I’ve got time. Let me help.”

He’s always been reluctant to accept help, to ask for it, but when you’re asking so sweetly, when it’ll give him an excuse to spend more time with you, it’s hard for Aaron to say no.

“Alright. You help for an hour, that’s it.”

You grin at him, like his acceptance of your offer was some kind of gift he’d given you. Your nose crinkles a little with it, and his hand flexes in his lap, like he’s fighting not to reach out to you.

“Okay, put me to work, boss.”

“We just started lunch,” he says, a little chuckle puffing out.

“Have you ever heard of multitasking, Agent Hotchner?”

Aaron laughs, shaking his head as he reaches for one of the files in the stack he’d made and hands it to you. He’d call everyone at the BAU a friend, but there’s something different, something more about how he’d describe you.

He’s grown closer to you than he usually lets himself get to people, like you’re the only one with the right tools to break through walls he’s put up. You see each other outside of work (on the rare days you aren’t working), and still, he feels like it’s never long enough.

Hotch briefly wonders if he could just move your desk into his office. He shakes off the thought and what it might mean.

Head bent, you’re now focused on the work he gave you, and Aaron takes the chance to admire you. His eyes flick over your profile, the light hitting your cheeks, the flutter of your eyelashes every time you blink.

As if you could feel his gaze on you, you turn towards him and smile—a small, closed-mouth smile, but a smile all the same—before turning your attention back to the page.

When you take a pause and take another bite of your lunch, a small drop of sauce lands on your thigh. “Oh, shit.”

Aaron grabs a tissue from the box on his desk, wrapping it over his fingertip before wiping the small spot from your leg, his finger a spark against you even through your pants.

“Good thing you wore black,” he says, tossing the tissue in the garbage. His hand, however, stays on your leg, and though the touch is light the weight of it feels the opposite. Heavy, huge.

“Good thing you’re here to clean up after me, more like.”

Your eyes meet, and you share a smile with Hotch the way you often do. Mid-conversation, across a room, it’s a smile you sort of reserve for each other.

In the main office below, Derek, Spencer, and JJ stand together, watching the interaction through the window into Hotch’s office. You and Aaron seem to be in your own bubble, completely unaware of your small audience.

“They’ve gotta be together,” Derek is the first to speak, waving a hand towards the office where you and Hotch are talking. “I mean, come on.”

“I don’t know,” JJ shrugs, “they both seem kinda clueless.”

“We probably shouldn’t speculate about them,” Spencer, always the sweetheart, says. “But, statistically, Hotch never eats lunch. Just saying.”

JJ pats Reid on the shoulder, huffing out a laugh before she heads back to her desk.

You stay in Aaron’s office much longer than an hour that day.

-

Punctuality is important in the BAU. Really, if you’re not early, you’re late. You’ve always got to be ready, wheels up in ten, or five.

You suppose that doesn’t really apply to outside-of-the-office parties at Garcia’s.

It’s rare that you’re all available at the same time, from late nights at the bureau to families, it’s tough to make your schedules line up when you aren’t working, which is why whenever she can, Penelope likes to host drinks for the team.

You’re on your way there now, or, you should be. Instead, you’re getting ready in your bedroom while Aaron waits in your living room.

Hotch has offered to drive you to these things every time, and with every offer, comes your easy answer of ‘yes.’ He’d been outside in his car for five minutes before he decided to call, because you’re usually in his passenger seat within seconds of him pulling over by your building.

The ringing of your phone had your eyes blinking open, squinted against the sudden brightness of your TV. You’d accidentally fallen asleep, and, still disoriented, picked up the phone. “Hello?”

“Hey, everything okay?” It’s Aaron’s voice on the other line, and you pull your phone away for a second to check the time before sitting up quickly.

“Shit, Hotch, I must’ve fallen asleep. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s alright, I can wait for you.” He’d wait as long as you need, he thinks. The thought passes through like a leaf blown in the wind, freely, randomly.

“Have you been waiting long?” You ask, fingers tugging at a loose thread in your pants.

“No, don’t worry. Barely five minutes.”

And he still wanted to check on you.

“Why don’t you come in? My couch is probably more comfortable than your car, right?”

“You sure?” He checks, like he hasn’t been to your place before, like you’d ever not want him there.

“Get in here, Hotchner.”

You hung up before he could reply, and he laughed to himself in his car before shutting it off and doing exactly what you’d told him.

So, now, you’re rushing to find an outfit while Aaron sits on your couch by himself.

Even though he’s in the next room, you can feel his presence around you, the steady security he gives you, the warmth that seeps out of him even when he tries to hide it.

You settle on a knitted sweater, a skirt, and some tights, which you realize as you tug them on aren't the speediest of options, but it’s too late to change your mind now. With your hair figured out and the mascara that had smudged during your nap fixed, you step back out into the living room.

Aaron made himself at home while you were gone (he often feels that way with you, at home), sitting on your couch with his arms spread across the back. He looks better than he should there, suit stretched across his shoulders, and you have to clear your throat to snap yourself out of it.

“Okay, sorry again for the delay. I’m ready to go.”

He looks up as soon as you walk in, eyes skimming over your legs and the tights wrapped around them, your waist, up your neck. His gaze lands on your eyes the way it often does, like magnets.

He shakes his head, “don’t be sorry. We’ll be what they call ‘fashionably late.’”

You laugh, because who would’ve thought that the words ‘fashionably late’ would ever come out of Aaron Hotchner’s mouth.

“Who taught you that one, huh?”

“I like to keep my sources anonymous.”

“Well okay, then. Let’s go be fashionably late, Hotch.”

He lets you lead the way to the car, only jogging up ahead to open your door before you can reach it yourself.

During the drive to Penelope’s, you take control of the music with little objection from Aaron, and when it gets to a song you know he likes, you sing along, encouraging him to do the same.

“Let’s hear it, Agent Hotchner.” You hold your fist out like there’s a microphone in it, looking at him with a grin on your face.

“I can't sing.” Aaron’s fighting off a smile, because you’re sitting beside him, not too shy to sing along, being all cute and, briefly, he thinks about reaching out and grabbing your hand and holding on.

“Sure you can! Everyone can sing, come on.” You unfurl your faux microphone-holding fist and tug on the knot of his tie, “loosen up a little.”

And, because you have some way of convincing him of things—first lunch, now this—he humors you by joining in for one chorus of the song. When your eyes light up a little, and your grin only widens, he can’t bring himself to be too concerned of how bad he probably sounds.

By the time you’re at Garcia’s door you’re a solid hour late, yet you and Aaron walk up to the door with matching smiles all the same.

“I’m getting you to do that every time I hear that song now, I hope you know.”

“That was a one time special,” he says. He reaches over your shoulder to knock on the door. His hand brushes against you, featherlight and quick, a crackle over your skin.

On the other side, Morgan says, “must be the lovebirds” when he hears the sound.

You and Aaron don’t hear him, only broken out of your little shared bubble when Penelope opens the door. “There you guys are! I made your drinks but the ice might be melted by now. You know, ‘cause you’re late.”

You know this is directed towards you more than it is Hotch, because Garcia’s a little intimidated by him still. You also know she’s only joking, and greet her with a hug before stepping in.

Aaron isn’t far behind you, though at these things, he never is.

You’re met with warm greetings from the team when you walk in, and you chat for a bit, but it isn’t long before things split off into smaller conversations. They all know that Aaron drives you to these things, and, as profilers, they’re also all able to see the way you look at each other, the way the knot of his tie sits lower than usual.

In the corner, Emily leans over to Derek, saying, “usually it takes at least two drinks for Hotch’s tie to look like that.”

“I told you, they’re together,” Derek shrugs.

“I don’t think they know that,” Emily replies.

This time, Aaron hears them, and he can’t help but look towards you in the room the rest of the night, thinking and thinking and thinking.

He ends up deciding that they might have a point. That maybe, that shift in his heartbeat when you’re around isn’t nothing, isn’t just friends.

-

The flight home from a case always feels the longest.

On the way there, you’re packing every hour with information about what’s going on, talking to Garcia, reading police reports. You’re all on edge, eager to get out there and help and do your jobs,

Then, on the way home, with another case solved, all you’re thinking about is going home, sleeping in your own bed, and time seems to go slower.

If your name happens to be Aaron Hotchner, you’d spend the plane ride home doing paperwork that actually can wait.

You and Aaron sit next to each other on pretty much every flight, though the seats have never been assigned. It’s an unspoken thing, like your names are written on the fabric of the same two seats on the jet and that’s just the way it is.

The first time was early on in your time on the team. It was a tough case for you, and Hotch seemed to know it without you having to say anything, so, when you got on the jet to come home, he smiled that small, twitch of his lips smile at you and nodded at the seat next to him. You’ve been sitting there ever since.

Today, your flight is on the shorter side, but feels long the way it always does. Trying to keep yourself occupied, you pull out your earbuds and shuffle your playlist, hoping that the songs will speed things up.

“Sick of me already?” Hotch speaks up when he notices your headphones.

You tilt your head to look at him. He looks tired, the way you’re sure you do, too, but never any less handsome. His eyes are soft where they meet yours, paired with a hint of a smile that you’re always able to catch.

“Sick of you, Hotch? Never.” You nod at the file he has open on the small table, “just didn’t want to distract you.”

“I thought you enjoyed distracting me. Always telling me I work too much.”

“‘Cause it’s true,” you say. “That doesn’t mean you listen.”

“I listen to you more than I listen to most people.” Aaron’s voice is gentle when he says it, the words sinking in and melting you just a little, sugary sweet. It could mean absolutely nothing, but with the way he keeps his eyes steady on yours, you don’t think it does.

“Listen to this, then,” you hand him one of your earbuds, and his fingers brush yours when he takes it from you. “But you can’t make fun of me if a musical soundtrack comes on, okay?”

“Okay,” he huffs a small laugh, and you feel a little brighter. “I promise.”

You’re aware of the team having their own conversations in the rows in front of you and Hotch, but you can’t bring yourself to join in, because you and Aaron are sharing your earbuds and his head is bent just a little closer to yours. It’s delicate, and you’ll do your best not to break it.

You talk a little longer, until it naturally fizzles out and Hotch is back to working on his files and you’re bobbing your head along to your songs. Only now, Aaron sits closer to you, his arm against yours.

He’s not sure what to do with his newfound realization that his feelings for you run far deeper than friendship. All Aaron knows is that he likes the feeling of you beside him, and that he’s planning on keeping you there as long as you’ll let him.

It’s quiet between the two of you aside from your occasional ‘this is a good one,’ and his hum of acknowledgement.

Eventually, you’re relaxed enough that your eyes grow heavy, the sleep you’ve been lacking suddenly catching up to you, and when you hit a patch of slower songs you’re fighting to stay awake.

When your head lulls onto Hotch’s shoulder, you jerk your head up, “sorry, Aaron.”

His chest does something funny. A jump. It’s not often you call him Aaron, and he’d listen to the sound of his name on your lips on a loop if he could. Because he can’t help himself, he scooches himself even closer to you.

He decides to call you something different, too, saying, “it’s alright, honey.”

You’re too sleepy to really read into that one, all you feel is the flutter in your stomach and Aaron’s hand on your head, gently guiding it to his shoulder.

When he’s sure you’re asleep, Hotch looks away from his files and over to you. Your cheek is squished against his shoulder, your lashes fanned shut. He thinks you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen.

Aaron doesn’t even feel the smile that spreads over his face as he reaches up and pushes your hair away from your face. He’s completely unaware of the eyes that catch him, far too focused on you.

Emily turned around when she realized she hadn’t heard your voice in a bit, and she did it just in time to catch Hotch’s movement. Instead of saying something, she turns back around and shakes her head to herself.

Hopeless, she thinks.

Sleep doesn’t come so easily with this job, with the things you see, so Aaron can’t help but try and stay steady for you, and if that leads to him letting his eyes close and resting his head on yours, then so be it.

It’s not until the end of the flight that the team checks on the two of you. As everyone stands and grabs their go bags, they notice the two of you, asleep next to each other, earbud wires hanging between you.

“Should we wake them up?” JJ asks.

“Hotch doesn’t get enough sleep as it is,” Spencer chimes in. “Neither does she, actually.”

Of course, Derek finishes with, “let’s leave the lovebirds to it,” before the team gets off the plane.

It’s only about twenty minutes later that Aaron does wake up, but he feels more well-rested than he has in a while, even with the kink in his neck.

Blinking his eyes open, he’s met with an empty jet and the comforting weight of your head on his shoulder. “Shit,” he sighs.

He debates waking you, ultimately deciding that you’d probably rather sleep in your bed rather than the seat of the BAU’s jet. Reaching up, he pulls your earbuds away, setting them on the table. With a brush of his fingertips to your cheek, he coaxed you awake.

“Hey, honey,” Aaron’s nearly whispering, like he’s afraid to scare you. Or, maybe, he’s convinced that if he moves too quickly, too loudly, this whole thing will fade away as if he’d been dreaming. “Wake up, we’re home.”

“Hm?” You grumble, scrunching your nose when he brushes your cheek again.

“We fell asleep, but we landed.”

“Oh, god.” You sit up properly, lifting your head. “I’m sorry, Aaron. Hotch.”

“Aaron is good,” he eases you. “Come on, I’ll drive you.”

Sleep-hazed, or maybe just happy that he can be Aaron to you, you agree easily and take his hand when he offers it, letting him lead you to his car.

-

You’ve been spending more time at Aaron’s ever since that flight. In the car, he’d convinced you to stay over at his place in the guest room, since it was closer. With your go bag already in his car and heavy, sleepy eyes, it was hard for you to do anything but agree.

It’s another slice of his life that he’s let you see, and you can’t help but feel like it means something, like you’re stepping further and further away from being coworkers who are friends and towards something different. Something more.

That flight feels like the catalyst, the thing that caused things to shift into what they are now.

Aaron’s couch is much more comfortable than yours, and though you’ve yet to spend the night again, you’re sitting there with him at almost every chance. The time off you get is rare, and Aaron wanting to spend it with you sends flutters to your stomach whenever you think about it.

You feel like you know him better, getting to see his space, how he chose to decorate, what colors he likes, which ones he doesn’t. You also know what temperature he likes to set his thermostat.

“Do you enjoy living in a refrigerator?” You ask, hands tucked into your sleeves. “Just wondering.”

Aaron laughs, a small huff, “I think you just run cold, honey.”

He’s been calling you that a lot, too. Honey.

“No way, Hotchner. Your house is what runs cold. Or maybe you’re cold-blooded.”

Not with you, he thinks. Years and years of doing what he does, Hotch might even call himself cold when he’s thinking a little too hard. But never cold with you. He thinks that might be impossible for him.

“Shhh, don’t tell anyone my secret,” he says, his arm brushing against yours from where he sits next to you on his couch. “Where are you cold?”

“Can’t feel my toes, Aaron. I might be out of commission for the next case.”

“Well we can’t lose our best girl, can we?” Best girl, he says. Like he means it, like it’s simple. “I’ve got some thick socks you can grab. Bottom drawer.”

Just like that, he’s cracked another wall of his down even further, giving you permission to go into his bedroom as if you’ve been in there a thousand times.

“Really?”

“Unless you’d rather not feel your toes-“

“Okay, okay,” you stop him, unable to fight your smile. “Thanks, Aaron.”

When you stand and head towards his room, Aaron can’t stop himself from thinking that you belong there, in his home, his room, his life. You fit in so seamlessly he wishes you’d never leave.

He stands up too, because the couch suddenly feels sort of empty without you beside him, without your warmth. He walks over to his thermostat on the wall and turns it up for you.

You’ve always thought that you can tell a lot about a person from where they live, and seeing Aaron’s bedroom now solidifies it. His place does too, but there’s something about his bedroom that feels much more personal.

Here, there’s more of him, little bits of his life scattered around. A picture of him as a kid with his parents on the dresser, the newspaper’s crossword sitting completely finished on his nightstand, his bed neatly made.

You smile at the framed photo before slipping the top drawer open and finding the pair of socks he’d been talking about. As much as you’d love to snoop, you don’t want to invade his privacy in any way. Besides, from Aaron, even a glimpse of his space feels special.

You slip on the socks before you leave his room, letting them bunch at your ankles.

As soon as you walk back into the living room, Aaron’s phone rings. Glancing at you softly, almost apologetically though he’s got nothing to be sorry about—you work with him, you know how important a call can be—he picks it up.

“Hotchner,” he says, holding it to his ear. His voice is different this way, more professional, controlled. Never any less pleasing to hear.

He’d wanted to say something about how good you look in his clothes when his phone rang, Garcia’s name flashing on the screen. Aaron wishes it was someone else, only to spend more time with you this way.

“Sorry to call late, sir,” Penelope says. “We’ve got a case. Missing kid; it’s urgent.”

“Don’t be sorry, Garcia. We’re on our way.”

“Wait, we?” She asks, curious as always.

“What’s going on?” You ask Aaron.

“Got a case. I’ll drive, honey.” He lets the pet name slip, like it’s a habit.

On the other line, Garcia’s grinning to herself in her office. She’d had a suspicion of who on the team Hotch would be with outside of work, and hearing your voice, and his use of the word ‘honey’ all sticky sweet, she knows she’s onto something.

“Oh, that’s ‘we,’” Penelope’s voice teases. “Tell her I’ll see you guys soon!”

Aaron shakes his head, fighting his smile. “Bye, Garcia.”

He hangs up and looks from his phone to you, your eyes already on him, corners of your mouth tugged up just a little like you’d heard what Garcia said, heard the lilt in her voice. Like you liked the idea of you and Aaron being a unit. We.

He likes that idea, too.

Back at the BAU, Garcia calls Derek next, who picks up with his classic, “hey, babygirl.”

First, she tells him that he needs to come into the office, that they’ve got a case, then, “you’re never going to believe this.”

Penelope loves to talk, and Derek’s happy to listen, so she tells him about how you’d been with Aaron when she called, and that you were on your way together.

“I give them another week, max, before they’re holding hands when they come in.” Derek laughs, because he can see yours and Hotch’s feelings so easily, plain as day, and he loves to be right about things.

“How mad will Hotch be when he finds out that we talk about his relationship?” Penelope’s mostly joking, only a fraction concerned.

“If the boss didn’t want us talking about it, he shouldn’t be so obvious, sweetheart.”

Once you arrive at the office, you don’t catch Penelope and Derek’s shared looks behind yours and Aaron’s—who happens to be carrying both his and your go bag—backs.

And if anyone notices the loose socks around your ankles, they don’t say anything about it.

-

You’re not supposed to go off on your own unless it’s absolutely necessary. You know that, the team knows that. Aaron, who is always trying to keep you as safe as possible, enforces it.

You guess that this time might be up for debate.

When it comes to what you do, you have to trust your instincts most of the time. And today, your gut told you to make a decision that might not have been safe, but to you, it felt like what you had to do.

Aaron had been on the phone with you, trying to figure out a way to make the car drive any faster to get to you. He’d heard it in your voice, in the tone of it, that he couldn’t convince you to wait for someone else to show up.

“I have to do this, Aaron,” you’d said. While the team would normally probably tease him about you calling him Aaron, as if it isn’t his name, they’d known not to interrupt this time. “You know I do.”

“You don’t have to.” His hands tightened on the steering wheel as he spoke. “We’ll be there soon, alright? Just-”

“I’m sorry.” And then, you hung up.

In the end, going in when you did had been the right move. A life had been saved, and you’d slowed the guy down enough that the police were able to arrest him when they arrived. All it cost you was a cut and a bruise on your cheek.

So, your instincts weren’t so bad.

Aaron, however, disagrees. Logically, he knows that he would’ve done the exact same thing you did, knows the rest of the team would’ve, too. But when it comes to you, he has a hard time thinking logically.

After you hung up on him, all he could do was breathe and breathe and breathe over the heavy thumping of his heartbeat and the worry spinning in his head. He drove the quickest he could manage, the car silent inside. A static.

It’s not that he doubts your abilities—he’s always thought you were incredible, even before the friendship, even before now—only that the idea of you being alone with such a bad man makes him feel sick.

He’d take your place in a heartbeat, if he could, just to make sure you’d be safe.

By the time he and the rest of the team get to the scene, you’re walking out of the building with a hand pressed to your cheek and a paramedic leading you to a nearby ambulance.

Aaron spots you right away, his eyes scanning the small crowd through red and blue lights and conversations surrounding him. When he spots you, everything goes quiet.

His first thought is, thank god she’s alive, then, it’s fuck, she’s hurt.

Without a word to anyone, he heads over in your direction right away. He meets you at the ambulance, where you sit on the small bench inside while the paramedic presses your cheek with gauze.

“Honey.” It comes out in a breath. Relief and pain all at once.

You look over to him, his hair a little messy, his eyes wide and roaming all over you like he’s checking for any other injuries. He cares about you, and it’s written all over him.

“Aaron. I’m okay.” You hold a hand out, and he grabs it, sitting beside you on the bench in the ambulance. “Promise.”

For now, he nods, letting the paramedic do their job bandaging up your cheek. When they’re finished, they hand you a spare bandage saying, “it’s gonna bruise, and it might feel sore for a bit, but you’re all patched up.”

The paramedic leaves after that, probably going to check on other people. The lights inside the ambulance seem to cocoon you, a bright difference to the darkness outside.

The first thing Aaron says is, “let me see.”

His hands reach for your face, rough fingertips gently holding your jaw, tilting you so that he can look at your cheek. It’s a little swollen, discolored where you must’ve been hit. There’s a furrow in his brow, something that looks like a pout on none other than Aaron Hotchner.

“Hey,” you grab his wrists, but his hands stay on your face. “I’m fine.”

Aaron’s always worried, he’s always cared about you and about everyone on the team, but this is different. He was usually able to hide things much better than this. Much better than with you.

Now, all he sees is the tiny bloodstain on your shirt and the bandage on your cheek. All he feels is your hands squeezing his wrists and your eyes locked on his.

“You should have waited,” he says. “I could have been there.”

“Hotchner,” your deadpan tone is intact, which he’ll take as a win, even if it’s directed towards him. “You and I both know you would have done the same. I had to.”

One of his hands shifts to cup your non-injured cheek. Normally, he’d be much more composed while working, but he can’t bring himself to care about how he must look right now.

“I know you did,” he tells you, because he does. “I just wish that you didn’t. I don’t like seeing you hurt.”

Your stomach is tumbling, rolling, your heart doing silly things in your chest. You can hardly feel the pain of your cheek anymore when his hand is on the other, his palm warm against your skin, his gaze even warmer.

“I’m hardly hurt, Aaron. Just a scratch.”

“Right. One that required medical attention. That’s more than just a scratch, honey.”

“If you say so, Hotchner.”

He shifts his hands so that they fall into your lap, palms up and fingers instantly finding yours, tangling together perfectly. Like puzzle pieces.

“Good job, by the way.” Hotch rubs his thumb over your skin once, back and forth. “You did the right thing.”

“Learned from the best,” you say.

You’re both oblivious to the fact that the team is watching from a distance, and that the two of you look so lovesick it’s ridiculous that you haven’t spilled your feelings yet. You’re both absolutely fucked.

Where she stands with the team, Emily shakes her head, “I haven’t seen Hotch like this since… ever.”

Beside her, JJ merely shrugs, like it’s obvious, “yeah, they’re in love.”

Spencer looks at you and Aaron in that ambulance with a smile. “The odds of you guys being right are very, very high.”

-

+1

Aaron Hotchner was never the biggest fan of birthdays. Was never big into the cakes and making wishes, the song and the presents and the fuss of it all.

When he started at the bureau, it stayed that way. Days off were rare enough as it was, so he’d always work on his birthday. And while he kept the signed cards from the team, he treated it as any other day. Nothing special.

This year, you’re on a mission to change that.

While it isn’t the first of Aaron’s birthdays you’ve spent with him, it’s the first one since the two of you have grown as close as you have, since you’ve felt the way you do. You’re just hoping to make it a good birthday for him.

You’ve roped the whole team into it. Decorating the conference room with streamers and balloons and a sign that hangs crooked on the wall, bringing in a cake that reads ‘Happy Birthday Hotch’ in frosting, and keeping it all a secret.

Of course, you’ve all already said happy birthday to him, and you’ve got a present stashed under your desk for later, but you’ve been doing your best to act natural even when the anticipation of your surprise for him eats at your stomach a little.

Surprises are a tricky thing, and there’s no way of knowing whether he’ll like it or not. You’ll just have to wait and see.

While in his office, the team had made it seem like they’d all left for the day, saying their goodbyes to Hotch. Instead of leaving, though, they’ve been hidden in the conference room waiting for you to bring him in.

“Aaron,” you say, knocking on his office door. “I think I lost an earring. Do you think you could help me look for it?”

Because you’re the one asking, Aaron says, “‘course, honey. Where do you think it is?”

You smile, because he’s fallen into your trap easily, because you know that he probably would search for an earring with you if you’d actually lost one.

“I remember having it on in the conference room, so maybe there.”

He stands from his desk, gesturing for you to lead the way with his hand held out. You grab onto it before he can drop it, tangling your fingers and leading him behind you.

Aaron lets you guide him, and when you open the door to the conference room and flick on the lights, he’s met with the team’s grinning faces and a chorus of, “surprise!”

For a moment, he’s speechless, frozen in his spot in the doorway with your hand in his.

No, Aaron’s never been the biggest fan of birthdays, but maybe that’s because nobody’s ever done something like this for him. You came into his life all sweet smiles and now you’re throwing him a surprise party? He’s never ever liked someone the way he likes you.

So much that like is spilling into a four letter word and he’s happy to let it.

You know him well enough to know that he doesn’t like being the center of attention too much, so the only people in the room are those of the BAU. His closest friends. And you, his favorite person.

Before he can say anything he’s being spoken to by the team, getting a ‘happy birthday, boss,’ from Derek, a spill about how hard it was to keep this a secret from Penelope, a grin from Spencer, a tip about how you’d organized all of this from Emily, a squeeze to the shoulder from JJ.

When he finally gets the chance, the others split into their own conversations, Aaron tugs you aside to the corner of the room.

“You did all of this for me?” He asks, head bent to catch your eye.

Although you’d caught the signature Hotchner smile—closed-mouthed and quick—when he saw the surprise, you’re nervous about what he might say. You worry that you’ve done too much, that he’d been pretending to like it for your sake.

“I’m sorry if it’s a bit much,” you start, anxiously tugging at your sleeves. “I wasn’t sure if you liked surprises, I know not everyone does, but I wanted to do something for you because I care about you. A lot. And birthdays are meant to be celebrated, you know?”

Aaron can’t help but let a smile spread over his face as you speak; a real smile. His heart is light, his feelings for you melting through him like the soft pink of cotton candy. He doesn’t think you could ever do anything that he wouldn’t like.

“I’ll clean it all up, too, I prom-”

Your rambling is cut off with his lips on yours. He’s kissing you.

It’s soft, the press of his mouth against yours, and it takes you a second to push back. It stays delicate, a dance between the two of you like you’d practiced a million times before.

His hands skate down your arms to hold your hands, weaving his fingers with yours, squeezing like he’s making sure you know this is real.

You feel it all over, your stomach tumbling, your heart beating in a rhythm that thumps his name. Aaron, Aaron, Aaron, over and over.

It’s a kiss worth a thousand words that you haven’t said yet, a kiss full of feelings and meaning and you know it, just by the way he does it, because you know him and he knows you. It’s you and Aaron, and it feels like the beginning of something huge. Of the rest of your life, maybe.

When he pulls back, Hotch rests his forehead against yours, giving your head a gentle nudge, locking his brown eyes on yours.

“It’s perfect,” he says.

The next thing you hear is Derek Morgan cheering, “I knew it!”

Similar words come from the rest of the team.

“Finally,” from Emily.

“About time,” from JJ.

“This isn’t surprising,” from Spencer, who smiles while saying it.

A sweet, “yay,” from Penelope.

Distracted by Aaron kissing you, you’d sort of forgotten they were there. Bashful, you tuck your head beneath Aaron’s chin, forehead against his collar. He simply tightens his hands around yours.

And when it’s time for cake, this year, Aaron Hotchner makes a wish on his birthday candles. He wishes to spend every other birthday just like this. With you.

༄

thank you so so much for reading!!! if you liked it, please please please consider reblogging/commenting and letting me know what you thought! love you <3

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

Aaron having a rough day because of too much paperwork and asks reader for permission to hug her at work?

Like super cute and special little moment - totally interrupted by someone walking in or saying “aww” / “finally!”

༉‧₊˚. 𝐚 𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 || 𝐚𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐧𝐞𝐫

— pairings: aaron hotchner x plus size!reader

— summary: though things between you and aaron weren't official yet, he was in need of a hug (yours of course).

— warnings: literally nothing honestly besides aaron being overworked and tired + fluffiest fluff!!

— wc: 725

⋆ a/n: to me fluff fics are like the light at the end of a very smutty tunnel, so here's this one to balance out all of my aaron smut that i've written 😭

masterlist | AO3

Aaron’s head was throbbing.

The space between his eyes rang dull and his body felt weak, his needy joints craving the sweet release of his bed back home, but most importantly, he needed you. He needed to hold you, needed to feel your plush body warm his harder one. 

He casts a lazy glance to the stack of paperwork before his eyes gazed out of his open blinds, and seeing you sitting there with headphones in your ears working leisurely on case files caused a feeling of contentment to settle in his gut.

Aaron couldn't just go down there and wrap you in his arms; things between you were too… confusing. You were lovers but not at the same time; he held you sometimes, texted you, and got lunch with you, but there was no label. It was like there was an unspoken agreement. As old as Aaron was, he was pretty sure this was a “situationship” – cleverly and knowledgeably put by Penelope.

There was no way around this without using his ‘boss’ card.

Your workflow was interrupted by a paper ball being thrown at the back of your head.

“Real mature, Morgan.” You grunt, bending over at the waist to reach down and grab it. “I think you got more things to worry about than a ball of paper, sweetness.” Morgan's head cocks forward a bit, gesturing at Hotch’s office. “The boss man’s already said your name once.”

You look up to see Aaron standing there with that familiar scowl on his face as he stares right back at you. “Could I see you in my office for a moment?” Aaron repeats once more. “Oh shit.” You mutter to yourself with a sigh.

You practically scramble up the stairs to follow him when you see him disappear back into his office without a casting glance behind him.

When you step through the door, Aaron has both hands planted on his desk, his head hanging low and eyes pinched shut.

Your tense demeanor melts and you approach him with concerned eyes and furrowed brows. “Aaron?” You ask and place a hand on his shoulder. You could feel his body relax under your touch, and he sighs. “Are you okay?”

He looks almost hesitant, but he turns his head so he faces you.

“I - forgive me if I’m being inappropriate, but can I hug you?”

The question catches you off guard. He had never been so forward before.

“Yeah, yeah of course,” 

Aaron searched your face for any lie or hesitancy, but he found nothing but your soft smile looking back at him.

The first thing that you notice when he wraps you in his body is that he’s warm, so warm and he smells delightful. You bury your nose in his neck and shyly inhale his cologne. It’s pine and cedarwood and completely him.

He relaxes into you, his arm wrapped securely around your waist, the other cradling your head in his hand. 

“I’m so tired.” Aaron murmurs into your ear, and the warm air of his breath sends a shiver down your spine and your grip on him tightens. You frown at his words, your own fingers reach up to stroke through the shaved part of his neck, gently massaging the area. “I know, I know, and I’m sorry.” You say quietly.

Holding you makes Aaron really start to regret the limited amount of sleep he had been getting recently. 

The air in his office was calm, the only thing you could hear was Aaron’s occasional sighs and two shy hearts hammering together nervously.

“Sir - Oh!” Penelope stopped before she even began, the woman almost tripping over her heels in shock. 

Aaron and you all but jump away from each other; there’s a bashful smile on your face while Aaron just looks plain old irritated. He doesn’t mean to glare at the technical analyst.

“I uh - there’s a case.” Was all she could say before shuffling over to put the case file on his desk. 

When she leaves, there is a moment of quietness shared between the two of you before you hear a resounding ‘I told you!’ ring throughout the Bullpen below. You gaze out the window to see Penelope at Derek’s desk.

You can’t help but laugh all the while Aaron just grumbles.

A fine contrast if you do say so yourself.

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[gurugirl]

coming soon to tumblr | handyman!harry

821 word teaser - 10k+ one shot already posted on Patreon.

One shot summary: When you inherit your aunt's estate after she passes away, you hire Harry to fix up the old house but that's not all he winds up being good for. Based on this request.

. . .

Everything flowed so nicely with Harry. He was easy to talk to and you trusted that he knew what he was doing. And it didn’t hurt that his voice was soothing and deep and slow. You could listen to him talk about solid hardwood versus engineered hardwood all day long if he let you.

“Well, I’ll be heading out now I guess. Be back first thing in the morning and start on this porch.”

You walked him to his big truck and shook his hand again, thanking him for taking the job and feeling a bit overwhelmed and emotional at everything.

Overwhelmed because Harry was so genuinely kind and you knew immediately you could trust him completely. Which just added to his charm and sex appeal. You really tried to push down the fact that he was so stunningly attractive because that wasn’t going to do you any good. And even though Mr. George told you he was single, you couldn’t imagine that was true. Someone as yummy-looking and kind-hearted as Harry? There was no way he wasn’t at least seeing someone.

But you were also emotional because you were finally going to get to see your aunt Gayla’s house restored to its original glory. It was going to be a real labor of love but it felt so good to be doing it. You had never felt so sure you were on the right path in life until that day. Until Harry arrived with his big truck and assured you that you’d get everything you wanted and that it would end up being even better than before.

And for the first time since you moved into that old house, you sat down and began to write. You’d gotten nearly ten thousand words written and were awake well into the wee hours of the morning typing away with the sudden inspiration you’d gotten. You fell asleep with your laptop next to you when you couldn’t hold your eyes open any longer.

You were woken to the sound of pounding and clanking and creaking which had you startled as you sat up in your bed and looked around your bedroom. The sun filled the space with light and you picked up your cellphone to note the time and saw a missed call from Harry.

Wrapping your robe around yourself you ran down the stairs all frazzled and rushed and burst onto the front porch, tripping over a stack of fresh boards and landing on your knees and palms like an idiot.

“Hey… hey…” you heard Harry’s deep voice from behind you as he slid his hands under your arms to help you up, “You okay?”

“Oh my god…” you croaked out the first words of the day from your throat, “I just woke up and realized you were here and… Sorry!”

He turned you to face him and looked down over your knees and lifted your palms upward to inspect, “Let’s get you cleaned up. Took quite the spill there. Sorry, I shouldn’t have stacked those boards right there.”

You felt your heart calm as he led you into your kitchen. He was so gentle with you, which for some reason you hadn’t expected. You knew he was kind but this seemed very much outside of the scope of his job description, “No, it’s fine! It’s me. I’d probably trip over the boards no matter where you had them stacked. I’m a bit of a nervous nelly. And when I woke up I just… I was startled. Fell asleep late and didn’t set an alarm…”

Harry grinned at you as you ran your faucet and put your hands under it, “It’s fine. No need to rush or get all riled up. I got here a bit early and when you didn’t answer I just figured I’d start on the porch. Think I’ll replace your doorbell as well. It’s not working either.”

You dried your hands and smiled at Harry, “I’ll get you a key before you leave today. In case I’m not here or I’m sleeping again. Sorry… I just had this burst of inspiration last night and typed until I passed out. It’s…”

“You’re fine,” you watched his eyes drop down to your torso and then bounce back up quickly to your face.

When you looked down at yourself you realized your robe was twisted and while all your bits were covered, they were barely covered.

“Jesus fucking Christ… I’m sorry, Harry. I’m a mess…” you pulled the material into place and adjusted the robe.

Harry put his hands at the tops of your arms, “Hey… you’re fine. Take a breath. It’s a beautiful morning and the birds are singing, and just look at this view…” he motioned toward your window where you could see trees and lush green grass stretch along the front of the house, “Now… Do you have some alcohol to clean up the cuts on your knees?”

. . .

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xoxo

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[danikamariewrites]

what do you think about batboys headcanon with s/o that has daddy issues, like she does small things to try to make him proud and at first he thinks she’s just being cute but he realizes the depth and her need for praise and what’s going on and just reassures her. i’m just literally projecting😀

The bat boys would be so sweet about this omg…

A/n: the way this made me even more aware I need someone to be proud of me 🤪 ur not alone anon trust me

Warnings: I honestly don’t know what to put here Im so sorry

Rhysand

To get his praise you’d help him a lot with his paper work or other high lord duties

You do things around the house like redecorating just for his attention

“Good job baby! I love it.” And he’d kiss your head

One day you help him with a stack of paper work that he just didn’t want to do

When you gave it to him he just said ‘thank you’

Which was fine but you were hurt, stung even. You felt a pang in your chest

He always praised you and you just wanted to make him proud of you bc he was always proud of you

You froze up staring at him with wide eyes and the most heartbreaking frown

Rhys noticed you were still there and looked up at you, “darling what’s wrong?”

“Did I do something wrong?” And that’s when it clicks for him. Your past and how you light up at his praise

“No not at all my love. I’m just tired. Come here,” he pulled you to sit on his lap and would whisper sweet nothings to you reassuring you that he wasn’t mad at you

Cassian

I think he praises his s/o in general

Cass thinks you’re the most precious thing in the whole world

So he gives you a lot of love and attention

He always holds your hand or has his arms wrapped around you

One night while you’re at Rita’s with the IC and Cass would typically keep you close but he wasn’t tonight

Cassian wasn’t even doing it intentionally he was just all over the place enjoying himself

It made you feel like he didn’t want you or need you around him

You sat and moped in the booth watching him have a good time

Cassian was looking for you but you didn’t see that

He finally noticed you and slid in the booth next to you

You look away from him and he puts an arm around you and pulling your chin softly so you look at him

“Baby what’s wrong?” You pout up at him “you weren’t hanging out with me tonight and you didn’t pay attention to me when I tried. It felt like you didn’t want to touch me.”

Cassian’s heart breaks the moment you say those last words

He runs through all the times he’s held you and how you hold on tighter and he realizes you need that

Cassian holds you and dances with you the rest of the night

Azriel

Azriel knew immediately after you started dating why you were so attached to him

He never brought it up bc he never wanted to make you talk about anything you didn’t want to

You’d talk to him when you were ready

Az always made sure to show you love by using physical touch, spending time with you, and praises you like crazy

He was always so proud of you when you got through the days where he was away on missions

Az would always bring you back a souvenir from the continent or other courts he visited

One day he came home without one and just gave you a hug and kiss

No praise. No gift.

You knew some jobs took a toll on him but he would always tell you, communication is a huge thing with you

A few days passed and you didn’t say anything about it. You knew you shouldn’t always expect gifts from him, he didn’t need to but you had gotten so used to it

You were quite and reserved all week. Trying not to be to needy for attention in case Azriel didn’t want to give you any. It scared you though. You thought you did something or something happen on his mission to make him not want you

One night after dinner you sat next to him on the couch both of you reading. Az noticed you sitting very still and not snuggling with him like you usually would

“Love, why are you sitting so far from me?” “No reason.” You try to give him a convincing smile but he sees right through it

“Tell me the truth. Please love.” “When you came home a week ago you just brushed me off. And I had a really hard time while you were gone. And I’ve been anxious all week because you didn’t bring me a gift or anything. I’m sorry it’s stupid.” You quickly stand and head for the stairs but Az stops you

“My love, I’m so sorry. Come here.” He hugs you and explains it was a bad mission and he had no time for anything else. He also apologized for not giving you the usual welcome home treatment

Az made sure to never do it again and always told you if he needed a day or so to recover

[yurislotusgarden]

Relationship hc's

ʚїɞ Nakahara Chuuya x Gn!Reader

ʚїɞ Keep in mind English is not my first language, so you may find mistakes!

ʚїɞ Dazai's version

ʚїɞ word count: 1425

ʚїɞ Tw’s: None! Just pure fluff, pet names are used, reader’s gender is not specified in any way

ཐིཋྀ I love this man

ཐིཋྀ Anyway

ཐིཋྀ We all know he would be a gentleman to you <3

ཐིཋྀ Whether you live together or not, there's always a bouquet of your favorite flowers in a vase somewhere. Once they show even a small sign of dying he replaces them

ཐིཋྀ You still aren't sure how he knows about the flowers starting to wilt even when he's in another part of Japan or even another fucking country

ཐིཋྀ This man does both fancy and casual types of dates. Prefers fancy ones tho

ཐིཋྀ "Why have so much money and not use it to spoil the shit out of the love of my life?" <--- Chuuya wanting to spoil the fuck out of you all the time

ཐིཋྀ You probably live together after quite a short amount of time, like less than 8 months kind of short

ཐིཋྀ He's just so worried about your safety :(

ཐིཋྀ Both generally and because of his position as an executive

ཐིཋྀ You don't mind tho, don't lie to yourself

ཐིཋྀ Protective. Not overprotective but it's definitely up there on the scale. Kinda justified though

ཐིཋྀ Possessive mf

ཐིཋྀ Again, you don't mind as it's not to the point of being controlling and shit

ཐིཋྀ If you're in the PM, he still worries, just a little less since he knows you can take care of yourself

ཐིཋྀ If you're not an executive, you work under him for sure. Chuuya requested a change (if you weren't under him from the start) as soon as he realized this funny feeling he gets around you is love <3

ཐིཋྀ You know Dazai. No questions asked or doubt

ཐིཋྀ I saw around some time ago that someone wrote that Dazai breaks into wherever Chuuya lives. I’m sure it ain’t canon so just saying I very much hc him doing that

ཐིཋྀ You can see what I’m getting at, you probably met because of Dazai breaking into your guys' place😭

ཐིཋྀ Imagine you're cooking or something and hear someone in the house (Dazai doesn't try to hide he's there since he thinks Chuuya's home because of the light in the kitchen), thinking it's Chuuya you go to greet him before realizing  it's not him but someone else-

ཐིཋྀ "Who are you and why are you here?"

ཐིཋྀ "Those should be my questions asshole!"

ཐིཋྀ "The fuck you mean?"

ཐིཋྀ "I live here? You literally broke into my house!"

ཐིཋྀ "You live here? But it's the slugs house isn't it? Did I break into the wrong place???" He knows he didn't

ཐིཋྀ "Wait 'slugs'-"

ཐིཋྀ You totally didn't realize who Dazai is because of that nickname, nope. Chuuya didn't complain about a mackerel at all no-

ཐིཋྀ That was literally yall's first convo

ཐིཋྀ Dazai standing like he should be there, and you standing there with a gun pointed at him (that you have from Chuuya because he has weapons all over the house just in case anyway. That one was in the kitchen)

ཐིཋྀ You guys proceeded to talk like you guys knew each other for years until the ginger came home and flipped the fuck out at the sight

ཐིཋྀ He thought you would have a peaceful life by not knowing the stack of bandages

ཐིཋྀ And to the gingers' chagrin, you and the brunette ended up being good friends

ཐིཋྀAs to who knows about yall depends on who you are

ཐིཋྀ If you're in the PM, most if not all will know at some point

ཐིཋྀ Mori would probably not do anything about it as long as it doesn't affect your guys' performance on missions

ཐིཋྀ If you're a civilian, the people who know about you are the people he's the closest to and Mori somehow finds out

ཐིཋྀ Kouyou adores you if you share at least some interests and you don't mind being friends with mafiosos (basically not judging them just because of their work)

ཐིཋྀ You guys drink tea together. Even if you don't like tea, she managed to find one that you like

ཐིཋྀ Even if you don't share interests, she will have nothing against you as long as you ain't hurting Chuuya

ཐིཋྀ Akutagawa siblings know for sure, you basically adopted them LMAO

ཐིཋྀ You and Gin go shopping together, sometimes tugging Ryu around against his will with yall

ཐིཋྀ I mentioned Mori, he at first didn't care if the relationship didn't change anything and Chuuya was as efficient as normally

ཐིཋྀ But Elise met you in the city by accident and decided she likes you and deemed you her friend, so Moto “asked” you to play with her from time to time

ཐིཋྀ Goodluck if you're a low-energy person

ཐིཋྀ If you're in the PM and Elise wants to Play with you, you are for sure a little bit safer around Mori

ཐིཋྀ He doesn't want to deal with her whining and throwing a tantrum if he doesn't have to, so if you not being killed will make Elise happy, he won't do it

ཐིཋྀ Going back to the topic

ཐིཋྀ Rides on his motorcycle with you holding him tightly from behind right?

ཐིཋྀ Mf rides faster than necessary just because he likes it when you squeeze his waist because you think you will fall off

ཐིཋྀ He won't let you but oh well

ཐིཋྀ Similar to Dazai, man has got a grip of steel, so good luck getting up from his lap, cuddling, or in the morning if he won't want you to. We all know he ain’t weak, not in the slightest

ཐིཋྀ Would teach you self-defense if you don't already know it. He for sure doesn’t complain at having to do that, the view he gets is quite pretty y’know? You can say the same about your view :)

ཐིཋྀ This is purely a hc of mine but he would teach you French if you will ask him!!!

ཐིཋྀ Yes I'm one of those who hc that Chuuya either generally knows French due to Kouyou teaching him and Dazai, or he has some French genetics and wanted to just learn it either way taught by Kouyou LMAO

ཐིཋྀ Hope you aren’t weak to French because he can and will flirt with you in it <3

ཐིཋྀ If you are tho, knees? Weak. Nonexistent. Goodbye.

ཐིཋྀ Mister here will use it to his advantage. He knows what he’s doing and he ain’t stopping

ཐིཋྀ If you know a language he doesn't, he will gladly learn it just to speak in it with you. Especially if you're a foreigner, he certainly will learn your native tongue at one point. But, if you know a language he doesn't just because you wanted to know it, he learns it anyway

ཐིཋྀ Another way to shit-talk people without their knowledge <33

“I'm so lucky to be dating your pretty ass”

“I don't understand, doll. Say it in a language I can understand.”

“No, I don't think so, pretty boy”

“Are you cussing me out or something?”

ཐིཋྀ ^You talking to Chuuya in your language before he knew it to confuse him

ཐིཋྀ He was indeed confused

ཐིཋྀ Speaking of hc’s, heterochromia Chuuya <3

ཐིཋྀ You love his eyes, one blue and one brown. You fluster him because of just staring at his eyes and at him generally

ཐིཋྀ He lets you play with his hair, style, and all

ཐིཋྀ It's so soft you considered stealing his hair stuff when you first run your hands through it

ཐིཋྀ He wouldn't mind, wouldn't even try to stop you. Would probably encourage it actually

ཐིཋྀ It's playing into his possessiveness 

ཐིཋྀ This man has style, we know that. He also happens to have a big closet with his clothes :)

ཐིཋྀ Want a Chuuya-looking puddle on the floor? Wear. His. Clothes.

ཐིཋྀ The ginger will literally die if he comes home to you wearing his clothes. Anything. Wear anything and you will spot a wild Chuuya puddle in its natural habitat the floor

ཐིཋྀ AND IF YOU ASK HIM IF YOU CAN WEAR HIS STUFF WHILE EMBARRASSED???

ཐིཋྀ You make him want to sob :(

ཐིཋྀ Happily of course

ཐིཋྀ Use his shower stuff like shampoo and walk around in his clothes

ཐིཋྀ It does things to him

ཐིཋྀ Both fluffy and unholy thoughts are in this man's head if you’re just wearing his stuff

“Doll, you can’t do this to me.”

“Huh?”

ཐིཋྀ You’re either genuinely confused by his words or playing with him

ཐིཋྀ It ends the same anyways :) 

ཐིཋྀ “Take my card and go crazy, love.”

ཐིཋྀ ^Chuuya on any occasion

ཐིཋྀ If he could he would spend his money on you, he would but you always stop him

ཐིཋྀ Therefore that’s Chuuya on any occasion because he has an excuse for it

ཐིཋྀ Price tag? What’s that?

ཐིཋྀ It doesn’t exist in his eyes, you are worth every single penny in his wallet <3

ཐིཋྀ You guys have spa days at home

ཐིཋྀ Share skin care routines if you can

Notes, comments, reblogs and anything else is greatly appreciated

[arabellavernierwrites]

For Spencer Reid x reader request (if u still want)

What about reader has to give a speech or something for the press (for some reason JJ couldn't, maybe it was meant for the unsub or something and reader fits his type or whatever) and she's like really nervous because she hates talking to such a large public. Spencer comforts her but when she stood in front of all those people she just frooze and got a meltdown. Just Spencer comforting reader (maybe autistic reader but doesn't have to) :)

Thank u in advance!

public speaking. s.r.

summary : in an especially difficult case , you are asked to hold a press conference. having to face your fear of public speaking , spencer helps encourage you. (could be read as platonic , as well as autistic reader if you like !)

word count : 2022

warnings : anxiety attack , overstimulation (could also be read as autistic overstimulation , i wanted to include themes of both), mentions of feeling sick (vomit) , extreme fear , descriptions of panic

a/n : hello guys ! oh my gosh thank you so much for sending in a request ! they are so much fun to do , and i am so grateful that you all like my work enough to want me to write something for you. it really means a lot to me. i’ve been really in the mood for writing lately , so i will be getting around to putting more out , so please send requests if you have any ! you guys have been so wonderful to me i really am so grateful for the treatment that i have received from you all , you are so sweet ! have an amazing incredibly wonderful day ! love you guys !

when jj left for maternity leave, you were more than happy to step in for her. a good friend and a good coworker, you wanted to make her proud.

you were great at your job, more organized and efficient than anyone at the bureau on most occasions. case files would fly in and out of your office on the daily, stacks forming and diminishing with each passing hour that you worked.

you were praised by your superiors often, making everyone’s taks easier for them with just how skilled of a liaison you were.

when it came to conferences, or communicating with large groups of press, you struggled. the idea of standing in front of dozens of bright, flashing cameras, men and women barking at you from all angles with questions and accusations, and having to make sure you speak to the public in a matter that satisfies them, all while not revealing more than allowed, petrified you.

your body shook at the possibility of getting tongue-tied in front of everyone, messing up, tripping over your words, or misspeaking and costing yourself a career. the very thought of walking up to a podium to make an announcement for a case detrimental to someone’s livelihood made you freeze up and panic.

when jj had returned, your mind was at peace knowing that you weren’t going to have to hold down vomit in front of a meeting hall of untamed journalists again. or so you thought.

“look, i know that this isn’t ideal. but you fit the type that this guy is after,” jj spoke sincerely, “i talked with hotch, and we both agree that we think that it’s best if you hold the conference. it may draw him out”.

all oxygen had left your body. an icy chill shuttered down the length of your spine, your fingers and toes falling numb. the way the hairs stood on the back of your neck was sickening, making you feel like prey being hunted for sport.

“jj, i-” you started, preparing yourself to turn her down in a professional manner.

“trust me, i know how scary it is,” she stroked your arm, “but if we don’t do this now, this case is just gonna drag on and we are going to continue to lose more people”.

weeks into a gruesome case, everyone was exhausted and worn thin. you all wanted to put a criminal behind bars and return everyone home safely, but you felt miles away from that possibility.

the police station you had been working at was overflowing with officers, everyone flying in and out of rooms, falling all over each other with stacks of paper and coffee cups in hand, anxious to get this case solved.

“okay,” your hands shook, “i’ll do it”.

you and jj spoke for hours. she coached you on what to say, how to act, and what to do if things went awry. you two wrote and rewrote outlines for your very public announcement.

what was supposed to make you feel more prepared for the meeting later, ended up sinking fear and doubt deeper into your skin.

the team was waiting in an empty classroom at the local elementary school. heat radiated through the windows under the mercy of the summer sun, journalists and reporters flooded into the gymnasium in hopes to get a seat to witness the fbi’s latest statement.

you sat on one of the desks in the small, uncomfortably warm classroom. your mind was racing, your heart beating in competition to keep up with it. you tried to breathe deep, to fill your lungs with confidence and release the doubt that plagued your thoughts. but the more you inhaled and exhaled, the more you found yourself coming up short of breath.

the thick air of the classroom laced itself around you, pulling itself tighter until it suffocated you. beads of sweat threatened to form on your forehead as you felt your vision tunneling. you hopped up off the desk, shaking your hands out as you hurried into the empty hallway.

the sound of your heels clacking on the floor reverberated off the walls as you paced. the pattern on the linoleum was dizzying as it moved beneath your feet.

“are you alright?”

your head turned. spencer approached you from the end of the hallway, his tall, lean figure highlighted by the obnoxiously fluorescent lights above you.

“spencer, what do i do?” your voice teetered on cracking as you slid down the wall next to you, your back brushing against the lockers as you pressed your face to your knees.

“may i ask what you’re afraid of?” he spoke genuinely, taking a seat next to you.

“i’m afraid of messing up and saying something stupid, or forgetting what i’m supposed to say and sounding stupid,” you ran your fingers through your hair, gently tugging at the roots, “i’m afraid of saying the wrong thing and getting another young woman killed. i’m afraid of this guy coming after me. i’m afraid someone is gonna ask a question i have no idea how to answer. i’m afraid of freaking out and embarrassing myself in front of all of those people”.

“hey, he’s not gonna go after you,” spencer stopped you from pulling at your scalp, “and you’ll do great. you know more about this case than anyone else, you’ve been reciting information about it to the precinct for weeks. you shouldn’t worry about stumbling over a word, you’re an eloquent speaker. and if this does add another victim to our board, you know it won’t be your fault”.

you lifted your head to look at spencer, your hands still in his. his big, brown eyes bore into yours. a painting of worry, and sickening sweetness, framed his face. care and kindness poured from his soul in a way that almost made you nauseous to think about.

you groaned, throwing your head back against the lockers behind you, “stop making me believe in myself. it’s corny”.

spencer laughed, feigning disbelief, “i just gave you an uplifting speech!”

a door at the end of the hallway creaked open, hotch peaked his head out and called to you, “it’s time for you to go”.

you pressed your forehead to spencer’s shoulder, “you’re sure i’ve got this?”

he smiled, “i’m sure”.

“thank you,” you sighed deeply, “i feel like i’m gonna throw up all over your shoes”.

“come on,” spencer stood up, reaching his hands out to pull you to your feet, “we’ll walk you in there”.

the elementary school gym was filled to the brim, guests overflowing through the doors into the parking lot. loud chatter occupied the space, the air buzzing with heat and anticipation.

you took a deep breath, entering the double doors to stand behind the podium.

shouts erupted from the audience. people struggling to refrain from jumping out of their seats, cameras flashing, shuttering, spewing clacking sounds that mocked their owner. the already loud room grew with noise, voices climbing up walls and swinging from the ceiling, pummeling your sensitive eardrums.

a wave of cold rushed over you, your body tensing as you stood behind the small black microphone. a small yelp of feedback echoed as you placed your hands on the sealed wood of the podium. you tried to control the fear in your eyes, needing to put a mask of professionalism on in front of a crowd of animals.

“good afternoon,” you started, “as of 5:00pm today, we are still looking for the subject that has committed these heinous acts”.

the crowd erupted once again. insults were thrown at you, and you wouldn’t be surprised if chairs were to join that mix soon.

“we have been utilizing every force of manpower we have for several weeks now. our officers are spread thin, but we are working overtime to make sure this we can get this case closed and bring everyone home safely,” your hands were shaking in front of you. a sense of false confidence had gotten you this far, but as the atmosphere of the gymnasium started to sink in, your breath caught up with you.

“we have no further updates at this time,” you cleared your throat, trying to remain unbothered by the incessant yelling and flashing lights, “but we are continuing our search”.

a queasy feeling started to overtake you as the volume of the crowd became unbearable. shouts became deafening, camera clicks echoed the kickback of a gun, and you had to blink to make sure the walls weren’t actually closing in around you.

you knew that your silence had gone on for too long now, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was a tightening rope around your neck. your mind went blank in a white, hot explosion of panic.

“we,” you tried to breathe deep, but it came out sounding more like a hiccup, “we will not be taking”.

you cleared your throat again, feeling like the floor had just opened up beneath you, “we will not be taking any questions at this time”.

you rushed yourself off of the stage, bursting through the double doors again, pulling at the ends of your hair as you choked on hot tears.

the fabric of your blouse fluttered at the pace of the rising and falling of your chest. you unbuttoned it slightly, tearing off your blazer as you practically fell into the nearest classroom.

your ears burned, your face burned, everything burned and stung and started to shut down as you stumbled your way through the room, catching yourself on a desk.

you hunched over, panting, trying to pull your mind from the depths of the sea of thoughts it was drowning in, but no amount of deep breathing was going to keep it afloat.

“hey,” spencer hurried in after you, running over to hold you up, “are you okay?”

“i screwed up,” you gasped, his touch the only thing reminding you you’re still alive.

“breathe,” he ordered, turning to face you, “breathe with me”.

you gripped his forearms tightly, locking eyes. he was worried, but his gaze remained calm, grounded here with you. he slowly breathed in through his nose and out through his mouth, keeping a steady pace that didn’t feel as much like a wild animal thrashing around as before.

the room around you began to return, no longer as dark and blurry as before. you felt real in your skin again, the sensation of spencer’s pulse beneath your fingertips gluing you in reality. the fear of looming unconsciousness escaped you as oxygen filled your lungs once again.

as you came back to yourself, the guilt and embarrassment set in. you fought the tears welling in your eyes.

“i messed up, spencer,” you choked back a whine, looking to the floor in shame.

“it really wasn’t as bad as you think,” spencer leaned in, pulling you to his chest, gently, “towards the end you froze up a little, but i don’t think anyone would have noticed”.

“i forgot like half of what jj instructed me to say,” you sniffled, “that girl could die because i didn’t inform the public of necessary information”.

spencer ran his fingers through your hair, “you told the public all the information that could be potentially helpful. there’s not all that much we can go on, and that’s not your fault”.

you swore under your breath, feeling yourself breaking in his arms, “i feel awful”.

the tears flowed as fast as they came, hot and ugly and full of embarrassment.

spencer’s hand rubbed soft circles on your back, “i don’t want to tell you how to feel, but it shouldn’t be awful. regardless of how you think you did, i’m proud of you for getting up there and doing it. so, please, don’t beat yourself up over it”.

“we both know that’s a promise i can’t keep,” you tearfully chuckled, looking up at spencer, “thank you. for those few seconds that i felt like i stood a chance, that confidence came from you”.

“so my uplifting speech was uplifting?” he asked, smiling bashfully.

you jokingly smacked his chest, “i guess you could say that”.

[opashoo]

staring so kindly at your sluglang post,, as someone working on a language as well this looks fantastic (and is also. super organized compared to mine BHAHAH) Any tips for putting together a language? Like resources on how to go about it, or notes? /genq

You are staring kindly... (thank you)

As for tips... Wikipedia is actually one of my biggest, most useful tools, because I love to read articles about grammatical concepts, and they will usually have a varaiety of examples of use if you can figure out how to parse the academic language. There are some core ideas that pop up all over the place crosslinguistically, like case marking or converbs, and you can get a lot from learning how other languages might parse the same idea, both how they handle the idea grammatically and what kind of metaphorical language might be involved; like how in Scottish Gaelic, to say you have something, you say it's 'at' you, or how it doesn't have an exact equivalent of English's infinitive, or how Mongolian has so many word endings that convey meaning, and a bunch of them are literally endings stacked on top of other endings.

There's also really good conlang youtubers, like David Peterson, the one who made Dothraki and other pop media conlangs, Artifexian, Biblaridion. They have videos on both interesting grammatical concepts that don't exist in english AND how to integrate them into conlangs. Davide Peterson especially has interesting videos on things like sound changes, vowel harmony, phonological concepts that can really help shape your language and bring a degree of naturalism if that's what you're looking for.

Etymology can be extremely informative though, and really help you to understand exactly how creative people have gotten with language over the past thousands of years. Etymonline is a great website for that. Did you know that the word "next" was originally literally "nearest"? Or that that the suffix "be-" was originally "by", so words like "before" actually meant "by the fore", and very often these meanings are metaphorically extended to the way we use them today. It's great for helping to develop very important words that can be structural to your language, so that you're not just trying to raw make up a new word with no basis every time.

Aside from that, there's no single source I go to for making conlangs. Everything is on a case by case basis. Something that has been really helpful for me is constantly writing example sentences and finding things to write about, because similar to translating existing texts, it forces me to reckon with the way my conlang works, figure out how to convey certain ideas (or whether or not the language can convey the idea at all).

Usually I'll have a few languages that I keep in mind for inspiration for any given project and if I'm stumped or need an idea, I'll actually look up learning resources for those languages. My slugcat language has had me looking up a lot of "How to say..." in Korean, Arabic, Japanese Filipino, a little bit of Indonesian? Some Russian for verb stuff. Once I find resources, I spend a bit of time dissecting how it works in those languages and figure out how that can fit in the existing framework of my own project, or if it's something I'd even want in the project at all.

Once I have an idea, I'll just start iterating on it, usually on paper, basically brainstorming how the sentence structure and sounds might work until I find something that is both sonically satisfying and logically sound within the existing framework. If I'm feeling extra spicy, I might try to consider how the culture and priorities of the speakers might shape the development of the language. The important thing while doing this is, just like brainstorming, to be unafraid to keep throwing ideas onto the page no matter how unviable or nonsensical it may seem in your head. You NEED to experiment and find what doesn't work or else your brain will be too clogged to find out what does. Exercising your pen will help you get into the mindset of someone using the language (because you are), it'll help you form connections to other parts of the language you've already developed, and once you've developed enough, the language will almost start writing itself.

I've actually had some really interesting interactions happen my scuglang between the archaic system of suffixes, the position word system, and the triconsonantal root system, which actually gave rise to an entire system of metaphorical extension, letting speakers use phrases like "at a crossing of" or "at a leaving of" to mean across or away and also talk about concurrent events like "He talked while eating noodles" (He, at an eating of noodles, talked).

Anyway, I know I got kind of scattered but these are some of the big parts of how I approach conlanging! If I have questions or needs, I look to other languages, find learning resources, apply it, and then ask more questions. Spend time with your language and get familiar with it. There's the time I read "Ergativity" by Robert Dixon, but reading literal textbooks is not a requirement for conlanging. You just need to chip away at it and keep asking question.

Here's some photos of my own conlanging notes so you can see how serious I am when I say iterating and brainstorming are extremely helpful. You need to be throwing shit on the paper. I will handwrite three pages just to contradict myself on the next because those three pages were important for forming the final idea.

[immeasurablesaladagere]

Hi salad! Can i please request an impure regression fic about little!Wilson going nonverbal 🙏🙏

Here you are! I'm almost to the bottom of my request stack, yay! It's late when I'm posting so sorry if I've glazed over any mistakes, I'm sure I'll catch them tomorrow and facepalm lol

-----

Word Count: 1003

Summery: Wilson has been quiet since they got home. House goes to find out what's up and finds him regressed in his room.

-----

If he was being honest, House hadn’t noticed the absence of Wilson’s usual milling around the apartment until his stomach started growling. Ever the motivated housewife, Wilson was always meal-prepping and tidying, and if they had a kid, he would be hovering over them and permanently messing with their sense of independence as all good mothers. He was also usually the one who started dinner after they got home, but now it was nearing eight-thirty and the only thing he’d heard from Wilson was quiet footsteps to the bathroom and back over an hour ago. How very un-Wilson of him.

He grunted as he pushed himself off of the couch and hobbled down the hall to Wilson’s room. 

“You better not be jerking off in here, because I’m coming in!” He announced, before unceremoniously opening the door and walking in. It wasn’t like he cared all too much about privacy, but he wasn’t exactly looking to be flashed on a Friday night; at least, not by Wilson.

There was nothing scandalous going on in Wilson’s room; nor was he sleeping, which was his second guess. Instead, he found Wilson curled up on his side, on top of the covers in a baggy sweatshirt and sweatpants, gripping his teddy bear against his chin. He looked up at House with round, tired eyes, but didn’t say anything.

He fished his bottle of Vicodin out of his pocket and popped a couple of pills. So he was regressed, then. He could probably deal with that.

He still wasn’t entirely used to the whole “caregiving” thing, but he had yet to catastrophically fail and traumatize Wilson’s three-year-old self, so he was tentatively confident as he sat down on the bed by his feet. 

“So… What’s going on here?” He motioned to Wilson’s generally sad, floppy-ness. Now that he was closer it was obvious that he had been crying at some point, his eyes were bloodshot and it looked like someone had vacuumed the soul out of him.

Wilson didn’t respond, which seemed to be a trend with him. Of the few times he had been regressed around House, he had only spoken more than a few words consistently once. Wilson had explained to him that while he technically could speak, it took too much energy and he usually decided not to. He wished adults worked like that, he would go home every day with so many less migraines.

“O-kay… Do you need me to do anything, or are you good to just… be sad?” Wilson seemed to have himself handled, but he figured he should do his due-diligence, just in case.

Wilson looked around the room for a second, thinking, before slowly raising a hand and doing what House recognized as the baby-sign for ‘food’.

“Hungry? Me too. I guess you want me to make you something?” He asked, and Wilson looked away and scrunched up more. “Relax, it was an offer. I’ll see what I can scavenge from the cupboard.” He got up and made his way to the kitchen, and after a minute he heard Wilson climb out of bed and follow him.

Wilson dropped into one of the dining room chairs and watched him intently as he rummaged through the cabinets for something quick and kid-friendly. He pulled out a box of Kraft Mac n’ Cheese. Kids liked this stuff, right? 

“Will you eat this?” He asked, and Wilson nodded mutely. “Perfect.”

He dumped the pasta into a pot of water and began to heat it over the stove, watching as the water turned a murky, starch-filled beige. He remembered seeing these boxes in the store when he shopped with his mother as a kid. She always refused to buy them because “those are just chemicals”, and she was probably right, but he still smirked to himself at the idea of getting to stick it to her after all these years.

Once the pasta had cooked, he strained it and dumped in the neon-orange cheese powder, a spoonful of butter, and some milk. After a quick stir, he had a pot of edible-looking yellow macaroni. It didn’t smell like chemicals. He poured some into two bowls and gave one to Wilson before joining him at the table. Maybe it was the kind that killed you slowly. He could live with that.

Wilson ate his portion far too quickly for the quality of the product, but he supposed he was mentally a toddler. It was okay, all things considered. They sat in silence as House picked away at the pasta and Wilson fiddled with the paws of his bear absently. He was staring off at nothing, and House could see that whatever had upset him earlier was still bothering him.

Eventually he decided to bite the bullet. “Do you want to talk about it? Or— sign or something?”

Wilson firmly shook his head no.

He shrugged. “Okay.” He took both of their dishes to the sink and left them at the bottom for Wilson to clean up tomorrow. “I think it’s time for bed now, hm?”

There was no resistance on Wilson’s part, which wasn’t surprising. He looked so exhausted it was almost unsettling, and easily allowed himself to be led back to bed.

“And this time, we get under the covers. It’s a great invention, I know.” He pulled the covers up over Wilson’s shoulders, and once he looked settled, turned to go back to the living room.

But the second he pulled his hand away, Wilson let out the most pathetic kicked-puppy sound he could possibly muster. With a sigh House sat down on the edge of the bed and put his hand back, and immediately the fussing stopped. He chuckled, “Oh you are needy.” 

With nothing better to do, he began gently rubbing up and down Wilson’s back until his breaths evened out and he was asleep, snuggling his bear. House couldn’t help but smile slightly. He really did look like a little kid. 

“Goodnight, Jimmy.”

[thewebcomicsreview]

hey, just wanted to say thanks for the rec for Cat Girl. it is the best kind of extremely uncomfortable! but it's got me musing on your note about the relevance of the cat girl element itself. I agree that it is depicting an abusive relationship, but it's clear that Peter is completely incapable of perceiving that that's what it is, because he's so far down a deeply screwed hole of ideology. (continued in a sec, hang on-)

- so Peter is the way he is because he has accepted a series of small explanations for the things in his life as seeming accurate, that has stacked up into a deeply dysfunctional worldview that he's too deep into to question at all. so I think the Literal Government Issued Cat Girl is very much a metaphor for a society-level case of "you don't question your own idea of normal". rather than address the root of the problem, a wildly unethical bandaid has been slapped on it. in other words; Peter doesn't question that his ideas are correct, when they're obviously very skewed. but the society that gave him Andi doesn't question that it is normal for people to get this twisted up in an effort to make sense of the world. of COURSE there are internet chuds, people like Peter existing is "normal". and in the process of just accepting that some people are unsalvageable, innocent people like Andi get hurt, and that's just "normal" too. Peter isn't unfixable. it's clear he could be better, WANTS to be better, because he is straight up miserable. but he doesn't consciously know that, or how to start. the decision that some people are just fundamentally screwed up and there's nothing anyone can do about it doesn't just hurt him, it lets him hurt the people around him. Andi is, metaphorically, everyone else being tossed under the bus alongside Peter by the simple act of treating him like he's just inherently a shitty person.

Man, this is a long ask! If I were the author of Cat Girl, I'd be honored to see someone spend so much time thinking about it. But I don't think I agree, exactly.

Peter wants to "be a good person", yes, but his understanding of what a "good person" is is completely self-centered. Him calling Andi "Yua" while talking over her trying to explain that she does in fact have a name is obviously establishing him as a douche, but it's also worth noting that "Yua" is a Japanese name. He's thinking of her as an anime waifu and not a person (or, given the first results when I google "Yua", a porn star, but maybe it's a Breath of Fire 2 reference)

And while he falls into depressive self-loathing after she complains about not having a change of clothes, his internal monologue is entirely about himself. At no point, ever, does Peter even consider that Andi has feelings or is anything other than a reflection on him.

When he locks her in a closet, his most overtly abusive act, he starts crying because he feels bad about what a bad person he is, but even while he's crying he's simultaneously blocking the door, which is a very literal depiction of their relationship. His angsting about being a good person is not his way out of the problem, it is the problem. He never even once considers being nice to Andi because she'll like it, it's entirely "I don't want to force her to have sex with me (because that would make me feel bad), but maybe if I'm nice to her she'll initiate the sex". And he doesn't even care about the sex itself, just the implicit validation of being Confirmed Good By A Girl.

Peter is the way he is because his morality is entirely self-centered. Andi is a way for him to prove his morality to himself (well, try to and fail), not an actual person whose feelings he's ever considered except for if she hates him or not. That's what makes him such an interesting villain, he keeps concocting a story in his head where he's the poor sweet babu trying his best and never stops doing that to let his girlfriend out of the closet.

[racheyace]

Not a Horse

So…I did not mean for this to be so long! I’m doing a short writing course just to brush up on my skills and was given a prompt ‘You’re a veterinarian and one night an old man barges into your clinic with an animal you never thought was real.’

Now the idea came to me straight away and I sort of ran away with it! The exercise was to write a paragraph, I wrote ten pages…whoops.

Anyway, this is right up G/t alley including found family, hurt/comfort, two itty bitty brothers, a flustered Vet and a gruff old man. I really hope you enjoy it! These are all new characters, and I may or may not write more with them, that will depend how much you are all interested in this story continuing or not.

TW: mentions death of a parent, untrue veterinarian diagnostics (don’t come at me, I know nothing about medicine)

Approx 4.2k words

Elijah was in for another long night in the clinic.

It had seemed like such a good idea to start his own veterinary clinic, running his own staff and hours, he hadn’t accounted for the long nights and endless stacks of paperwork.

Yelden was a small rural community, a farm town he had grown up in. For the longest time, the nearest veterinary clinic was at least a two-hour drive away. When Elijah graduated university, he made it his dream to start his own Veterinary practice in Yelden, a farm community without a local vet just seemed ridiculous to him.

To no one’s surprise he got busy very quickly and his business was booming, he was doing it mostly on his own though and this resulted in him quickly becoming burnt out. He had no days off, no time to visit his family, no time to keep a pet of his own and certainly no time to have a social or love life of any kind.

Eventually he began letting the younger veterinary assistants take on most of the cases while he tried to keep his head above the growing ocean of incomplete forms and bills.

Tonight was another one of those nights, looking at the clock he noted it was getting far to close to one AM way too quickly. He groaned and dragged his hands through his wavy brown hair and then down his face, trying to hold back the urge to bang his head against his desk.

“Help!!”

Elijah raised his head quickly, suddenly becoming alert, there was silence and for a moment he thought perhaps he was becoming delirious and then he heard it again.

“Please someone help!”

Elijah clumsily rushed to the door of the clinic and pulled the doors open to reveal an elderly man soaking wet as rain pelted down on his thin greying head. When had it started raining?

Elijah ushered the man inside quickly and sat him down on the couch reserved for people waiting for their animals to come out or to go in. Elijah floundered about looking for some towels and practically threw them at the man before turning the kettle on and starting to make a cup of coffee.

“Don’t worry about me!” The man snapped, pushing the towels off his shoulders, it was only now Elijah noticed the man was cradling something to his chest between two hands.

“Help him please!” The man begged, shakily holding his hands out to show the vet, Elijah stepped forward.

He had expected to see an injured bird, perhaps a sick pet mouse, instead his brain felt like it was glitching as he tried to make sense of the creature cradled across this old man’s fingers.

It looked to be human for the most part, two arms, two legs, a pale face that held two eyes, a nose and a mouth. What stood out to Elijah and clarified that this wasn’t in fact a miniature human, was the fact that poking out of his long auburn hair were two pointed ears and what looked like butterfly wings were folded gently against his back.

Was it possible he was looking at a real fairy? Elijah also wondered on the possibility that this crazy old man could have also just brought in a doll thinking it was a fairy. The man seemed so concerned though, so worried about the small creature curled up in his palms.

Elijah snapped out of it when he realized the old man was still urgently begging him to help, unsure of what else to say he simply nodded his head and lead the man into an examination room.

Elijah waited for the man to put the creature down on the metal table and when he didn’t, he realized the table would be too cold for the already wet and obviously sick creature. He folded a towel and laid it down on the table over the top of a heat mat he usually used for lizards or similar creatures. He gestured for the man to now place the fairy on the towel so he could begin his examination.

“Please Doctor, what’s wrong with him?” The old man breathed down his neck while Elijah held a stethoscope to the little guy’s chest, the rounded metal end covered the poor things entire torso.

“I’m not a doctor sir, I’m a Vet.” Elijah said patiently, listening intently to the creature’s fast heartbeats.

“He’s not human.” The old man reasoned. “Doctors treat humans, I figured this would be the best place. Please, there has to be something you can do.”

“He’s also not a horse, his anatomy is not familiar to me.” Elijah snapped, he took a calming breath before continuing again more calmly.

“His heart rate is fast, but I do not know if that’s normal for him or not, birds of a similar size have a resting heat rate that is this fast.” He tried to explain.

He pulled up a magnifying glass and decided to observe the small creature’s other symptoms. He had a sheen of sweat on his forehead and his body was shivering even now that he was dry and on top of a heating mat. Elijah picked up a thermometer and cringed at the idea of putting it where he might usually put it on an animal, he instead pried the little guys mouth open and hoped he might get an accurate reading that way.

While he waited for the thermometer to read the creatures body temperature, he asked the man some more questions. “What are his symptoms? And for how long as he been unconscious?”

“H-he started to get sick about four days ago, he would get hot and cold flushes, there were moments he was coughing so much I could hear him wheezing, he said his chest was sore, and then tonight he passed out and I couldn’t get him to wake up!” The man answered urgently.

Elijah nodded his head, brain scanning for a possible diagnosis, it sounded like a common cold that had possibly developed into a chest infection or pneumonia, but he really had nothing to go on. For all he knew it could be a fairy disease that is incurable, human or even animal treatments may only make this worse.

“Well?” The man asked impatiently.

“I-I don’t know.” Elijah said quietly. “It sounds like a chest infection of some kind, but I have nothing to compare him to, I’ve never worked on this kind of creature before and-“

“Compare him to me!”

Elijah’s eyes landed on yet another Fairy that was now poking his head out of the old man’s chest pocket, the man quickly pushed the flap down to hide him once more, but the small creature inside kept on pushing it back up.

“It’s okay Ray, I can help, please let me help.” The new Fairy pleaded up at the old man who was apparently called Ray.

Ray looked at Elijah with caution, his blue-grey eyes telling Elijah that if any harm came to the little guy that Elijah would pay.

“Fine.” Ray said through gritted teeth. “Just…Be careful.”

The small fairy then leapt out of the pocket, wings flickered and flapped quickly, they held the same yellow and black colours as the sick fairy, both fairies also held similar facial features, though this fairy looked much younger.

The new Fairy flew directly in front of the Vet’s face almost making him go cross eyed, his eyebrows raised skyward as he waited for the little guy to make the first move. He still couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

“Compare me to my brother, I’m healthy and I feel fine, I want to help.” The child insisted, hands held together in a pleading gesture.

Elijah cleared his throat before attempting to reply calmly so not to scare the little guy.

“O-okay, uh, l-lay down please.” Elijah said nervously.

The smaller fairy did as he was told and landed beside his brother on the warm towel, he leant down to speak into his brother’s ear. “You’re going to be okay Kells, we’re going to make you all better.”

He then lay down on his back, wings splayed out comfortably under him and he waited for the Vet to continue. His child like features smiling up at the large man with an amused expression dancing on his face.

“Do I scare you, Doctor?” The younger fairy asked.

Elijah shook his head, shaking the absurdity of this whole case out of his mind, instead he put on his best bedside manners and smiled gently at the child.

“Actually, you do, you’re not going to crawl into my ears and lay eggs, are you?” Elijah asked, he put his stethoscope back to his ears and held the metal plate to the child’s chest.

“That would be creepy and besides Fairies don’t lay eggs, so you have nothing to worry about Doc.” He watched as the Vet carefully placed the metal plate on his chest and shivered upon contact with his bare skin.

Elijah pulled away immediately and Ray tensed beside him. “S-sorry, did that hurt?”

The child laughed, shaking his head. “No, it’s just very cold!”

Both Elijah and Ray breathed a sigh of relief, and he placed the stethoscope back onto the boy’s chest.

This time the heartbeat was slower, almost a normal human heart rate. He stepped back scratching the dark stubble on his chin, and then remembered to check the thermometer, the sick Fairy’s temperate was 42 degrees. He then compared it to the younger brother’s temperature which was 36 degrees.

“What’s the verdict Doc?” The Fairy boy asked.

“I’m not a Doctor, I’m a veterinarian.” Elijah said, still thinking about his next course of action.

“Vetabluar-“ The young boy tried to say the word, causing Elijah to laugh.

“I’m a Vet kid, but you can call me Elijah.” He said with amusement.

“I’m Pip!” The child said with excitement. “That’s Ray and this is my big brother Kells…You can help him, right?”

“It’s nice to meet you Pip.” Elijah said gently and then turned somber. “Kells is very sick, I’m fairly certain he has what Humans call, Pneumonia. Which basically means a bug had caused Kells to become sick and then he’s developed an infection in his lungs and airways.”

Pip looked up at Elijah with wide eyes, clearly not understanding much about what was being said, but it all sounded serious, all he really wanted to know was that his brother would get better.

“But why won’t he wake up?” Pip asked.

“Well, it is rare but in some serious cases of Pneumonia your body will go into survival mode, this means his body has put him to sleep so that he will hopefully heal and breath better.” Elijah tried to explain.

“So, he’s healing himself?” Pip asked, trying to make sure he was understanding correctly.

“Not exactly, he’s trying to heal himself to prolong his life, but in cases like this, if he doesn’t get some antibiotics soon he may-“

“What are you waiting for then, give him the antibiotics.” Ray jumped in, he didn’t want to even fathom the possibility of Kells dying from this.

“I will have to guess the dosage…” Elijah started, mind wondering to his foggy mathematics brain and trying to estimate how much antibiotics would be safe for the small creature.

“Then guess the dosage!” Ray urged.

“Pass me the scales from over there.” Elijah said gesturing to his desk.

“0.1mls per 20 grams, a mouse weighs about 30 grams, I suspect he will be lighter than that.” Elijah rambled on quietly as the scales were placed on the examination table beside the two Fairies.

Elijah put on a new pair of gloves and then gently nudged the sick young man so that he was laying on his side across his four fingers, so small.

“Please be careful!” Pip piped up from beside the Vet’s occupied hand, Elijah gave him a reassuring nod and then gently laid the Fairy down on the scales.

“32 grams, so if I give him just over 0.1ml…” Elijah trailed off writing his calculations down. “Do I include his wings in the weight? If they are connected to the nervous system, then blood will circulate through them and then yes I do…”

“Can you do it?” Ray asked again, growing more and more impatient.

“Well…” He turned his green-eyed gaze down to Pip. “If your wings bump into something, can you feel it?”

Pip nodded. ”Oh yeah, it really hurts!”

“And if you scrape or cut the wing, does it bleed?” This question caused Pip to take a nervous step backwards.

“You’re not going to cut his wings off are you?” He asked, suddenly growing frightful of the Human.

“I would never do such a thing Pip, I promise. I just need to know if blood circulates through the wings.” He tried to explain, Elijah also realized he was looming over the two brothers rather closely and stood straighter, moving back to give the boys space.

Pip regained his naturally tanned complexion and his shoulders slumped in relief. “Phew, okay that’s great to know, and uh yeah, we have blood in our wings.”

Elijah smiled softly and then turned to look through the medicine cabinet, he found the bottle of Amoxicillin which he frankly only guessed would be appropriate for a fairy and then pulled out a small needle, the sort of needle he would use on a bird or a mouse. He poked the needle into the bottle and then measured very carefully, the dosage he calculated would be appropriate for the small young man.

With the needle primed and ready to go, he turned back toward his patient, stopping briefly to explain to the others in the room what he intended to do. He suspected seeing a comparatively huge needle beside Kells would definitely freak Pip out and he was right in his suspicions as he looked at Pip whose eyes had become saucers again.

“This is a needle.” Elijah said holding it out horizontally in front of the younger brother. “It has medicine inside. This end is sharp and will pierce his skin so that the medicine can go directly into his bloodstream.” He explained.

Pip nodded slowly and gulped, little blue eyes fixed on the sharp end, it seemed to catch the light and glinted at him menacingly.

“It won’t hurt him.” Elijah assured. “I would normally administer this orally- uh by his mouth, but this will allow his body to absorb the medicine faster.” He explained.

“Pip, could you hold his sleeve up for me?” Elijah asked gently.

Pip did as he was instructed, unlike the younger Fairy who wore a brown open hanging vest, his sick brother wore a long-sleeved tunic of the same colour, presumably to keep him warm and to try and stop his shivering. Pip rolled up the loose shirt until his brother’s bicep was visible, he held it there steadily, trying in vain to appear braver than he currently felt.

“Perfect.” Elijah smiled encouragingly.

Then with a deep breath to stop his own hand from shaking, he gently pushed the needle into Fairy’s skin and slowly injected the medicine into his bloodstream. With a small cotton ball at the ready, he pulled the needle out and held the cotton ball to the pinprick of blood that welled, he then used a cut up bit of tape to hold the cotton ball there.

“Done, now I’ll need to continue to administer this to him every six hours over the next day, and then every twelve hours for up to a week. I’ll also see about getting some fluids and nutrients into him as well, my hope is that if this is working, we should see him wake up in the next twenty-four hours.” Elijah said, taking off his gloves and packing away the supplies he’d gotten out.

“Thank you, Elijah!” Pip all but shrieked, wings flapping, the small boy dived at the Human’s hand and wrapped his arms around two of his fingers giving them a hug.

“I-Uh-y-you’re welcome.” Elijah said flustered, he then looked toward Ray as though asking, is this normal?

“You get used to it.” Ray chuckled, watching the scene unfold with warmth in his eyes.

“And uh-how long have you known Pip and Kells?” Elijah asked, now that the emergency had been dealt with, he was positively brimming with questions.

Pip flew back over to Ray and settled comfortably on the old man’s shoulder, leaning tiredly against his neck, eyes growing heavy. Ray accepted a cup of coffee and they all sat down together around Kells as Ray explained how he had in fact come across the two brothers.

It had been almost ten years ago; Ray had found Kells cradling his little brother who would have only been six years old at the time. Kells, who had been ten years old was teaching his little brother how to fly, their parents had gone missing the year before, leaving Kells to care for his baby brother. During the flying lesson an Eagle had spotted them and given chase, though they had managed to escape, they had both hit the ground hard and Kells had been trying to calm his brother down.

Ray had found them during a regular hike of his and though the boys were untrusting of him at first, they had accepted his offer of food and warmth for the evening after their harrowing ordeal. And then they never left. Ray had taken them out to the same forest numerous times in search of their parents, but they had never found any trace of them.

Eventually the brothers came to accept that the safest place for them was with Ray, even as they grew up, they found they didn’t want to leave, they had come to love him like a father.

“They were lucky to have found you, it looks like you are taking good care of them.” Elijah said quietly, noticing the young boy had since begun snoring on his adoptive father’s shoulder.

“I feel lucky to have found them.” Ray replied in a whisper. “Since my wife passed away, I had felt so lonely, only the day before I’d found the boys I’d thought seriously about ending it all together, I just didn’t feel like living without her. They gave me a reason to stay, they saved me.”

Elijah’s heart broke then, tears welled in his green eyes and he fought the real urge to pull them all into a hug. He considered himself to be a relatively hard man, but he had now been awake for almost an entire day, discovered the existence of fairies and then heard the sob story of the century. He was done holding himself together today.

Wiping at his eyes, he was jolted out of his own emotions by the chime of the clinic door being opened. Ray stiffened as well, hand flying up to protect Pip from being seen even though they were behind a closed door.

“It’s seven o clock already? Um I’ll go handle that.” Elijah said sniffling and standing up headed for the door.

“I’m going to lock this door, none of the staff will bother you, I’ll tell them there is a patient in isolation, I’m the only one with a key. Oh, and I’m going to bring a bed in, so that you can get some rest, it looks like you all need some.” Elijah added as he ducked out of the room and locked the door behind himself.

After giving his staff, a stern warning not to enter the room under any circumstances, and an updated list of appointments for the day, Elijah made his way to his own office. He slumped down on the couch and immediately fell asleep, it felt like he’d only closed his eyes for a few minutes before a pounding could be heard at his door.

“Sorry Elijah, there’s someone calling for you from the isolation room.” Annette called from the other side of the door.

Elijah’s blinked sleep away and noted it was now late afternoon, he’d slept most of the day, but it still didn’t feel like quite enough. He’d set an alarm earlier in the day to give Kells his next dose of antibiotics but that been the only time he’d woken.

He pushed himself up from the couch, straightened his now unruly hair back down and then opened the door. He thanked Annette and reiterated that he and Ray were the only ones permitted to enter or leave that room.

Though she seemed unsure about his request, she did agree and passed this information on to the two other staff members currently in the clinic.

Elijah ducked into the room, locking the door once more from the inside and he looked to Ray first, he was ready to ask what was wrong when a small cough came from the examination table.

“He’s awake! Elijah! Kells is getting better!!” Pip hollered from beside his brother who he was clutching to furiously.

Elijah couldn’t hide the relief from his face, he sat down in his chair and observed the now conscious Fairy. He still looked quite pale, and that cough sounded rather wet, but he was awake, that had to mean he had done something right.

“Hi Kells.” He began gently, noting the apprehension on Kells face immediately. “I’m Elijah, how are you feeling?”

Kells looked between his brother and Ray who both gave him encouraging nods of their heads, he then cleared his sore throat.

“Alive I guess, I’m hungry.” Kells shrugged weakly.

Elijah’s smile broadened. “Of course, I’ll get some soup ready for you in a moment, but do you mind if I examine you first?”

Kells couldn’t have turned a paler shade. “Examine?”

“I’d like to listen to your chest and take your temperature.” Elijah explained patiently, holding up his stethoscope and thermometer.

“It doesn’t hurt Kells, he’s done the same to me, it will help him see if you’re getting better.” Pip jumped in, giving his brother’s arm a squeeze.

Kells agreed hesitantly and Elijah made fast work of the examination so to put Kells at ease.

“Your temperature has gone down a little and your heart rate is still a little faster than I’d like but it’s also much better than last night. You’re improving.” Elijah said.

Ray crushed the tired Vet in a hug with tears in his blue-grey eyes. “Thank you so much, I don’t know what we would have done if we’d lost him, thank you.”

“It’s been my pleasure, and I want you to know that your secret is safe with me. I would also like you all to stay here for the next few days at least, just to give the antibiotics a chance to really work….but if you’d prefer to be at home, I can work around that to, I can come by twice a day to make sure Kells is getting his doses.” Elijah rambled on.

“Ray?” Kells called up to the old man.

“Yes, my boy?” Ray was down on his knees, eye level with the Fairies immediately.

“Can we go home?” Kells asked quietly.

Ray nodded and curled a wrinkled hand around the young man’s shoulders, resting his fingers there in a gentle sort of hug. “Of course we can.”

After getting the all clear from Elijah, Ray settled the brothers back into his pocket and Elijah informed them that he would stop by later tonight for Kells next dose of antibiotics. Elijah walked Ray to the door, finding it hard to say goodbye to them, he hadn’t even known them that long and yet his heart begged for him to reach out, make friends, even if they were absurdly tiny friends.

“I’ll see you soon then, and uh, just call if you have any concerns or anything really.” Elijah said awkwardly, looking down at his shoes.

“Will do, thanks again Doc.” Ray nodded once and then turned to leave.

“Bye Elijah!” He heard Pip call from within the pocket.

Elijah laughed. “Not a doctor, bye Pip.”

Elijah closed the door, reluctant to get back to reality, his staff had left for the evening, and he was sat at his desk once again with a stack of unfinished paperwork. His mind couldn’t wonder far from Kells and Pip though.

Ray had said they had saved him from dying of loneliness, Elijah couldn’t help but wonder and hope that perhaps they might do the same for him.

[twistedtummies2]

I have ssspark! I have charm.

I know painlessssss ways to harm.

Look right into my eyes…

Let yourssself be hypnotized…

I am in the Mood

To Play With My Food.

“A Mood For Food,” Jim Cummings

----------------------------------------------------------

Happy Halloween, everybody! I have a treat for you all: this is the first of five images I got from various artists, for a series I simply like to call “OCs and Inspirations.” In honor of Disney’s 100th Anniversary, I decided to get some images of some of my major OCs for Twisted Wonderland - the first five introduced in stories - posing with their source inspirations. This first one is made by @hooter-n-company, and shows the first boi I ever made: Nakoda “Nako” Spivak, based on Kaa from Disney’s Jungle Book.

Nakoda was not meant to be a major character when I created him, but in the course of writing his introductory piece, “Snake-Like,” I fell in love with what I had created. So, part of the way through, I decided to have him become a student at Night Raven College, and thus allow him the opportunity for more adventures later down the line. He has since become one of my most popular OCs for this universe, even though he honestly hasn’t shown up in THAT many stories yet. I think part of the reason for this IS his inspiration from Kaa, since Kaa has become such an iconic character, ESPECIALLY within this particular “kinkdom.” That was part of what I love(d) about Nakoda: he’s a character who allows me to play with Kaa’s tropes and traits - Kaa HIMSELF being a rather overused and slightly overrated figure, in my personal opinion - while putting my own spin on things.

Like Kaa, Nakoda is insatiable in every sense of the word: about the only thing harder to satisfy than his hunger is his seemingly limitless “thirst.” This was meant to be a sort of in-joke for me on how over-sexualized Kaa himself has become in a LOT of places, but it actually works pretty well for Nakoda on a lot of levels, which is why I’ve kept it: for example, I recently was reminded that, in the original Kipling stories, it’s indicated Kaa has had many mates over the years, so even though we can presume the Disney version (being a VERY different character) is not the same, there’s no reason my guy can’t be. Ha Ha.

On a deeper level, what Nakoda takes from Kaa is what I like to describe as “directionless control.” Both are characters who seek to control other beings, and enjoy the power they have over their prey, toying with their “playthings” before consuming them. Both enjoy the sensation of being in control of their own little world. HOWEVER, in Kaa’s case, there is no greater cause behind all this: he is ruthless and ambitionless in what he does, recognizing no friends, and with seemingly no other desire than to fill his belly and enjoy everything that comes with that. Nakoda’s great issue is that he’s someone who very much lives in the moment; he doesn’t really know what he wants in life, nor how to achieve it: just this vague, nebulous concept of having control and gaining respect and recognition. He, himself, isn’t sure what to do with himself or his gifts.

Off the topic of the character, I just want to say this artwork is absolutely freaking spellbinding. Kaa looks magnificent, and Nakoda…I could comment on a LOT of things in the image that make it so great, but…can we just take some time to appreciate how positively THICC and STACKED this gluttonous hedonist is here? I never want to see Nako with curves ANY smaller than this EVER again, good Lord, they take one’s breath away…possibly literally, if he gets those pythons around somebody. He won’t even NEED the coils of his naga form then. >////>

Thank you for your contribution, Hoots! She's actually made one more image for this same series, which will be released in the near future. Look out for the rest of this series of pics starting tomorrow. ;)

[harukaprism]

Soulmate AU

Pairing: Cyno xGN!Reader

Warnings: Potential violence against reader, fighting, soulmate au, that is all.

Word Count: 1,534

Dawn's notes: Howl has been on my brain and this is the result. Have fun!

In all of Teyvat soulmates surrounded you, everyone had their soulmate, everyone had someone for them.You had yet to find yours in your beautiful home of Mondstadt, which was fine; you were happy actually happy yours wasn’t in your home country. You wanted to explore and travel the world to find them, even though you had no hints as to who it could be. 

You did have something of your soulmate, everyone gets something to wear from their beloved that way when you two met you knew who it would be.They had gifted you a very beautiful necklace, plated in gold was a eye made out of beautiful amethyst with the pupil as a gold dot in the middle. You gave a set of simple gold earrings; it wasn’t much like the gifts you had seen your friends get but they were a treasured possession of yours that you would be able to spot miles away. 

You wore the necklace everyday, taking very good care of it just in case they had come to visit to find you, but as the years had passed you gave up hope that you would find them in your home or even Liyue. With that you made a decision. 

“You really want to visit Sumeru?” Lisa asked as she went through her book in the library. 

“Yes, Inazuma is too far away right now so I figured I would visit Sumeru to see if I could find them there.” You were determined to do what it took to see the world to find them and the one person in Mond that knows the country was your favorite bookworm. “Come on Miss Lisa, you are the only one that I know that has been there and I want to know what to prepare for. I have always wanted to travel Teyvat and looking for my soulmate is the perfect excuse to do that!” 

With a sigh she stood up grabbing a book from behind her desk. “If you really are serious, make sure you are prepared.” Handing you a stack of books her eyes fell to the necklace that she had seen for many years now. “You have to be careful and don’t worry too much if you do not find them right away.” 

Excitement shot through your body as you held the books to your chest. “Thank you Miss Lisa, really, I appreciate it.” 

The look on her face did not escape you as you watched her sit down, a mix of joy and also sadness, though for why you weren’t sure. “Just doing my job. Those books are to be returned in 2 weeks, cutie, I mean it.” 

With that you ran out of the library and into your little apartment and cracked open the old books, they had everything you could ever know about the country of wisdom and all of its deserts. You had no idea how much time had passed before you had finished every book, writing notes of what not to do in situations and what you would want to see. 

After reading the books multiple times you returned the books and packed everything you would need. Lisa still had contacts in Sumeru City so she set up some lodging for your stay. With everything packed and someone to keep an eye on your house and mail you left Mondstadt and

started your travels. As you traveled on foot to Liyue you followed all the notes that Lisa and even Kaeya had put together for you, there was many things listed that you should go see and ways to travel, the second you crossed the border into Sumeru your felt the cool rush of the wind hit you as your eyes were met with the most beautiful sight that you had ever seen. 

The lush landscape of Sumeru City was beautiful but the most intriguing part was what laid behind that huge tree, the vast land of sand. Something was pulling you there so you decided to make that your final destination. 

Following Lisa’s advice you made your way to Gandharva Ville to rest for the night, as you laid down for the night in a hut you heard the distinct jingling of jewelry, something that you knew well. With your heart pounding you rushed to your window and looked out searching all over for the glimpse of gold reflecting in the moonlight but you were only able to see the forest. 

You were disappointed for sure but you had to move on, you would find them sooner or later. In the morning you were greeted by the lead forest ranger Tighnari. “Thank you for letting me stay the night, I hope it didn’t cause too much trouble.” 

The man shook his head with a pleasant smile on his face.”Oh no need to thank me, I was happy to let an adventure stay the night. Where is your destination for this trip?” 

“Ultimately the desert! Ever since I stepped foot into Sumeru it has been calling for me.” You could see his eyes drifting to your necklace. “Ah, this is from my soulmate so I was hoping that I would find them here, if not my next step is Fontaine.” 

The look he gave was one of recognition and solace. “I doubt that you would need to travel that far. Be careful in the desert and make sure to bring plenty of water and supplies.” With that interaction over with you made your way to the city and got your room secured and set up. 

Your next few days passed pleasantly. The connections that Lisa had in the city were wonderful and you got really good advice as to how best to get to the desert. After a two day trip you had finally made it to Caravan Ribat, the second you stepped into the city heat rushed from beyond the wall and basked you in the amazing feeling. 

After getting a room for the day you made your way to the gate that separated the city and the vast ocean of sand. The gusts of wind surrounded you like a warm hug, every aspect of life drew your attention and you deviated from your path to Aaru Village to look at the flora and fauna. 

You weren’t keeping track of the time but soon the sun had started to set and the cool breeze filled your ears. “Well well well, what do we have here?” The unknown voice brought you out of your studies of the flower in front of you to the group of mercenaries slowly surrounding you. “You’re not from the desert are you?”

You were no stranger to fighting, you were part of the Adventures Guild, you were experienced with defending yourself. You held your hands behind your back not wavering. “Just leave me alone, I have no interest in fighting some low life scum.” 

“Oh looks like you have quite the mouth. I can fix that.” The leader, you guessed, cracked his neck as he walked up to you. Just as your hand gripped the hilt of your sword the air cracked around you and stilled. In a flash of light the men were on the ground and a tan man stood before you enveloped in a purple glow. 

As he turned you heard the noise that you were very familiar with, the gold earrings that he wore upon his hat shone brightly in the setting desert sun. Stunning red eyes like rubies pulled you into his gaze as his white hair settled down and he came to a standstill. 

His eyes glanced down to your necklace as you kept your eyes trained on those earrings. “There you are sweetheart, sorry I’m late. I was looking everywhere for you.” 

With your heart fluttering you dropped your sword into the sand. “Not how I intended to meet you and I am impressed at how you have utilized the earrings. I see you have kept good care of them after all these years.” 

With that he approached you and took the pendant between his fingers. “I never thought I would meet you. Tighnari told me that he suspected you were my soulmate when you stayed in Gandharva Ville. He said you were coming to the desert.” 

With a huff you crossed your arms. “No wonder he made that comment. He knew I would run into you.” Your bottom lip jutted out just a bit in a pout, this seemed to cause him to lose focus on the jewelry he gave you and his calloused thumb came up and danced across your lip. 

“Call it divine intervention, he was looking out for the both of us.” Suddenly your vision was covered in darkness as you felt the hat that he wore was placed upon your head. “You have been out here too long, let’s go to Aaru Village for some rest and shade.” 

Lifting the hat with one hand you pushed the tuft of hair covering his eye out of the way. “You are more handsome than I thought you would be.” 

His chuckle was low as he laced his fingers with yours and started to guide you.

[from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras]

A Need of the Soul

Summary: Éomer is teaching Faramir how to speak Rohirric as a surprise for Éowyn. Come for Faramir being a sweet husband, stay for the emotional links to Boromir and Théodred. Oh, and for Éomer being a big horse dork.

Context: I pulled a JRR and wrote a whole story around a special word I like! More on that at the very bottom. You can read this without knowing any of my personal Rohan head canon, but just in case it’s helpful: In my world, Éomer is married to his childhood best friend, Mereliss. My Théodred (who you can read more about here or here if you’re interested) was a nurturing soul with a curious mind, and I may be obsessed with him. And damn it, my Éomer can absolutely read and write! (See here for why that’s the case in my HC.)

As soon as Éowyn left for the morning, Faramir pulled out his secret stack of papers, the ones he had started requesting from Éomer six months ago when he first decided to try learning Rohirric. He wanted to master the language as a surprise for Éowyn, ever conscious of how much she had sacrificed on his behalf when they married. Although he knew she loved Ithilien, he also knew that sometimes she still longed for the familiarity and comfort of home, for the people, places, and culture that were now many miles away. If he could bring some of Rohan to her in the form of her language, he hoped he could brighten her heart on those days when she looked most in need of a reminder of all that she missed.

With this goal in mind, he had thrown himself wholly into the pursuit, but the process was more difficult than he had hoped. The Rohirrim didn’t keep written records in their own language, nor did they have textbooks or primers made to learn from. All Faramir had were the pages that Éomer would write out and send to him every few weeks, using Westron to describe basic grammar rules and listing common Rohirric words and phrases by their definitions and rough pronunciations. Working from written materials to learn a language that was only taught orally was maddeningly difficult, and Faramir spent long hours alone at his desk laboring at the exercises Éomer sent, unsure if he was even getting close to the sounds he was attempting to produce.

At least he would be aided today by the presence of Éomer in person. The king of Rohan was coming to Gondor to take counsel with his allies on military matters, and he had agreed to make time for some lessons while his own wife, Mereliss, kept Éowyn occupied in furtherance of the surprise. With Éowyn gone now to meet her sister-in-law, Faramir looked down his lists of Rohirric words and tried to commit a few more to memory, repeating them slowly out loud to himself while he waited for Éomer.

“If someone back home heard you slur your way through those words like that, they might assume you were a drunkard.”

Faramir looked up to see Éomer smirking at him from the doorway, still dressed in his riding clothes and holding a small pack. “Well, if the performance of the student falls short, I think we have no option but to blame the instructor,” Faramir returned with a smirk of his own.

“A fair point, I will grant you.” Éomer strode in and tossed his things on an empty chair before pulling Faramir up into a strong embrace, thumping a fist on his brother-in-law’s back with enough enthusiasm to knock the breath out of him.

When they separated, Faramir smiled and held up his stack of papers. “I do appreciate all of this. It’s a lot of work for me, but for you, too, I’m sure.”

Éomer gave a dismissive wave. “I have the easy part. Besides, there’s some benefit to me in all of this, as well. I’ll certainly enjoy the show the next time you visit Edoras and all the ladies at court discover that you can actually understand their scandalous comments about how handsome they find you. Your admirer’s club is in for a big shock.”

They both laughed, though Éomer noted the flush of pink in Faramir’s ears and cheeks and that only made him laugh all the harder. “Don’t let them see you blush, you’ll only make it worse!” He plopped down into a chair and put his feet up, smiling.

As Faramir took a seat across from him, he felt a warm, familiar echo in his heart. The easy camaraderie, the good natured teasing balanced with true affection…it couldn’t help but bring Boromir to his mind. Faramir still missed his brother every single day and looked for reminders of him everywhere that he could. But he didn’t think it was a stretch to see clear elements of Boromir reflected in Éomer–in his strength and brashness, his earnest intensity, his fierce loyalty. They were both proud men of action with an unshakeable sense of duty and love for family. Éomer could never replace Boromir, and he was surely his own man, different in many ways from the brother Faramir lost. But it lifted Faramir’s spirits to once again have such a figure in his life.

Now his brother-in-law reached into his pack and pulled out more pages, covered from top to bottom in his own scrawly handwriting. “I’ve brought you some more to learn–words you’d hear often around Rohan and that any self-respecting Rohirrim would know.”

Faramir accepted the papers from him and skimmed his eyes down the first page, but a look of confusion slowly built on his face as he read. “Am I understanding this correctly? Why do you have twenty different words for ‘horse’?”

“I have not given you twenty words for ‘horse’! Each one of those means something very different.” Éomer grabbed the page back and pointed. “This one here, éotynde, this is an old, calm mare that would be suitable for a young child just learning to ride.” He pointed again. “And this one, éoweder, is a high spirited horse that has quickness and agility but is unpredictable and difficult to control. The others are equally unique. Do you not see?”

Faramir gently extracted the page back from Éomer’s grip, hoping to avoid a further explanation of each specific variant on the list. “I understand those distinctions, but are they really significant enough that I require a whole separate word for each one? We make do in Gondor with but one term. A horse is a horse.”

“A horse is a horse?” Éomer gaped at him, incredulous. “You think the language of the Rohirrim would put a courier horse, whose purpose is swiftness and endurance, in the same category with a farm horse, who sacrifices speed in favor of strength and power? They aren’t remotely the same thing, and a proper language wouldn’t treat them as such. If we went by your rules, we’d all be calling the blacksmith a baker because they both make things with heat!”

It was obvious from the truly scandalized look on his face that Éomer would never concede the point, so Faramir held up his hands in smiling capitulation. And if all these varieties of horse were important to Éomer, likely they would be to Éowyn as well, so Faramir would learn them as best he could. But he desired to speak to Éowyn of many things, and horses were nowhere near the top of the list. He shuffled through the papers one more time. “Have you finally given me anything that would be suitable to say to a beloved wife?”

Éomer shot him a look. “I am not the right person to consult for words of romance. And certainly not when the woman to be romanced is my own sister.”

Faramir laughed. “Fair enough. Let’s get back to your many words for ‘horse’ and I will ask Mereliss to help me with some more emotional thoughts later.”

Éomer sat back, satisfied. “I will have you sounding like a Rohirrim in no time. Now, do you know the word for a horse that likes to cause trouble in the stable with the other horses?”

**********

The next morning, Faramir spent two hours with Mereliss while Éomer and Éowyn went for a ride. When the siblings returned, Éomer sent Éowyn to Mereliss’s quarters and went himself to check on Faramir’s progress. He found his brother-in-law once again at his desk, bent over his work, and dropped casually into a nearby chair.

“Did you get all of the flowery and eloquent phrases you need?”

Faramir put down his pen and smiled. “Mereliss helped me to write a special toast to Éowyn for our upcoming anniversary. I knew what I wanted to say, and Mereliss made sure it will sound not just like a bunch of Westron bluntly converted into Rohirric words but rather something that was written by a native speaker. Something truly of Rohan. She has quite a talent for beautiful language and imagery.” He gave a sly smile. “Though she told me that you also have something of a poet’s heart when the two of you are alone in your own chambers.”

Éomer’s head snapped up, a tinge of dark red sweeping across his cheeks. “She told you what?”

Now it was Faramir’s turn to laugh at his brother-in-law’s furious blushing, so out of character for one who was otherwise always self assured and confident. Faramir had faithfully reported Mereliss’s remark, and it was clearly true that Éomer really did speak his softest thoughts to her or he would not be so flustered by the possibility that she had shared those thoughts. But Faramir had no need or desire to prolong Éomer’s self-consciousness.

“There is nothing to worry about. I know only that you are capable of words to enchant and delight your wife, which is no bad thing. But she didn’t reveal what those words are. She wouldn’t betray your privacy, and I would never ask her to.”

Éomer’s shoulders noticeably relaxed, and he laughed a little at his own embarrassment. “Well, your discussion of my clumsy attempts to please my wife aside, I am glad that she helped you. Westron is very useful, but there are some things that just cannot be said as effectively without our own words and expressions.”

“Indeed. She gave me a number of things that I quite like, ways to convey entire concepts with a single word that has no direct equivalent in any language that I know. Like sáwolthearf. Every language should have such a term.”

Sáwolthearf. The word sent a wave of fond remembrance through Éomer’s heart. It translated literally as ‘a need of the soul’ and was used in Rohan to mean someone who is necessary in order for another person to feel truly happy and complete. His late cousin Théodred, who had always been so free and generous in expressing his feelings, used to call his bride-to-be sáwolthearf, and Éomer could easily picture Eadlin practically glowing with love and pride whenever Théodred referred to her that way.

To hear Théodred’s words coming now from Faramir’s lips was no great shock to Éomer. On the contrary, it only intensified a feeling he had long had in the presence of his brother-in-law: a sense that he was not with Théodred himself, but with a kindred spirit of his cousin. Someone whose modesty, eagerness for knowledge, gentle heart and dreamer’s mind so thoroughly echoed Théodred’s own nature that Éomer felt immediately at ease in his company. Théodred had been many things to Éomer–a deeply loved cousin, but also much like an older brother and at times even a father figure–and he had carried Éomer through some of the most difficult moments he would ever experience. Éomer could never truly reconcile himself to Théodred’s loss, but having Faramir in his life helped to salve that wound.

Watching Faramir now—shuffling again through his notes and drafts, applying himself so diligently to such a difficult task and all for the purpose of simply making Éowyn smile—Éomer was struck by a profound feeling of gratitude, one that he felt should be voiced even if it was not normally in his nature to speak of his innermost feelings. He cleared his throat, and Faramir looked up.

“What you’re doing for my sister is very admirable. I know it will mean a lot to her, and for that reason it means a lot to me. Thank you, eyre-brothor.”

Faramir frowned slightly and looked back at his papers. “Eyre-brothor? I don’t think I’ve learned that yet.”

Éomer smiled. “It means ‘brother by choice.’ Write that one down.”

**********

[Language nerd notes:

“Sáwolthearf” is a real Old English word (though I modernized the thorn in the middle for readability–it’s actually “sáwolþearf”) and it really does mean “a need of the soul,” which I just think is incredibly beautiful.

I made up “eyre-brothor” by combining two other real Old English words, “eyre” (“a choice made of free will”) and “brothor” (“brother”, though once again I turned the thorn in broþor into a “th” to make it smoother to modern English-reading eyes).

“Éotynde” comes from an approx combo of “eoh” (“horse”) and “tyende” (“teaching”) for a horse that’s calm enough to be good for beginners.

Éoweder comes from an approx combo of “eoh” (“horse”) and “weder” (“weather”) because to be impressive but quick-changing, unpredictable and uncontrollable is to be like the weather.

And it’s not in the story, but Éomer’s word for a horse that likes to cause trouble in the stable with the other horses is an “éodrefa” from “eoh” (horse, again!) and “drefan,” which is “to stir things up or cause mischief”.]

[amberlynnmurdock]

Blind Faith

Chapter 7: His Wrath

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Summary: You unexpectedly do some investigative work when you go out with your friends.

Warnings: angst, mentions of drug use

A/N: I hope you like this angsty chapter! After this, things really pick up, ahh!

Tag list: @starry-night-20 @sumsytee @queerqueenlynn @mattmurdocksstarlight

Hell’s Kitchen

After that night at Josie’s, you felt much more comfortable walking into work at Nelson  & Murdock. Mostly because now you knew you were on all three of their good sides—Matt was the most challenging (and honestly, the only challenging) of the bunch to win over. You must’ve said something right at Josie’s because ever since then, Matt’s gone out of his way to greet you in the morning or offer you help on a case. No longer did he simply brush past you with a vague nod of acknowledgment. No longer did he avoid having you in his presence. 

One morning, you came to the office earlier than usual to prepare for the day. You locked the door. Karen gave you the key the night before and you took it upon yourself to replenish their kitchen: the office was low on paper plates, styrofoam cups, and coffee. No one asked you to do this. You just wanted to. You wiped the kitchen counter with Lysol—when was the last time anyone cleaned this?—and then you added the new paper plates in the cupboards and stacked the cups next to them. Finally, your favorite part: brewing a fresh pot of coffee. 

Suddenly, the creaky front door trying to be opened startled you. You started the brewer and made your way to the door, peering through the window pane to see who it was. It was Matt. You paused before you unlocked the door and let him inside. 

You greeted Matt with a smile. 

“Good morning, Matt,” you said lightly. 

“Mornin’,” he greeted with a hint of a smile. His cane tapped the floor as he stepped in. “You’re here early.”

“Oh, yeah, I wanted to refill the cabinets. I noticed we were low on plates, cups, and coffee.” 

Matt smiled as he shrugged off his blazer, and hung it on a coat rack. It felt strange, watching him do this, so you looked away. He leaned his cane against the wall. 

“Coffee is a must,” Matt chuckled, “Thank you. You didn’t have to do that. I’ll tell Karen to reimburse you.”

“No worries,” you declined, “consider it repayment for all the drinks from Josie’s.” 

Matt’s smile softened. You could almost see his eyes behind his dark red glasses. You realized how you held your hands behind your back, let go of the hold you had, and relaxed a bit. You shared a comfortable moment of silence. 

Just as Matt was about to head into his office, he paused. 

“Hey, uh,” he began. He had a look on his face like he was choosing his next words carefully. “I noticed you kept the door locked until I got here. You can talk to Karen about having someone open with you if you feel safer that way.” 

You thought about it for a moment. It wasn’t a big deal, and you thought nothing of it when you locked it initially—just that it made sense to lock it. But you appreciated Matt’s concern, and his earnestness warmed your heart. For someone who came off as so guarded, he sure did have a soft side. Why didn’t he show it more often? 

“Maybe I will,” you said anyway. “Thank you. Oh, did you want some coffee?” You asked as you heard the brewer go off. Matt raised his eyebrows. 

“Oh, uh, yes please,” he responded. 

“How do you like it?” 

“Black.” 

For some reason, this made you laugh. Matt had a look of amusement on his face, not sure what was so funny. 

“What?” He smiled. 

You shrugged your shoulders, “It just makes sense I guess. You taking your coffee black. I don’t know. It seems very appropriate for a defense lawyer. Maybe when I get my law degree and pass the bar, I’ll also be a black coffee drinker.” 

Matt laughed at this. You went to pour his coffee and fix your own as well. On second thought, you decided to have it black, too. When you walked out of the kitchen, you expected Matt to be at his desk, but he still stood in the doorway of his office, waiting for you. 

He raised his hand to meet you as you handed him his cup. You placed it so it was easy for Matt to wrap his fingers around it. When he did, his fingers just grazed against your own. You tried your best to ignore the feeling.  

“Thank you,” he said softly. 

“I decided to try black as well.” 

He grinned. This time, he went into his office and sat at his desk. You blew on your hot cup of coffee and felt the steam warm your face. 

Mornings like this didn’t stop. In fact, you purposefully started to come to the office earlier in the morning just so you could have a few moments with Matt. It may seem inappropriate, but your intentions with Matt were innocent. You wanted to learn from him. And something told you Matt shared the same sentiments, to come early in the morning. It wasn’t required of him, but ever since that first morning you shared, he continued coming in early. It sort of became an unspoken rule…or ritual, for the two of you to open early. 

You took advantage of the mornings to ask him about his time at Columbia. You picked his brain for his advice on law school and studying. One day, you asked him why he wanted to become a lawyer.

Matt was hesitant at first…like he always was. He clicked his tongue and leaned against the wall, with his hands in his pockets. His tie was a little crooked. You continued to wonder what his eyes looked like behind his dark red glasses. Finally, he answered. And when he did, you immediately understood why he hesitated to answer such a question. You never thought his answer could be so heavy. 

“My father,” he started, “He was a boxer. It was just him and I when I grew up. He was a fighter—while he hit the mat, he made me hit the books,” he chuckled a little like he’s told this story before and he never tires of it. “I liked studying. I wanted to make him proud. Especially after…” He drifted off. You smiled softly. You wished he could see you were encouraging him. “He was murdered. Shortly after my accident. He never wanted me to fight like he did. So what better way to fight than by using the law?” 

“Wow,” you breathed. “That’s really touching, Matt.” 

Matt didn’t respond. He just smiled, rather sadly. 

“Thank you for sharing that with me,” you added. 

“You’re welcome,” he said. 

And then, your mornings with him would end when either Karen or Foggy arrived at the office. They never questioned anything, but you weren’t sure they even noticed. And as you sat at your desk, flipping through files and scrolling Westlaw, something occurred to you—Matt probably wasn’t telling them about your mornings, either. It was interesting. And you thought nothing of it more. 

Matt came by your desk quite frequently during the day. He was always kind with what he had for you. Could you translate these into Braille? Do you want to go over legal arguments? Could you prep my brief for the hearing? And you gladly did all of it. He could ask you anything and you’d say yes. 

⣿⣿⣿⣿ New York City 

It’s been a while since you went out with your friends. With studying for the LSAT, starting your job at Nelson & Murdock, and…your secret late-night meetings with Mike, you barely had time for yourself. This weekend though, Foggy practically had to tear your laptop away from your hands so you’d go home and “get in all kinds of trouble with your friends” as he said. You’re not one to argue over having a good time. 

You got ready with your friends. It was almost time to head out to the bar. This time, you’d be heading a little uptown, not where you usually go out with them. 

“Finally, you’re coming out with us! Gosh, it felt like forever!” Hannah squeezed your thigh in the back of the taxi. You smiled at her. 

“I know! I am definitely due for a night out,” you said, feeling the warmth of the tequila settle in your stomach. For some reason, you felt a little nervous going out tonight. Perhaps it had been a while so you forgot “going out etiquette.” You are suddenly worried about things you usually never did—where you were going, how you’d get home, would you be out too late. One glance at your friends and all those worries faded away—everything would be okay, as long as you stuck together. 

Besides. You had the phone Mike gave you in your purse. With this in mind, the uneasy feeling in your chest subsided. 

When the taxi pulled up at the club Emily had chosen for tonight, you admired its gothic architecture, what you could see of it. It was already dark, but the building had harsh fluorescent lights shining on the front. You could see stained glasses that stretched far up and disappeared where the light couldn’t reach. 

“Was this an old Cathedral or something?” You wondered aloud. 

“How perceptive,” Emily chides. “Yes.” 

It felt wrong, that an old Cathedral was renovated into a club where not so holy things would take place. 

Bella bumped into you and squeezed your shoulders. 

“Time for an epic night!” 

⣿⣿⣿⣿ 11:00 PM 

No matter how hard you tried, you just couldn’t sink the feeling of not really feeling present with your friends at the club. 

It’s not that you weren’t having fun with them—you just kept thinking about so many other things you could be doing right now. Foggy let you take home some legal books from the office and you’ve been wanting to start reading those. You could be studying for the LSAT right now. Even the alcohol at this club wasn’t that good. You thought of Josie’s and how much your drinks tasted better when it was made by a middle-aged woman with a permanent scowl on her face than it was when the chiseled bartender with blonde hair made it. 

You couldn’t bare to be in there anymore. And something felt wrong, getting drunk in a place that used to be a place of worship. You weren’t that religious, but it still didn’t sit right with you for some reason. 

Hannah was dancing with Emily. Bella found Andre and stood by him with a drink. You made a gesture to Hannah to let her know you were going to get fresh air. No. I’ll be good alone. 

You met the cool summer breeze instantly as you stepped out of the club. There was a line to get in now. A burly bouncer stood in front of you with his arms crossed. 

“Once you leave you have to stand in line again,” he said in a deep voice. You waved him off.

“Whatever,” you muttered. 

Walking down the street, away from the crowds of drunk people, you walked slowly and watched your feet in front of you, step by step. You thought of Mike. Despite him coming to see you almost every night, he did remind you that sometimes he’d have to prowl other parts of the city, to make sure people are safe. You understood. You made him promise you that his last stop would always be your apartment, though. But you had a feeling you wouldn’t see him tonight, even though you wanted to. 

You reached the end of the street. It was quiet, uptown. Completely different from being downtown where there was always something going on at each corner. Uptown had more of a neighborhood and less of a nightlife. The corner of the street read West 61st and Tenth. 

Squinting your eyes, you cocked your head, staring at the street sign as if it were in another language. Why did that seem so familiar? 

And then it dawned on you. Ms. Cruz! One of Nelson & Murdock’s newer clients. The older woman in the dangerous apartment building. The one where the landlord wouldn’t do anything unless there was proof. How sick of him, to make an old woman put herself in danger like that. It was a very rundown building, from what you remember reading in her file, and she was basically the only trusted adult in the building. However…

No. You told yourself. Matt said to keep work and life separate. To not get involved. 

But… you were right here. On her street. With a phone that could take photos and videos. This is the proof Ms. Cruz needed for something to get done! 

And… you weren’t clocked in at Nelson & Murdock. You could do whatever you wanted. You thought of Mike—what would he do? He’d go in there and take care of it himself. Why shouldn’t you? 

You couldn’t specifically remember her building address, but it was clear enough which rundown apartment building it was. Smack in the center of the street, the only building not connected to the other brownstones that lined up. Another indicator was the people in a haze, drugged out of their minds laying on the ground and lining the steps. No one seemed to notice you, until you felt a greasy hand grab onto your arm, digging into your skin. 

“Hey!” You yelped lowly, so as to not wake the other people sleeping. 

“Are you the dealer they sent?” An old man asks you. You yanked out of his grasp and ignored him, walking into the building. Jesus. It shouldn’t have been that easy to get inside. You quickly took notes on your phone of what you saw. The people in a haze who needed help, the lack of security system to get into the building. Half-broken steps, ripped wallpaper. You shook your head, remembering that Ms. Cruz said kids lived here, too. You took pictures of what you saw and felt your arm sting from when the man grabbed you. It looks like he left a mark. 

There was booming music coming from an apartment above. You stepped over another sleeping person, a woman, and walked upstairs slowly. You gasped again when she grabbed your ankle, tugging gently. 

“Are you an angel?” She asked with half-moon eyes. You pulled your ankle of out her grasp and continued to walk up the steps to the second floor of the building. You continued to snap pictures on your phone and even managed to take a video of the hallway. The lights made everything look like a sea green. You covered your nose with your arm to block out the stench. There were dirty towels everywhere, and in the distance, you could hear children laughing. You shook your head. This is no place for a child to grow up. 

Up another flight of stairs, you saw the first door ajar. There was a TV flashing, but no noise came from it. You took a deep breath—out of fear or to block out the stench, you weren’t sure—and slightly pushed it open to reveal a man asleep, half naked on the couch, his arm tightly tied with a white tee shirt. You snapped a picture and hurriedly closed the door. 

“You ain’t what I ordered,” a drunken loll comes from your side. There’s a man standing in between a doorway, his belly hanging out over his underwear and a cigarette in his hand. “But you’ll do.” 

You immediately dashed down the stairs, jumping over the new bodies that have taken a seat, and run out of the apartment building, nearly out of breath as you make your way back to the club. You leaned against the building of the Cathedral, wishing it were a real place of worship and not a renovated club with trashy music and a liquor license. In the distance up at the top, you see a statue of an angel, looking down at you. 

⣿⣿⣿⣿ Office of Nelson & Murdock 10 AM 

It’s raining.

You walked all the way to Nelson & Murdock under a black umbrella, counting your steps until you arrived at the rusty red door with the golden and black plaque that read Nelson & Murdock. You decided to come in later to share what you “worked” on over the weekend when everyone was there. You skipped your early morning with Matt to do so. 

Entering the building, you shook off the water from your umbrella and leaned it in the hall. You wiped your shoes on the carpet and made your way up to the office. You could already smell the coffee Karen was brewing. Delighted to see no clients yet, you were hopeful for a calm, productive work day. 

“Good morning!” Karen beamed at you. “Coffee’s done. Feel free to fix a cup for yourself. Foggy also got bagels for us to brighten this rainy Monday.”

You smiled at her and hung your raincoat on the rack. In the corner of your eye, you saw Matt step out of his office. Foggy came in from the conference room. 

“I’m sure Foggy has the power to brighten even the darkest of days,” you said under your breath to Karen. She giggled behind her cup and took a sip. 

You poured yourself some coffee, black, and cut a bagel in half, setting the toaster for five minutes. Entering the room again, Foggy looked at you expectantly with a smile. 

“Thanks for the bagels,” you raised your cup in acknowledgment. “I didn’t get a chance to stop for breakfast so this is perfect.” 

“Ain’t no thang,” Foggy waved his hand. “So. How was everyone’s weekend?” 

“Same old,” Karen shrugged. “Caught up on sleep, finally.” 

“Ha,” Foggy laughed, “same. Marci and I stayed in. I don’t party like I used to anymore. Matt?”

“Same here,” Matt agreed, almost like he didn’t even think of the question. 

“I bet __ here had the most interesting weekend of us all. She’s the partier, I know it! Ahh, I miss my college days…” Foggy trailed off. “How was your weekend?” He asked you. 

Well, it was now or never. Part of you was excited to let them know you did some investigative work, the other part was unsure of how they would react. Matt seemed more interested in the conversation now, by the way he turned to face you. A hint of a smile on his lips. 

“On Friday I went out with my friends. Some Cathedral turned club uptown. I’d never been before. I didn’t care for the way they renovated it,” you trailed off, biting your lip. Karen looked at you inquisitively and Foggy waited for you to finish. Matt’s face was unreadable. 

“But actually, I ended up doing a bit of work while I was there,” you admitted. Karen raised her eyebrows while Foggy nodded his head. 

“Oh? Really?” Karen asked. Matt placed his hands on his waist. 

“So like I said, I didn’t really care for the club. I wasn’t even that drunk—er, sorry, I think I can talk like that to you guys?—anyway, I left for some fresh air and started walking up the street and then I noticed the street I was on—it was the same as where Ms. Cruz lives.” 

You waited for their reactions. Foggy and Karen listened intently. You glanced at Matt, whose face was as hard as the ground you stood on. When you told them you snuck into the apartment to take pictures, they all fell silent. Karen and Foggy shared a nervous glance and you were stunned to see Matt react first. 

“You what?” His brows scrunched in disbelief, his frown ever apparent on his face. You stuttered as Karen sat up from her seat and Foggy shifted uncomfortably. 

“I went inside and sort of scoped the place out,” you answered weakly. “But don’t worry! I—I didn’t—” 

“Oh my, God,” Karen said in realization as she walked over to you and touched your arm. Apparently, the man had grabbed you harder than you thought, and there was a large black and blue bruise that wrapped around near your elbow. It looked like a tattoo. 

“Oh, uh, it’s nothing. I didn’t even realize—“

“You mean this is from when you went inside? Someone grabbed you?” Karen asked, gasping. She gently ran her fingers over the bruise. 

“What?” Matt asked “What—you’re bruised? Jesus Christ, __, were you even thinking?!” Matt bellowed as he shook his head. You were taken aback by his harshness. You were expecting them to possibly be unhappy, at least Karen and Foggy were, but Matt looked like he was about to punch a wall, to say the least. His face was as red as his glasses. You were speechless. 

“Matt—“ Foggy protested, in an attempt to calm down his partner, his friend. Your heart hammered in your chest and you felt your body begin to shake. 

“Do you realize how much danger you put yourself in? And none of us knew? You didn’t think to consult with us before you did something like that?” Matt continued, hammering into your sensitivity. You began to speak but he stopped you again. He raised a finger at you like you were some child. 

“Not to mention, entirely illegal,” Matt huffed. “You thought putting yourself in danger like that was helping our case? It could’ve put this firm in jeopardy, along with your life,” Matt ran a hand through his hair in exasperation. “Could you—could you imagine what that would’ve done to us if you…” he trailed off, in anger or disappointment, you didn’t know. Hearing his words reminded you of the feeling you get when you have a sore throat. No matter what you eat, tasteless or sweet, it’s all hard to swallow. And it hurts. It really fucking hurts. 

His hands balled into fists. The toaster dinged, causing you to jump. 

“I—I’m sorry,” you whispered, like a child who just got caught doing something bad. Matt almost looked at you but stopped himself. 

“Matt,” Foggy clenched his jaw. “My office. Now.” Matt ignored him, walking into his own office and slamming the door behind him. You jumped again at the sound. Without thinking, clearly you were good at that, you grabbed your raincoat and went right outside the building, to be alone. 

Karen followed you down—you heard the door open and shut behind you. You leaned against the brick building in the rain. Karen looked around and saw you standing, face in your hands. 

“Hey,” she cooed, placing a hand on your shoulder, “he didn’t mean any of that. Believe me.”

“He looked pretty convincing,” you muttered. “I didn’t know it was such a big deal. I thought I was helping.” Tears trailed down your cheeks. You wiped them in embarrassment. You hated crying. It took a lot to make you cry. Matt made it look so easy. 

Karen’s blue eyes softened. She was so kind, you thought. She smiled a little. “You did help. Just between you and me, I would’ve done the same thing and…and I have, before.” 

You looked at her curiously. 

She took a deep breath and bit her lip. 

“There’s a reason why Matt got so upset with you. A few years ago, back when Fisk had this city wrapped around his finger, a woman came into our office. We were barely a firm then. Her name was Elena Cardenas,” she explained, “she had a very similar situation to Ms. Cruz. One night, I went to her apartment complex alone, with nothing but a can of mace,” Karen laughed at the memory, “but on the way out, the criminal element that was mentioned in her case followed me. Two guys cornered me and if Foggy hadn’t of followed me and fought them with a baseball bat…I don’t know what could’ve happened. And later, Ms. Cardenas was murdered by that same criminal element.” 

You shook your head in sadness, feeling sorry for Ms. Cardenas, Ms. Cruz… 

“I’m sorry, Karen,” you sniffed, feeling comfortable to be vulnerable with her. “I didn’t know the stakes were that high. I was just trying to help.” 

“I know,” she comforted, grabbing your hand and squeezing. “Believe me, I’m honestly proud of what you did. Matt is just…” she struggled to find the words, “he cares a lot about us. Despite what you may think. He’s been through a lot with… Fisk… all of our lives have been in danger before because of him. He doesn't want that to happen to you.” 

You stayed silent. 

“I know Matt could’ve handled that a lot better and I definitely will be talking to him about that,” Karen spoke with conviction, “but try to understand where he’s coming from.” 

You nodded. You did understand, completely. But still, it was shocking to be yelled at like that. Scolded at. What happened to all those quiet mornings you shared with him? His softness you finally had gotten used to? It seemed like now you were back to square one. 

Karen let you go home for the rest of the day. You ignored your friends who sat in the living room. You feigned illness, saying you suddenly felt sick and went home early. You threw off your work clothes and slid into bed, burying yourself under blankets and pillows. 

⣿⣿⣿⣿ 10:30 PM

Matt didn’t want to see you tonight. But then again, he did. He had to. It was him, Matt Murdock, your boss, who got angry with you today. Not Mike, your savior. 

After you left, Foggy came bursting into Matt’s office yelling at him for snapping at you. Matt remembers he was having an out-of-body experience when Foggy scolded him. 

“She’s… young! She’s learning! She’s great here and you probably made her never want to step foot into this office again!” 

Matt shook his head at the memory, feeling the thought of you claw at his heart. He knows he shouldn’t have yelled at you like that. It didn’t make sense, why was your boss getting so worked up over you putting yourself in danger? He almost exposed himself to you by the way he reacted. If only you knew. If only he told you from the beginning who he was. 

The truth is that his anger came from trauma. He can’t have the same bad things that happened in the past happen to you. He was supposed to protect you from that. 

And tonight, you were likely expecting him, Mike, to come to your rooftop. Regardless, he knew he had to see you. 

He had to. 

⣿⣿⣿⣿

11:00 PM

You woke to a strange, soft tapping on your window. You looked around your room—the door was closed. The lights were off outside, so you knew everyone else retreated to their own rooms. In a daze, you turned your bedside lamp and listened for the tapping again. It was coming from your window, and from there, you saw him. Mike. Crouched on your fire escape, arm resting on his knee. You struggled out of bed and wobbled over to unlock the window. 

“So this is how we’re meeting now?” You asked him in a groggy state. 

“You missed our slot up there,” he said quietly. Starting to become more awake, you let him inside. Mike softly shut the window behind him. 

“You have to be quiet, someone might wake,” you whispered. 

“They’re asleep,” he simply states. “Trust me.” 

You plop onto your bed. He stays standing, a dark silhouette. 

“I’m tired,” you softly speak. “I had a rough day.” 

Mike kneels before you and kisses your knee. He clenches his jaw before he speaks. And when he does, his voice sounds strained. 

“What happened?” 

“I’d rather not talk about it. Just know I fucked up somehow, and I got my ass handed to me,” you explained. Mike dropped his head a little, before looking up at you again, behind that black mask. 

“I can go,” Mike said, taking your hand. “If you’re tired.” 

You don’t reply. You nod your head and slide back under the covers. Mike turns your lamp off for you. You want him to stay. You want him to take that goddamn mask off and join you in your bed. But he stays, towering over you. You sigh into your pillow, feeling the heavy weight of sleep overcome you. You hear him whisper something. 

“I’m sorry.”

And you want to ask him what he’s sorry about, but you’ve already fallen asleep. 

[temmtamm]

⚡︎ROTTMNT GROUP ROMANTIC HCS⚡︎

(Requests open and welcomed)

~ᥫ᭡MIKEYᥫ᭡~

Definitely the most affectionate

Loves involving his S/O into his daily life in any way possible

Like, if the boys are playing video games or going somewhere he's quick to invite you

Can get suffocating at times but if you remind him that you need space, he'll give it to you- albeit for a short period of time

He loves spontaneous acts of affection such as sudden showing up to your home or the reverse as well as surprises, gifts, and even just surprise cuddles.

His favorite thing to do with you is sleepovers where you two can watch can stacking videos together and eat snacks.

I like to think he'd try and recreate some of chef "Meat Sweats" meals for you as gifts.

He also might like to draw for you since he is a bit of an artist.

He really loves you with his whole heart and tries his best to show it with his actions.

~✰DONNIE✰~

The least likely to show his love through affection.

Not that he hates it, he just sometimes forgets it or isn't in the mood.

Has a bit of an ego and tries to make over the top inventions to have you feed into it and praise him.

Speaking of praise, He absolutely goes crazy when you give him some.

He thinks he's the smartest alive so to have someone agree with him on that makes him feel on top of the world.

He can also be a bit selfish and can often forget to treat you like a lover instead of a friend so he might need a bit of talking to.

He is extremely jealous though, so when you start hanging out with his brothers or someone else while he's busy, He'll most likely put his work on pause to finally give you attention.

When you two actually do romantic stuff together such as dates he likes to go all out for it. Hes a bit of a perfectionist so he likes it when his plans go amazingly. This usually means he'll take you to a fancy restaurant or for a stroll to the finest parts of town.

He can freak out at the slightest thing going wrong though so sometimes it's better if you end up being the one to plan the dates.

Will make tiny little bots like S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. for you and your everyday life to make it just a bit easier on you.

Even though you have to take the initiative a lot, he loves you dearly and is trying to be better about showing it.

~𖤓RALPH𖤓~

PDA all the way, baby!!

Loves to spar with you if/when you are willing too, though he tends to go a bit softer on you than he does with his brothers

If you have stuffed animals they have to be turned away from you two before you guys cuddle.

He thinks that you are the coolest person alive and are practically invincible.

Very protective over you if you join him when they battle mutants.

Can be a bit clingy, but for the most part he is very chill.

Yknow that golden retriever boyfriend meme? He's pretty much that to a T.

The kindest person you will ever meet, even if he can be a bit of an airhead

he's very lively and can't stay in one spot for long so he absolutely loves to take you on dates 24-7

~❀LEO❀~

Loves bragging about you to the others

He throws "I love you" out constantly, not because it lacks meaning to him but because he likes to remind you in case you forgot

Like Donnie, He likes to show off his portals or tricks in exchange for your praise and support.

Will always try and teleport you to your guys's dates which mostly ends up in y'all ending up in the middle of nowhere or stuck in a different city.

Very flirty and loves to use his words to express his feelings.

Whenever he sees you out in public he likes to act like he's never seen you before and that this is his first time flirting with you.

Stuff like, "Hey, beautiful! You got a boyfriend?" Is often his go to but he sometimes likes to get creative with it.

Loves to be covered in kisses and held when y'all cuddle. He is the small spoon and I will stand by this.

Thanks for reading~