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mrs-weasley-reid · 2 days

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TEN'S A GOOD NUMBER

Aaron Hotchner x psychiatrist!reader

Sypnosis: After Aaron's traumatizing encounter with Peter Lewis, he's sent to you, but who knew a profiler is the worst patient you'll ever have? Warning: enemies to lovers— ish(?) angst. a dash of fluff. light mentions of death and trauma. a few curses. went ballistic— it's lengthy, so pace yourself. A/N: loosely follows Mr. Scratch timeline for three seasons.

Monday, May 4, 8:34 AM

Aaron Hotchner sits across from you.

He studies you in every detail like he's about to take an exam, and you're the topic.

The weight of your scribbles—light, almost featherlike. Ink leaves a soft trail of words, a map of your thoughts, your perception of him.

The speed of your hand. Swift and elegant. Each movement portrays a scene in a movie. As if they're telling a quiet story, your story he is yet to unravel.

The way you deprive him of eye contact.

What are you hiding?

Why can't you look him in the eye?

The occasional nod to remind him that you're listening—not like anything's coming out from his end.

In conclusion, just about everything you do, really.

To Aaron, you're a cheat sheet. His way back to the field, to work—the part of his life that cannot be halted despite the need for a break.

"Your hand is heavier," Aaron vaguely goads.

You silently stare at him, waiting for the rest of his thoughts to spill out of his mouth.

"Usually, you write like you're afraid to puncture the paper, but just right now, your strikes are deeper. Your grip on your pen is also tighter. Am I annoying you?"

Creative.

You think to yourself as he rakes his eyes down the canvas of your face, blank and land of nothing but mirroring eyes.

Although you prefer Aaron's comment about your new lipstick and how it makes your skin glow—something about your prospect of finding a lover—fifteen minutes into your session. You didn't peg him as a man who knows his lipstick shades, but you stand corrected as he says coral with the utmost confidence for a man who wears his tie like a choker.

Aaron does it all the time. Every five minutes, he says one thing he's noticed about you and then proceeds to zip his mouth, denying you details about him like you're some hired criminal paid to torture the King's hidden fortune out of him.

And as per your entertainment, you'd do something out of your character to throw him off. If you can laugh at his gullibility, you would.

His goal is to intimidate you. Pressure you. Make you tick like every other serial killer he's encountered. Because he'd really rather be across an unsub than you. Aaron would rather be the one to ask questions and not you. In his eyes, you're no better than a small-town detective ignorantly interrogating a serial killer for a cheap gas station robbery, unaware of the skeletons in his closet.

At this moment, Aaron ponders why he agreed to meet with you once a week only to sit in almost absolute silence for about an hour, then go about his day like he hadn't just wasted minutes of his—and your—life.

It's always the same.

He arrives, flaunts his profiling skills for an accumulated total of twelve minutes, and then sits across you like a rock for the remaining forty minutes.

Aaron could've talked more, but...

He despises you.

Well, not you, per se. He despises the profession, and you just happen to choose it as your career. Nonetheless, Aaron generalizes and includes you on his list.

He finds it unnecessary and a waste of one's valuable time. Presenting a series of well-thought-out facts that he's sure Spencer Reid will enjoy. A list of reasons why talking to a psychiatrist isn't as helpful as people perceive it to be.

Aaron spits the words 'family' and 'friends' for the sake of ease and comfort as if he doesn't flinch at the words 'your father' and his face hasn't been frozen into a permanent stern. Because why talk to someone who doesn't know you when there are people who know you best? He lies through his teeth. He lies to himself.

Then, there's you.

You don't know him enough to trust his lies.

"Profiling me won't get you cleared," you state out of the blue. "This is our seventh session, and you haven't said anything." You add, finally lifting your gaze.

Aaron feels taken aback. He'd never encountered a shrink with such pride at their job—they managed to infuriate him. You infuriate him.

Now that you've granted him the wish—your eyes meeting his—it's having an effect on him instead. One that he wishes he didn't feel creep under his skin, stimulating the anxiety he's worked hard to ignore.

Still, Aaron squares his shoulder, "Nothing is wrong with me," He claims like he's not feeling the pit of his stomach churn with every word. "I'm only here for the formalities." He says.

"Ahh," You deadpan, pulling your eyes down on your clipboard. Hushed scribbles echo in the room. "Is that what you told, Dr. Briar? Or Dr. McCormick? Stiles doesn't seem to remember you at all—"

"They deemed me fit to go back to work, which you don't seem to realize." Aaron cuts you off. He doesn't notice the slight lilt of his voice. How a vein peeked on his forehead as he furrows his brows.

You have an effect on him, and Aaron's in strong denial.

"How?" You lean a bit, propping against your lap. It's the first time he's ever let himself tear out of his 'I don't break' shell. You consider it a crumb of a breakthrough and a laughable stain on your pride.

Challenging his stability—you raise your brows—makes him tick.

A faux frown draws on your face—patronizing, "Did you play a staring contest, and they lost against you?" You notice the little twitch of his eye masked as a blink.

It's a little unprofessional to provoke your patient, but you do, anyway.

This one's been particularly adamant about manipulating you into permitting him back to work like you were born yesterday. You think it hilarious how smug he's been for the past six sessions. It is as if you didn't spend almost half of your life devoted to the study of behavior. Like you hadn't figured out his plans from the get-go.

Profilers. They catch a criminal out of idea of sorts, and they think they can read everyone. It makes you want to laugh while pointing at him.

Aaron stares at you with his usual stoic expression, intimidating eyes filled with unforeseen horrors, and a straight mouth that's no use in your four walls.

He decides then that he hates you with a passion.

You feel a vibration on your wrist, "Would you look at that? Your time's up, Hotchner." You withdraw, straightening your back as you scribble yet another word Aaron is curious to know.

If he only knew you're not really writing anything new about the nature of his mental state or anything legible at all, you imagine Aaron exploding like a stack of case files blown by harsh wind.

But can he blame you when he's given you nothing to write?

"Agent Hotchner," He corrects with gritted teeth. Aaron's jaw clenches as he pierces his gaze through you. His hands intertwined with each other as if he's preventing himself from clawing at you.

You smile at him, "In this room, you're just Aaron Hotchner. A patient. A case." You know the specific word will piss him off, much less the motherly tone you paired it with.

A tactic. Unlike him, you don't need a team of agents to get a rise out of a culprit. The bare idea of you, a stranger who has access to his life on a piece of paper, is enough a stimuli to get an individual aiming at your neck.

"So, between you and me, I think you should start talking if you ever want to fly to wherever city your team wanders in. The longer you take, the less progress we make, and the less progress you make, the more possible that the bureau will assign a new psychiatrist for you." You say nonchalantly, letting his anger lead him right into your trap.

The words float like small fire specks of dust, both dazzling and dangerous to the eyes. Getting assigned to a new psychiatrist is like getting an easy case directly handed to Aaron. However, it also means he'll have to restart his psych evaluation process, and he knows firsthand how time-consuming that is.

"But, then again, who knows? Maybe the next fella will let you slide like the others did. Or you'll have to attend a series of sessions again for a lengthy psych evaluation. I've got friends too, you know? They might do me a favor and make your life more… difficult." You're bluffing. In no way, shape, or form will you jeopardize his health, even if Aaron's the most stubborn patient you have ever met in your lifetime.

His nose flares as he stands up. You know that he's done and murdered you in his mind at the way he's glaring at you with invisible daggers, but you play it well and act blameless.

Aaron marches out of your office with blazing hatred. You watch as he dulls every vicinity he's stepped into like death taking a stroll. A part of you is apologetic to his colleagues. They'll be having one hell of a day.

Retreating back inside your office, you plop on your chair behind your desk as a heavy sigh escapes your lips.

You stare at Aaron Hotchner's patient chart.

"What am I going to do with you?" You ask rhetorically in the air.

Aaron Hotchner is—for you at least—a special case. A case so intricate you had to be careful how you'd tread the water, wary of its fragile ripples.

When Aaron's chart landed on your desk, you immediately knew that he'd be toilsome. He'd make it his goal to skip the talk and jump back onto another case. The same routine he did with his old therapists and psychologist, anyone that was able to write a note and say he's fine when he's really not—never have been for a long time.

You already had enough patients on your plate, but you just couldn't say no to your favorite Italian patient; you only had one. You're the best bureau-mandated psychiatrist. His words, not yours.

Then, again, you never fail to mentally brag about how easily you read Aaron just from his chart, his image, and the first step he took to get inside your office. You read him like an open toddler's book, a piece of cake.

During the first session, you learn how badly Aaron's last case had affected him. The intonation of his voice. The way he'd shake his hand, your hand. His scorn. His fiddling fingers.

It's amazing how he's managed to divert his anger towards you instead of the man who traumatized him.

Melodic ringing snaps you out of your trance.

Aaron Hotchner might just get what he wants.

Sunday, May 10, 11:51 PM

A sniffle tickles your nose as you lay flat on the carpet floor of your apartment.

Your face stings from tear stains, and you muse how horrid you must look after your makeup runs dry. Your chunky heels were still on. In a minute or two, you expect one of your feet to cramp.

The day has been hostile towards you.

The mind, which used to be an oasis of positive thoughts, has gone draught. Sleep begins to blur your vision, and you don't hesitate to let it take over.

Until a bombarding knock jolts you up.

"I'm here! I'm here! Calm down!" You shout as you swing the door open. A familiar man stands in front of you with a dour face. Your eyebrows narrow tightly, "Mr. Hotchner—"

"What did you write?!" Aaron badgers as he storms inside your apartment like he owns the place. He pivots on the balls of his feet once he's reached your living room, glowering at you with scalding fury. "I was relieved to know that you released me from your care and looked forward to my clearance. So, tell me why a random therapist called me this morning to confirm an appointment I didn't even know I had. What did you write on my report that I have to go through this again for the second time? Is dealing with your sick games not enough? I'm fine. I know I'm fine. I'm straight in the head to go back in the field. I aced the psych evaluation questions. Your sessions are the problem. You're the problem." His ears, face, and neck are burning red. If he's a cartoon character, you imagine he'd be steaming with smoke by now.

Quite surprised; you're standing speechless. You're watching Aaron like he's a crazy old hag yapping about the Revolutionary War and how she hates not having the power to shoot every redcoat for the sake of rage.

You head towards your sofa, taking a seat.

Aaron examines you in confusion, furrowing his brows.

After a moment, you look at him expectantly. "Don't be shy, Mr. Hotchner. By any means—" you nod towards the armchair across you, glancing back and forth between him and the empty space "—continue with your thoughts. You already started. Might as well let it all out."

He only clenches his hands inside his pockets as he bores holes into your head.

What a sad little man.

You scoff in your mind.

You lean against the back of the sofa, tilting your head to meet dagger-like brown eyes aiming at you. "No? Suit yourself, then." You shrug, feeling the soft cushions under your palms.

"Let me remind you that I'm a federal agent, and I can make your life a living hell if I want to." He threatens, glaring at you as if the twitch of his eye is enough to make you combust into thin air.

But all you see is a child on a tantrum, deprived of getting what he wants.

"Answer my question. What. Did. You. Write?" He growls.

Silence coats the two of you.

His heavy breathing fills the deafening air. Your nonchalance fuels his hatred more than ever and the sentiment is beginning to emit from both ends. It takes a lot out of you to think of multiple ways to sprinkle some salty sense onto him without stinging his wounds.

One thing you learned well enough in time is how good Aaron is when pushing someone's buttons. A perk of his prosecutor days and seasoned by his bureau career.

He's just troubled.

He's just in denial of his own pain.

You chant the words in your head—uncertain of its purpose. Detachment ironically detaches from your senses like old velcro.

"You're not the first agent in my office, Mr. Hotchner. And frankly, you should be thanking me for taking you in. Unlike your old therapists, I actually read through your chart and took the time to understand you to the best of my ability. I cared—" Shocked as he is, your eyes subtly widen.

Before you can continue Aaron speaks over you, "I do not care about your pity. What I wanted was for you to do your damn job and clear me back to work. But that's just little to no pay for a shrink, isn't it? You need messed up people to stay messed up so they can continue knocking on your door." A clear hint of a demeaning smirk flashes across his face.

The sheer irreverence makes you dizzy. The calm snaps, banishing kindness and composure out the window. And rage knocks on your door.

"That's the problem. You don't care. You don't care about yourself." Your tone is sharp—stern.

You knew. You knew from the moment his file thudded on your wooden desk. The moment SSA David Rossi charmed his way to get your favor. You know that Aaron Hotchner does what he believes is right. Not because the unit chief title has gotten in his head. No. Not the slightest. But because he only cares about his values and people.

And you're neither.

It's not you to hold grudges. So, you had it down and set before you accepted Rossi's request. You had it tattooed in your mind that no matter how sharp-tongued and insensitive the man before you might be, he's still just a man under the weight of the world's greatest horrors.

You cannot break. You're not allowed to break.

Pieces of you shatter at the realization that some patients under your care inevitably slip away from your fingers. How your promised oath to do no harm did nothing—not enough to stop the monsters that haunt the world. Not enough to stop you, Aaron's psychiatrist, from dumping your own frustration onto him the same way he's currently doing to you.

But you're not Aaron's psychiatrist today. You're not anything today. You're not on the clock. And no one except Aaron—to your demise—will ever witness such an ugly sight. If ever he shuts up about his dilemma, that is.

"I did my job exactly as I should." You declare, licking the bottom of your lips. Damned the Hippocratic Oath. You wonder if the healing gods will forgive you.

You really shouldn't say the words that are about to leave your mouth, but you've been taking whatever hostility he's got for the last two months; the capacity has reached its limit. A little bit of harshness wouldn't hurt, would it?

"When are you going to admit that the reason you can't sleep at night is not because of all the serial killers you claim I prevent you from catching?" You finally stand. You are a few inches shorter, yet you have never felt taller than you do right now.

You grit your teeth as you move closer to Aaron, almost a breath away, tiptoeing. "When will you admit that the mighty SSA Aaron Hotchner, unit chief, doesn't blink, not once, because he's afraid he'd become the very thing he promised to put away." You raise your brows, challenging him.

Aaron's face morphs into bewilderment and perturbation. His brows are sewn shut. His jawline pops out as he grinds his teeth.

Resentment. Fury. Vexation. Chagrin.

All Aaron felt was anger.

Antagonized.

A walking tower of pure acrimony, finger-pointing towards the innocent.

"Don't you dare compare me to those— I'm anything but." He towers over you, losing his words through the stream of lividity flooding all over his senses.

"Do you really believe that?"

Aaron studies your face. It's different. It's raw and maimed. A squeeze of guilt whispers, but he shoves it quickly.

"What did you write?" He asks once more, earning a scoff out of you.

You step back, staring straight into his glare. Crossed arms tight against your chest. Brows rest over your deadpan eyes.

"While SSA Aaron Hotchner is proficient at his skills and rather placid in physically and mentally challenging situations, I strongly recommend further evaluation in psychotherapy as his emotional capacity is at its limits. The stress accumulated from the job itself has given him little to no time to allow himself the indulgence to properly process certain impacts of the stimulus he encounters on the job. Will update after further observation. Is what I wrote… so far."

You pause.

"Aaron Hotchner is an insufferable, pompous idiot who's afraid of nothing but himself. He is incapable of stepping off his pedestal and refuses to cooperate while complaining about the consequences he himself caused. He has been through enormous trauma. It will be torture to try and help him cope properly. I do not want him in my care as he is a danger to his own progress, and I don't want any part of it. Is what I wanted to write."

Silence.

For him to reflect.

For you to breathe.

Aaron's frozen before you. A pale statue bleached under the moon's harsh reality. Words that used to be superficial insecurities float in the wind of truth, forming into a cage he's sentenced for life.

Your fuse still runs—a long time coming from two months of his deliberate disrespect. The silence annoys you, so you break it. "Excuse my hostility. No one's invaded my privacy and barged into my household at such an unreasonable hour before." The impassive smile on your lips can haunt anyone.

Maybe you've gone too far.

Maybe it's evil to say such blunt things to someone fragile.

But Aaron started the countdown. He lit the fuse. Now, you're exploding right before his eyes, reaping what he sowed. And he's forced to eat up all the debris.

His eyes twitch, scanning your face for any sign of bluff, any sign of fallacy. Any sign that he successfully pissed you off and your words were nothing but overwhelmed impulse.

"I—" he closes his mouth, then agape. Any sign. Aaron will take anything besides the forthright expression on your face. He inhales, "I'm sorry." The sound dies before it can roll off his tongue.

It's like watching a bully shrink into the tiniest man who's ever lived.

Okay, maybe you were a little bit brutal.

You gulp as guilt creeps along your veins, wishing that someone out there would just do you both a favor and snipe you out before the embarrassment settles.

Drawing in a gentle breath, you take another step back from Aaron with a delicate voice, "You're not starting a new evaluation, but you're not done either. I transferred you under someone else's care because of personal reasons. My life doesn't revolve around you, Mr. Hotchner. So, if you have nothing else to say, go home." Your eyes drift to the vast selection of objects in your living room to diffuse the growing pity you can't help but harbor.

Only then does Aaron discern his impulsivity. Internally arguing with himself as he allows himself to look at you. One thing he's never done since the moment he met you with screwed brows and unwavering bias. His gaze instantly softens like a thick fog around him finally dissipates. Like he's achieved a clearer vision.

The first thing he notices is the state of your face. The dry mascara that drew faded stripes down your cheeks. Your puffy eyes are now faint pink, but he recalls them being red when he arrived.

Then Aaron brings his attention to your black dress. It's a simple formal, mesh midi dress, but he admits how it elegantly fits you. But he doesn't say it aloud because there's only one reason why you'd wear such an article of depressing clothing.

As if your words and his own realizations aren't enough, he gets a glimpse of the clock on your wall that reads 12:03 AM.

His blood suddenly stops flowing—skin clammy and pale. Aaron's lightheaded from guilt and penitence.

Without another word, you lead him towards the door, swinging it open. The past 24 hours already drained you, and Aaron just about made it fifty times worse. All you wanted was to get a shuteye.

Aaron swallows the shame and makes his way out. Before he leaves, though, he turns to face you once more. Genuine curiosity pinches his brows.

"Why didn't you just clear me out like the others did if I was such a difficult case?" The word tastes bitter in his mouth. What used to be a desired flavor turned rotten on his palette.

He asks with utter softness, leaving you skeptical to respond.

"Same reason why you kept attending my sessions even though you clearly hated it." You slightly close the door, only leaving enough space for the two of you to see each other.

He looks at you like the answer's all over your face but written in some foreign language he's not familiar with. Aaron barely opens his mouth when you answer the question in his mind.

"You needed a place where you can just be."

The door shuts.

Friday, June 19, 11:02 PM

"I didn't know where to go."

You pore at Aaron Hotchner with nothing but a flimsy robe to prevent his imagination from going rampant—and dirty.

It's eleven in the evening. It's been one month since you last saw him. It's been a month since he barged into your apartment like an entitled brat. It's been a month since you let your emotions take over. It's been a month since the two of you revealed parts of yourselves either of you don't dare think of.

A month and no contact.

You didn't wonder; just hoped and prayed that Aaron finally finds it in him to let go of the emotional turmoil that's torturing the soul out of his body.

Sighing, you step aside and let him in, closing the door behind you like it's normal to stop by one's ex-psychiatrist's apartment in the middle of the night without prior notice and, most importantly, without meter to run the minutes he's inconveniencing you.

Aaron walks in, and the heavy humidity of arousal immediately hits him.

Oh.

Well...

If he had something to say, Aaron kept his mouth shut. He is at fault for driving straight to your place like he's your bestest friend. So, he doesn't mention it, ignoring the fact that you're barely clothed.

Besides, after your last interaction with him, Aaron's certain he didn't have any prerogative in how you'd like to spend your Friday evening.

"Take a seat. I'll be with you in a minute." Your steps are light behind him—feet nimbly grazing the wooden floor.

He turns to face you but quickly averts his gaze to avoid the glistening sight of your thighs. "Thank you..." He does his best to sound normal, choking in between syllables.

Aaron begins to regret his decision. Though, not enough to leave your place.

You disappear in the corner of the hallway. Allowing Aaron to finally release the breath he didn't know he was holding.

With you out of sight, his mind deliberately wanders...

What were you doing?

Aaron shakes his head vigorously like a worm under a storm of salt. The thought is undiscovered—untouched territory, forbidden to be exact. Should he form such thoughts, he'll do it somewhere else or rather about someone else.

Just as he caters to the sudden dizziness caused by his action, a man, half-dressed, walks past him, cursing under his breath and buttoning his shirt. Aaron's eyes widen a little, keeping his stoic face.

Oh, that's what you were doing.

Ick—as Aaron would like to call your visitor—had brown and curly, unruly hair. He was tall and definitely had a face, which, Aaron assumes, is nothing like the one he envisioned you're attracted to.

Somehow not a pleasant discovery compared to what he attempted to imagine—you, alone.

Ick looks at Aaron with a scoff echoing out of his throat, "Oh, what a surprise! She's a slut." He states smugly.

"Or she just wants someone better." The words spill out without hesitation, fired on sight. Aaron doesn't know where the boldness came from as he leans against the seat with a cocky smirk on his face. Definitely no more perplexed than the uncertainty of anger boiling inside of him. He glares at the man either way.

The man scoffs again before leaving with a couple more insults that Aaron thinks he's lucky to whisper, or your visitor would've left your apartment in an ambulance.

Ick slams the door, shaking the vase on the accent chest by the entrance.

Where did that come from?

He's questionably not as big of a hater as he was before, but Aaron can't determine the motivation that made him act the way he just did with a person who has business with you, which he should have no interest in.

Moments later, you come back, fully clothed, in an oversized hoodie and a pair of wide-leg linen pants. Comfy and a 180 contrast on how you dress at work, plus the garments you had on minutes ago.

You make a beeline to your kitchen, "Water or scotch?" You holler out, opening cabinets with a creek on their hinges.

The question is rhetorical. You place a glass with brown liquid glinting under the warm ambient light on the coffee table in front of Aaron, then plop on the armchair across from him, catering your own glass.

He stares between you and the glass while you kiss yours, never breaking your gaze. You hum in delight, making a popping sound with your lips.

Aaron opens his mouth and then closes it, falling into a cycle like a fish underwater. How should he explain himself? How does one explain why they're bothering their ex-psychiatrist past working hours? After making a scene a month ago? He swallows the thick void in his throat.

"Don't talk, just drink. Sit here for an hour. Then, go home." You say, opening up a book that's been sitting on the table since he arrived.

Aaron feels a surge of relief. He reaches for the drink and lets the smoky taste trail down his throat without hesitation. He wouldn't have guessed you as a fan of scotch—or anything not clear or fruity. This is the first he's seen you without some sort of filter he can't read through, and the observation prints you under a new light.

The silence comforts him. The occasional scrape of paper against paper with each flip of a page provides him reassurance. The company he finds within your presence gives him solace.

You let him be. Asked no questions, reading in peace like he was just any other friend who needed company.

He does as you said. Indulging in the hour of tranquility and stillness. His nerves tame. And he forgets why he went to you in the first place.

Why did he go to you?

Of all people. Of all the friends he brags about. The family he cherishes. His feet dragged—drove him to you.

The onerous unit chief chose to wander to your front door, sipping scotch as he enjoyed the silence and absence of others' guilting worry and constant craving to make him feel better when all he wanted was peace and letting the ache pass in gradual acceptance.

By the end of the hour, you call him a cab with the instructions for him to pick up his car the next day.

Aaron slept effortlessly that night.

Saturday, October 24, 9:24 PM

Aaron expected some sort of rejection or for you to slam the door close, or worse, ignore him as soon as you see his face through the peephole.

One can only tolerate a couple of unannounced visits from an insufferable ex-patient, right? He's surprised you haven't called the cops on him.

He skims your face for any sign of irritation or annoyance as soon as you reveal yourself behind your door, standing next to it to give him way. Aaron saw nothing but impatience.

You knit your brows, slightly tilting your head at his frozen build outside the frame of your door. "Well? Are you stuck or something? Get in, Hotchner—" You turn before you can even finish talking, disappearing down the small entryway.

He turns deaf for a moment. Your voice rings in his ears as if a bomb had just popped the only working drum he had left.

Hotchner.

Agent.

Mister—

Just Hotchner.

One simple change, and the light above your head suddenly looks brighter.

Like he's found something good. Something he can say he knows. Something he can trust(?)

"Don't forget to take your shoes off and shut the door!" You holler from the living room—unfazed.

Aaron flinches, snapping out of his trance. He wonders where you'd gone to, furrowing his brows, and yet enters your apartment with the permission you'd given him. He closes the door, pivoting on the soles of his dress shoes as he tentatively takes them off per your instructions.

He emerges back in your peripheral while you stare at the screen on your laptop, blue-filtered glasses back on. Your fingers hammer on the keys, soft sighs slipping past your lips every once in a while.

You glance at Aaron when his figure stays at the corner of your eye, cupping a coffee mug between your hands. "There's fresh coffee if you'd like. Are you hungry? I don't usually eat dinner, so I have nothing ready to eat, but I can whip something up." You blow over the surface of caffeine, and steam wafts on the tip of your nose.

"No—" He shakes his head, scoffing in confusion, "I'm sorry—"

"Apology accepted," You muffle into the mug.

Aaron's brows connect tighter, and his forehead creases. He looks at you like he's under an illusion, a hypnotic dream he can't quite distinguish.

"Hold on," He hoists his hand up as if to pause a scene in the movie. "I'm very confused. What is going on? Why are you being… casual and nice?"

"You say it like I'm incapable of human decency." Your back makes contact with the cushion of your sofa, pulling your legs close to your chest while one hand holds the handle of your mug. You roll your eyes when Aaron only stares at you, "Are you uncomfortable? Do you want to leave?"

Aaron shakes his head.

"Problem solved, then?" Confusion is still fresh on his blank face. You mentally smack your forehead. "There are patients who lack temporal sense, but turning them away when they clearly need immediate tending to would be a form of negligence on my part. So, feel at home." You theatrically stretch your arms, offering every corner of your space as his own.

"But I'm not your patient anymore. I've been back on duty for weeks." Aaron informs. Although he finds a place for his go bag on your floor.

If you didn't know any better, you'd assume he's about to stay for a sleepover—coming to your apartment late at night.

You wrinkle your nose, "Okay?" You look around as if someone else is in the room with you two. "Is that why you went here? You wanted to brag?"

Three months.

Aaron's been back to his usual routine for the past three months. And it's been four since he drank scotch on the very couch you're comfortably in.

A chuckle.

The sound tickles your ears, filling you with unexpected pride.

"No," Aaron shakes his head as the chuckle resonates through his chest. "I… I don't really know why I came here, if I'm being honest." He swallows air.

You nod, setting your laptop back on your lap. "Like I said, you're free to feel at home. Scotch is in the third cupboard. Coffee's in the pot. I've got some stuff to take care of, so help yourself." Your eyes are already fixed on the screen, hands jumping from one key to the other.

With your permission, Aaron ventures into your kitchen. Neat. Clean. Cozy. He somehow imagines you cooking as a hobby.

He settles for coffee. Asking you from the kitchen island if you'd like a refill—which you took without a thought, hoisting your cup up—and taking out a couple of his files to get a head start on his paperwork. He wasn't allowed to bring them outside the bureau's building, but it didn't matter at the moment.

Your apartment becomes a haven.

Aaron, for the first time in years, feels comfortable to slouch. He had no collection of when and how, but turns out he'd changed into a quarter-zip and one of his pajamas tucked in his go bag through the hours.

The two of you silently took care of your own thing until 1 AM strikes, and a yawn pulls you back into the earth.

You turn your head towards the kitchen to find Aaron scribbling over your kitchen island. He's sipping coffee—a fresh batch he made not long ago.

Stretching, you make your way past him. After placing the mug into the sink, you lean against it, crossing your arms as you stare at him. "Ten."

"What's that?" Aaron halts on his seat, lifting his head to look at you.

"I'm granting you ten visits," You announce.

"And that means?.."

Your face deadpans, and he does well at stifling a smile. "You can come here whenever you want—need, but only for ten free visits. It doesn't matter if it's late, too early, or unreasonable. I'm allowing you to knock on my door whenever you need. Any more than that, you have to attend my sessions in my office, where I get paid."

"What's the catch?" Aaron entwines his eyebrows, straightening his back as he props on the edge of the counter.

"No catch. Just one condition," You shift your weight on your other leg, "Don't come empty-handed. Food, drink, things, a person, anything. Bring something." Your brows hang on your forehead, anticipating any type of response.

Aaron weighs his choices. Calculated every possible outcome and benefit. He meets your eyes again. Index and thumb rubbing the growing stubble on his chin.

"Ten's a good number," He says as he nods.

Wednesday, March 2, 7:31 PM

Eleven months pass by in the blink of an eye.

It's the seventh time Aaron showed up without warning, and by this point in whatever acquaintance you two had, you aren't fazed or surprised anymore.

The fourth time he knocked on your door, he was carrying a hefty price of whiskey. An odd reason for a psychiatrist and a former patient to bond with, but you had no qualms about sipping neat whiskey that night.

At first, he stayed for an hour. Then, an hour turned into three. One time, a case hit too deep, and three became seven, but that only happened once—all you remember was a Wednesday night.

"Are you okay?"

Gentle sighs escape shivering lips. Tears pooling deep inside sockets.

One sharp sniff breaks it all.

You sob under Aaron's worried eyes as your grip on the knob almost snaps it off the door.

His brows twists and he reflexively yanks you by the back of your head into his chest, bringing you out of your apartment and into the complex's hallway.

"What happened?" He carefully inquires while he rests his chin atop your head.

You're a mess in his arms. Uncontrollable whimpers muffled in his soaked chest.

Aaron suggested that you two step inside for more privacy and heat, but he didn't complain when you two stayed frozen in the end of winter evening.

When it stops. The suffocating ache. You lightly push yourself off him, wiping the leftover tears off your cheeks—half of it already dampened his shirt.

Fifty-three minutes and seventeen seconds.

You cried to the point of dehydration.

"Sorry," you mutter, eyes down. "We should go inside if we don't want to catch hypothermia." You sniffle.

"Oh, we don't want that," Aaron attempts to joke, closely observing whether you'd react to it.

You didn't.

He closes the door behind him, following your figure as you practically drag yourself to your unofficial designated spot on the sofa.

"I know I'm the last person you'd want to hear this from, but would you like to talk about it?" He bites his inner cheek.

Nothing.

You only mold yourself into a ball.

Aaron hesitates whether to stay or leave you alone. It's true that you said he's welcome anytime, but you're definitely in no condition to entertain his own problems when you can't even look him in the eye the way you would, no matter how insufferable he is.

But he can't just leave you by yourself either. Nothing is stopping him, but he's not cold-blooded enough.

"It's not easy," Aaron fractures out of his trance at the sound of your small voice. You look at him with a tight-lipped smile. "This job, I mean."

You inhale a sharp breath, tucking your lower lip between your teeth. "I can be hopeful, positive, supportive… Everything to prove that a better life is possible, but at the end of the day, it's not my choice." You wryly chuckle. "It's the patient's. It's your decision to want to feel better. To want to change. To want to live—" You choke, and the tears flow once more.

"It's not about me, but I can't help feeling like a failure." Sobs spill off your lips, gasping for air. "I was supposed to make everything better. I was supposed to heal everyone and save everyone from whatever monster was hurting them. She said she's never felt so much better. She said it's the first time she felt so peaceful for years, Hotchner. She said she was looking forward to our next session. But she just… I didn't—" You gulp—struggling. "I didn't catch it. I didn't catch her lie. And hours later, I get a call from her mother telling me she— she died." Your hands shakily clasp your mouth to push the sobs back, but you fail.

Aaron doesn't know what to say.

But he knows what to feel.

He knows it well.

The guilt. The shame of never living up to your own promise. The pain of losing someone you swore to keep safe.

Then, it hits him like a wrecking ball.

How difficult of a patient was he before?

Has he ever made you cry before?

It's a stretch that you'd ever shed a tear over his stubbornness, but Aaron hopes you never did.

Because he's never seen anyone care so much despite getting all the hate. Despite taking all the blame. You stood your ground and became other people's foundation. You became their comfort.

You became the only thing that gave him serenity.

With the little time he's known you—a total of 43 genuine friendly hours—Aaron can testify in heaven that they had mistakenly dropped you into the earth. And he's never felt blessed to have someone like you. Never felt lucky enough to find someone with who he could feel broken as much as he could but never needed to save face.

So, he's heartbroken for you. And guilty that more than half of the time you'd known him, he made your passion a miserable experience.

And also guilty of developing feelings for you.

Saturday, August 13, 4:16 PM

"I'm not playing favorites, but your tech analyst definitely deserves better than being cooped up in the bureau's building." You say, plopping on the sofa with a soft bounce and a squeak from the coil spring.

Aaron hands you a glass of bourbon while sipping his own. Eyes fixated on the board on your coffee table. "I have no other choice. It's the only way to keep her safe. Unless you're willing to adopt her, I don't want to hear it." He chuckles, connecting his brows at the sight of your winning streak.

You two are playing Scrabble. It was Monopoly twenty minutes ago, but along the lines, you learned how butt-hurt a six-foot and two-inch man can get. Not an enlightening experience. It would have been two stars if you had to rate it.

So, you switched to Scrabble.

And Aaron is losing again.

Boy, were you so entertained.

He just came back from a fairly short case from Los Angeles. The case is not heavy or mentally draining—according to Aaron, but Jack's at a two-day sleepover, and Aaron has no idea how to spend the rest of his day—turning down Derek Morgan's and David Rossi's invitation to grab a drink at O'Keefe's with you in mind.

Aaron leans on the back of his seat. You don't know when your reclining armchair became his designated seat, but you noticed how lax he is in it and didn't question it further.

Months and months of relaxing stillness in your home—only ever full of bizarre surprises and irresistible joy whenever Aaron knocks at your door. With no means of communication or ever seeing each other at either workplace, Aaron's visits are welcomed but never fully anticipated. Thrilling.

Spelling the word 'loser' on the board with triple points, you bite the tissue inside your lower lip. "Maybe you can play Scrabble with her. Who knows, maybe you'll get lucky and win." You grin smugly at him.

Aaron gapes at you with a mixture of disbelief and merriment. He looks down on the flat entertainment, then back to you as he blinks. "You're cheating." He declares, pointing an accusatory finger at you.

A hearty laugh Aaron's never heard before roars out of you, and it's melodic to his ears. The meringue light spills through the forgotten open blinds of your window, painting your face with a dreamy filter. Aaron feels dizzy at the sight.

Your smile is contagious, and out of nowhere, his heart starts to pick up as if he'd caught whatever illness your radiant lips had by only staring at it. The loose hair over your forehead frames your face differently—different good. Like you'd been glowing, and the watts in your core mysteriously increased, so you're as bright as the sun and as warm as its light.

"You're just a sore loser. Suck it up, Hotchner." You shake with mirth, casually running dainty fingers along the curve of your ear.

"Aaron," He blurts too fast, too soon—too late to take back.

With a nonchalant shrug, you rephrase, "Suck. It. Up. Aaron." Much more emphasis and friskiness.

You tease him more about his lack of greatness in board games compared to his undeniable talent in every case the BAU encountered. But Aaron's already dazed by your lips calling his name.

Without either of you realizing it, 4 PM became AM.

Talk about abusing one's privileges. Aaron's moderately good at that. You conclude he's simply a strutting opportunist.

After the longest winning streak you've ever had in your life, you and Aaron decided to take a much-needed break and fell into silent reading—or, in your case, grooming your schedule for the next five months.

Midnight strikes along the grumble of Aaron's stomach. You two were too quiet. It echoed all over your apartment. Both of you fell into an obstreperous fit of laughter for another hour, stopping for a minute in between only to laugh some more as soon as you met each other's eyes.

Now, it's four in the morning. You're busy munching on Chinese takeout from a 24-hour restaurant Aaron called in. He claims he has handsome privilege courtesy of the owner, which you mockingly laughed at, to his dismay.

"I'm still terrified." He blurts.

The case must've been very difficult, then. He lied yesterday. However, at this point in your friendship, you expect him to do so, even if it's obvious.

You'd long given up on coaxing Aaron to talk about the case that brought him to your office. Or any other cases that got him knocking on your door at the most unreasonable hour. You thought that the best you could offer him was the comfort that no matter how beaten up he looked, you'd ask no questions and let him sort his boggled mind until he was ready to talk about it.

Looks like tonight's the moment. It only took more than a year, so it is not a big deal—to either of you, at least.

He looks at you when you remain quiet, silently asking for your permission. You nod, and he continues, "What Peter Lewis did to me was terrorizing. I always wonder whether I'm making the right decision or sending my agents straight to their deaths. I second guess. I'm scared that a part of him is still in my head, driving me to make a fatal mistake." Aaron starts playing with his food, poking an orange chicken with his chopsticks.

The memory brings a tangy taste to his tongue, and Aaron can't help but cringe. It's the first time he's ever talked about Peter Lewis. Granted, Aaron spoke about the event numerous times but never about how it made him feel. Never how it broke him.

Is it weird to say you're a little proud of Aaron?

Of course, you don't tell him that. Not out loud. You know he knows you're proud of him. And that's enough said.

With a few audible chews—caused by a carrot bit stuck between your teeth—that somehow doesn't piss Aaron off, you swallow the food and draw your lips into a thin line. You place the chopsticks on the side, wiping the rim of your mouth.

You know he's watching you. Anticipatingly waiting for a response for anything other than the silence he's accustomed to.

"Breathe," You gently instruct, clear enough for him to hear but not too loud for Aaron to jump in shock.

And he does.

His shoulder blades rise and fall into a soft rhythm. Aaron was holding his breath, and you knew. Of course, you knew.

"Do you know the purpose of defense mechanisms?" You quiz him, earning a nod from Aaron, and yet no following answer. "You were already mad at me even before we met. And for what? Nothing concrete, I'm sure."

Aaron was about to object, but you raised your hand to stop him, "I'm not trying to attack you. All I'm saying is that rather than being in denial, you displaced your frustration on someone else less threatening—me."

Silence.

"I'm sorry—"

"I'm not done, shush!" You close your fist to mute him, cutting him off.

Aaron subtly rolls his eyes. He started doing so on his fifth visit when Aaron brought Jack and a few video games.

He told you that Jack's heard about your interest in a couple of games and wanted to play with you, but you know damn well Aaron bought the game for himself. Nonetheless, you entertained them by teaming up with Jack and obliterating Aaron. He vowed never to play against you ever again, at least not to your face.

"I would never know the pain and suffering that you went through. And somehow, even with that fact, a part of your life was in the palm of my hand. You had no control, but I did. So, instead of understanding the why, you hated the wrong who. And it's okay."

You take a sip from your straw, and a bubbly sensation fills you. Your tongue glides over your lips as you lean against the counter. "In short, for a man who's been through a lot, you know how to cope." A shrug ends your sentence, grabbing another bite of chow mein on your plate.

"Yeah, right," Aaron scoffs. The sincerity in your voice sparks something in him. It's giddy and tempting. But he can't possibly show the smile that's itching to spread his lips.

But his nonchalance may have triggered something in you because Aaron doesn't expect your next move. His neck felt like a snapped glow stick after you manually turned his head to face you—grabbing him by the space between his neck and chin. Aaron widens his eyes in the process.

"Listen here, you stubborn poopy head." You start, forehead creasing.

Aaron badly wanted to poke fun at your poor, intimidating skills, but he realized you didn't need any pointers just by the glare in your eyes.

"Peter Lewis got to your head, but that doesn't mean you were weak to let him. Yes, you fought through the influence of the drug heroically. Yes, you saved your agents and, most importantly, yourself. But it's still okay to be scared. It's okay that you feel broken. Who says broken things aren't great?"

It might be the sleep deprivation that's hitting Aaron, but he's very much enjoying your little fuse. How your words meant nothing like how you sound.

"That silver watch of yours—" you glance at his wrist "—has been broken for years, but I bet if you pawn it, it'll be more valuable than me. Antiques are expensive because they have unique histories. They survived beaten up, scratched, damaged, but still as beautiful as ever."

You're rambling, explaining more than you need to. Felt obligated to drill in his mind that despite the bad things, Aaron remains good. You're uncertain—clueless—as to why you felt the need to prove his praiseworthy, almost as if you're trying to convince yourself rather than him.

"From my observation, you're a sharper profiler despite all the things you went through. A part of you suffered and died in that house and many houses before. Of course, you'll be broken. You're a human being, Aaron. Act like one for Pete's sake!"

"I don't know whether you're being nice or mean." He chuckles with a mischievous grin, marveling at the way your eyes narrow as you look at him.

"I liked you better when you didn't talk." You tut, rolling your eyes.

For a moment, your senses heighten, and the simple brush of his hand against the skin over your wrist, as he takes your hold off him, sends billions of electricity throughout your body.

Aaron smiles—genuinely. "Thank you," He says softly, clearing his throat. His hand is still tight around your wrist. "You simply could've slammed the door the first time I knocked, but you always let me in. I appreciate you tolerating me."

You laugh, retracting your hands off his skin before you melt in his grasp. "I did not let you in the first time. You barged in like I'm some fugitive." You fix your posture on the stool beneath you, looking away.

His chuckle wakes the butterflies in your stomach, and you shove them right back down by stuffing your mouth with food.

Your eyes catch a glimpse of the time, "Y-you better go home and change before your son wonders why his father smells like Chinese food for Sunday brunch. Jack's a big fan of good 'ole syrupy pancakes, there's a good one by the bureau's building. Better hurry up and pick him up." It's amazing how much you almost choked and stuttered as you spoke, hoping that Aaron wouldn't question the way your demeanor changed.

Aaron takes one last bite before towering next to you, "Let me clean up. It's the least I can do for imposing half of your weekend." He insists, swiping the styrofoam off your hands.

"Glad you got manners," You nod approvingly, earning another chuckle from him, making sure you gave him enough space to move around without brushing any part of your body, or you wouldn't know what the brewing feeling in your chest would make you do.

You mindlessly peer at Aaron's broad shoulders and dark hair that looks so soft you wonder if it'll melt with your touch. You blink, catching yourself mid-swoon.

After a few minutes, Aaron bids you goodbye and you wish him well, asking to relay a short message to Jack.

"I think you're only nice to me because of Jack," He jokes, pivoting on the heel of his shoes to get one last glimpse of you.

You give him a tight smile, raising your brows as you shrug.

One visit left.

Thursday, May 5, 12:51 PM

The news said Mr. Scratch escaped prison. Peter Lewis is out and about, no doubt, planning serious harm against Aaron. You turn the TV off. The image shrinks into a small diamond spark 'til it leaves a dark screen.

Ninety-eight beats per minute are your normal, but you surmise it's about a hundred and twelve at the moment as your mind anxiously ruminates your not-so-favorite-unofficial patient's well-being.

You glance at your phone, debating whether to give him a call, but even if you gain the guts to do so, you don't have his number. Who knew that refusing personal contacts would backfire? Aaron can knock anytime, you said. It doesn't matter whether he texts or calls before, you said.

Now, you have no means of contacting him, and you refuse to resort to his ways—going through his file like he went through yours.

It's a shitty feeling.

You keep your fingers as far away from your mouth as possible, afraid you'll bite your nails to its quick. If Aaron was with you, he'd say something annoyingly witty about how your anxiety's too easy to read, and you'd be bantering back a remark about his tells that not many notice but sure slightly pisses him off that you know him like the back of your hand.

Eyes dart in the direction of your entryway, waiting for any distinctive sound only Aaron makes whenever he closes the door like a teenager coming home past curfew.

"This is driving me crazy!" You ruffle your own hair, rubbing your face in frustration.

Tempted to wait outside your door for Aaron to arrive, in need of a company. A once-in-a-lifetime bone-crushing hug, given by yours truly. Or open up the 1997 Old Forester bourbon on top of your shelf that Aaron's been eyeing for a year.

You need to know if he's okay. You need to see that he's okay. Physically, mentally, and emotionally okay.

No one ever knocked.

Friday, November 18, 2:33 PM

"Aren't you curious?"

You look at Rossi, "About?" Your eyebrows pinch together. You backtrack the entire session in your mind, trying to remember if there is anything you are supposed to be curious about.

There's none.

Rossi turns to face you, a hand emerging out of his pocket. "You're not curious where he's been? I've known him for years, and I've never been more curious about his whereabouts 'til now." The hand waves around as each syllable flows, and slices the air every emphasis he makes like a conductor of his emotions.

He usually talks with his hand whenever he's emotionally troubled, attempting to make a point to himself, justifying that his feelings are reasonable.

David Rossi has been your patient for years; you can write any and everything about him into a best-selling book.

"You said it yourself, Dave," You shrugged with your arms. "You've known him for years. He and I saw each other a couple of times during our physician-patient interaction. Any interaction we had after is just the two of us drowning in silence."

Aaron never knocked that day.

He hasn't redeemed his last visit for the past five months. While it isn't the longest time he's never stopped by, you're bitter about it.

You couldn't sleep for a week after Peter Lewis escaped prison. You were afraid that Aaron's name would flash across any type of screen or mark a headline on every article and newspaper. You had to take anxiety medication to stop your body from trembling whenever the thought of him crossed your mind.

It was hell.

The utter hopelessness and lack of courage teared you apart. The strangeness. The nonexistence. You don't reckon a conversation with Aaron that involves you and him. Only you or him or whatever depressing topic comes up. You're not even sure if you had actual conversations. Always wallowing in silence while sipping either scotch or coffee.

But you two had a deal. No catch. Not even feelings. Developing one for Aaron did not cross your mind when you granted him the power to bother you at any running time.

All of it is to say you wish you had known Aaron's last visit was, in fact, the last.

Rossi squints, "You're telling me the quietness you shared didn't matter? That his company didn't benefit you the same way it did for him?" He stands tall, pleased with his words.

It did.

Of course, it did.

And you loved every second of it.

Even if you realize it too late.

But you won't say that to Rossi. Or to anyone ever.

A sigh drops your shoulders. You give him a blank stare, letting his question hover for a moment. "What do you want me to say?" You continue packing up your things on your desk, breaking eye contact.

If you knew David Rossi like the back of your hand, David Rossi knew you like every family of the victims he managed to save.

Worried.

Heartbroken.

Hurt.

Aaron never told Rossi about any interactions with you after he was released from your care. It's information Rossi's only ever heard a confirmation from you. But he knew it from the moment Aaron came to work after his first session with you and couldn't seem to get the specific idea of you out of his head.

"We're doing everything we can to catch Peter Lewis. Aaron will be back, I promise."

Pause.

You fight your every single sense to remain composed. Hearing Aaron's name instantly made you crumble. The sound of it hitting your chest with such force you had to bite the tissue behind your closed lip. You badly wanted—needed to cry and throw a tantrum.

The inner ends of your brows lift up as you nod, "Good for you... and for him. I'll see you in two weeks, Dave." You dismiss, walking around your desk to push him out of your office.

"Wait, wait! Just listen!" You retract your hands off his back and let him face you. "He's okay. He and Jack are safe somewhere I, unfortunately, don't know." He tries to meet your gaze—successful. "But! But that's a good thing. Not knowing where he is while in protective custody is good. Safe. I just thought you'd want to know."

You nod, "Certainly a good information, Dave. But not really necessary." Your tongue subtly swipes the bottom of your lips. "Aa—Agent Hotchner was a patient. Anything outside of that is not my business." Liar.

Rossi tucks his mouth into a thin line, nodding. "See you in two weeks, kid."

Tuesday, March 27, 6:12 PM

It's a nice Spring.

Your hair dances like the breeze is music as you trudge back to your apartment against the rush hour sidewalk traffic.

A year and a half.

You moved to a different place since then.

Moved on— from something that never existed, but really, your old complex just ran out of business.

You couldn't possibly move on, even if you wanted to.

"Good evening, Mrs. Willows," You smile at the old lady as she steps on the base of the stairs.

Mrs. Willows was old, close to ninety. And she's the best landlady you've ever met.

She smiles back, "Oh, just in time!" She waddles towards you, scraping the soles of her flats against the creaky floorboards.

"Did you need anything, Mrs—"

The old lady doesn't let you finish when she yanks you back up the stairs. Confusion fills you, but if you are being honest, you're more amazed by her speed. You didn't know it was possible for her to have that much energy.

"There's this handsome boy knocking at your door earlier. So, I let him in."

You dig your feet on one of the steps, halting her. "Mrs. Willows, you let a stranger in my house?" Your brows knit.

She looks at you, "Well, I figured it's one of your patients." She shrugs.

"I wasn't expecting any home visit today." You announce, peeking at the top of the stairs. "And I would've been home if there was…"

You excuse yourself, cautiously walking towards your door. The floor plan is different from your old apartment. But everything still felt the same.

The anxiety of a random stranger going through your place left you rushing to the living room. You don't exactly let any random patient inside your home. It's usually the profilers that seem to have a liking to you that lucked the privilege to visit your home at any given time.

"I'm sorry, but you're gonna have to set an appointment at the clinic—" you abruptly stop, blinking.

Aaron Hotchner.

He's sat on the armchair, only lifting his gaze after he'd closed the book you were reading before you decided to step out to run some errands.

He is wearing a navy blue quarter zip sweater and a white shirt, peeking from under. It's paired with loose-fitting gray casual pants. Like his closet had an upset stomach and threw up all over him.

The bags under his eyes are almost invisible. It used to be a tint of greenish purple. A proof of his late nights and stressful days. He's caught up with sleep for a while now.

His hair, a little longer than you're accustomed to, somehow made him look young and boyish. Probably why Mrs. Willows referred to him as a boy.

It's quite an image. Not one you'd expect to see upon opening your front door, but you mentally admit liking it.

He looks refreshing and well-rested.

"I heard you started your own practice?" He didn't mean to form it as a question, tongue-tied by nervousness. He flashes an awkward, subtle smile, dipping his hands into his pockets.

Your lashes flutter like butterflies gliding through the soft wind of Spring, except you're struggling to go against the breeze, winded by the city pollution.

"H-have you eaten?" You ask, snapping out of your trance as you head to the kitchen. Great. A question for a question. You're as nervous as he is, and you don't feel the need to hide it, though you aren't inclined to admit it.

He chuckles, and it still makes you melt after a year of trying to remember how it sounds, "That's your first question? Not 'What are you doing here?' or 'How did you find me?'" He follows you to the kitchen, it's a lot smaller than the one at your old place but you had a dinner table now, which still feels like an upgrade.

You turn and face him, leaning against the counter, "I'll just charge the entire team on their next visit. But I have a feeling David's the culprit." You blurt, earning raised brows from Aaron. "Oh? They didn't tell you? Your team unofficially designated me as their psychiatrist. I guess they also kept an important information from you." You twist on your feet to focus on the produce you carefully picked in hopes someone would join you for dinner.

But you didn't expect Aaron to be that person.

"Are you mad at me?"

"No!" You almost stumble as you spin back to face him. "I'm in no position to be mad. If a patient doesn't need my services, then I have no say." You lick the lower of your lip, biting it as soon as your tongue glides past. Heat pooling in the back of your eyes.

Aaron steps closer, "I didn't mean to—"

"I told you I'm not mad."

"You're really going to lie to an FBI profiler?"

"Former," You correct him, sniffing as you fight the tears from rolling down your cheeks. Your head's tilted up, almost facing the ceiling. Anger and frustration hammer into your chest.

He rolls his eyes, trying to catch yours. "Former, right." He parrots with a little more sarcasm. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you anything... I needed to make sure Jack's safe." He softly speaks, making sure you understand every syllable.

It's your turn to roll your eyes, blinking and letting a tear fall in the process. "You don't have to apologize for protecting your son. I'm not evil, Hotchner. I'll do the same thing for my family. I'm completely indifferent about your disappearance, and i-it's allergy season. I'm fine." You wipe the tear stain off your face.

"I missed hearing you say my name like it's a foul word." Aaron smiles so brightly you thought you were dead and some divine was just using his image to guide you across.

"Seriously? That's what you took from it?" You shake your head, turning your back to him once more. "I feel bad for Jack now that you're a full-time father."

Aaron laughs, and by definition. "Oh, he's had enough of me." His eyebrows jump on his forehead, drifting his eyes aside as if he's replaying every instance Jack's complained to him.

You laugh, too. A full hearty laugh that seems to source from the casualty between the two of you despite the irritation you felt.

It's still the same. The ease. The effortless flow and connection despite anxious nerves. It felt like talking to an old friend you've known longer than you are alive.

You nibble on your lips, "So? You're off protective custody, or do I have to call you Brad?" You quiz airily, back still facing him to hide any form of amusement that's forming on your facial features.

"Brad?" He scoffs, crossing his arms and knitting his brows. He sounds about offended as if you'd disrespected his entire bloodline.

"Yeah, you look like a Brad to me." You remember a story from the women in the BAU. One that they happily shared one evening at Rossi's before they all begged to be added to your list of patients once you start your private practice.

Aaron lets out another scoff. "No, I'm just Aaron. Aaron to everyone. Aaron to you." He grumbles something under his breath that you don't hear, but a clear indication of his disapproval regarding the name.

You stifle a giggle, "Well, just Aaron. Consider yourself lucky that I got a free slot. I would've been with a patient by now." You state.

"Am I really just a patient to you?" Aaron inquires from behind you. He attentively observes for any subtle movement or expression in your voice. There's a longing look in his eyes that you aren't aware of. A frown drops his lips as he adds, "I at least thought we were friends."

"Mm," You hum a chuckle, "More like my stalker. But sure, we'll go with yours... friends—"

He spins you by the waist, and you're not sure if your initial thought of dreaming is ending anytime soon as your body tenses under his hold.

A small yelp squeaks out of you, hands flying behind you on the counter as if to hold yourself up from your wobbly feet. And you're certain both of you can hear the loud pulse on your carotid.

"Hotchner, what the hell?!" You chastise, pulling back, but to no avail. Caged and pinned by his strength, and you're too baffled to react accordingly.

"I'd like to redeem my tenth visit." Aaron smiles from ear to ear. You never thought it possible for a stern-faced man to ever grin this wide. To ever be this bright and bubbly.

Aaron keeps the two of you that way for a few minutes. His face is a few inches from yours. You can hear him calculating in his head.

Only the busy street outside and one of your neighbor's loud TV fills the silence.

"Your pupils are dilated." Aaron grins mischievously. He further scans your face, the same way he did when he used to be your patient, reading you like it's his job to know every micro-movement and expression you make.

Your eyes widen, "Stop—" Your voice barely comes out, breath hitching halfway through your throat. "—profiling me." The space between you and his body feels suffocatingly good. It's making you dizzy.

"Usually, you're composed, but you can barely look me in the eyes." His hands remain on your hips, and every twitch of it makes you stiff like a statue. "Am I making you nervous?" He quips wittily.

Like a switch, your heart rate steadies, and his image becomes clear.

It's Aaron Hotchner.

Just Aaron, he said.

Warmth surges through your veins. You stare at the grin on his face.

Your head tilts, and you blink excruciatingly slow. "Are you trying to ask me out, Hotchner?" You mirror the trail of his eyes like a map.

Aaron beams like he'd won the lottery. Sending you impulsive thoughts such as kissing the smile off his face.

It's tempting and nauseating.

And if he doesn't stop, you just might.

"Ten."

Your eyebrows merge in confusion, "What?"

"Ten dates," He breathes as he looks you in the eye. "Let me take you out on ten dates. Then you can decide if I'm just one of your many stubborn patients or if I can be more. Let me make it up to you in ten dates. Please." He implores, hopeful, or rather knowing that you'd say yes.

And he'd be right.

All you want at that moment is to say yes.

But teasing him won't hurt, at least not you.

"And what's in it for me?" You try your best not to smile as you taunt him.

Aaron rolls his eyes, but his grin tugs the corner of his lips up. "You get unlimited access to me?"

"Wow, that's... very compelling." And you burst out laughing, folding on your stomach as you lean against his chest. You inhale, "Sorry, I expected better negotiation. Uh, any catch?" You say between chuckles.

He shakes his head, "Just one condition," He's chuckling now, too. Not immune from your contagious giggles. "I spend most of my days with you. Even if it's just sitting in silence. I want it to be with you." He lets go of one of your hips and tucks a strand behind your ear.

The giggles die down a bit, gazing at him with reverie. You nod after a few seconds, squeezing his arms. You lift yourself, tiptoeing, closing the gap.

You leave a quick, soft peck on his lips, smiling as you get back on your feet.

Aaron smiles, and you're as ecstatic as he is.

Another nod fills your chest with utter joy as you breathe in euphoria.

"Ten's a good number."

#aaron hotchner #criminal minds #ssa aaron hotchner #fem!reader #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner criminal minds #aaron hotch fic #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotchner angst #aaron hotchner fluff #hotch #cm #criminalminds #bau team

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ao3commentoftheday · 2 days

Note

On a whim and because I was momentarily taken by a new fandom I had made a requests accepted fic where I took in requests. From a few requests I wrote I got two requests from the same person and wrote them but they were so annoying because all the response I got was "I want this to be longer"

That was something that added to me eventually not being as into the fandom anymore and so I haven't written the other requests for a long while.

It's part many things and is also because the fandom is very very new so the characters' personalities aren't that known yet so I'm not quite sure how to characterize them in my writing. So I feel a bit guilty about not writing the other requests and regret completing the request of the disrespectful person first, I didn't know they'd be like that until they commented that reaction to what I wrote.

Sorry for the ramble but TLDR how does a writer handle feelings of guilt from not completing requests quickly? Like I think it's been months now.

... and it's been even more months since you dropped this ask in my inbox, sorry!

To start with, I'm just going to flag for folks that you should not post "I'm taking requests" works on AO3. It's against the Terms of Service, so if it gets reported, the PAC team will ask you to remove it. You don't say here where you posted yours, but I just wanted to give everyone a heads up on that count.

I'm really sorry that your experience with writing for requests went kind of sour on you. That's never a fun time. I can see how it would sour you on the practice, especially in conjunction with the fandom being new and the characters still not very fleshed out.

When it comes to disappointing people, you kind of have to pick your battles. Human beings these days encounter thousands of people in any given week, thanks to the internet, and we can't hold ourselves to the same standards of caring for a person we've interacted with one via a screen and the people we've built up relationships with.

That isn't to say it's alright to be a dick to people. Wil Wheaton has been very clear about that. It's just that carrying guilt over something you haven't done for a stranger is very different from carrying guilt over something you haven't done for your partner or your best friend.

In my experience, the best way to move forward is just to reply to the message that gave you the request and say, "I'm sorry, I don't think I can work on this right now. Please feel free to share it with another author." You can add in that you hope they find someone. You can change the "right now" to "after all". You can make the message as long or as short as you want, but just include those 2 ideas:

I'm not going to fulfill this request

if you're still wanting to read this thing, ask someone else to write it (or write it yourself)

The guilt is because you know that someone wanted a story and they haven't received it. What you don't know is whether they still want that story, whether they specifically want it from you and only you, and to what degree they were invested in the idea versus just throwing something out there on a whim.

If you do still want to write the stories, remember that fandom is a hobby not a job. Fic requests aren't assignments. You don't have any due dates. Inspiration comes and goes as it pleases, and sometimes we bite off more than we can chew.

Be kind to yourself, anon. Write the stories that interest you. Give away the ones that don't. Allow yourself the time you need to finish what you want to do. 💗

#asks and answers

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yourheart-inmyhands · 2 days

Note

Hellow hellow (⁠☆⁠▽⁠☆⁠)

May I request yandere zhongli, diluc and possibly neuvilette with reader who's a talented musician that often like to play alone and doesn't want anyone finding about their hobby?

ah this was such a cute ask! i've never played an instrument aside from the recorder i was forced to learn in 4th grade so i apologize if this isn't super accurate :D

Warning: this post contains yandere-themes, including delusional behaviors, honestly the guys are pretty sweet here, and other potential topics. Please read at your own risk!

Diluc:

Being a bit of a musician himself, Diluc can understand the desire to be alone. He won’t ever intrude on your alone time, allowing you a room to yourself with whatever instruments and setup you’d like. He makes sure to let all the staff know to not bother you while you are there. If you’d like he’d even be willing to set up a lock on the door so that no one can enter, so long as he is allowed a key.

If you should ever change your mind and ask Diluc to join you for some music, he’d be more than happy to comply. He knows quite a few different instruments so he’s happy to partner up as whatever you ask of him as well.

A soft smile graces Diluc’s face as he hears the music start-up in another room. You were back to practicing again, working away at a particular piece that had been troubling you lately. Normally he wouldn’t seem so happy about your mess-ups, but he thought your dedication to the instruments to be endearing. It reminded him a bit of himself when he was young, before he had taken over the winery business unexpectedly. He had offered to play the piece with you a handful of times over dinner, but your polite refusal each time was enough to keep him from simply forcing his way in. He didn’t want to disturb the one thing you seemed to enjoy so thoroughly.

Zhongli:

Zhongli was never much of a musician, he preferred books and literature over the finer arts. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t appreciate them though. He does dampen a bit when you deny him the access of watching you play, insisting that you prefer to be alone, but he relents regardless. His keen hearing from across the home-like cave was enough for now.

Instead, Zhongli offers his support in the form of sheet music, going out of his way to obtain obscure or new sheet music for you in the style that you like so that you never run out of new melodies. It’s a simple act of appreciation for your gifts, if he could write any himself he’d have done so as well, but his ear for music wasn’t as fine-tuned as yours.

Zhongli pauses in his reading for a moment, his ears adjusting to the slightest tune echoing through the cave. It was barely there, but enough for him to hear. It seemed as though you were playing quietly today. It’s another moment that passes before he places a marker into his book, setting it aside before rising from his chair. He couldn’t explain it but your music always seemed to inspire him to get up and do something. Typically it was cooking, with him making a light meal or snack to bring to you when it sounded like you were taking a break. It helped to hear that you were playing the newest sheet music he had brought you. He didn’t know much about music aside from how to read notes on a paper, but there was something about that one specifically that just reminded him so dearly of you.

Neuvillette:

Neuvillette has always admired music, but his mind was more focused on the law and justice system, he had never really had time to explore that interest. When he finds out about your talent in that field, he at first is hesitant to ask you to teach him. He doesn’t want to bother you especially after you confessed that you prefer to play alone. So instead he listens silently from the next room over, replaying the melodies over and over in his head as he tries to teach himself an instrument.

It’s sweet, the way Neuvillette is always keeping you up to date with things. Always making sure your instruments are in proper working order and that anything you need for them is easily available. He had learned about instrument care as soon as he started trying to learn, and because you don’t leave the house often he makes sure to pick things up that he thinks you might need while he’s out.

He doesn’t say anything to you as he silently enters the room, noticing how you paused mid-line, turning to look at him. He just offers a warm smile, walking over to you quietly before sliding your music stand away. It takes a moment to realize what he’s doing as he slides a brand new one into place, carefully moving your sheet music from the old one to the new one. “I apologize for disrupting, please continue.” He gives a polite bow of his head before turning to leave, taking the old music stand with him. You weren’t sure how he knew that you needed a new one, since the old one had a problem with staying extended to the height you wanted it, but silently, you were thankful.

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pure-incense · 1 day

Text

With summer rolling around, remember that our Pokemon companions have to deal with the heat too! Not every pokemon can beat the heat, especially some ice types, so here are some tips and tricks to make sure you and your team get to enjoy the summer!

1. Never leave your partner alone in the car while it's turned off! Cars can be a hot and sweaty nightmare even with the windows down and the AC blasting! They're even worse when you're locked in with little airflow and no water! If you have to leave the car, take your pokemon with you in their pokeball!

2. Make sure you have some shade nearby, and use pokemon safe sunscreen when it applies/is possible! Not only does the sun contribute to the heat, but plenty of pokemon risk drying out or even getting burnt if left out in the sun for too long! This includes many grass types! While many do appreciate the sun, there is such things as too much for some species!

3. Water! Bring so much water! A lot of people think the little water they have on them is enough! It's probably not! You need a lot more than you think, especially on a hot summer day, and you need even more if you plan on bringing your pokemon with you! Many water and grass types especially need plenty of water to stay stress free! Bring a large reusable bottle with you for yourself, and I like bringing a second bottle for my team as well!

4. Be aware of their types, and do research on that specific species! The Alolan subspecies of ninetails can spend a good amount of time in the heat compared to some other ice types, but just barely as they still prefer the colder mountain peaks! Fire types can survive extreme heat, some even living in volcanoes, but some like Houndoom and Arcanine may still want to let out excess heat by spewing smoke and flames and should be allowed to do so to prevent them from getting uncomfortable! Figure out what strategies and schedules work for you and your team AHEAD of time, and don't be afraid to ball them if they seem to be struggling!

5. POKEBALLS! USE THEM! I have mentioned them a few times on this list but it needs to be said! While some pokemon may dislike their ball, and being cooped up for long periods of time can cause harmful effects, a few minutes to an hour in their pokeball to cool down if overheating or avoid having to deal with the heat in general is harmless and usually tends to be downright beneficial to many pokemon! Please do not risk your weavile getting heatstroke because it dislikes it's ball! A short amount of discomfort so you can safely bring it home is always worth it. I know some people may be worried about the heat breaking the pokeball, especially in hotter climates, but you don't have to worry! Unless the ball has some sort of defect or was badly made, most pokeballs are built to withstand extreme temperatures to keep up with the wide variety of pokemon and demanding journeys some trainers end up on! If you're still nervous, you can purchase specialty balls made by independent craftsmen and small businesses specifically built with a focus on dealing with extreme temperatures and preform a ball transfer.

Obviously there's probably plenty of things I forgot or couldn't include! If you have anything you'd like to share about helping our pokemon friends stay happy and healthy during the hotter months of the year, you're totally free to add to this post!

#//obviosuly a mix of stuff you get told for pets and just stuff made up cause like. pokemon. yippe!!#pkmn irl #pokeblogging #rotomblr

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sugawhaaa · 3 days

Text

YEOSANG X READER

Under your spell

{Brithday special Chapter 1/2}

‼️WARNINGS:: suggestive, talk of sexual abuse/assault

💄Pairing::Idol!Yeosang x stripper!fem!reader

👠Genre:: lap dance, flirting, stripping (duh) I think that's it but please notify me if I missed anything :)

💋A/N:: This chapter is one of two. The second chapter will be erm yk actually doing it but this chapter is the layout of the story and where u are etc etc so if you just want to read the smut you can go to chapter 2. Chapter 2 will be posted on Yeosangs birthday because this is a birthday special!!!

There was no doubt that Yeosang's friends were somewhat more sexually active, we'll put it. Yeosang isn't oblivious to sex and he isn't a virgin but when it comes to super kinky things he is still testing the waters. His friends on the other hand were already swallowed by the waters. They've been to many clubs including strip clubs, they've been to sex hotels, sex stores, etc. When Yeosang's birthday rolled around they decided to give him a big surprise, perhaps the biggest you can give a man.

They booked out a personal room in a strip club, picking a specific girl that perfectly matched Yeosang's type of woman. They picked Yeosang up at his house and drove him to the location of his "birthday party" where more of his friends were waiting. Eventually, everyone gathered outside the strip club and Yeosang's face burned red.

"This…this is where my party is at?" He asked in disbelief. San nodded with a smile before hugging him, squeezing him hard.

"You're officially the big 25!" He said as he squeezed the life out of his hyung. He let go of him and smiled.

"Y-Yeah," Yeosang couldn't shake the fact they were at a strip club. His heart was racing. His hyungs led him inside and took him to the front desk. Yeosang pulled at the collar of his shirt, trying to get some air. Seonghwa gave the receptionist the information for their reservation and some staff led them to the private room.

On the way there Yeosang couldn't help but notice the main area of the club. Big groups of guys gathered around a girl on a stage. She barely wore anything except massive heels and he felt the need to look away from the way her body moved.

Finally they were all led to the private room. Soft music played with drinks were placed in a bowl of ice on the side tables. Yeosang didn't know where to go first or what to expect. He just stared at the small stage in the center of the room with a long metal pole, a circular couch around the stage. He bit his lip and one of his hyungs put an arm around his shoulders.

"I know it's a lot at first," hongjoong smiled before taking a sip of his wine. "But trust me you'll love it," he nodded before patting Yeosangs back for reassurance.

"So how does this work exactly?" Yeosang looked up at Hongjoong who definitely had experience at these places.

"There's not much to it. We basically just sit around the woman and watch her dance," Hongjoong shrugs. "It's a little stiff at first but once we start getting into the vibe it's amazing," he smiles at the birthday boy. Yeosang chuckles nervously and runs his hand through his hair.

"Right…" he looks back at the stage.

"C'mon let's go sit, she'll be here soon," Hongjoong takes his hand and leads him to the couch. The two of them sit together and have just a few drinks when you finally make your entrance. You come through the main door and shut it behind yourself. Deep down you're a little nervous, you've never had so many people in a private room with you. Most of your colleagues say the more the merrier, it's more fun when there's multiple people all having a good time but now that you're seeing all these people you're questioning them.

Hongjoong turns back to look at you and he waves kindly. You smile and walk over to him, bending down to his level from behind the couch. Yeosang stiffly turns to look at you as well but as soon as you bend over he can see basically all of your breasts. He instantly flushes and looks back at your face.

"You're the one who was booking this room right?" You ask, trying to be louder than the music without yelling. Hongjoong nods.

"That's me," he smiles before putting a hand on Yeosang's shoulder. "This here is the birthday boy though," Hongjoong chuckles as he pats his shoulder. Your attention is drawn to him and he instantly freezes up. His heart caught in his throat enabling him to speak.

"Oh~ I'll keep that in mind," you smirk and Yeosang chuckles nervously. "What's your name cutie?" You smile as you rest your forearms on the head of the couch.

"Yeosang," he blushes as he looks you up and down again.

"Yeosang," you smile. "Well I hope you enjoy tonight~" you extend your hand out to him and his body shuts down, freezing in place. You stroke some stray hairs out of his face and tuck them behind his ear. The feeling of your fingers on the back of his ear is enough to make his blood rush. You then notice the birthmark under his eye. Your eyes linger on it for a moment. "Is that a scar?" You ask, genuinely curious. Yeosang is still stuck in your trance but once his hyung hits his shoulder he comes to, realizing you asked him a question.

"I-Its a birthmark," he nods with a shy smile. You rub your thumb over the red mark.

"It's so pretty," you smile before coming back down to earth. "Well I suppose you're not here for idle chit chat are ya?" You chuckle and stand up again. You walk over to the stage and instantly all the attention is drawn to you.

You begin your little performance, starting with a little warm up to loosen up your muscles. There were a lot of people at the party so naturally not everyone's eyes were on you which was kind of a nice feeling. But as your dance got more intense and more erotic people started sitting around the stage, cheering and even throwing a bit of cash. You kept an eye on Yeosang. knowing that this was his party, You wanted him to have a good time. He seemed to loosen up a bit throughout the show which was a good start. You decided to turn things up a notch and step away from the poke for a while. You went around to the edge of the stage and interacted with some of the guests. Nothing major but little seductive movements and gently touching them on their shoulders or cheek.

It got the guests quite excited and you could see how much fun they were having now. Finally you got around to Yeosang's side of the stage and you laid down on the stage, making eye contact with him. You swing your legs around and hop off the stage. You stand in front of him before leaning down, rubbing your hands up his thighs.

At first he was star struck from the attention but as you continued to feel him up he started getting into it. You then turned to sit on his lap, grinding your hips against him to the rhythm of the song. You could feel his erection straining against his pants press into your ass. Yeosang tossed his head back and finally put his hands on you. He hesitantly lifted one of his hands up to caress your waist. You turned your head to look at him, he looked purely under your spell as you gazed into each other's eyes. You caress his jawline, guiding his face closer to yours before standing back up again.

You went to the stage and continued your dance. As the end of the party drew near some of the guests began losing interest in your dancing which was honestly okay with you. You can't expect everyone to be constantly drawn to only you, but there was one person who couldn't keep his eyes off of you. Yeosang stayed on the couch the entire time, subtly moving the fabric of his pants to rub on his boner.

Then the lights changed color in the room. The entire time they'd been here the lights were purple and red and now they're green, meaning their time is up. Everyone started packing up and getting ready to leave. Yeosang bit his lip hard before standing up, turning his back to you. You stopped dancing and watch as his band mates come over to talk to him.

"How was that Yeosang!" Mingi wrapped an arm around Yeosang with a bottle of wine in his other hand.

"It was fun," Yeosang smiled softly at Mingi. Mingi's ears were bright red and he looked like he was about to pass out from the amount of alcohol he just drank in the past 2 hours.

"She was so hot," Jongho sighed as he gathered up some of the alcohol they brought. "You're one lucky guy Yeosang," he smiles. Jongho's eyes were also glowing red but he acted far more sober than Mingi. By far the most wasted though was San. His eyes were hazy, his face was pure red, and he kept swaying as he was standing next to Seonghwa and Wooyoung.

"Seriously San you need to be careful," Seonghwa said as he cleaned up his face with a napkin. You notice the state of San and walk over to the three men.

"Is he okay? Do you want a glass of water?" You ask as you place a hand on his shoulder. San let's out a groan as he nods his head. You go back to the stage quickly and retrieve a plastic water bottle from underneath it. You also grab a robe while you're at it. You hurry back over and open the water bottle for San. Wooyoung takes it before helping San take a drink out of it.

You throw your robe on while Seonghwa thanks you.

"Thank you so much," Seonghwa says with a bow.

"Don't worry about it," you chuckle and swish your hand as if to brush off the gratitude from him.

"I think I'm gonna hurl," San mutters out when Wooyoung takes the bottle from his mouth. Wooyoung panics and looks around for a bucket or something. You overhear his words and get a garbage bin from the corner of the room before handing it to him. You turn to look away from San as he vomits into the bin. Seonghwa and Wooyoung join San in the corner comforting him.

"So sorry about that," Hongjoong apologizes with a worried expression.

"Don't worry about it. This happens all the time," you explain as you try to tune out the sound of San puking in the background. Hongjoong keeps apologizing but you keep telling him it's alright. While your talking with Hongjoong Yeosang can't help but stare at you. He keeps looking you up and down, admiring every inch of your body as you talk. "Does he have a safe ride home?" You ask genuinely concerned for all of their health due to the amount of alcohol they all chugged in the past 2 hours.

"Yeah, were waiting for our manager to arrive," hongjoong chuckles embarrassed. "Apparently there's some traffic so we might be here a while," Hongjoong says with an apologetic expression.

"Don't worry about it. Make yourselves comfortable," you smile before heading back over to the couch. "This was my last shift so I'm packing up myself," you explain and the members follow you like ducklings. They're all eager to hang out with a hot stripper after hours. They sit on the couch and go on their phones and talk amongst themselves, except for one member. Yeosang. He's just stuck in a daze and you decide to go up to him. "Is everything alright Yeosang?" You ask warmly and sit next to him on the far side of the couch.

"Y-Yeah, I'm good," he blushes and avoids making eye contact.

"Did my dance earlier bother you? Ever since I did that I've noticed you've been acting differently. I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable," you apologize sincerely with a bow. Yeosang instantly shakes his head and waves his hands around.

"No, no! It was amazing! It's just…" he pauses and looks down. You look at him eager to hear his response. You hold his shaking hand to comfort him.

"What's up?" You ask softly.

The two of you then get interrupted by Hongjoong.

"Alright guys, the vans parked out front,"

Yeosang looks upset as he turns to Hongjoong. You can both sense the chemistry in the air. Yeosang doesn't want to leave and you don't want him to leave either.

"I'll stay back," Yeosang blurts out without thinking. Hongjoong raises an eyebrow at him before seeing him sitting right next to you, your hands interlocked. Hongjoong nods with a wink before rounding up the members. You look into Yeosangs eyes as you hear the members all leave the room, the door slamming shut leaving the two of you alone.

"You were going to say something?" You look at him with alluring eyes. His lips part to speak but nothing comes out. He looks down at his knees. You rub his thigh gently to comfort him. His eyes follow your hands movements, looking at your long slender fingers filled with strength due to your dancing talent.

"I just wanted to say, tonight was an eye opening experience," he starts. His words are cautiously spoken as he takes deep breaths. "I've never been to a place like this. I was honestly a little afraid but," he looks up into your eyes with determination. "I've never felt so connected with a woman before. I-I just want to hang out with you," he admits with red cheeks. "I know it sounds crazy, but I…I feel like I'll regret it if I leave you," he holds your hand tightly. You tilt your head before lifting your hand from his leg, stroking back his hair.

"Honestly, I was going to say the same thing," you smile and he looks at you surprised. "Most men that come in here are rich middle aged men who think they're entitled to everything," you explain as you hold his hand. You can feel Yeosang relax as his breaths slow down. "When someone like you walked in I was so intrigued. You were shy, and respectful. You seemed to truly love me, not just my body," you smiled and his heart skipped about a thousand beats. His face flushes, the compliments circling in his head. "I just needed to learn more about you,"

Yeosangs eyes brighten as he looks at you. He wants to make a move. Pull you close, kiss you, touch you, feel you, anything. He didn't know what to do. He started to speak but he only stuttered over his words. He didn't know what to say.

He felt like he was under your spell.

#Spotify #ateez au #ateez scenarios #ateez x reader #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #ateez imagines #happy brithday #birthday #birthday special #kang yeosang #yeosang #yeosang x reader #yeosang x y/n #part 1 #part 1/2

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honeipie · 1 day

Text

THE WIFE

izuku midoryia x reader

synopsis: you’ve been asked to do an interview after your husbands cute little story blew up. now it’s your turn to express your love for him

authors note: to the anon who did the ask i am SO SORRY. i posted it by accident then fucking deleted it in a panic.. don’t worry though i got the gist of it! for the people who don't know it was getting the reader's POV of how they fell in love with izuku as well. also sorry if i went a little off track. i js wanted to give reader a lil opinion and personality ☺️

you can find part one here

this was out of your comfort zone.

you sat in a plush chair across from a woman who was currently fiddling with the microphones. your husband izuku had done an interview with a popular podcast about a month ago. it wasn’t only popular because he was the number one hero. there was a charm to the episode that others couldn’t fake. the way he talked about you as if you showed him colors for the first time. everyone loved it.

now people really wanted to get into the lives of the midoryia’s, which included you. about a week ago you had gotten an offer to be on another podcast. you made sure to check out some of her work before you leaped into it.

the host's name was aiya, and she was absolutely amazing. not only were you laughing with the one episode you did listen to, but so did izuku since he was kind enough to watch with you.

"are you ready mrs. midoryia?" aiya asked going to put on the headphones. taking your own set of headphones, you placed them on as well.

"i am! plus you can just call me y/n. i really don't mind"

"thanks for letting me know," she clicked a button on her computer which started the camera up "hello everyone! it's aiya here! on this special episode we have the wonderful, and very lovely y/n midoryia in the building"

you gave a shy smile and waved to the camera "hello everyone!" you faced the aiya letting her smile ease your tensions "i just wanted to say thank you before we start. not only for inviting me on your podcast, but just being so respectful and kind as well"

aiya nodded placing both hands over her heart "you're just too kind! but girl you don't have to thank me for doing the bare minimum"

"no i really do have to. because there are a lot of other people out here that i've talked to and are not as professional and sweet like you. it's really crazy" you shook your head when you heard yourself start to get off topic "i'm sorry i don't want to control this whole interview. i think i got the rambling from my husband through the years"

both you and aiya laughed at your statement.

"don't worry about it! this is not a place where i will every cut you off from rambling, seriously. plus i want to get into some of that as well. what is your experience with the whole ‘being a wife of the number one hero’ thing? like you said before people can be unusually cruel to you for absolutely no reason"

you scoffed dramatically making aiya laugh.

"so when people ask me this in person, which has never happened ever" you made direct eye contact with the camera before turning back. this had aiya laughing more now than before "being married to izuku is great, but being married to deku can be.. iffy on my end. does that make sense?”

"yes and no"

"okay so what i mean is that being deku's wife is stressful. not only because of the major backlash that i get from the internet, tabloids, and gossip shows, but also because of my safety. the backlash is something that doesn't go away but gets easier as time goes on. for me it was easier to just laugh at how stupid they are. like one article called me fat, cool, but then another one from the same company called me pile of bones skinny" you tilted you head slapping one hand down on your thigh "now you just look fucking stupid because you can't pick one and clearly can't run a business. cause like how didn't you know that both of these articles were coming out?" you shook your head "they piss me off more than make me upset"

aiya listened carefully letting you go on with your rant.

"but when i say i love being izuku’s wife i really mean it. i love that man more than i love anyone else. i love the way he looks when he wakes up in the morning. i love the way he gets excited every time we see cows when we're driving. he is who i was meant to be with and i believe that with my whole heart. i see deku and izuku as two totally different people because i get to see it from both perspectives. i can understand how some people might not understand where i’m coming from with this and that’s okay. this is just how i’ve been able to express the way i feel about the whole situation”

“wow.. thank you so much for sharing your point of view on things. i hope this really opens the eyes to some of the haters out there”

“ugh me too” you played with the ring on your finger “i feel bad now. when this episode airs i can just imagine what he’s gonna say, ‘oh so my episode was me spewing my undying love for you and all i get is i hate my husband?’”

the two of you laughed thinking about it.

“no, but we’ve seriously talked about it before and he understands where i’m coming from. i love that he’s so understanding about everything”

“speaking of love,” aiya pulled out a piece of paper coming from her lap “we’ve got questions”

you clapped your hands together excitedly.

“oh! hit me”

“okay so of course deku did a podcast episode where he made all of us singles jealous by describing the moment he fell in love with you. so now people are wondering what was the moment you fell in love with him?”

you had been preparing for this question ever since you read the email.

“i actually fell in love with izuku pretty early in our relationship. maybe like a month in? i’ve honestly had a crush on him since year one, but we never got the chance to interact.”

it was early off in your third year when you had come down with a bad fever. the only reason you could assume the sickness took over you was because everyone had just moved back into the dorms. bringing whatever kind of diseases they wanted back.

“hi izuku”

the phone was placed on the pillow beside your head. you didn’t have enough energy to hold it up. hell, you’re surprised you even had enough energy to accept the call. everything on your body was just hot. they only thing you felt you needed was a cold compress on your forehead, but getting up just wasn’t an option at the moment.

“y/n you’re making me worried. are you sure you don’t need recovery girl?”

“i should be okay,” you stopped in the middle of your sentence to take in a long breath “plus i don’t think she could help with what i have anyway”

izuku was slipping on his training uniform as he was talking to you. he didn’t know if you could hear yourself, or if you even cared, but he could probably picture what you looked like. comforter thrown to the floor. medicine bottles scattered on your dresser and not knowing which one to choose.

“are you sure you don’t need anything?”

“i should be fine izu. just focus on- on training for the festival. bye now”

izuku had wanted to get a couple more sentences in to ease his anxiety, but you quickly hung up the phone without a second thought.

once you found yourself a semi-comfortable position you took the chance of drifting off to sleep.

the nap lasted about thirty minutes before you woke up to the feeling of a cold compress being laid onto your forehead. slowly, your eyes opened to reveal your boyfriend making sure it was in the right spot.

“izu” you mumbled going to sit up but he placed his hands on your shoulders laying you back down.

“nope, you’re resting”

he still had his training uniform on from the time you had called him.

“but you shouldn’t be here. you should be training”

the newfound coolness on your forehead felt amazing, and part of you wished he had came sooner.

“i can take a day or two off. it’s fine”

you shook your head gently.

“i don’t want you to miss it because of me”

“y/n are you me?”

“no”

“are you my teacher?”

“no, but-“

“then don’t worry about it. your health means more to me than training. i’ve been working hard for the past two years, so if i have to take a day or two off to take care of my girlfriend then i’m jumping at the opportunity”

it was right then and there you felt some of the weight lift of your shoulders. this felt like confirmation of what you had assumed you were feeling from the moment you first saw him.

you loved him.

you loved him so, so much.

taglist! @sagejin 🫶🏾

lmk if you’d like to be added

#honeipie #anime #bnha x reader #mha #writing #x reader #drabble #izuku x reader #izuku midoriya #mha izuku #bnha izuku #deku x reader #mha deku #bnha deku #my hero academia #bnha #izuku midoryia x you

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allnelia · 3 days

Text

A Night At The Cinema

| with Kento Nanami. This is smut. This story includes..

oral s3x, ejaculation, erection, and s3x. Enjoy my sluts |

“Come on babe we’re gonna be late.” This wasn’t the first time you’ve been in a date with Nanami. “Darling give me a second to pay alright? Every thing is going to be okay my love the previews are probably barley starting.” He reassured you. You two were running late because he got held up at work. He looked so tired. He was always so busy lately, but he promised he’d make it up to you by taking you to see the movie you’d be talking about for ages now. “Let’s go!” you say running and pulling his veiny arms behind you. You manage to find your seat. “Ah there it is.” You continue to pull him by the arm as you two sit down. “Perfect timing!” you say with a smile as you look at Nanami’s tired looking eyes. You were too excited to even worry about popcorn but looking down at your empty hands you couldn’t help but to crave it. Before you could open your mouth he began to say, “A small popcorn and a bag of skittles my love?” He knew you so well. You nodded back as a response. He leaves and comes back within 2 minutes, damn he’s fast. Time flies as your enjoying the movie. You look down at the popcorn bag and it’s empty. “I guess you can have the skittles I’m kinda..” You look over and Nanami is dosing off. Fighting for his life to stay awake. You’ve always wanted to see this movie but you didn’t wanna wake him up either. “Babe are you okay?” you said. “Yes, darling i’m just fine is everything okay?” he said. “Everything’s just fine it’s just that you seem tired.” “No. I’m not tired I’m just resting my eyes darling” he always lied to make you feel better. “Okay!” you said and you leaned in for a kiss. His eyes lit up as you pulled away from the french intimate kiss. “I’m surely awake now love” you roll your eyes. it’s been weeks since you guys have done it. “Is that so?” you say as you caress his thigh. “Good cus’ i heard this parts good” He continues to look at you even though your focus has shifted to the screen. You move your hand up his thigh and you feel his hard c*ck underneath your hand. You feel it jump at you. “Baby…” says Nanami. “Yes love?” You look at his deep green eyes. “Could you help me relieve some stress” This was a code word for head. “Seriously?! Right now?” You whisper angrily. “I know it’s bad timing but I’ve been craving you and I’m at my breaking point darling” You’re disappointed in him for even thinking of doing something like that in this moment. The movie was boring anyways so you think of some ways to make him pay for being a h*rny mess. “Mhm” Luckily you guys brought a blanket. One of the reasons being you get cold in the theater another being because of instances like this. You cover yourself and him and go underneath. Unzipping his pants and releasing his gigantic c*ck. You go down on it and you feel it take up all the space in your throat. “Mm~” he says quietly. This is crazy! You might get caught if you gag the slightest. Luckily he trained your throat to take on his massive d*ck. You start going up and down slowly speeding up the pace gradually and going slower to edge him a little. “F-fuck~” Nanami rarely cusses but when he does it means something. He lowers his head to where yours is. “Your mouth feels so fucking good darlin’” You swirl your tongue around in a circle around the tip. “Baby…please… i’m going to…c-cu-” he stuttered in your ear quietly. You taste the precum on your tongue. His d*ck getting harder in your mouth by the second. You lift you head up from under the covers. “Let’s take this somewhere else” you say looking into his eyes. He was nearly red. “But the movie-“ He said but he stopped himself as he realized how much he wanted to fuck you.

You both run outside of the theater into his car. It was brand new. You didn’t want to ruin the interior but the thought of him fucking you recklessly messed with your logical thinking. You both hop in the BMW. He’s yanking at his tie to take it off. You’re unbuttoning your blouse as fast as you can and slipping down your skirt. He’s taking of his pants and unbuttoning his shirt also. You both look at each other with pure lust. You both start making out intensely as your tongues are dancing harmoniously in each others mouths. Siliava dripping down your faces. You lay back in the back seat and he turns and faces you with his back facing the windshield window and the steering wheel. “Put your hands together above your head like a good girl for me darling” Nanami says “Yes sir” His veiny hand gripping both of your wrists together as he uses his other one to grab his d*ck and slide it against your p*ssy. You moan slightly as he sticks it in. “You know how fucking long i’ve been waiting for his” He says as he rams his d*ck in you roughly. “Ah~ N-Nanami” You moan. He takes his free hand and cover your mouth with it still gripping your wrists firmly. “I can’t believe you’ve kept this from me from that fucking long. I know i’ve been busy but you know how addictive your p*ssy is right?” “M-mhm” you say as he goes faster and more roughly. “You’re so.. warm darling. I love f*cking you raw like this.” You’re moans get louder and louder. “Nanami.. Please slow down” you beg. “F-Fuck baby I’m gonna cum in you i don’t think I can pull out. It feels so good~” He moans. “You turn me into a person I don’t want to be darling but I love it.” He goes faster as he yaps while he’s thrusting inside you. “N-Nanami~ Ah~” “I love it when you moan my name, louder princess” “No baby please I~ Nana-mi-” Your moans unintentionally get louder. “Fuck i’m gonna cum baby. You look so pretty when I fuck you like this. My sweet darling~” He moans in his deep soothing voice. “I can’t take it anymore darling I’m cumming. I’m cumming~” he says as he thrusts one last time into you before filling you up with 2 weeks worth of hot steaming cum. Your legs start to shake once he’s finished. He’s putting on his clothes and he noticed them shaking. He rubs your thigh. “You alright princess? I’m sorry If I hurt you my love.” “No, you didn’t. I guess I wasn’t used to you being that rough with me.” you explain. “I apologize love. It won’t happen again. I was just frustrated it’s been so long since I’ve relieved myself” “It’s okay my love” You kiss him on the cheek. “Just let me know sooner next time so it doesn’t build up like that” He starts helping you out back on your clothes and opens the door letting you out so you can sit in the front seat. He opens your door and always around it sit in the drivers seat. He looks back at the mess yall made. Cum all over the seats. “I guess I’ll go get our car cleaned tomorrow”. You giggle “Make sure you tip them.” you imagine the look on their faces as they clean it up. “You know I always do”

#jjk #jjk x reader #jjk smut #smut #nanami kento #nanami x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jjk nanami #nanami smut #jujutsu nanami

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apomaro-mellow · 1 day

Text

Family Planning 3

Part 2

Eddie was being led down the hallway by the scruff of his jacket like an unruly pup by Coach Williams while Steve was being led by the shoulder like he was somehow more delicate. They were sat down in a familiar scene in the principal’s office while their parents were being called and Woolsley cleaned up as best as he could.

Still, when he got to the office and took his seat, he had red staining his suit. Both boys gave valiant efforts, trying to hide their snickering behind wobbling smiles.

“Laugh all you want, boys. We’ll see how funny it is when your parents arrive.”

“What exactly are we being charged with?”, Eddie asked, crossing his legs.

“Let’s start with classroom disruptions. And let’s continue with disorderly conduct. And how about we include theft from the theatre department. Oh and let’s not forget inciting a riot.”

“We didn’t incite a riot!”, Steve argued. He was still wearing the fake stomach and thanks to Gareth’s prowess, only had a bit of sauce on his jeans.

“Watch your volume”, Woolsley pointed a warning finger at him.

“Their families are here, sir”, the secretary announced.

They were waved in and now it was both Mr. and Mrs. Harrington and Eddie’s uncle Wayne Munson. Steve’s parents gawked at the sight of him and Wayne only shook his head.

“What’ve you gotten up to this time?”

“Just a being a showman”, Eddie shrugged.

“Steven Arthur Harrington! What are you wearing?”, his mother gasped.

Steve was at a loss of words. It had all seemed like a good idea in the beginning. Actually, it still did. He didn’t know why they were acting like he and Eddie really pulled a baby from his womb. It was just a joke.

“It was just a joke.”

“This”, Richard pointed to Steve’s stomach. “Doesn’t look like a joke. It looks like some upstart alpha has forgotten himself and is making your forget yourself.” Then he pointed to Eddie. “You better stop sniffing around my son-”

“And you better stop pointin’ your finger at my boy”, Wayne said.

“He needs to quit while he’s ahead before this becomes a real problem.”

Two alphas filling the room with tension and not even bothering to hide their scent about it made Steve’s shoulders hunch up a bit. How did a stupid joke turn into all of this? Then his mother spoke up.

“Our son has never done anything like this, which leads me to believe that your nephew-”

“Why does everyone assume it was all Eddie? That I had nothing to do with it?”, Steve accused, standing up. “I’m the one that put this thing on and I’m the one that got up on the desk and shot the sauce.”

“And that’s because of his bad influence”, Richard nodded his head at Eddie.

Wayne put his hands on his hips. “That’s funny because I see two young men here in the hot seat, not just one.”

“Alright, gentlemen”, the principal finally spoke up before looking to Eddie and Steve. “Boys, go and wait outside. As a matter of fact, you can take that back to the prop storage”, he jabbed a finger at Steve’s belly.

Thoroughly dismissed, they did just that, walking out together. Feeling a little humiliated, Steve took the fake stomach off. He could only imagine what they were discussing behind the door. His dad would probably fight tooth and nail, if not for Steve’s sake for his reputation at least. Unfortunately, it had to be said that he didn’t have such high hopes for Eddie.

“Well, that reception could’ve gone better”, Eddie said.

“Understatement of the century”, Steve grumbled.

They got to the theatre department and Steve put the stomach into a box after checking that it was all good. Eddie could smell the bitter undertone in his scent, even in the musty storage room.

“You know, worst case scenario, we need to do a little summer school to make this up.”

“Some of us like having a free summer, Munson.”

“Oh, Munson now is it? What happened to my sweet little mama-to-be?”

Not in the mood for jokes now, Steve just rolled his eyes and turned to walk out. Eddie didn’t need to get a whiff to know that his joke had landed flat. He followed Steve out, tripping over something feathery in his haste to catch up to the omega. He didn’t know what Steve was more turned off by, having to continue the project together, or having to call it quits here and do some other make up assignment.

“Hey, hey, I know I’m not like your idea of a perfect alpha or anything.”

Steve stopped in his tracks and turned to lean back against a locker, crossing his arms. “Come on, man. Give yourself a break. You’re not that bad.”

Eddie put a hand to his chest. “My word! That almost sounded like a compliment!”

“Keep it up and I’ll take it back”, Steve said, grinning a little now.

Feeling welcomed, Eddie came to stand next to him, their shoulders almost touching. Steve smelled a little sweeter now and his body wasn’t as tense.

“You really are hot and cold. Can’t you be a little warmer to your baby daddy?”, Eddie batted his lashes.

Steve leaned over and into his space. “A good alpha would put in some real effort to warm me up.”

Eddie hesitated for only a moment before he leaned in a little as well. Steve smoothed his cheek over Eddie’s and breathed in deep. No one had scented Eddie besides his uncle and he stood stock still as Steve did it.

“You smell really good, you know. I don’t think I’ve ever told you.” To be honest, Steve had never taken a moment to savor in Eddie’s scent. But now that he was taking his time to do so…

“Steven Arthur Harrington!”

Eddie jumped back like it was his own name being shouted down the hallways. So hard that the sound of the locker slamming echoed in the mostly empty hallway. Steve’s parents collected him and carted him out so quickly that Eddie got whiplash. Wayne came up to him much more calmly and patted his shoulder.

“Do I gotta to the full name treatment for you?”

“If you say my middle name out loud I’ll run away from home”, Eddie threatened.

“Son at your age, it’s just called ‘moving out’.”

Both walked out, shoulders shaking with chuckles and that was when Wayne told him what was what.

“We managed to get you both a deal. You can do the project as intended, new sack of flour and all. Just no more funny business.”

“That’s it?”, Eddie asked as he was walked to his van.

“No funny business at all. No causing trouble for yourself or that other boy. Think you can keep your hands clean for an entire year?”

The Harringtons had already left, probably sped out of the parking lot to keep from running into the Munsons again. But even so, it was easy to remember Steve’s fleeting smile and the scent that wafted off of him when he was feeling content or even happy.

“I think I can do that”, Eddie said, resolute.

Part 4 coming soon

Taglist

@marklee-blackmore @aol19

#apo writes #stranger things #steddie #omegaverse #a/b/o

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604to647 · 1 day

Text

Marine Attraction

4.3K / Detective Tim Rockford x fem!reader

Summary: When a stakeout at the aquarium does not go as planned, Detective Tim Rockford must interview all the aquarium visitors, including you.

Warnings: Fluff! Meet cute! Maybe a dirty thought or two that reader really should not be having about a (hot) man just trying to do his job 🤭 Made up Merge Mansion lore. One cute nickname because it’s me (won’t spoil).

A/N: This was written for @mermaidgirl30’s Ocean Challenge – thank you for hosting a lovely event. Please see #Jamie’s Ocean Challenge for all the wonderful works! I’ve noticed that as of late, some of the authors that I look up to and consider mainstays in this community since I started lurking 2+ years ago have wanted to leave, needed to take breaks from the fandom or felt disconnected from the community. This story is for you, about stepping away when you need to and maybe rediscovering how something old can still bring you joy. Xoxo, love you all.

Fishy dividers by @saradika-graphics 🥰

You’re not really sure how this happened.

You’ve been feeling a bit off, as of late. Nothing was wrong, per say - your job is fine, your friends are dear, your life leaves you grateful. It’s just that you feel… untethered. Like you should be doing something more? Work is fulfilling enough – you achieve and excel. Friends and family make for wonderful company, but your social battery isn’t infinite and as much as enjoy your get-togethers, they can leave you drained. Even some of your solitary pursuits, cooking, watching tv, scrolling through social media don’t seem to be as satisfying as they used to be – you consume, but you don’t create.

On a whim, you decide to take the day off work (the first in who knows how long?) and go somewhere you’ve always loved: the aquarium. You’ve been visiting this aquarium since you were a child – something about the gentle hum of the tanks and the darkness that’s illuminated only by the glow of the exhibits has always relaxed you. You’re going to go specifically to take photos. Photography used to be a casual hobby of yours; you were even featured on local news blogs and had your photos chosen for a gallery showing once – but as life got busier and your other endeavours required more of your time and energy, it had fallen by the wayside. It’s been forever since you took a photo walk or even a picture that wasn’t for capturing a moment rather than a snapshot. You’re actually getting excited about shooting photos again.

It had been a serene couple of hours spent watching your unhurried fish friends and the silent watery dances of the marine plants that shared their abodes. The aquarium is playing host to a few young families and two eager fieldtrips, but otherwise, you’ve had the place nearly to yourself. Able to loiter so you can try different lenses and play with the lighting of your shots, or wait as long as you want in order for a mixed rainbow hue of fish to swim into frame, the morning had passed quietly and contently.

But now you sit in the children’s play area, the last of today’s aquarium visitors, waiting for your turn to be questioned by the police.

---

Detective Tim Rockford is not really sure how this happened.

It had been a simple enough stakeout operation. He and his team had received a tip a few days ago that there would be a handoff taking place at the aquarium today: an exchange of money between one of Grandma Ursula’s henchmen and a mystery player whose identity has eluded Tim for the entirety of this case thus far. Perhaps it was unreasonable to expect Mr. Pie (so nicknamed by the squad for the Bolton Berry pies he consumed) to show up himself, but Tim held out hope that whomever they nabbed today would provide the break in the case that he so desperately needs.

Only, Grandma’s man had come and gone and none of the six men, Tim included, posted at the various vantage points and exits had seen a damn thing. At some point between spotting their target enter the aquarium with a briefcase in hand, they had lost track of him and picked up his movements again only when he was already leaving the gift shop, empty handed. How was it possible they couldn’t account for what happened in the aquarium? Did the meeting with Mr. Pie occur? Or was the briefcase stashed somewhere? Tim presses the heels of his palms to his eyes and grimaces – the operation had been an utter failure.

Not only did they not get what they came for, but now the remainder of the day was completely shot. What had followed once the police realized just how out of depth they were, was a complete shut down of the aquarium with all visitors locked in and needing to be interviewed before they could leave. Even the elementary school trips of thirty children. Each. After giving instruction to the additional LAPD support he called in to search the aquarium top to bottom for the missing case, Tim had settled in for a long afternoon of what he expected to be fruitless Q&As.

As he wearily enters the kids play area once again (an officer more considerate than he had suggested that given the number of children being held, it might be the best place to have everyone wait), Tim sees only one witness left to interview: you. He had noticed you earlier, each time he came in to select another interviewee, in fact – if your pretty features and sweet smile hadn’t caught his attention first, your everlasting patience and kindness would have. Several times, he spotted you playing patiently with the children – the sound of your melodic voice and gentle laughter floating above the grumblings of the other adults who had also had their days ruined. The sound eased the tense spot in his shoulders where his holster straps had started digging in a little bit. At first, Tim thought you might be one of the teachers or a field trip chaperone, but then he noticed that you let all the school trips and families with children go ahead of you, and he overheard you tell his fellow officer that you didn’t mind waiting, that it must be much harder for the children. He was grateful for you and he didn’t even know you.

As Tim approaches, you look up from your phone and shoot him the soft smile that’s been his one bright spot in this disaster of a day, though he thinks it seems a bit more tired than when he first had the pleasure of seeing it earlier this afternoon.

“Is it my turn?” you ask him, still in good spirits despite the circumstances.

“Sorry for the wait, miss.”

“No need to be sorry… Detective?”

“Detective Rockford. Tim Rockford. I appreciate that, it’s been… a day.”

You hold out your hand to shake his before repeating his name, then giving him your own. Tim can’t decide if he likes the way his name rolls off your tongue, or the way your own name floats above the cheer of your voice more.

“Well, hopefully I can help with… whatever has made it such a day,” you give him a sympathetic smile.

The kind of smile you might offer to him when he comes home after a long hard day. Damn. He’s in trouble. Focus, Rockford.

Since you’re his last witness of the day, he offers to conduct the interview right here instead of the stuffy office that the aquarium staff had lent him. As you acquiesce to his suggestion, you stretch out your arms and legs, arching your back to work out a bit of stiffness from having sat for so long and Tim finds himself admiring your figure in a way that is decidedly not going to help him solve this case. He tries to cover up his less than professional gaze by stretching himself – it feels good.

After collecting your information and starting with his routine questions, Tim realizes he’s pinning his hopes on you having seen or noticed something today – not only because no one else has, but so he can keep speaking with you.

When it becomes evident that you didn’t, he sighs a heavy sigh of disappointment.

He hadn’t realized that he’s done so until hears you apologize; quick to reassure you that that you don’t have anything to apologize for, Tim places his large warm hand over yours before he can stop himself. You gasp softly, you think only to yourself, but Tim hears the sweet noise and smirks a little – it’s nice to know he’s not the only one who’s been affected. When he notices that you don’t move your hand away, he lets himself revel in the feel of your soft, small hand under his for a beat longer before he removes it and somewhat begrudgingly starts to wrap up the interview.

---

Fuck. This fucking detective. Rockford. Tim Rockford.

Even his name is hot.

You had noticed him earlier, of course – how could you not? He was a hulking presence, impossibly broad and tall, and he carried himself with the authority and gravitas of a man in charge. During the earlier hours of your wait, you had been preoccupied with helping entertain some of the young children in the waiting area who were restless with boredom, not sure why their promised day of aquarium fun had to be ruined by something as trivial as a police matter.

But once you caught sight of Detective Rockford’s handsome profile, it became impossible to not be captivated by the deep richness of his brown eyes or that strong nose that centered his face perfectly. His grave countenance conveyed the seriousness with which he took his work (that facial scruff screamed he worked too much), but he was quietly calm and his tone gentle with all the witnesses, especially the children. You couldn’t help but hope it was him every time an officer entered the waiting area.

Some time between now and the last two times he had come in to call forth witnesses, the detective had lost his suit jacket, strolling in wearing only a gun holster and a white dress shirt that stretched taut over his firm chest and bulging arm muscles; you thought you were going to have to dunk yourself into one of the aquarium tanks to cool off just from the sight of him.

Your heart picks up a little when it’s him who appears when you’re the last one left to be interviewed; silently, you pray to Beyoncé to give you the strength needed to coherently answer the detective’s questions when he asks them in that honey laced baritone of his.

When Tim mirrors your big stretch, you hope you’re discrete enough that he doesn’t catch you staring: his limbs extend fantastically long, arm span wide enough to cast a shadow that reaches across the floor in front of you - he's huge. After hearing the detective inhale a deep breath, it feels to you as if all of the air has been sucked from the room, leaving you dizzy as you gawk at his hard chest, expanding and pushing up against his crisp dress shirt, held closed only by the strained efforts of a few valiant buttons.

You feel bad that you have to answer in the negative to Detective Rockford’s questions. Unfortunately, you hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary during your visit, too engrossed in your own photo taking, and you don’t remember seeing the man in the picture that he shows you. You can tell that Tim tries hard not to show his disappointment and wish very much that you could please him, be the one to wipe the weary look off his face and the release the tension from his hunched-up shoulders. Maybe please him in other ways, as well. You have a feeling that praise from one Detective Tim Rockford would have you dripping wet and clenching around nothing embarrassingly quick.

GIRL. GET IT TOGETHER. For all you know, a serious crime took place here today!

You apologize. Outwardly, for your inability to help him with his case, and inwardly, for the dirty thoughts that are wholly inappropriate to have about a complete stranger who is just, very competently, doing his job.

To try and put you at ease, Tim relaxes his handsome face and hopes to reassure you when he gently pats your hand; instead, a jolt of electricity shoots through you and you warm all over from his touch. Maybe it’s your imagination but Detective Rockford seemingly lets his bear paw of hand linger over yours for a bit longer than he needs to, and you think you spy his plush lips curve up slightly at the corners when you gasp. You might just melt off this bench right now.

“Oh, one last thing, did you take any pictures at the aquarium today?”

You nod, but are suddenly shy as you anticipate the Detective’s next question. Tim nods at you matter of fact, “Good. Could you please show me? I just need to look through them quickly to see if there’s anything in the background that might be useful.”

He holds his hand out, not really expecting any resistance - you’ve been nothing but perfectly cooperative so far. But when his hand remains empty, he looks over to find you adorably chewing your bottom lip while gripping your phone tightly with both hands, making no motion to hand it over. For one ridiculous moment he panics, Are you Mr. Pie?! He shakes his head slightly to rid himself of that ludicrous thought, and waits patiently for you to tell him what you’re remunerating on.

“It’s just that there are a lot of pictures..,” you start, “… and a lot of them are kind of duplicates…”

You know you’re being deliberately vague – sighing in resignation, you decide it’s best to just rip the band aid off. Unlocking your phone, you go to your camera roll and filter to today’s library before handing over your phone without meeting the detective’s gaze. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Tim scroll slowly through hundreds of photos of the aquarium’s exhibits; you attempt to avoid meeting his eye by focusing on how your phone looks inexplicably small in his big, rough hand.

“That’s… a lot,” Tim finally says when he reaches the bottom of the roll.

When you look up, you expect to see maybe a cringed look or even a mocking expression on the detective’s handsome face, but instead you find the massive man looking at you with a gentle curiosity, maybe even holding himself a little smaller in an attempt to not intimidate you. It doesn’t seem to matter that you don’t really know him, you suddenly feel comfortable enough to tell Detective Tim Rockford this very personal thing about yourself – he might look like he's perfectly cast as the 'bad cop' in interrogations, but you have a feeling he’s got just as good of a track record playing 'good cop'.

“An old hobby of mine was… I guess they call it iPhoneography? Using apps to mimic traditional camera captures? I used to love it, actually. Selecting the different lenses and choosing different exposures, then seeing how the images would developed – of course, with the phone, you wouldn’t have to take it in and wait for a week or anything, it would be processed digitally in a matter of seconds. But… editing apps are so common place nowadays, and most social media platforms have built in filters and effects - iPhoneography has sort of fallen out of favour,” you explain. Tim is nodding along - he doesn’t really know what you’re talking about, he has three apps on his phone that he uses regularly (Weather, Candy Crush, and the app from the City that reminds him when to put out his garbage bins); the rest of the apps on his phone were preinstalled and he can’t figure out how to delete them. But he encourages you to go on.

“In fact, I haven’t really gone out to shoot in years. But lately… I’ve sort of wanted to get back into it? I came to the aquarium today to fire up the old camera, so to speak. That’s why there’s so many – a lot of the pictures are just of the same frame but where I was trying out different lenses or exposure options. I’m not, like, super obsessed with fish or anything,” you finish up quickly, hoping you haven’t made a complete fool of yourself.

Tim hands you back your phone, still open to today’s photos, and smiles, “Why don’t you tell me about what you shot today?”

“Really?” you look up, surprised.

“Really,” Tim tries to convey his genuine interest via his eyes, and is instantly rewarded by a smile on your face that could light up the room. It’s certainly lighting him up.

And so, you tell Detective Tim Rockford all about the photos you took today. You swipe through your pictures and show him how the different lenses affect the lighting, exposure, saturation and even colour tinting of the resulting photo. You proudly tell him about how you had to switch up your technique and settings when shooting the tanks where the marine animals or plants thrived primarily in the dark or relied on bioluminescent light. You laugh, mainly at yourself, when you tell him about how long you stayed at certain attractions, waiting for a particular school of fish to swim perfectly into frame.

Tim thinks your laughter is the loveliest sound he’s ever heard.

You tell him your favourite sea creatures to photograph are the jelly fish because they’re so weird and they move with such alien grace, unpredictable yet seemingly purposeful, and that’s why there are more pictures of them than any other animal in your camera roll.

Tim finds himself enchanted watching you get more and more animated and excited as you go through the pictures you took today; while your eyes are peeled to your screen, he admires how they twinkle and the way your mouth slopes upwards, grinning wide even as you talk non-stop about your long-forgotten hobby. Your pretty face is aglow. He thinks he could listen to you talk about the things that bring you joy forever.

He lets you talk for an hour. You don’t even realize until you get to the last photo (a school of clown fish weaving between the tentacles of their anemone home) and glance up at the time at the top of the screen, “…oh my gosh! I’m so sorry!! I’ve prattled on for so long, I’m sure none of this was helpful at all!”

Tim won’t have any of that, “Don’t be sorry. You had fun. I’m glad you had some fun today… before I ruined it by sequestering you here in this waiting area for the entire afternoon.”

You shyly look at his apologetic face, “I’m having fun now.”

Tim can feel his ears warm and is sure they’re pink at the tips. Darn, you’re sweet. He distracts himself by flipping to a brand-new page in his notebook, “Me too.” You feel your heart expand at his soft confession.

“Now, I have some good news and some bad news.”

You look at him expectantly with an innocent, doe-eyed expression that Tim thinks might be one of the most dangerous things he’s ever encountered in all his years on the force, “The good news is that I think you’re a very, very good photographer. It’s clear you enjoy it and there isn’t a single photo you showed me today that isn’t obviously a labour of love. I think you should get back into it if you can. The way you were talking about your photos today, I don’t think I’ve seen that much joy on someone’s face in… I don’t know how long. I’m grateful you shared that with me.”

You’re speechless. His words are so, so kind… and exactly what you needed to hear today. You’re filled with tremendous gratitude and fondness for Detective Tim Rockford.

“… the bad news is, I spotted the reflection of our man in the shadows on the glass in some of your photos, and I’m so very sorry but I’m going to have to confiscate your phone,” Tim could not be more truly sorry.

After the initial shock of being told you’re losing your phone for a few days, you quickly recover and tell Tim that you’re genuinely glad you could help. You give him your email and use your phone to send off a message to a few of your group chats regarding how you can be reached for the next few days before dropping your phone into the evidence bag Tim produces. Under different circumstances, you might be upset at this turn of events, but the expression on Detective Tim Rockford's face is more than enough to make the minor inconvenience worth it – he looks invigorated, energized. Clearly, this is what he loves doing.

Walking you to the aquarium exit, Tim apologizes and thanks you again before seeing you out. Right before the door closes behind you, you turn and see him already rushing off to brief his team, your plastic covered phone clutched in his hand and an excited grin on his face. After the kindness and patience the detective has shown you today, you’re glad to have played a small role in putting that smile on his face.

True to his word, you receive an email from [email protected] just a few days later, letting you know your phone is ready for pick-up. When Detective Rockford meets you in the precinct lobby, you have to suck in your breath – he’s even more handsome than you remember, and you’ve been spending nearly every waking minute over the past few days picturing his strong jawline, soulful eyes, and that charming facial scruff you’d give anything to run your fingers through. He’s jacketless again, just another pressed white dress shirt that his broad frame threatens to rip through, bordered by those leather holsters that make you want to swallow your tongue.

As Tim takes you to Evidence so you can sign out your phone, he tries to chat amiably and not cast too many obvious and admiring glances your way; you’re all warmth and serenity in this place that he only ever associates with being loud, bustling and cold. He simultaneously never wants you to leave and wishes to sweep you far away and keep you only for himself, distanced safely from this place where his every day is synonymous with darkness and mystery.

When you’re once again outside, Tim leans against the frame of the precinct’s front doors and you look up at him from one step down, hopeful, “Did I help?”

Yes. You help more than you know, Tim thinks, having been unable to get your incandescent smile out of his mind since he last parted from you; finding that it’s become the image that grounds him during his long grueling hours. Instead, he says, “I’ve got good news and bad news.”

“Oh no – not this again,” you grin.

Tim smiles back, emboldened by your cheery demeanor, “The good news is that a lot of your photos and what the tech guys called… um.. meta data? A lot of it helped generate some good leads that we’re now following.”

“Oh! That’s wonderful! I’m so glad, Detective Rockford!”

“Tim. Please call me, Tim.”

“I don’t know, I kind of like calling you Detective,” you tease, good naturedly.

Tim should not feel his pants tighten at this, “The bad news is, because your photos had so much useful information, there is a very good chance they will be used as evidence if this case ever goes to trial. I don’t think you will need to testify, as you yourself didn’t see anything, and that meta data gives us the info on when and where the photos were taken. But even so… it means I can’t ask you out until the case is over.”

“Oh no,” you’re disappointed, but somewhat mollified that Tim has just basically asked you out without asking you out. “That is bad news indeed.”

Tim looks around to make sure no one is looking before he reaches out with his hand and gently strokes your cheek with the back of two of his thick fingers just once, whispering, “I’ve never wanted to put a case to bed more.”

You can’t let the joke pass you by, “The case? The case is what you want to put to bed?”

The booming laugh that shakes Detective Tim Rockford’s entire torso reaches all the way to his eyes, crinkling them in the most adorable way. It’s staggering the difference it makes – he looks 10 years younger, you think.

He’s needed this. A really good laugh. He’s needed it more than he realized. He’s needed you. He looks at your impish grin, so proud of yourself for pulling this sound from him, a sound so rare that it’s become almost foreign to his own ears; Tim hopes he’s able to convey his gratitude for you with the way his eyes have brightened, flecked with gold and mirth.

He thinks you just might understand him perfectly.

When you lift up on your toes to brush your lips softly against his scruffy cheek for a goodbye kiss, he whispers low in your ear, “I’ll call you, Shutterbug.”

A promise.

7 months later

The Grandma Ursula case has taken the nation by storm. The TV in your workplace breakroom is permanently dialed to the court case broadcast so no one misses a minute of the scandalous proceedings, a single interview with those involved in the case, or any legal and criminal analysts’ commentary. For someone who is billed as the Lead Investigator, Tim makes shockingly few appearances onscreen, but you feel a little thrill go through you whenever you catch a glimpse of his striking figure in the background of a news broadcast about the case, or when you see him standing stoically behind the head prosecutor while the latter debriefs the press from the steps of the court house.

You gaze dreamily at his face while the press shouts out what everyone (your friends, colleagues, the public) all want to know:

How many aliases does Grandma Ursula really have?

Can we even call it the Bolton Mansion anymore?

Why that particular number of pies?

You’ll be honest, you’re just as interested in the case as everyone else, but you have one pressing question that you know no one else is asking: Will he call when it’s over?

You’re in a departmental meeting when the verdict is read. It takes you forever to get back to your desk, caught up in everyone’s excited chatter about the ruling, but when you finally sit down and pull out your phone from your drawer, it’s to the best outcome you could have hoped for from the Grandma Ursula case. Positively beaming, you reread the text message sent from an unknown number only two minutes after the verdict was announced: Hey Shutterbug, take any good photos lately?

End note: The iPhoneography aspect of this fic is a bit self indulgent; some might know that this Tumblr used to be a photo blog before it became my writing blog. Just like reader, it's something I used to enjoy a lot but I haven't opened those camera apps in years - maybe I'll get back into it one day! In the meantime, yes - the aquarium photos in the moodboard are by yours truly 🤭

#Jamie's Ocean Challenge #Tim Rockford #Tim Rockford fic #Tim Rockford fanfiction #Tim Rockford x reader #Tim Rockford x you #tim rockford x f!reader #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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shojimezolovemail · 3 days

Note

Hi! could i request nobara and maki headcanons x reader who is gojos sibling but doesnt act like it, like usually shy and collected

Thanks in advance :D

A/N: hiiii tysm for your request! sorry it took me a few days to get this up :( i wasn’t 100% sure if you wanted reader to be romantically involved with maki & nobara so i left it these more platonic! feel free to request agian if you’d prefer more romantic side of these :3

request status: open!

✰ maki ✰

- because she already knew gojo as a teacher, she was surprised to see how different you two were

- in fact, she thought it was some elaborate prank because you were so quiet and withdrawn

- she wasn’t necessarily rude to you but she was very…suspicious

- it took panda rationalizing with her for maki to really come around to you

- you didn’t make a big deal out of her reactions though, understanding the confusion and disbelief because you and gojo were very different

- maki made more of an effort to include you with the rest of the class though, even if she could tell you weren’t super into hangouts

- that only drew her in more to you though

- she liked the idea of someone more introverted to be around, especially as you weren’t overly loud like your brother

- the rare times mai would be on the school grounds, maki was on guard on your behalf even if you are perfectly capable of defending yourself (physically or otherwise)

- despite her temper at times, she did her best to be patient with you as you’d slowly come out of your shell

✰ nobara ✰

- nobara outright screamed at the reveal of you and gojo being related

- she’s looking between itadori and megumi to see if they’re as surprised as her

- megumi wasn’t bc he already knew but itadori looked like this —> ‘:0’

- she can’t help but ask you bunches of questions

- she’s also someone who can have a bit of a temper but she similarly will be patient with you (especially after essentially interrogating you)

- nobara does not really see you as an extension of your brother, more like an opportunity for new lessons (you’ve got to have some wisdom if you’re related to gojo yk)

- offers to hang out with you outside of trainings and missions, very excited when you finally agree to hang out with her!

- if you’re on the shy side where you don’t talk much or take a while to open up, no need to stop worrying because nobara can do a good amount of talking for the two of you

- when you get to know her better, you can see how much she really just wants a bond with you

#jjk x reader #jjk #nobara kugisaki #maki zenin #nobara x reader #maki x reader

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batsplat · 1 day

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hello!! i hope you're having an amazing day 🥹💗 do you have any vale's races masterpost?? thank you so much in advance!!

*takes deep breath* *cracks knuckles* *cracks knuckles again for good measure* *rolls up sleeves* *cracks knuckles one more time* yes of course anon. no problem. let's do this

going to forgo any extended intro as this post will be long enough as it is - though it wasn't always easy to both represent the scope of valentino's career and make picks based on actual race quality. there will be a skew towards the early years of his time in the premier class and there are a few obvious fallow spells, but I hope I've adequately done justice to most of his very, very long career... and used the asterisk system to do my quality control for me

speaking of - another rec post, another escalation of the asterisk system (luckily, we have reached the final boss of motogp and it is impossible to escalate beyond this - here are the casey and marc/dovi lists). * means check it out, ** personal fave, *** classic, **** if you watch nothing else please watch these

I also need to mention mat oxley's 'valentino rossi: all his races', which is an excellent reference book that I consulted a fair bit when compiling this list. it's especially invaluable in making sense of the early years - where the archives unfortunately are sorely lacking and I'm grateful for every bit of additional context I can get. about those early years, a little bit of housekeeping with the codes I'll use to indicate in which form these races are available:

ITA: only italian commentary, which means I've found them on youtube. this is relevant only for the very early races. there's upsettingly few of his 125cc and especially 250cc races available even when you include these (though I haven't included all the ones that are available)

HL: only highlights, which is specifically about some of the 2000-01 races. there's only three full races of valentino's first premier class title available in their entirety on the motogp website, which is unfortunate (technically four including valencia, but who would want to watch that). now, the highlights they provide for all the other races aren't actually bad - they're around twenty minutes long for the race themselves so you will see most of the exciting action and the overtakes and all that (though it does raise the question of 'why don't you just upload the full races')

NC: no commentary, and is mainly an issue for the 2002 races that are all uploaded in their entirety but... well, only a few with commentary. obviously not ideal especially with older races. my recommendation would be watching the very short highlights (aka 2-3 minutes of actual race footage with commentary) available on the website for each of the 2002 races - either after or even before watching the race - to just give yourself a better sense of what you're watching

as ever, the descriptions will frequently provide spoilers for the result. my spoiler-free top ten recommendations are: donington park 2000 suzuka 2001 phillip island 2001 brno 2003 phillip island 2003 welkom 2004 donington park 2005 laguna seca 2008 catalunya 2009 assen 2015

and here, ten more spoiler-free recs because it really is a bloody long career: sachsenring 2003 mugello 2004 phillip island 2004 jerez 2005 sachsenring 2006 sepang 2006 catalunya 2007 motegi 2010 argentina 2015 assen 2017

**brno 1996: I find it very charming when riders have early career races that tell you everything you need to know about them. this is valentino's first grand prix win, achieved from his first pole position. he has an awful start, ends up way down the order, fights his way through, is eventually caught by this 34 year old former world champion who he does not like, fights him for a bit, stalks him and lets him draw them away from the pack in what the commentators consider remarkable confidence and poise from a seventeen year old, loses touch enough with the race leader that it looks like he's surely lost the race before pulling out a crazy last lap with some hard racing™ to overtake that other bloke. after he crosses the finish line he's so excited he almost rides into the wall. deeply excessive celebratory fist pumping that just goes on and on and on. angelic smile on the podium as the bloke he's beaten looks rather peeved - and apparently complained about valentino's riding afterwards. what more is there to say, really

^driving his elders to drink. here's a video where valentino is talking about the race: "and from there a fight to the death came out because we didn't get along very well. we weren't very nice to each other because we were bothering each other throughout the championship". like I said, tells you everything you need to know about him. just watch this one and call it a day

nurbuergring 1997 (ITA): an early strong wet weather performance, at a time when he was still a bit of a wimp about the whole riding in the rain thing. granted, he was a little lucky when the runaway race leader had a mechanical dnf, but he got into a nice little scrap with a few other riders to claim his fourth consecutive victory

rio 1997 (ITA): the thing about 125cc/moto3 races is you kinda know what you're getting, and more often than not what you're getting is a fun time watching them go at it. valentino's first, he's third, he's first again, they're having it out... and then on the final lap, he's taking advantage of the backmarkers to secure the victory. which is so sneaky and so valentino that it obviously deserves to be mentioned here. incidentally, his last ever win at assen 2017 had a controversial involvement of a backmarker on the last lap, which is a nice little full circle moment twenty years later

brno 1997: in many ways, this was a more impressive ride from his title rival ueda, who came back from thirteenth on the grid to take the win. which meant that valentino had to finish on the podium to claim his 125cc title at the same venue where he won his first race... and he just about managed it, with the entire leading group of riders headed into the final corner together

there are race highlights in the 5-10 minute range from his 250cc race years which... well. since they're not anywhere close to full races and this is a race recs list, I can't exactly give them their own bullet points, but I'll just rattle through a few highlight videos here I enjoyed from 1998: jerez (features a nifty overtake with four blokes entering one corner together, also harada fucked with valentino despite being a lap down to help capirossi win?? anyway vale's first 250cc podium, to which harada showed up to clap for capirossi specifically???); mugello (featuring his controversial beachwear celebration); paul ricard (see below); catalunya (he spent a lot of that year crashing but towards the end of the season finally figured it out - works his way back from thirteenth place to win), argentina (controversial title decider claxon; valentino found the whole thing so "hilarious" he was giggling when the drama was going off in the garage. he also referenced the jerez incident in his post-race interview, because of course he did)

^the three protagonists of the 1998 250cc season: valentino, harada and capirossi, all part of the same nightmarish aprilia 'super team'. everything I've read about that season makes me want to break into dorna hq and get my hands on the full race footage. both images are from the paul ricard race, in which valentino was trying to figure out how to stop harada from continuously outsmarting him. they kept slowing down the pace further and further, with harada running his bike comically wide to let valentino through and valentino doing a massive wheelie down the straight (image on the right) to force harada to go back past - but harada still eventually managed to best him on the final lap. valentino was heavily criticised in the press for wanting to 'humiliate' capirossi by letting capirossi catch up to the pair, but really he was just getting creative in his tactics. I may not have been able to 'watch' this season but I love it dearly

donington park 1999 (ITA): the ONE 250cc race I've been able to watch in its entirety. it was stopped and restarted due to the weather and the final outcome was decided on aggregate time across the two races (yeah, this does feel weird but they used to do that). a close fight especially in the first part. not too wet, presumably, given his 250cc performances in the soaking wet were often. hm. not great

1999 highlights I enjoyed: catalunya (was riding with a suspension glitch but kept his main title rival ukawa behind him anyway); sachsenring (won an intense battle with capirossi, admittedly you do not see much of him in the highlights); brno (another intense fight, this time mainly with an older rider in waldmann after they both worked their way through the field); phillip island (worked his way to the win from seventh on the grid and one of those phillip island races)

jerez 2000 (HL): valentino's initiation to the premier class wasn't... the most dignified thing you'll ever see... two dnf's in the first two races by which point he was so bloody terrified of the bike he was just very slow in the third. in his defence, those 500cc bikes were pretty scary, but also it was time to get his act together. which he did in jerez! this was another one of those weird ones where the rain interrupted the race and then the whole thing was decided on aggregate time, but a good ride to bag his first premier class podium

**donington park 2000: maybe it was the bikes, maybe it was experience, maybe it was a mindset thing, but eventually he would get over his moral objections to 'getting wet' and develop into an excellent wet weather racer in the premier class. this was his first premier class win - and a pretty neat way to seal it too. had an awful start, took a while to figure out the grip conditions, and then he was off. the second half of the race involved a fun fight between valentino and both roberts jr and mcwilliams for the victory

^almost gave the commentators a heart attack by running a defensive line through the final corner that took him completely off the dry racing line

rio 2000 (NC/HL - as in, both are available): valentino's second win of the year and his first in the dry, the race after his late charge to a rookie title was scuppered by a crash in valencia. he made some adjustments to his riding style after the valencia fiasco and really started to get to grips with the 500cc, which would stand him in good stead the following year. as is traditional, he makes a truly horrendous start, dropping back from the front row to find himself briefly outside of the top ten. from there, he gets to work. it's confident stuff, getting himself to the lead by about half distance and pulling away from there

**suzuka 2001: the first race of 2001 and a clear statement of intent. as ever, valentino had to work his way through the field... which took him right into the path of max biaggi, a man who had already been his enemy before they started actually racing each other. now, it has to be said, biaggi is a dick here! quite literally elbows valentino while running him off-track and could easily have caused vale to crash (as valentino said afterwards, "I had to learn how to ride motocross-style at 140 mph"), he continues using various body parts rather creatively in defending his position. when valentino finally gets past, he sticks out his middle finger. set the tone for that season rather nicely

jerez 2001: this is the cool-headed, calculating valentino who would prove such a formidable foe over the years. having already won the first two races of the season, he's high on confidence as he engages in a duel with the man who had so captured his imagination as a teenager: norifumi abe. valentino takes his time - but when he finally makes the decisive pass, he pulls clear so easily it feels like valentino may have just been toying with his hero all along

^valentino and norick, the inspiration for 'rossifumi'. in 2008, valentino paid tribute to the other man a year after his passing: "norick for me was a hero. I grew up watching the suzuka 500 race in 1994 with the great battle he had together with schwantz and doohan. last year was a shit year for me when I heard of the death of norick and colin mcrae, for me it was not a great year. I think it is possible to dedicate this championship to norick”

catalunya 2001 (HL): I don't care if there's only highlights - I am not leaving out a race that sparked a fist fight. honestly if I were biaggi I'd be pissed about this race too. valentino was twelfth at the end of the first lap and ended up winning... painful, truly. a really good scrap, plenty of fun to watch as valentino always is at catalunya, and obviously you've also got to watch the presser clips with the knowledge they were throwing hands a few minutes earlier

assen 2001 (HL): this one was low-key kinda stolen from valentino. it's good fun - y'know, one of those assen battles, valentino's doing the stalking and lurking thing and it starts raining and valentino takes the lead and... whoops! time to call off the race due to the rain so let's take the results from the previous lap! biaggi win! imagine getting into a fist fight with someone and losing the very next race to them on a technicality. oof

^post-fist fight handshake to show how it's all fine. they're totally fine. completely fine. no problems here

*donington park 2001 (HL): I'm gonna be so real, if I'm on pole and my title rival starts eleventh and he ends up beating me to the win by 1.8s, I think I just call it a day after that one. valentino had a bad crash during practise where he was lucky to not really hurt himself and then obviously had a pretty terrible qualifying, so a great opportunity for biaggi to claw back some points. worst bit is, vale didn't even make a good start - he was still in eleventh place halfway through the first lap. good fun to watch him pick his way through the field, and in his autobiography he ranks this race near the very top in terms of ones that gave him the most "satisfaction"

****phillip island 2001: look, if you've seen one of those classic multi-rider dogfights at phillip island, then, here, I've got a version of that for you from 2001. it's just so much fun to watch, with so many different riders and rider constellations and run orders at various parts of the race, riders looking like they'll break away and getting caught again etc etc etc. and it is also a match point race for valentino - a relatively comfortable one given his formidable championship lead. he didn't need to win the race to take the title, but would you want to see your greatest enemy take the spoils on your big day? in the most dramatic fashion possible, valentino ends up right behind biaggi on the very last lap and makes a daring overtake for the victory. hard to beat that as a way of sealing your first premier class title

*suzuka 2002: you know how I said in the marc rec post that I found it tricky to pick out a few for 2014 because a lot of the races were good without being all timers? this is valentino's equivalent season - he's winning, life is great-ish, tricky to differentiate, and if you enjoy any of these races you'll probably enjoy them all. mostly I'm just going to include the ones with commentary available, even though I'm too stubborn to let dorna completely make my choices for me here. anyway, this one is available with commentary and it's a good watch... valentino hadn't had the easiest weekend to start off his title defence, crashed badly twice, bloodied his hands, all that. he had a sluggish start in the wet conditions and worked his way up the field, before sitting on the rear tyre of the japanese wildcard akira ryo for a while - who knew the track well and knew where all the puddles were. a smart and composed win and feels very typical of his wet weather performances over the years

jerez 2002 (NC): in my head, this is the sister race to le mans 2014. valentino is pushed down quite a few spots to ninth early on (kenny roberts jr just. shoves him aside and does the thing where he gestures back to apologise, but that doesn't really help valentino when half a dozen bikes have passed him) and then he gets down to business. that whole season really does have that 2014 vibe of 'right this is fun but also feels a little too easy' - but hey, the way valentino picks his way through the field is satisfying to watch. and valentino did always like to play with his food, so he sits behind barros for a fair bit before doing the inevitable

*assen 2002: so, the thing about 2002 is that it was the first year of the rebrand to motogp and the introduction of the four-stroke bikes... but you still had two-stroke bikes on the grid, which tended to be tragically outgunned. the circuits where they were competitive tended to be the ones where they could take advantage of how 'nimble' the old bikes were, with more corners and fewer straights - and honestly, if you go on a race-by-race level you could make the case that on-track barros on his two-stroke machine (for most of the year) was valentino's most important rival that season. this is a head-to-head duel with barros that nicely showcases the respective strengths and weaknesses of two such different bikes and riders riding them, and barros manages to mount a stern challenge to valentino for most of the race

*sachsenring 2002: I do find it a little funny that this is one of the ones with commentary they've provided, because there's a bit of an anti-climax close to the end and I'm not sure valentino should have won that race. anyway, similarly to assen, this is another week where the two-strokes can put up a proper fight, and it's an engaging scrap that involves a lot of riders and quite a few nice little shifts in momentum. like above, another interesting study in how the different bikes compare in direct combat

phillip island 2002 (NC): always fun when someone builds up a bit of a gap on valentino. as was so often the case that year, it was barros (now on a four-stroke) who served as valentino's closest challenger, and valentino took his time hunting him down. from there, it's familiar material from the rossi playbook, stalking and studying before making his move - but barros sticks very very close to valentino until he makes an error on the last lap

^is it a bird is it a plane etc etc... don't think this was supposed to mean anything, just being silly

okay we're now headed into the 2003-05 stretch and I should mention that most of the races in that era will also have been featured in this post, which might also be useful to put them into context

*le mans 2003: valentino tries to make a break for it, but the rain denies him. he raises his hand to get the race called off (you could do this as the race leader back in the day, or I suppose also not do that if you wanted to be an asshole)... and immediately almost falls off his bike so. uh. probably a good idea to get it called off. when the race resumes, it's a three-way tussle between valentino, barros, and new challenger sete gibernau, even if at times it's less tussling and more wobbling. in the last couple of laps, it's down to sete and valentino to have it out in the treacherous conditions - and the last lap is proper dramatic. sete had already gotten one over valentino in welkom... but this defeat, coming after valentino had led the race, must surely have stung even more

*catalunya 2003: I feel a little mean making my first three 2003 picks races valentino all lost in quite painful fashion, but, hey, it's character building and really set up his whole arc for the next season-and-a-half. this one is... well. it's both embarrassing and kinda neat from vale. most of this race consists of a duel with capirossi - and when valentino hits the front, you do think that's going to be it. capirossi keeps close, however, and valentino eventually makes an error, running wide to let him through. shortly afterwards, he makes even a worse mistake and runs off into the gravel. once he's fucked up it's a pretty fun performance, where he starts posting pleasingly insane lap times to recover from sixth back to second

***sachsenring 2003: this race will always be remembered for valentino's penultimate corner overtake followed by his last corner mistake that resulted in sete's unlikely victory, but the race before that is good fun too! valentino looks like he'll make a break for it, and obviously miserably fails in his attempt - this time he's the one to be slowly, slowly, slowly caught by a persistent rival who eventually manages to get the better of him again. after this race, valentino vowed he wouldn't be taking any more prisoners. he didn't

****brno 2003: after a horrifying four race losing streak and the humiliation of sachsenring, valentino came back from the summer break with new determination and hunger and a mission to not let anyone get in his way any more. he does not have an easy time of it at brno, with a classic multi-rider dogfight that features regular and dramatic shake-ups of the riders' fortunes. the finish is incredibly close, and vale could have easily been denied the opportunity to pull out his elaborate victory celebrations: dressing up as a convict to symbolise how he felt imprisoned by his own success. here is a more in-depth post about the race

****phillip island 2003: this starts off in classic phillip island fashion, with a bunch of riders having it out in the early laps. then, valentino takes the lead and makes a break for it, and it looks like the excitement of the rest of the race will be all about the fierce fight for the remaining podium positions... except there's a twist. valentino overtook another rider under yellow flag conditions - and unlike donington that year where he was retroactively slapped with a ten second penalty that denied him the win, this time he is informed of the penalty during the race. this race is about as exhilarating as it is possible for a race to get when you're watching someone riding alone in the front - and you'll be provided with some added spice with the scrap for the last podium place. in the end, valentino crosses the finishing line with an obscene margin of over fifteen seconds

^think I already posted these notes somewhere but I can't NOT mention the commentary for this race. bottom of this post I included the autobiography excerpt about how valentino channelled his fury to win this race - very revealing!

****welkom 2004: still perhaps valentino's favourite victory of them all, and with good reason. his first race with yamaha and one that the entire paddock thought he didn't have a hope of winning... until they hit the track that weekend. valentino led every single session and qualified on pole: he said the pole position felt as good as ten with honda. better yet was still to come, with valentino claiming a victory following a thrilling duel against his old foe biaggi that raged on until the very last lap. such was the pace that third-placed sete was seven seconds down on the top pair at the chequered flag

^valentino stopped at the side of the track after his win, kissing his bike and sitting down for a moment to soak in the moment. he says he was laughing into his helmet: "'and so in the end I was right!' I thought to myself. 'I can't believe it, I screwed them all... what a show!'"

****mugello 2004: this race has so much going on, and all of it is highly enjoyable. valentino might have won the last two races at mugello - but off the back of two fourth places and with mugello's famously terrifying long straight, it felt like surely the more powerful hondas would have the decisive edge. and this one is a hard fight for valentino. it's a hard fight with several riders, it's a hard fight with sete and, following an interruption due to the rain, it's a hard fight in mixed conditions where valentino initially drops back to seventh to figure out the grip levels - before speeding off to the win. all the best types of races rolled into one

***catalunya 2004: right after mugello, it's time to visit sete's home - and here valentino kicks off a bit of a tradition of memorable one-on-one catalunya duels... as well as a habit of beating spaniards at the track. it's hard fought, it's challenging, but again valentino emerges on top

***assen 2004: the third consecutive race that featured an extended duel with sete. initially involving barros too - but he crashes, and it's down to the familiar protagonists. this really works as the last episode of that mini-trilogy because you can tell how badly sete felt he needed to reassert himself in that title fight, and conversely how little interest valentino had in letting him do so. involves a hard last lap overtake that resulted in contact. sete was not best pleased, but valentino had secured the win and the championship lead

^left: catalunya, where valentino dons the doctor's garb to perform a series of 'medical checks' on his yamaha, feat. stethoscope and thermometer, before declaring it fit for duty. right: assen, where yamaha staff dress up as doctors to pay tribute to him

qatar 2004: a good old-fashioned hubris ride. valentino was slapped with a back-of-the-grid penalty for some midnight grid cleaning shenanigans and is furious about this. he gets quite possibly the best start of his career and is eighth after a few corners, continues charging and barging his way through the field... before crashing and mashing up his finger and reopening that year's championship fight. the race does get a little dull after valentino does his thing - here are the ten most relevant minutes of footage as well as some more details about the penalty and the race. the weekend that irrevocably damaged his relationship with sete

***phillip island 2004: an underrated spite ride. if you're in the penultimate race of the season and you know a second place is enough to clinch the title and you're over a second behind your title rival and you historically suck at the circuit where title deciders are held, the sensible thing to do is just ride home in second place when it becomes clear the third-placed guy is not catching up. obviously, valentino does not do this, not least because he is determined to stop sete from ever winning a race again. this goes down to the very last lap and it is either a very cool or a very dumb way to seal a title, depending on how you look at it

****jerez 2005: both protagonists make very little secret from the start of the race of just how much they want to beat each other: this is war. and it's a war in which sete has the upper hand for most of the way through (as much as you can really feel you have the 'upper hand' with valentino sitting on your rear tyre) - until valentino makes his move with three laps to go. it takes an error from valentino on the last lap to set up the dramatic and controversial finale, with the infamous valentino block pass that sent his bike careening into sete's. the actions of a man who had decided neither of them finishing the race was a more acceptable outcome than his enemy taking the win, and the relationship between the two riders manages to improbably deteriorate still further

^satisfied with a good day's work as the furious spaniards jeer. if anyone had any lingering doubts about valentino's trademark ruthlessness, they were dispelled that day

**mugello 2005: another year, another thrilling mugello battle. it's looking increasingly clear that this will be a one-rider title fight, but luckily that isn't impacting the race quality (think marc's 2019, where he was incidentally the same age as valentino is here). similarly to the year before, there's cause for concern whenever you're fighting more powerful bikes at mugello, but after a dramatic multi-rider fight valentino is not to be denied

**catalunya 2005: back on sete soil and oh god how much he would have loved to win this race. it's the tension and hatred and desperation that makes these races so exciting to watch - though sete is hardly helped out in his mission of revenge by teammate marco melandri who keeps sabotaging sete's attempts to defy valentino's curse. but melandri has whatever the opposite of main character energy is and the race ends up being another valentino/sete duel. some excellent riding by the pair of them, valentino is particularly fearsome on the brakes that day, and sete has truly taken his gloves off when fighting valentino. but of course, valentino denies sete once again and makes a break for it shortly before the end

****donington park 2005: the defining wet weather ride of valentino's career - even though it got off to a shaky start (literally) and continued to be pretty shaky most of the way. this race was held in truly appalling conditions that they probably would not race in these days, and it's reflected in the number of dnf's - one of which was courtesy of poor sete gibernau once again crashing out of the lead. for most of the way, valentino is wobbling his way into the lead and wobbling his way out of it again... but after some big scares and some time spent nicely sheltering behind other riders, he finally figures out the grip conditions - and he's off. it's one of those rides that is just demoralising for everyone else in how good it is, with valentino pulling insultingly far clear from the other riders with insulting ease

^valentino plays a violin after crossing the finish line. teammate edwards: "I looked at his data and it was scary. he was locking the front in the rain on a shitty track that was slicker than snot, at every corner. this guy's crazy!" not pictured - valentino hugging himself and shivering while parking the bike... and being provided with an anorak and gloves that he only very, very, very reluctantly relinquishes when stepping onto the podium

*le mans 2005: you realise fairly quickly that this one's building to something juicy. colin edwards, valentino's teammate, takes the lead and heads out on his own, as valentino sets off after him - eventually slotting into his favourite position sitting right on the leader's rear tyre. except, he can't afford to hang around - because sete is going faster than both of them and is rapidly catching up. this one really gets going when the inevitable happens and the three of them collide on track, and of course we end up with another sete/valentino duel. cruelly, it's another one where the winner is still not entirely decided when they enter the very final lap... but the curse will not be denied. valentino breaks the circuit record on the last lap

*sachsenring 2005: the problem with watching these races is that even if you would prefer not to know the result going in... well, every single time the race comes down to a duel between sete and valentino post-qatar 2004, however strong sete looks, however confident, however near he is to the victory... you know he's obviously not going to make it. my advice is to really lean into it - the joy/horror of it all is in discovering how it's going to go wrong this time. this race features another lovely duel between valentino and sete, at a track that suits the honda far better than it does the yamaha. valentino leads early on before sete manages to catch up and overtake him. two laps to go and sete is still in the lead as valentino stalks him around... you know how this story goes

*brno 2005: ah, the misery. listen, if you enjoyed the previous sete/valentino duels I listed, then you're going to enjoy this one too. it's the race immediately following sachsenring and it feels like basically they just continued the last one, and boy are they going at it from the very start. sete determinedly sticks with valentino and surely one of these has to go his way... includes a particularly cruel twist on the final lap

qatar 2005: one year on from the race in which valentino put his curse on sete, and it feels like this might be sete's best chance for the remainder of the season to free himself. he gets perilously close to making a break for it ahead of the battling melandri and valentino... but of course, he can never run far enough. another painful defeat (if one caused by melandri more than valentino) and eventually valentino claims victory at the circuit that had caused him such trouble the year before

qatar 2006: valentino's 2006 season got off to a tricky start when toni elias rode into him in the very first corner of the opening race, and his luck didn't get much better from there. still, the year featured plenty of excellent valentino rides - including the second race of the season, where he fought his way through from sixth on the grid. features his first tussle with the rookie pole sitter, one casey stoner, who defends sternly against his future rival. eventually, valentino faces off against nicky hayden in a decent extended scrap that went on for much of the race

***mugello 2006: boy, did valentino get himself involved in some banger races at this circuit during his time. sete tries to escape at the front, and even in a tough year like 2006 valentino will not allow that man a moment's rest. a duel between sete and valentino ensues (featuring melandri and casey), then valentino suddenly drops down to fifth, then the race turns into a three-way encounter between capirossi, hayden, and... still valentino. he emerges from the feisty fray with a much-needed win

***sachsenring 2006: you could copy paste 'much-needed win' any time valentino won this year, and sachsenring is no exception. not traditionally his strongest track, valentino's urgency produced one hell of a race ripe with tension throughout. the yamaha's struggles made for a difficult qualifying and he fought his way through from eleventh on the grid. even when he caught the leaders and passed them, he couldn't just clear off like in times past, dragging three dogged riders along with him - but he just about managed to hold them off for the win

****sepang 2006: one of the best valentino duels, this time featuring one of his oldest rivals in the form of loris capirossi. part of his remarkable late season charge that brought him within kissing distance of the title. the entire race is enjoyable but the final lap is one for the ages, with valentino vicious in both attack and defence

^no hard feelings: capirossi hugs valentino while vale is still on the bike. 2006 is a rare title fight in which valentino genuinely liked most of his major rivals. vale was exhausted after the battle in the gruelling sepang conditions and had a little sit down after hugging his team

phillip island 2006: the first bike swap race and quite frankly the whole thing is a mess. a lot happens and it's classic late season chaos where the championship standings and implications are chopping and changing by the lap. when the dust settles, valentino has snagged third place on the last lap off poor sete gibernau and chips away a little more at hayden's championship lead

***estoril 2006: sure, valentino lost the 2006 title when he crashed at valencia, but he also lost it by .002s in estoril. this race featured a dramatic twist in the title fight when rookie dani pedrosa wiped out his teammate hayden, and suddenly valentino had to consider just how much risk he was willing to take. he had mostly decided to play it safe - but then couldn't help himself and ended up attacking toni elias on the very last lap. if he had managed to bag the extra five points, then even with the valencia crash he would have won the title on countback

valencia 2006: everyone thought valentino would be winning the title again headed into the weekend, and they became even more certain of it when valentino qualified on pole. but in the end, it was not to be. valentino got a poor start and felt something was wrong with the bike (or maybe it was the tyres, if one casey stoner is to be believed), but admits the mistake that left him on the ground was his own. a bitter pill to swallow after a season plagued by misfortunes, though valentino had always gotten on well with title winner nicky hayden and was sincere in his congratulations

****catalunya 2007: from the start of 2007, it was clear that new ducati hire casey stoner would be a problem. with yamaha's struggles continuing into the new 800cc era, ducati had gotten it spot on at the first try... even if it was only casey who could completely tame their troublesome bike. for a while, it seemed easy to dismiss casey's victories as built primarily on the back of the infamous ducati horsepower, but at catalunya casey proved he was far more than just a powerful engine. one of the true classic catalunya duels, with both riders displaying dazzling race craft, and one of casey's finest career victories

***assen 2007: valentino's season wasn't getting any easier - the yamaha was one thing but his continued struggles with the michelin tyres if anything frustrated him even more. he qualified in eleventh place and doesn't get a particularly good start while casey streaks off in the front. casey is over five seconds clear at one stage, but valentino manages to hunt down his title rival anyway. it's studying and stalking and lurking and all the rest of it, and as ever casey doesn't make it easy for him - but eventually valentino manages to pass him and pull clear

*estoril 2007: casey's championship was more or less wrapped up by this point, though valentino was able to deny him just a little longer at the first match point race. this features a nice scrap between casey and valentino, and then an extended duel with dani that is perhaps the best fight the two of them ever had. it was a much-needed win in a rough patch for valentino on- and off-track - and he dedicated it to one of his idols, the rally legend colin mcrae who had just passed away

**catalunya 2008: yes, okay, I know he won the three races before that one - but this one's a more fun race! after an initial adaptation period to his shiny new bridgestone tyres, his season had finally properly kicked off with the aforementioned three race win streak. at catalunya, valentino only qualified in ninth, and pedrosa streaked off in front - but valentino and casey engaged in a highly enjoyable rematch of the previous year's duel. in the end, it was valentino who prevailed, but casey and ducati had clearly gotten their own house in order...

^the version of valentino that marc first met, before vale's race in his special football-themed livery and leathers

****laguna seca 2008: after catalunya, casey stormed on to win the next three races on the trot, typically by ominous margins. heading into laguna seca, a race casey had dominated with ease the year before and valentino had never gone particularly well at, valentino knew casey might be in danger of running away with this championship... and he was determined to do something to finally conduct this rivalry on his terms. nobody expected there would be a contest for the victory, let alone one valentino won - but he did, in a brutal encounter that served as a masterclass in psychological intimidation. the relationship between the two rivals did not emerge unscathed

*indianapolis 2008: another race, another mediocre start, if this time from pole. it sets up a fun (to watch) race in worsening conditions, as valentino takes his time to get comfortable with the grip levels before slowly and surely working his way through the field and stalking first casey then nicky hayden around the track. he makes it to the front before eventually the race has to be called off - and, in a rare moment of unity, valentino and casey are seen briefly talking to ezpeleta together, presumably to tell him they have less than zero interest in going out again in that weather. they get their way and the race is called off, with valentino bagging his fourth consecutive victory - a streak he of course started at laguna. his second and last win on US soil

motegi 2008: the title-sealing race and fifth consecutive win - not the most exciting entry on this list, but earns its place by featuring a bit of a duel between title rivals casey and valentino for the lead (after they both get past dani, casey in a rather rude way that he apologises for with a hand gesture) (not that he gives the position back and valentino immediately swoops through too). motegi had always been one of vale's weakest tracks, and it must have felt extra sweet to clinch the title at the home race of his perennial enemies at honda (as he miserably failed to do in 2005 in a deeply embarrassing performance)

^'scusate il ritardo', or 'sorry for the delay': this title was special given the heartache of the two previous years. all smiles with casey and jorge (who comes to parc fermé to congratulate his teammate)

*sepang 2008: as was sometimes rare in that era, this race involves several good fights going on simultaneously down the order. the fight for the victory ends up coming down to valentino and dani, and it's a nice little duel they put on - plus there's also dovi's dramatic fight for the final podium position to enjoy

jerez 2009: dani and valentino's young teammate jorge lorenzo are the clear pre-race favourites and there's a slight fear one of them will run away with it... but jorge never quite finds his groove and ends up crashing, while dani very much does not run away with it. valentino finds something extra after being absolutely nowhere all weekend, as he had a habit of doing. features valentino shadowing first casey and dani - and a particularly nifty contact-free block pass at the infamous final corner on casey. valentino's first win of a tough season

****catalunya 2009: one of valentino's finest career victories - and another example of his ability to wrest control of a season when he needed to. off the back of two tricky/embarrassing races at le mans/mugello, it felt like the time had come to demonstrate he was a serious contender in that year's championship... as well as assert himself within yamaha over his increasingly troublesome young teammate. the stakes are clear: jorge sorely wanted to win in front of his home crowd and valentino sorely wanted to beat him there. after a strong start, the physically ailing casey falls back, letting jorge and valentino soar off and fight it out as they take turns to tail each other around the track. a duel for the ages and the victory that transforms his fortunes in that season (some more details in this post)

**sachsenring 2009: a few races after catalunya, it was once again jorge and valentino to fight it out for the win - unusual for two yamahas at that track. it's a duel that has been overshadowed by catalunya, but this is another gem: a close and dramatic battle at a time when it felt like jorge was the one who had something to prove. but valentino demonstrates how hard it still is to best him in head-to-head combat, and he ends up beating the number 99 bike by the pleasing margin of .099s (listen I have no evidence for this but in my heart of hearts I 100% believe he noticed and appreciated this fact)

misano 2009: this race followed valentino's massive error in indianapolis, crashing and reopening the championship fight at a time when it looked like he had things perfectly under control. his traditional special home race helmet is dedicated to taking the piss out of himself - featuring a donkey because of how "stupid" he had been. but in misano he was the "flying donkey"... look, it's not the best race you'll ever watch, but after a poor start (surely not), he does do quite a nice job to overtake dani for the lead. in parc fermé, his team dons donkey ears, and he gets his own pair to wear to the podium as he greets his ecstatic fans

**sachsenring 2010: valentino's early season was troubled by a motocross shoulder injury he'd picked up after qatar, and he had to push harder and harder to keep up with an ever-improving jorge. eventually, he pushed too hard and broke his leg in mugello. this was his first race back, returning sooner than anyone had expected (except casey, who thought people were making too big a deal out of the whole thing) - and he immediately was on the pace, to everyone's surprise (not casey's, who thought valentino's main problem was just losing a bit of muscle mass). this race features an excellent duel between casey and valentino in the closing stages for the final podium position, with casey stealing it from valentino at the very last gasp. it was an impressive performance by the pair of them, a heartwarming demonstration of how mediocre bikes and broken legs can be overcome by the power of mutual contempt

***motegi 2010: do you ever feel overcome by the sudden urge to watch someone be an absolute asshole for no good reason? if so, then I have the perfect race for you. jorge is very close to clinching that year's title, and in truth it's a pretty sure-fire thing given dani is out with injury. still, it's generally not considered good form to ride into your teammate at the best of times. valentino continues to struggle with his fucked up shoulder late into the season, but spite will do all kinds of magical things for you. it's a race-long battle for third place between the yamaha teammates, and the last few laps in particular are uh. intense. features valentino dangling out his leg to increasingly comical extents - whether to try and mitigate the shoulder issues or whether to physically block jorge is anyone's guess. jorge basically rides right into the leg more than once. there are at least three separate extremely dubious moves valentino pulls on jorge. you can tell jorge is losing his mind. you can feel the sheer concentrated malice radiating off valentino. when valentino gets off the bike, the mic picks up how he tells the yamaha team that it "was fun". not everyone would agree

^you'd think a season in which valentino had broken his leg might be one where everyone lays off the dramatics a little, but somehow this year was the one in which valentino's relationships with both of his main rivals soured considerably and made the final step from 'rivalry' to 'feud'. there'll always be a slight air of unfinished business to the casey rivalry in particular, but 2010 did end up unwittingly providing us with a few gems. in the motegi qualifying press conference (pictured above), vale talks about how he knows he needs shoulder surgery - but is determined to delay the surgery until the end of the season. it wasn't a good decision for his shoulder

**sepang 2010: the race that immediately follows motegi. valentino doesn't qualify particularly well and starts worse, dropping back to 12th during the first lap as jorge and dovi set out in front. but valentino determinedly sets after them - and when he catches up, they engage in a lovely three-way scrap in the race in which jorge can seal the championship... as long as valentino doesn't knock him off. this doesn't reach the viciousness of motegi, but it still involves three riders who clearly really want to win and also really want to beat each other. his first victory after the broken leg - and his last one for a long time

jerez 2011: thing is, right, if you just ignore the bit where he wipes both himself and casey out and then has to pick the bike up and start again, it's actually a really good ride! can't fault it! did his thing in the wet again! just one little. uh. blot on the copybook. I wouldn't even say the ambition outweighed the talent as much as it was his patience, given he knew it might be the only chance he'd get for a big result for a while on the struggling ducati. it's the kind of misjudgement he makes relatively rarely in his career, and speaks to his frustrations with the continuing shoulder problems as well as the underperforming desmosedici. casey was less than sympathetic

le mans 2011: it's le mans, it's raining, you know how it goes... these conditions were pretty much the only times valentino could manage a decent pace in his ducati years. this one should've gone on the dovi list too actually, not least because jorge executes an extremely rude move on dovi I feel confident in saying dovi did not appreciate (he gets jorge back with a far more polite and civilised move). casey runs off with the win by a fairly obscene margin but behind him there's plenty of talking points - not least the hugely controversial clash between dani and sic that leaves jorge, dovi and valentino fighting for the two remaining podium spots

*le mans 2012: valentino might have expressed mixed feelings over the course of his career about riding in the wet, but it sure did its job during the ducati years as the great big equaliser. now, point of order: in my casey rec list, I described this as 'not a great casey race', which I don't stand by at all. the last casey/vale duel (that also heavily features a vale/dovi/cal crutchlow tussle), with valentino stalking and harassing casey both at the start and the end of the race - though he did exercise some advisable caution... initially. involves a last lap overtake and is valentino's best ducati performance

^the last podium valentino and casey shared, in the race after casey announced his retirement. usually it's a bit easier to tell when a valentino feud is at its worst, and the two of them joked in the press conference about how they were thinking back during the race to their 2011 jerez clash. ducati were in such a miserable place in those two years that in truth, nobody could have done much with that bike - casey certainly could have done more, but by 2010 the bike so awful that valentino outscored casey that season even after fucking up his shoulder and breaking his leg. vale's sole dry podium in the ducati seasons came at an emotional home race in misano the year after sic's passing, though unfortunately it's not a particularly watchable race. there are some other rides in those two years that are strong in isolation, but valentino isn't the star of the show - and really, it'd be a waste of our precious time to talk any more about two years that were a waste of valentino's precious time

qatar 2013: the first race back with yamaha and the first race of a 'qatar trilogy' of sorts, i.e. 2013-15, where valentino just keeps executing extremely watchable races by qualifying poorly/dropping back at the start and then fighting his way through. by the time he catches up with the pack, race winner lorenzo is long gone - but valentino can still have his first fight with the next big thing in motogp, the rookie marc marquez. there's an optimism to this race, the hope of new beginnings in a series that perhaps needed some life breathed back into it... and so did valentino. all three men on the podium have good reason to be delighted, and show it. valentino truly had not known if he could be competitive again after the dark ducati days, and he looks happier here than he has in ages

*assen 2013: his first victory in the post-ducati days and a track at which he had always been strong. partly helped out by jorge's collarbone injury (though assen had always been a bit of a bogey track for jorge), valentino overtook stefan bradl, marc and dani for the win. it's not the most thrilling of races, but is still perfectly enjoyable - and you can tell by valentino's reaction how much it meant to him

qatar 2014: bar a few high points, valentino's 2013 season had been troubled and frustrating as he found himself unable to match the top three in the championship. he decides to make one more big move - this time not by switching teams, but instead by firing his long-time crew chief jb. the start of 2014 is all about seeing if he can become competitive once again... and if he cannot then he will retire. qatar is a promising start, coming back from a poor qualifying to engage in a tightly fought duel with marc that lasts until the penultimate lap

misano 2014: valentino clearly stepped up his game this season, making him decide to continue on racing in motogp in a year in which marc was dominating the competition. race wins, however, remained elusive - but there is nowhere valentino would have rather emerged victorious than his own backyard. the opening stages are a proper fun three-way tussle between valentino, marc and jorge. valentino gets to the front and marc pursues him, so doggedly determined to get the better of valentino that he ends up crashing. the rest of the race isn't all that exciting, but it's notable as the first race in which valentino directly outperformed both marc and jorge when they were fully fit. the ranch visit happens after this race

phillip island 2014: never the most gifted of qualifiers, valentino would continually struggle to get to grips with the new qualifying format introduced in 2013 - and his grid position of eighth was typical of the time. but you can't fault him for his ability to pick his way through the field as he does here, which culminates in his enjoyable duel with jorge for what was then p2. he got lucky with marc's crash out of a sizeable lead, but it was still a good ride to ensure he would be the one to take advantage

***qatar 2015: it takes one corner for the 2015 championship to be blown wide open, when two time defending champion marc marquez goes off and drops to the back of the field. for much of the race, it looks like jorge will be the primary benefactor, battling it out with two revitalised ducatis. valentino starts badly and drops to tenth, but he works his way through the field - and eventually it is he who fights the ducatis for the win. this is actually a really nice marc comeback ride too, even if he never comes into victory contention. it is also a statement victory from valentino. game on

^valentino started the season on a high, daring to hope that the elusive tenth title might finally be his. the optimism would last roughly until they got to europe and jorge hit his stride, after which it was a gruelling defensive campaign to try and cling onto his points lead

**argentina 2015: the thing is, right, qualifying poorly isn't great. starting poorly also isn't great. but if you want to be fighting for titles, you should maybe pick a struggle and stop doing both. valentino's championship bid that year has all these charming races where he's still at the fuck end of nowhere after the first lap before heroically picking his way through the field, which feels needlessly exhausting but there we are. it is, however, exciting to watch how he creeps closer and closer to marc - and he eventually catches up on the penultimate lap. the resulting duel is short but memorable

****assen 2015: a duel that will always be remembered for the controversy surrounding the final chicane, but the whole race is a fantastic watch. valentino needed a result after jorge had won four races on the trot and had led 103 consecutive laps - and he played the weekend perfectly to achieve it. his only pole of the season and, excitingly, actually a good start too... but marc quickly slots in to sit on his rear tyre and it's a fight that continues the entire race. did valentino know what marc had been intending to do at the final chicane, given marc had admitted to repeatedly executing the move during that weekend's practise sessions? or was it just quick thinking that allowed him to read marc's move and realise he only had one counter available? we'll never know for certain - though marc was suspicious of valentino's motives and eagerly made his thoughts on the matter known in the post-race press conference. the beginning of the end

**silverstone 2015: after brno, valentino had surrendered the championship lead for the first time that season on countback and it was obvious he was in serious trouble. silverstone had proven a fairly happy hunting ground for jorge over the years and it looked like he would continue doing his thing that weekend... but then the rain came to the rescue. valentino spends most of the race with fellow wet weather expert marc stalking his every move, until marc goes down and valentino is left managing the gap to a late-charging petrucci. one of the finest wet weather performances of his career - and in several ways jorge got lucky to limit the points damage

^valentino's shadow, until marc pushed it too far and crashed. was marc more determined to beat valentino here than he would have been anyone else? valentino sure seems to think so - he later references both this race and misano as ones where marc aroused his suspicions. who knows, he might be right, but there's still a sizeable difference between competitive fervour and conspiracy

****phillip island 2015: one of the classic multi-rider fights. what valentino lacked in outright pace, he made up for in wheel-to-wheel skill and fighting spirit... except in the end, he couldn't completely make up for the deficit. all year, valentino had been fighting against the odds to keep his championship dreams alive - but at last, they were truly slipping, slipping, slipping away

**sepang 2015: one last roll of the dice, classic rossi-style... but this time it all goes horribly wrong. when the duel between marc and valentino arrives, it has an air of inevitability about it - as, perhaps, does the final outcome. but the fight itself is captivating to watch, in a raw brutality that befits the tragedy we are watching unfold. the penalty that valentino receives after the race is what truly dooms any remaining title hopes

valencia 2015: another doomed title decider, though valentino's race itself cannot really be faulted. he picks his way through the field from the very back and makes it to fourth, but he could never have hoped to catch up to the top three. quite a boring race afterwards bar some late marc/dani scrapping

jerez 2016: it is admittedly hard to vouch for the quality of this race precisely because it is such an extremely non-valentino way to win. clear and complete domination of the race - in a way he had otherwise been incapable of doing post-2009. while the title fight ended up being a bit of a dud for various reasons, early 2016 held promise that this year valentino would be able to match his two enemies on raw pace

***catalunya 2016: after the dramatic closing stages of the 2015 season, everyone was of course waiting for the first proper on-track duel between valentino and marc. it took a while to get going at catalunya, with valentino getting a typically poor start and having to ruthlessly work his way through to even get to the marc fight. but it's worth it once he gets there - like all their on-track encounters, it's a fierce battle of wills nicely complemented by the contrast in styles, and you can tell how ferociously determined they are to get the better of each other. the race that prompts the slight rapprochement between the pair of them

silverstone 2016: maverick vinales ran off in the front to claim his first premier class win, though the fight behind him is well worth watching - and warranted a mention on the marc list too. the first part is good, but the final laps are what it's all about, as the multi-rider scrap distills into another vicious little encounter between valentino and marc. as ever, with these two it's personal, and they're hardly shy in their ferocity fighting each other. but valentino makes clear afterwards he has no complaints... even if marc always reserves a "special treatment" for him

cota 2017: a lovely whiff of controversy to one of the better races cota has produced. valentino is involved in a feisty clash with the rookie johann zarco, who was well on his way to acquiring a certain kind of reputation within the premier class. it's fair to say valentino was not a fan, and he's certainly not a fan of zarco's attempted overtake that valentino argued forced him off-track to avoid taking them both down. he's slapped with a three tenths penalty his team decided against informing him of - which he's still unaware of when closing up on dani with a few laps to go

^not quite the hand-holding of yesteryear, but it was something. the pair of them disagreed in the post-race presser about zarco's aggressive riding - and, perhaps, valentino's off-track excursion that supposedly granted him an unfair advantage reminded marc of a certain other previous incident. riding standards remained a major talking point for all of that season, most notably in assen and phillip island (though valentino himself ended up coming under some criticism, in particular by pedrosa after aragon). the two rivals agreed more often than not, even if valentino still had his reservations. after phillip island: "all riders are very aggressive, so you have to be more stupid than them"

**assen 2017: his last grand prix victory and it's as true to him as brno 1996. a rough, bruising tussle between riders who aren't afraid to exchange paint, with plenty of high quality racing on offer. some rain adds to the excitement - and valentino still faced a sturdy challenge on the very last lap. he remains the only rider in history to have recorded a grand prix win over twenty years after his first. he said afterwards that "sincerely I race with motorcycle for what you feel the five, six hours after the victory". in many ways, it feels like a scarcely believable amount of commitment for so fleeting a reward

****phillip island 2017: multi! rider! scrap! in! australia! valentino's strongest result after a broken leg in a motocross accident took him definitively out of the title hunt (the second serious motocross-related injury that year for him). anyhow, they're at it again and it's a brutal battle between several protagonists who are happy to get their elbows well, well out. valentino's leathers were marked by rather a lot of rubber by the end of the race - but the most important thing is that everyone had fun!

sachsenring 2018: valentino's 2018 performances were generally stronger than the results would suggest, with yamaha increasingly out at sea in a new era hurried along by the return of the michelin tyres. still, he put together a strong first half of the season and was marc's main challenger points-wise. even this late in his career, he demonstrated his willingness to continue to learn and improve by studying satellite yamaha rider jonas folger's performance fighting marc the year before at the circuit, joking after the race that nobody had ever told folger the yamaha wasn't supposed to be good around there. while in the end valentino couldn't really pose a significant challenge to marc, he gives it a good go and gets involved in a fun fight with jorge along the way

****assen 2018: one of the classic multi-rider dogfights, and valentino contributes very nicely to the drama of the race - not least as a result of his deep love for the final chicane. while the winner always had something extra in his back pocket, a rather unfortunate late coming together ends up (probably) depriving valentino of what would have been a deserved podium place

argentina 2019: marc disappears the moment the lights go out, but the battle behind him provides plenty of excitement. there's a bunch of riders fighting for the remaining podium places, elbows nicely out, but eventually valentino and dovi have it out in an entertaining contest that goes down right to the very last lap

^winning a last lap duel against andrea dovizioso... what, like it's hard? a year on from an eventful argentina grand prix, marc memorably likens his handshake with valentino to kissing a girl. the last podium the two of them share

andalusia 2020: some silly good defending against his teammate throughout the race that mainly had the effect of allowing fabio to escape. valentino's result was quite the heroic feat given the gruelling physical conditions: 36 degrees celsius with horrendous track temperatures, with only 13 of 21 riders making it to the end. the blistering heat also hardly helped with the tyre preservation that plagued this portion of valentino's career; managing these tyres was one development too far for his ever-evolving riding style to adjust to. two academy riders could have denied valentino's final career podium, but both their bikes had the decency to break down

^three yamaha's stood on the podium that day for the first time since 2014 phillip island, and presumably for the last time until around 2064. valentino celebrated enthusiastically to the empty jerez grandstands, 21 years after his infamous visit to the portaloo at the same circuit. valentino's decision to retire was complicated by the pandemic, his past ability to bounce back from rough patches and - most of all - his inexhaustible passion for racing, but eventually he called it a day after the 2021 season

#valentino rossi #//#vr46 #motogp #nobody count how many races this is. just don't do it #i'm sorry it's just a silly long career #most exciting thing about posting this is finally getting this shit out of my drafts. getting sick of trying to scroll past it #when i was compiling the casey rec list i was like 'oh i feel bad for including laguna'#and by now i've progressed to 'here are valentino rossi's twenty biggest flops'. quite literally if you counted it probably #i do realllly need to go back to casey's list and make a few additions. why did i say le mans 2012 wasn't a good casey race :(#i think i missed out like three of the top six casey/vale duels which is a lesson in checking your notes more carefully before doing these #i do low key hate this list i feel like i've run out of good ways to describe races without getting horrendously repetitive #people always take the piss out of commentators for cliches but you do kinda run out of ways to phrase things pretty quickly #at least i've not once used the phrase 'famous victory'#also btw if you're looking for full noughties seasons to watch - think it's pretty uncontroversial to go 2004 and 2006

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