#you can really get away with very little and make very neat stuff

[luveline]

𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐞 | 𝐚𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐧𝐞𝐫

You worry your boyfriend is ashamed of you. This is very much not the case. Or, 5 times Hotch hid your relationship (+1 time he didn’t).

7k words, new-ish established relationship, lots of fluff between angst, hurt/comfort, fem!reader, civilian!reader, reader calls him aaron mostly

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The security for Aaron's building is weird. Weird as in extensive, intimidating, and extremely intricate. 

You'd really wanted to minimise his stress — the whole reason you're here is to bring him a forgotten sheet of paper that must've slipped out at your kitchen table from one of his case files because you don't want him to have to make up a new copy — but you're too scared to go in. 

You pull your phone out reluctantly and dial in his number, eager to hear his voice even if the security detail a few feet away are freaking you out. 

"Hotchner." 

"Hi, handsome," you say softly. 

There's a small pause. For a split-second a nightmare situation runs through your head, his low voice asking, Who is this?

"Hi, honey." 

You beam so wide it aches, forcing a pleased little breath from your mouth. 

"What do you need?" he asks. 

"I'm outside of your building but I'm too afraid to come in. I'm not sure they'll let me. I need a badge, right?" 

"You're outside." 

You pick at the hem of your sweater, a loose thread marring your otherwise pretty outfit. You'll admit to dressing up unnecessarily to see him. Nice clothes, your most subtle perfume. 

"I found something confidential this morning, a piece of paper. I didn't read it, I promise."

"You really shouldn't be here," he says. 

Your smile abruptly drops. You press the phone closer to your face and wait, hoping he's not talking to you. When it's clear that he is you cringe, the silence pervasive and the most awkward it's ever been with him. 

"Sorry." Your apology is quick, quiet. "I thought it would be easier for you. I didn't mean to… overstep." 

"It's not that. It's busy. Would you hang on to it for me? Maybe I can come and get it tonight, bring dinner." 

You love how he says it. It's not a question, not an assumption. And it's a relief. If he wants to see you on a night where you hadn't planned to get together, he can't be mad at you for being here. 

"Yeah, please. If you want to." 

"I want to. Okay?"

Not for confirmation, it's shorthand. You okay? 

"Yeah. Okay. Have a good rest of your day, handsome." 

"Bye." 

You like to think you can hear the sound of his phone clicking shut, imagining him at his desk in one of his neat suits with a case file open in front of him. You're not sure on the specifics of his job but you know he looks good doing it, and you also know he's very, very busy. You don't take his clipped goodbye as anything but efficiency. 

Maybe you should. 

—

The next time Aaron inadvertently hurts your feelings is in person. 

Compared to him, you wouldn't say you're an incredibly exciting character. Your day job is tame, your hobbies are invaried. You like to watch TV, see movies, you enjoy people-watching. When you hold that stuff up to his job, his profiling, and his hobbies (seriously, who likes triathlon?) you feel rather immature. 

You know deep down that hobbies are hobbies and that your job doesn't define how special you are, but when you're with someone like Aaron who lives and breathes his profession it can play with your head. 

"Is there something interesting about my shirt?" he asks, a murmur under the sound of the TV. 

You look up from the hem of his nice button down and smile, a half-smile. You want it to be more genuine than it is. "Don't you already know?" 

"What do you mean?" 

"You can tell I'm…" You frown, dropping the starched material of his shirt from between your fingers. "I've given myself up, haven't I?" 

"A little," he concedes sympathetically. 

You huff your defeat and let your cheek fall into his chest. Nice to seek comfort from him, nicer for him to give it to you, his arm rising from behind your shoulders to hook around your neck. 

"I'm not profiling you," he says, voice close to the top of your head, "I'm wondering what you're thinking."

You relax under his touch, his big hand settling in the curve of your neck. A semi-hug. It doesn't take long for you to melt into his front completely, your unhappy thoughts dissolving with any tension and leaving only a want to kiss his stupidly nice neck.

"It doesn't matter," you say. 

"You sure?" 

You lift your head from his chest. He has to lean back to meet your eyes and he does it unflinchingly, a bemused smile playing on his lips. 

"I'm good. Better, if you would…" 

"Yeah?" he asks quietly, leaning down, down. 

You can't withstand his charms. He knows exactly how to get you, his smile and his eyes, his lashes kissing in the corners as they close. 

He's imposing in the best way, a heavy presence that overwhelms you. All you can think about is the way he nudges his nose with yours to encourage your head back and the heat of his lips as they touch your own. His arm tightens behind your head.

You try to rise onto your knees, hands vying for his neck and his pitch dark hair. You're doubly pleased when you feel his mouth turning up into a smile, a mirror of your own. 

"Slow down," he chides gently. 

You're about to say something unlike yourself, something loud and brash. Speed up, Hotchner. You're hopped up on the giddiness that comes with being close to him. You're just about to say it when his phone rings. 

He gives you a short, hard kiss. 

"Hotchner." 

You sit back in his lap, his hand sliding to the small of your back to keep you close as his face clouds with confusion. You attempt to climb off of him because you're not a sack of sugar — you're probably giving him numb thighs — but he won't let you.

"Garcia," he says eventually, "is this an emergency?" His tone makes it clear to you that whatever it is Garcia is saying, it's far from an emergency. 

His hand climbs up, over your shoulder. You shudder as he tugs your earlobe, a mild and thoughtless gesture. You're so busy shivering you almost miss his playful eye roll. 

"I haven't changed my mind. Yeah. Thanks for the invitation, but I'm perfectly happy where I am tonight." 

Whatever Garcia says makes him laugh. If you weren't sitting as close to him as you are you wouldn't have heard it. 

"Have fun. Bye," he says succinctly. He snaps his phone closed in one hand, the other dropping from your ear to your shoulder. It's heavy with a remorse you can't allow. "Sorry."

"Doesn't matter," you assure, tilting your head toward his hand and pretending to size him up. You don't know how to profile, but you're a good guess. 

"You're not telling me something." 

"No?" He blinks in surprise.

"No. You've been invited somewhere with your work friends, and you usually go. Why not tonight?" 

"I think that's obvious." 

"You don't have to flake on your friends for me, Aaron." 

He smiles as you say his name. "Like I told Garcia, I am perfectly happy where I am." 

You hide your face in his neck lest he see your doped up smile. "You have nice friends," you murmur, working your hands under the hem of his shirt. 

"I think you'd love Garcia after the infinitial terror." 

"I think I would too. She's good to you, after all. Makes me like her… Maybe one day we can all go out for drinks." 

You don't have to be a profiler to feel the way he tenses. 

"Yeah," he says. It sounds very much like Probably not. 

That's a strumming hurt. Aaron is so nice, so so nice, and he treats you like you're gold dust. He does all the movie boyfriend stuff like flowers, silver earrings on your birthday (with tiny diamonds!), dinner reservations at dauntingly fancy restaurants. And he does stuff you didn't know men did, like calling you near every night to make sure you had a good day, and praising even your smallest achievements, and leaving notes in places he knows you'll find them on hard days. You don't know how he knows when days are hard, he just does. 

You'd figured all of this stuff meant he must really like you, might even love you though he's yet to say it, and that's why his lack of enthusiasm stings. 

Why doesn't he want you to meet his friends? He's obviously very proud of what they do at the BAU. They're not the issue. 

It's you. 

You cuddle him as a pit forms in your chest. 

"You're tired?" he asks.

Funny how it's his comfort you crave when he's the one who's hurt your feelings. You're a little lopsided being upset with him, and you know if you tell him how you feel he'll try to make it up to you, but you're too afraid of the other alternative — a fight. Right now his arms are a sanctity you wouldn't trade for anything. You hope he feels the same. 

You're not sure anymore. 

"Yeah," you say roughly. 

Your eyes burn as he pats your back. "Let's go to bed, honey." 

You'll just… have to prove you're someone worth showing off. 

—

Your plan, loosely titled 'Get Aaron Hotchner to Show Me Off,' is going about as well as you'd thought it would. 

If Aaron doesn't want me to meet his friends there must be a reason. You've been thinking about it and it can't be a coincidence that he hadn't wanted you to return his paperwork a few weeks ago. That must've been something significant. 

But what? 

You start with your hair. Aaron has expressed a lovely and heaping handful of times that he thinks you have pretty hair. He plays with it often, usually when he's limp and tired from a long day. You've always taken care of it. Now you're going to the extreme — hair masks, hair appointments you can't afford, anything to make it look perfect. 

It doesn't work toward the plan, though your boyfriend certainly notices. 

"Your hair," is the very first thing he says when he sees you, stopping only in his smiling assessment to kiss your cheek in greeting. 

"Is it okay?" you ask, turning your face to one side. 

"More than okay. Do you want to go in?" 

So it's kind of a bust. But that's okay, you weren't expecting to get a haircut and magically be invited to team dinners. You persevere, and eventually you forget the plan for the night when Aaron promises to show you how much he likes your new look with a hand at the small of your back. 

Phase two, your clothes. 

You dress as nicely as you can but you're no fashion guru and you can't afford an entirely new wardrobe. You get a bunch of magazines and look for fall staples. What's in this year, and how do you style it? You buy a couple of pieces that fit your budget and try to work around them. 

Aaron's favourite are the new corduroy pants. They aren't a great fit. 

"They're too tight," you lament, pulling the fabric from your thighs where they hug snugly. They're a desaturated sort of burgundy, not bright by any means but a good 'pop of colour'. 

"I know," he says. 

You gawp at him, and when he gets his fingers on the buttons afterward, you break. 

"You like them?" you ask worriedly. 

"What makes you think I don't?" 

"Besides how eager you are to get them off of me?" 

He hooks two fingers in your belt loops and holds your gaze as he tugs them down. "I like them." 

A good time, but still no dice. You suppose a new look, besides looking smarter, doesn't actually prove your merit as a girlfriend. Maybe he wants something a little more concrete before he introduces you to people. Maybe things aren't as good for him as they are for you, and he doesn't see the point. 

That particular thought sparks a wave of panicked tears. 

The next time you see him, it's like he can tell. You wonder if he has x-ray vision, some sixth sense for tear stains that he has yet to tell you about. He's been gone for a few days in St. Louis, and when he'd come back he'd spent the weekend with Jack, so it's a whole seven days since the last time you saw him and your worries have festered. Not even his doting phone calls had kept the thought at bay. 

Maybe I'm not a good girlfriend. 

You open your door and there he is in a quarter zip with an overnight bag, matte suit cover draped over one arm. 

"Hi," you say, unsure. 

"Did I get uglier while I was away?" he asks seriously. 

You startle. "No, of course not." 

He smiles and meets you in the doorway, your head dipping back to accommodate. "I think I've had it too good," he says lightly, bringing a tentative hand to your cheek. "Are you okay?" 

You're trying to work out what he means, and when you do your heart skips. "Handsome!" you say urgently. "Hi, handsome. No, you didn't get uglier, I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking, and-" 

He kisses you. It's malaligned because of your parted lips, but it's good. You'd really missed him. 

"You're definitely still handsome," you murmur. 

"Doesn't count. I begged for it-" 

"No!" you deny, lifting on tiptoes to give him another kiss and stop his slander. "It does count because you're always handsome, I promise. I think I slept too much and miswired my brain when I woke up." 

"I don't mind that you didn't call me handsome," he says firmly, "now let me in. We have dinner to make." 

"Right, sorry."

Aaron frowns at you, then. It's weird. He frowns at his phone, at the TV, at nothing, but he doesn't frown at you. 

"Is something wrong?" he asks as you traverse down the hall. You hold your hands out for his suit and bag to take to your room and hang up, ignoring his question. He doesn't give them to you. "Is there?" 

"No." You smile as you say it. 

You're an awful liar, especially with him. He makes you more nervous than anyone because he's your boyfriend and because he's a literal human lie detector. 

"You didn't even try." 

You cover your face with both hands and groan dramatically, spinning around and away from him. You don't want him to see how flustered you are. 

"Don't make fun," you beg. 

"You're embarrassed." 

"Teach you that at the Bureau, do they?"  

You stop in the doorway of the kitchen, distracted by your own racing thoughts when suddenly there are two long arms needling around your waist and pulling you backward. You gasp a laugh and squirm uselessly to escape. 

"I'm sorry," he says quietly. 

You tip your head back, hands falling from your face in surprise. "What for, handsome?" 

His laugh fans out over your face but when he speaks again there's no humour there, only sincerity, "For being gone so long." 

"Well don't be. You can't exactly help it, Agent Hotchner," you hum. 

"Oh, don't." 

"Going out and saving the world takes time. I knew that when I met you, 'n I know it now. You don't have to say sorry." 

"I'm not apologising for my work. I'm apologising that we've," — his nose presses into the highest point of your cheek — "been apart." 

"I did miss you," you relent. 

He presses his lips to your cheek. "I missed you too." 

It's a nice distraction. You'd missed one another, and now you're together. You forget for a while what you'd worried, and only when he leaves again do you remember. 

Maybe I'm not a good girlfriend. 

You're not stupid enough to think Hotch is using you for anything, or that he's insincere. You're level-headed, though. His affection for you isn't necessarily permanent no matter how genuine. 

You don't want to be overbearing. The offers start slow. 

I can wash that for you. Of course I'm sure, I'm great with whites. 

Maybe I could make you lunch tomorrow. You can take it in, spare yourself the federal cafeteria. 

Yeah, I got them shined for you. They were looking a little dull at the toes. 

"Do you want me to press these?" you ask. 

Aaron looks up from where he's sitting in bed. You'd been out on a foray to the bathroom and have come to a stop by his bedroom door where a pair of black slacks hang in wait for the morning. 

He pushes a darling pair of reading glasses up the bridge of his nose. "No." 

"Are you sure? It won't take five minutes." 

"I'll do it in the morning." 

"I can do it for you, then. Just wake me up," you say, pushing back the sheets on the empty side of his bed. Your socked foot bumps his thigh as you pull up your legs. "What are you reading?" 

He puts his book on the nightstand, takes off his glasses. It's too bad. He really suits them.

"I want to talk to you about something." 

You laugh and slide down onto the flat of your back. 

"What?" he asks, confused, the tiniest hint of amusement in his eyes. 

"It's unlike you to start that way. You always cut around the fat." You bring his bed sheets up to your nose and squint at him. "'M I in trouble?" 

"Depends." 

"On what?" 

"You know I care about you." 

Your heart somersaults. That feels very much like a break-up opener, and he must see your anxiety on your face. He wrangles your hand from under the sheets and leans over you, his face in your eyeline, his fingers massaging yours until they ache in the good way. 

"Do you know how much?" he asks. 

"Is that a trick?" 

"No." 

You wait in case there's something he's going to add. When there's nothing, you pull the sheets to your chin and tamp down your perplexed pouting. 

"Yeah, I know how much." 

"I'd like to tell you how much." He pulls your joined hands toward his jaw. "I know I'm not always here, but I'm always thinking of you. In roundabout ways." 

"What ways?" you ask. Self-indulgence.

Aaron Hotchner indulges you. 

"I see," — he kisses your hand — "trees. I've seen a thousand trees, but when I see the bigger ones I wish you could see them too." 

It's a dropping sensation, near uncomfortable, that's how gutted his confession makes you feel. "You do?" 

"Sometimes women walk past me and I swear that it's you because they smell like your perfume. Flowers growing through cracks in the sidewalk. Lights through the jet window." It's the kind of stuff you like to point out to him when you're together. 

He stares at you, a long, reassuring look. 

He deserves a better reply, but all you can say is, "I think of you all the time, too." 

"I love that you want to take care of me, but you don't need to wear yourself out." 

You bite the inside of your bottom lip. So that's what this is about. Aaron has profiled you, and now he's being the gentleman that he is and assuaging your fears. 

"I'm not," you say quickly. 

He understands that you're saying I'm not wearing myself out rather than I'm not taking care of you. You are taking care of him, the best that you can, the best that he'll allow. 

"I can press my own pants," he says, leaning down for a kiss. "I can shine my own shoes." He kisses you again. You screw your eyes closed as the warmth of his breath heats your cupid's bow. "I can do my own laundry." He pulls back, dropping your hand in favour of your neck. His thumb pushes against your windpipe gently, palm hot over your skin. "I'll accept the lunches, if you're sure you don't mind making them." 

You feel as excited as you did the very first time he touched you, chest full of a dizzying pleasure, heart bump-bump-bumping a racing rhythm. His thumb strokes a lazy quarter circle into your neck. He can probably feel your pulse, see the way your eyes have blown. 

"I love making them," you say, breathless in earnest.

"The team think I'm spoiled." 

"You aren't spoiled." You're adored, you want to say. You cup his cheek instead. "You'd be spoiled if I brought them by everyday." 

Aaron doesn't stay with you and you don't stay with him enough to make him lunch everyday. He might get one or two a week, and that's when he's home. 

"Wouldn't that be nice," he mutters, his fingers pushing between your neck and the pillow underneath. 

You hike up on to your elbows slowly to avoid headbutting him. "Well, I could." 

His easy, loving smile flattens. "No." 

"I wouldn't mind. My lunch break is super long and it only takes me ten minutes to get there. We could have lunch together." 

"That's not going to work." 

"Okay." You wish you could take it as calmly as he says it. You sound choked up. You are choked up. 

"Sweetheart, the office is a war zone. Half the time I'm not there." 

"I get it," you say, dropping flat onto your back again. 

"Sweetheart." 

"Handsome," you mirror, putting on your best unaffected smile. 

You can't hold it very long, his concerned brows too much to deal with. You turn your head to the left and turn off the lamp on the nightstand, throwing at least half of your expression into darkness. 

Aaron doesn't give up. Does he ever? He cups your cheek and pulls you back to face him. 

"I can't promise any lunch dates. But I was thinking we'd go out for dinner next week, Friday," he begins hopefully, "somewhere nice." 

It feels like an apology and you're desperate to take it. 

"I don't need somewhere nice, s'long as you're there 'n not in Kansas, or Colorado, or Idaho, or New Jersey-" 

He hums and drops his head until his nose lies against your own. "Gonna go through all fifty?" 

"You'd like that, wouldn't you, Hotchner?" 

"I love your voice," he says agreeably. 

Disarmed, you let him charm you, and you let him push it all out of your mind. Plan foiled, your fears fall on the backburner for a third time. 

—

His fourth rejection is the first that feels entirely intentional, though you won't know until later. 

Mostly because Aaron pushes you. 

Far from cruel, the two of you are actually out walking in the city when he forces you into an alleyway, your fancy drink sloshing down the front of your sweater. 

You laugh in surprise and almost roll your ankle, hands clinging to his coat to stop an unfortunate fall. 

"Holy shit, Hotchner, learn to be a gentleman," you say as he presses up against you. "What are you doing? I'm soaked, you're gonna ruin your sleeves." 

He kisses you hard. It's a surprise, your head jumping back against the wall to find his hand already there to protect it. 

It's worth noting that Aaron is a sweetheart in practically every aspect of life. He once apologised after having walked in on you changing, which is ridiculous because most of the nights where you're together he insists on getting you some sort of undressed (even if it's just to help you into your pyjamas).

Needless to say, he's never kissed you like this. Your emotions spike so suddenly you laugh into his mouth, a girlish peel of giggles that you'll regret afterward but can't stop for the life of you. 

He shushes you. "Sorry," he whispers, as ill-composed as you've ever heard him. "Sorry, just-" He cuts you both off with another bruising kiss. 

Your laughter fades into sighs and little gasps for air. Somewhere near the alleyway opening a group of people pass by, a jovial series of cheers and friendly laughter trailing behind them. Aaron presses you further into the wall behind, and slowly, slowly winds down. Weirdly, you think his last couple of pecks feel sorry, softer and sweeter. 

Your lips buzz. 

"Why'd you buy me that fancy drink if you were gonna tip it all over me?" you ask good-naturedly when he finally pulls back. 

"You looked too nice today." His deadpan voice wars with the smile on his face. "I'm sorry. We'll go find you something to change into." 

"Was it really that important that you kiss me right then?" you ask, feigning disdain. 

He looks out toward the main street again. "Yes. Where do you want to go? There's a Nordstrom." 

You take a sip of your drink, unsurprised when he takes your hand and starts to lead you toward the department stores. "Have you ever been inside of a Nordstrom?" 

"I'm sure I'll figure it out."

— 

The fifth time is the straw that breaks the camel's back. Or the brick. It feels heavier than a strand of straw. It's technically already come to pass, so it's an invisible brick. 

You're out for coffee by yourself which really means you're out for something sweet, bundled up in a coat and scarf to fight the night-time chill. 

"Thank you," you tell the barista, accepting your drink and receipt with a smile. 

You turn around and almost walk straight into a pretty dark-haired woman with really nice hair. You make a note to tell Aaron about it when you see him next, not because he'll care but because he likes to hear what you've been thinking about. And right now, all you can think about is her feathered bangs. 

I want nice bangs, you think offhandedly. 

"I'm sorry," you say, trying to move around her. 

She steps into your path. 

"Sorry," you say again. 

She's squinting at you, thin eyebrows peeking out from behind her hair. "Sorry, have we met?" she asks. 

You try not to be too hasty, but you're not sure you've ever seen her. You stare at her as she stares at you, and you get a tiny inkling of familiarity, but it's gone as quick as it comes. 

"I'm really sorry, I don't think so," you murmur, tilting your head to one side. 

She bites her lip, let's it go. "Oh!" she says excitedly, voice bright with triumph. "Oh oh oh! I know who you are, you're Hotch's mysterious girlfriend!" 

Your smile turns quizzical. You know nearly everybody calls Aaron 'Hotch'. Whenever you try it he either gives you the silent treatment or covers your mouth with his hand. 

"I'm Emily Prentiss, I work in the BAU," she explains rapidly, shoving her purse under her hand to offer it for a handshake. 

You do the same and shake her hand. Introducing yourself feels awkward. She knows you. You don't have a clue who she is. Only- 

"Oh, I know who you are now, I'm sorry I didn't recognise you before!" you say contritely. "I've seen photos of you and the team together. It's really nice to meet you." 

She nods. "It's nice to meet you too. I have to say, we've been dying to meet you. We even have a betting pool on what you're like, because Hotch barely says a thing about you." 

You try not to look as devastated as you feel, re-wrapping your fingers around your cup. "No?" 

"We didn't even know what you looked like until we saw you the other day. We came looking to say hi and you'd disappeared." 

You lick your dry lips. "The other day?" 

"Yeah, last Friday. We were out for impromptu drinks, celebrating a case. You know, you should come with sometime. It would be fun." 

Emily talks each word with an undertone of good humour. She's stunning, bubbly, and her hair flows around her face with every movement. 

"He really doesn't talk about me?" 

Emily drops into girl code niceties, backtracking. "I mean, not too often. We catch him smiling at his phone and hear your voice sometimes when you call. He seems happy. Well, happy as Hotch can seem." She swallows. "He's a private creature."

He doesn't talk about me. 

You pretend to check your watch. 

"It was really good to meet you," you say, voice airy with a feigned nonchalance. 

"Yeah, of course. Super nice," Emily says. 

You smile at her. It's more like a grimace. By the time you're outside of the coffee shop you're too upset to care, a humiliated shock of tears brewing behind your achy eyes. 

You hold your cup to your chest and unzip your purse to tuck the receipt inside, trying to maintain some control. There's a folded note inside, thick cardstock quartered. 

You take it out. Your fingers tremble with offended adrenaline. 

You're beautiful. 

Short, sweet, extremely Aaron Hotchner. Too bad you can't believe it. 

Emily Prentiss being out and about means the BAU are done for the night, though whether your workaholic boyfriend got the memo is anyone's best guess. You're not sure if it's better or worse if he's in work when you call. You're so upset that you can't help yourself. 

"Hi, honey." 

"Do you really think I'm beautiful?" you ask, staving off tears with all your willpower. 

"I wouldn't write it if I didn't mean it. That one took you a while to find, I was-" 

"Are you sure?" 

"...Are you okay?" 

You glare up at the dark sky rather than answer, blinking hard to force down your tears. You really don't wanna cry, but it's been a bad day and meeting Emily has made it worse. No matter how hard you try to think otherwise, all signs point to Aaron being ashamed of you. Embarrassed to be with you. He's hiding your relationship from everybody. 

"Am I- Is it my clothes? My job?" 

"What's wrong with your clothes?" 

"You tell me, detective." 

You're getting angry. He's- he's lying, or he's messing with you. He's making fun of you. At least that's how it feels. 

"Where are you right now?" he asks. You can picture him shrugging on his suit jacket, putting his files in order to come and meet you. 

You don't want to see him. "I'm at the coffee shop by your apartment. I actually ran into somebody, and I'm feeling very well-informed." A first tear bumps down your cheek. You ignore it. 

"I don't understand." 

"I don't understand! What am I doing wrong?" You bite your tongue in last ditch efforts to remain intact, but the tears won't hold off any longer. You swallow a sob. "What's wrong with me?" 

"Nothing. Nothing, honey, nothing is wrong with you." 

You wipe your wet face with mean hands. 

"Stay where you are. I'll come and meet you." 

"No. I don't wanna see you." 

"Honey-" 

"Leave me alone, Aaron." 

You hang up. You walk for a while, feeling as though steam is rising off of your flushed skin with every clumsy step. It had been a short phone call and already you can't remember what you said, all you can feel is angry, and then that runs out and all you can do is cry. 

You've never felt incredibly attractive. Aaron makes you feel better than that — he has the uncanny ability to inspire self-confidence with a loaded look alone. He can smile at you and your skin feels like it's glowing. 

So why doesn't that translate? If he thinks you're so pretty, why does he insist on hiding you away?

Because that day, he'd seen his friends. He could've introduced you but he took you down the alley and kissed you so you wouldn't be seen. That's not too busy: That's secretive. 

That kiss. You fooled yourself into thinking you must've looked irresistible. Fuck. You went home that night thinking you were the best thing since sliced bread. 

"I'm so stupid," you mutter, sniffling. 

Your self deprecation is muffled by the sound of a slowing car. You don't look up. There are two possibilities for who it is, and you don't want to deal with either. 

The car parks and then you do look up. Despite how mad you are you're not suicidal, and Aaron's given you extensive coaching on sex trafficking. 

It's him. Shocker. 

You're half-expecting him to reprimand you. You didn't look up until I parked. You know it takes five seconds to snatch and incapacitate someone? 

He looks haphazardly put together. Suit jacket on but tie loosened, he rounds the hood of his car and joins you on the sidewalk. You don't want to play games with him. He really doesn't need it, he didn't sign up for it, and drama isn't your style, but you're sick of this. 

"You want to tell me what you're thinking?" he asks, standing an amicable two feet away, hands at his hips.

"I'm really mad." 

"What else?" 

"I'm thinking," you say, looking down at your cold hands, "that you… That you're…" You rub your cheek into your shoulder to hide a fresh tear. "I don't know, Aaron. I'm thinking lots of things." 

"Do you want to think about them in the car?" he asks. 

Do you want to talk about it?

You don't want to talk about it. You don't like crying in front of him on a good day. 

You're pretty sure he'll combust on the spot if he knows you're walking home alone in the dark and distracted. 

You get in the car. He has the good sense not to touch your shoulders like he normally would. 

You buckle as soon as you've closed the passenger side door. "I'm sorry," you mumble, looking down at your knees. 

"Let's forget that, for now." He turns the key but doesn't pull out. "Tell me what's upset you and I'll explain." 

"I met Emily Prentiss." 

He looks at you out of the corner of his eye.

"She told me that you don't talk about me. Ever. That they didn't even know what I looked like." 

You know he's listening but he keeps his eyes on the road, and you chance a look at the side of his face. He doesn't seem mad. 

"I don't talk about you often," he says. "But that doesn't mean never… It's true that they didn't know what you look like." 

"Until last week, when they saw us together and you pulled me into an alley so they couldn't see me." 

"Yes." 

Your lower lip trembles. "Do you see why that would upset me?" You're asking genuinely. 

"Yeah, honey." 

Your head jolts up. He's diverting his gaze from the road to you intermittently, offering up a regretful grimace. The oncoming headlights splash over his work worn face. 

"Then why are you doing this? What's so wrong with me that you won't even admit we're together?" 

"Nothing is wrong with you. I'm not ashamed of you," he says firmly, volume rising. 

"Then why?" 

His eyebrows pull together. "You're the best person I've ever met that isn't my son, and I selfishly don't want to share you yet. I also don't want to scare you off." 

You pull your sleeves over your hands and turn in your seat, wiping your damp cheeks as he continues. 

"My job is hard, and it's dangerous. It has jeopardised the safety and wellbeing of people I love before. So no, I'm not eager to introduce you to my world. The more intertwined with my life that you become, the more danger I put you in, and…" The car slows down again. He turns to look at you. "And I like that I'm the only one who knows you like this.

"I have been hiding you. I have. But it was a," — his tone turns wry — "misguided attempt at keeping you all to myself. Safe, and to myself." 

You're finding it difficult to be mad with him. 

He's finding it difficult to maintain his poker face. A fat tear rolls down your cheek and you're not sure what it's made of, fatigue or relief or plain hurt, whatever it is he doesn't like it. He pulls over. 

You hold still as he pinches the tear off of your chin. 

"How long have you felt like this?" 

"Like what?" you ask wetly. 

"Like this." He opens his hand against your cheek. It encompasses your face; you lean in, hungry for reassurance. 

"I don't know." 

"This is why you changed your hair. Your clothes. And started making my lunch." 

You cover his hand with your own. "I actually really like making your lunches." 

You stare at each other until suddenly you're laughing, sniffly, short of breath. Aaron joins in soon after. He always sounds so surprised to be laughing.

"I'm glad," he says when your laughter has abated, pinky and ring finger caressing down the slope of your cheek. "I really like having them. Rossi can't hide how jealous he is." 

"They know about the lunches?" 

His mindless petting pauses. "They know about the lunches. You're not a secret. I'm… selfish with the details. I'm selfish." Aaron takes back his hand. "I'm sorry." 

You take as deep a breath as you can. "Okay." 

"Yeah?" 

"Mm. Can we go home?" 

His eyebrows jump and swiftly smooth again. "Yeah, we can go home." He chucks your chin and gets the car moving again. 

You watch him drive. 

When you get home, he doesn't mind reassuring you some more. Actually, it's like he needs to do it. You'd love to say that it's overkill and that his low murmurings of praise are unnecessary, but you can't. 

"You're lovely," he says seriously across two plates of pasta. Again through the mirror when you're brushing your teeth, and again when you've curled into his chest for the night. You're lovely. Nothing that needs hiding. 

You hear him on the phone early in the morning, half asleep. 

"Hey, Dave. Yeah. Okay. Uh… No, that's fine." He laughs under his breath. "Yeah, if she was awake I'd ask her to make you one. I think she would… Okay. See you in forty." 

You bury your tired face into his pillows and beam. 

—

+1 

Aaron's office is terrifyingly hectic. You can see already that the bullpen is full to bursting with agents, including but not limited to his special team of profilers. There's the distinct smell of coffee, sharp and burning, and then the underlay of printer ink, new paper. 

You can't believe you're here. 

You're not brave enough to introduce yourself to his team, and half aren't at their desks anyways. You hover in the doorway until somebody needs to get past you, taking a reluctant step inside.

You shouldn't wait for Aaron. You should be brave. You're a grown up, and you're bringing your grown up partner his very grown up lunch. You'd wanted desperately to do this. The least that you can do is do it by yourself. 

You've scrapped most of the fall staples but kept the burgundy pants Aaron likes so much at his request. They feel insanely tight on your thighs, as does your collar. In fact, the room has definitely shrunk since you got here. 

Like an idiot, Aaron says your name loud and clear, standing with a hand on the railings at the top of the instep. You hadn't even noticed him emerging from his office.

His voice demands — commands — attention. People turn in their seats, first toward him, and then toward you. 

All eyes on me. 

You don't run but you don't walk either, weaving through desk chairs and people looking a mix of busy and curious.

"You're being cruel," you say as you approach him, a brown paper bag held close to your abdomen. 

"Hi, honey," he says. He wears a knowing smile, all dark and tall and handsome as he starts down the stairs to meet you. 

"Don't punish me." 

"Is that what you'd call this?" he asks, hand quick to clasp your shoulder, glueing you in place so he can kiss your forehead.

And yes, this is what you'd wanted. The doting boyfriend not just at home but at work, too.

That doesn't mean it isn't really, really embarrassing. 

"Is everyone looking at me?" you murmur. 

He slips his arm behind your shoulders to walk you up the stairs. "Yes." His voice drops lower. "At one place specifically, I imagine." 

"What part is that, Agent?" 

He laughs and opens his office door to beckon you inside. "Don't start." 

༺༻

my first hotch fic omg. i did a big character study beforehand but i doubt it's entirely in character, hotch is a difficult character to write for! (and im only at season 4). but this was so fun and he's hot so it's worth it. if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging! i promise it makes a difference to me (and also i love seeing what people thought). thank you for reading!! ♥

[woso-dreamzzz]

Surgery III

Mapi Leon x Ingrid Engen x Child!Reader

Summary: Mami wants another one

Because of your superpower, Mami says that you make a lot of assumptions. She says it's because your brain makes lots of different connections that other people wouldn't. Sometimes you just assume things because of it.

You don't know what that means but you just nod and smile because Ingrid says that's what you need to do to get Mami to stop talking sometimes.

You're completely enamoured with the washing machine spinning when Ingrid swears. Or, you think she swears. Sometimes she says stuff in Norwegian that she tells you not to repeat because it's naughty so you assume those are swear words.

She doesn't swear a lot but you know to ignore it anyway, focussing on the way the washing machine spins. You'd tried to get in it once with Bagheera so you could both spin but Mami got angry at you and talked for ages for you smiled and nodded as your mind wandered to whether or not you could fit in Bagheera's cat tree.

"Cub," Ingrid groans and your name makes you turn.

She's holding one of your toy trucks. It's big and yellow and it's like the ones that the people building the apartments down the street use to move all their big rocks.

You smile toothily at Ingrid and reach your hand out for your toy.

"I asked you to clean up your mess a while ago, cub," She says, not giving your toy to you.

You frown. Ingrid did tell you to do that but you'd gotten distracted by Bagheera and then the rumble of the washing machine. You like the washing machine so you sat in front of it.

"My toy," You say.

"We need to clean up," Ingrid says," It's very messy."

You don't see the problem. Your things are strewn all over the room but you know where everything is so it shouldn't be a problem. But Ingrid likes things neat and tidy.

You think that's why Mami is dating her because Mami is messy and she needs someone to organise her things like how Ingrid helps you organise your thoughts.

You like Ingrid though and want to keep her happy because she's the boss in the house.

You get a bit distracted as you go to pick up your digger, making little engine noises with your mouth. You're not really sure how engine noises sound so you just mimic the sound of the washing machine instead.

You ram it into the wall a few times as Mami comes into the room.

She's holding Bagheera.

"Oh, please, Ingrid," Mami says," It won't be much trouble. Please, let's get another one."

You wonder what Mami is talking about. You put your truck away and reach for your lion cub, making it purr like the washing machine as you get out your magic wiggles.

You mull over Mami's words. You don't go to nursery a lot (Ingrid says that they don't accommodate your add with an h somewhere well so you only go when you absolutely have to) but the last time you went, there was a little boy who said that his mum begged his papa for another baby and she got one.

If that's what Mami is talking about, you don't like it. You don't want a new baby because if Mami gets a new baby then maybe you won't be lion cub anymore because the baby will be younger than you so they'll get your nickname.

You don't want a new nickname because you're Mami and Ingrid's cub.

Your thoughts make your magic wiggles a bit worse than better, especially when Mami mentions your name.

"It'd be good for y/n," She says," You've always said it was good for you when you were younger."

Ingrid makes a face. "That's different and you know it. We had a bigger house when I was younger. There's not enough space here."

You're glad Ingrid is speaking up because adults don't always listen to little kids. You know this because sometimes the adults at nursery don't like you running around when you have the magic wiggles even though Ingrid tells you it's the best way to get them out.

You hope Mami listens to Ingrid because you definitely don't want the new baby that Mami must want.

"Please, Ingrid," Mami says," We can make room! y/n would love it! It could share her bed."

You freeze instantly. Your brain screeches to a halt as you work out what Mami's just said.

You're up on your feet, throwing your lion cub to the ground and screeching. It's very high pitched and it makes your ears ring a little bit. You stamp your foot.

"No!" You say," Not in my bed!"

You don't want to share your bed anymore than you want to share your Mami and your Ingrid.

"No! No! No!" You cry.

You couldn't get your magic wiggles out earlier but they're all coming out now as you scream and cry as much as your little body will allow.

"Why?" Mami asks," You let Bagheera sleep in bed with you."

"My Bagheera!" You say through your tears.

Mami tries to go to soothe you but you shriek again and hide behind Ingrid because she doesn't want this new baby either and she won't betray you like Mami is.

"Si," Mami says," Your Bagheera. But you love Bagheera a lot."

You nod.

"Don't you want to have another friend to play with?"

You shake your head. "No! No new baby! Just me!"

Mami looks at you strangely. "I know," She says," You're the only baby we'll have. We know that."

It's your turn to look strange at Mami now and you peek out from behind Ingrid's leg to look at her. You sniffle. "Why're you askin' for another one if you know it's just me?"

Mami laughs slightly, a smiling tugging at her lips. "I'm sorry, cub. I should have been more clear."

"Mapi," Ingrid says warningly," No."

"Oh come on, it'll be good for her. It'll teach her responsibility."

You frown. "What will?"

"I've been thinking." Mami eases down to your height. "You're a big girl now and you love Bagheera a lot but she's technically Mami's, right?"

You nod.

"Well, how about we get you a kitten for yourself? Wouldn't that be fun?"

"Mapi!"

You nod quickly and Mami smiles.

"Well," She says," You just have to convince Ingrid. Because she's the boss, remember?"

[cinnbar-bun]

first off— I LOVE UR WORK!! i think i just went thru and read everything you have for one piece LOL. second!!! i saw hc / drabble request open !! i have a silly idea that i feel like you can make come into reality.

recently i’ve been watching isekai’s so…imagine. reader getting isekai-d into the one piece world!!! (more specifically, interactions with the cross guild!!!)

A/n: Thank you very much nonnie!! I really appreciate you taking the time to read my stuff. Please enjoy this <3

Getting Isekai'd Into Cross Guild!

Rating: SFW

Relationship: Cross Guild x Reader

Notes: GN!Reader, a bit crack, short and sweet. No relationship is defined so you can assume it to be platonic or romantic <3.

The wonderful Truck-kun granted your wish of getting isekai’d by sending you straight to the One Piece world! How wonderful! 

Except, you quite literally fell on top of Buggy just as he was trying to argue his case to Crocodile and Mihawk. 

Now, they have no clue what the hell just happened but Mihawk already agrees with whatever that just was. 

Buggy is about to scream over the fact you just fell on top of him and Crocodile is wondering how you managed to get here. 

Crocodile assumes a Devil Fruit, Mihawk assumes you snuck in, and Buggy assumes you’re the devil. 

It takes a moment for things to settle down as they demand you tell them what you’re doing here. You explain that well… uh… you’re not really from here. 

Crocodile almost plans to kill you right away because he doesn’t have time for stupidity like that, but you show whatever you have on hand to prove otherwise. 

They’re all immediately entranced by your phone, but they have something they’re also interested in too. 

Crocodile: Your credit cards and money. When you explain how a credit/debit card functions he’s amazed. Tempted to start a bank and overhaul the current financial system. Also loves the excel spreadsheets. The fact this “machine” will calculate all of this for you and put it in a neat list… well… mark him down as interested. 

Buggy: The shiny games on your phone that are colorful and fun. The fact he can “Google” anything and look up new material. 

Mihawk: EReaders and, this will sound hilarious, but text messaging. He doesn’t care to talk, but he thinks that sending texts would be so much more effective and efficient than having to haul himself around the sea or, god forbid, answer a phone call. 

Okay so you did manage to prove you’re not from this world (or that perhaps you were an alien freak but that’s okay) and Crocodile and Mihawk are pretty much entertained. That’s it. You can go. Bother someone else. 

Buggy however, holds you close and pouts. “Can we keep them? Can we keep them pleeeeeeeease???” He begs as if you’re a little puppy. 

Crocodile is against this but Mihawk shrugs and agrees. Whatever. This could be interesting. 

Buggy still doesn’t understand you’re not some circus animal and rambles about what he should have you wear and perform for his show while Crocodile cuts him off. 

Frankly, if you’re telling the truth and have nowhere else to go, you gotta earn your keep. Crocodile just makes a new position for you that shouldn’t be too hard after you said you have 0 combat skills or training. 

You’re basically just their assistant and do menial work that no one else really wants to do. For now at least. 

Buggy is actually… kinda happy you’re so nice to him? He’s used to either worship from his crewmates or abuse from Mihawk and Crocodile, so you quickly become his new favorite person. He’s pretty shocked you’re as nice as you are considering how crappy this situation is, but he’s grateful. Softens up to you right away and loves having your attention. 

Buggy likes to do silly tricks to make you laugh whenever he can, mostly as a way to be the “flashiest” guy in your eyes. He really doesn’t like when others try to take you or away or interrupt his time with you, since he’s a brat and finds you entertaining. 

Crocodile and Mihawk are tougher nuts to crack. Neither of them trust people, but they find you interesting, even though you are incredibly weak compared to others. 

Crocodile always tries to see what you may/may not know about him since you made a few offhand comments that were a bit too… knowledgeable… so he often tries to get you to slip up more or confess to something. He hopes to see if you know something useful that can be used (but also deep down is afraid you know too much). 

Mihawk on the other hand finds you amusing. Plenty of things are similar to your world, but it’s quite clear you’re not used to many aspects of this one. He forms a habit of just watching you or actively messing with you to see your reaction. It’s a bit funny to him, admittedly. 

Of the two, Mihawk is the first to somewhat let his guard down and be a bit protective of you. He figures even if you were hypothetically “dangerous”, he could easily kill you so what does he care? You do your job, you’re entertaining, and you don’t give him a headache. 

Crocodile only lets up when you “prove” time and time again that you are reliable and not trying to go after them or sabotage them. He does think it’s a bit weird you’re eager to help them, considering what they do and what you know, but hey, who is he to complain? 

To sum it up: Crocodile cares the most about you being isekai’d, Buggy cares the least (except when it comes to his perception. He wonders if he’s also got a following there).

Buggy likes showing off his new tricks or discussing silly hypotheticals with you. 

Crocodile likes when your eyes grow wide whenever he drops an expensive item on your desk as a token of his appreciation to you. 

Mihawk likes when you talk him to normally and share deep discussions with him. 

It is a bit strange that there’s some “normal” person with these three villains, but you’ve become important to them. You’re unique and special, practically one of a kind in this zany world. They show their feelings towards you in different ways, but the way they’ve grown attached to you and try to protect you show that you’re valued in their life.

[krisp-xyz]

Was experimenting with halftone effects after watching this video and it almost has spiderverse vibes honestly. I actually learned some neat things about why printers use CMYK instead of just CMY so I thought I'd share !!

So in our optimal little computer space, Cyan (0,255,255), Magenta (255,0,255) and Yellow (255,255,0) all multiplied together gives us a perfect black (0,0,0) Awesome! The issue is that ink colors irl arent exactly perfect like this, and color is a bit more complicated irl compared to how computers represent it, so they aren't the greatest at combining into black if they aren't those perfect CMY values:

Left: CMY

Right: CMYK

(thats not even black, its a dark blue in the original image but dark colors just look so much richer)

An important step to make sure you arent doubling up on the black values though is to divide the image by it's own "value" (the max of all 3 color channels) that way the value is equal to 1 everywhere, and you're letting the black ink take care of the value on its own.

Left: CMY (normalized value)

Middle: K (black)

Right: Combined

Now obviously the grids of dots cant be aligned perfectly with each other because you'd just get a bunch of black dots in unwanted areas, but if the grids are misaligned, then some dots become more prominent than others which tints the whole image. This was an issue because older printing methods didn't have great accuracy and these grids were often misaligned.

The solution was to rotate these grids such that they can move around freely while getting rid of that tint effect if they aren't perfectly aligned :D

(I have no idea how they came up with these angles but that might be something to look into in the future who knows)

SPEAKING OF MISALIGNMENT

I wanted to implement that in my own filter to get some cool effects, and I discovered another reason CMYK is better than CMY for lots of stuff !!

With CMY, you're relying on the combination of 3 color channels to make the color black. This means if you have thin lines or just details in general, misalignment can make those details very fuzzy. Since CMYK uses a single color of ink to handle value, it reduces color fringing and improves clarity a lot even if you have the exact same misalignment as CMY!

Left: CMY

Right: You guessed it! CMYK

(yes these comparisons have the exact same color misalignment, the only difference is using a fourth ink color for black)

ANYWAY I just thought there was a lot of cool information in this tiny little day project, I also just think it looks really neat and wanted to share what I learned :3c

EDITING BECAUSE THERE'S ONE MORE THING I WANTED TO ADD

So, I talked about how to get K in addition to CMY instead of just CMY, but how exactly do you separate CMY from an image in the first place?

Well, CMY is a subtractive color space, meaning the "absence of color" is white, compared to RGB where it's black. This makes sense because ofc ink is printed on white paper. You can use dot product to get the "similarity" between two vectors, and this can be used to separate RGB actually! Using the dot product of a color and red (255,0,0) will give you just the red values of the image. This is cool though because if we get the dot product of our image and the color cyan (0,255,255), we can get the cyan values from our image too! If we first divide our colors by their value to separate the value from them, then separate CMY using those dot product values, and using K for our final black color value, our individual color passes end up looking like this:

While it's called a "subtractive" color space, I find it more intuitive to treat white as the absence of color here, and then multiply all these passes together. It makes it much easier to understand how the colors are combined imo. Notice how cyan is the opposite of red: (255,0,0) vs (0,255,255) and magenta and yellow are the opposites of green and blue respectively! This means you can actually kinda get away with separating the RGB values and just inverting some stuff to optimize this, but this example is much more intuitive and readable so I won't go too deep into that. THANKS FOR READING I know it's a very long post but I hope people find it interesting! I try my best to explain things in a clear and concise way :3

oh thank you I realized I should probably add an eyestrain tag

[piratefishmama]

Angel | Steddie Oneshot

Eddie Munson never believed that he’d go to Heaven. Sure he’d been raised in a catholic household, his uncle was religious, he’d been raised to give thanks for the food they ate, to pray before bed that should he not wake, his soul the lord take an all that jazz.

Wouldn’t believe it to look at him, to hear the songs he sang, the music he played. Wouldn’t believe how he’d been raised if one were to go by covers instead of contents.

But despite his upbringing in the very catholic Munson Trailer of Forest Hills Trailer Park, he never believed he’d go to heaven. Something about queers and submitting to sin and blah blah blah it’d been a long-ass time since his last confession, but Uncle Wayne stopped reminding him a few years back, so he had an excuse to keep ‘forgetting’ to do it.

Turns out, one did not need to go to confession to make it to heaven!

Angels would just. Turn up, apparently.

Maybe he’d done something good that he wasn’t aware of, he did go to that Make A Wish thing a few weeks back, DM’d a whole one shot for the kids, he’d spent hours there, a whole dang day just… hanging out with sick kids.

Maybe that was it. Maybe that was what brought this heavenly creature to his side.

To cut a long story short, he was on stage one minute, belting out the lyrics from the final verse of the last song in their set ‘Into the Underdark’, Jeff was slipping into the ending guitar solo, Eddie was gearing up for an end of gig crowd surf and the next.

The next he was looking into a bright, blinding light that kept moving between his eyes.

He’d always been told not to go to the light. If you see it? Don’t go to it, going to it would make whatever trip you were going on a one way ticket, there was no going back when you reached that light. Just hang back, wait for the resuscitation, it’d happen, someone would breathe life back into you, or whack you with enough voltage to get that heart kickin again, just don’t go into that light.

That light was way too close to his eyes, and he couldn’t swat it away. His arms felt tied down. Rude.

And then the light was gone, had he reached it? Was that it? One way ticket stub punched, sorry Earth, Munson out. “Mr Munson? Can you hear me?” Oh what heavenly chorus, the light had momentarily blinded him but shit… when his sight came back, at least enough to make out the vague shape of a very square jaw, of angular features, of warm hazel eyes, and a luscious head of hair surrounded by a halo of brilliant white light.

Angel. He had an audience with an Angel. It could only be an Angel. Neat.

He’d enjoy the ‘I Told You So’ he got from his uncle whenever the old goat made it up there he hoped it wouldn’t be soon though, he’d prefer a longer wait than a short one, thanks.

“Mnn… I hear you big boy, are you sure I’m in the right place though? I’ve been told Heaven wouldn’t want me” it sounded smooth in his head, but he was pretty sure he slurred half the words.

How could he have a slurred voice in Heaven? That didn’t seem fair.

Oh he’d forgive the slurred speech bit if the angel kept making that wonderful music with his vocal chords, that little giggle of a laugh, so bubbly and sweet, yep. Somehow he’d weaselled his way into Heaven. Suck it soccer moms. “Well, at least you can summon the strength to be charming.”

He was charming? An angel thought he was charming? Hell yeah, he’d rock this heaven shit, he already had an in with the big, winged boys!

“I can summon the strength for other stuff too, worship ain’t ever really been my thing but, baby I think I can learn for a literal Angel” he’d subject himself to an afterlife on his knees gladly if it meant he’d have his hands curled around this creature’s thighs, his mouth on—

“Oh wow…” Eddie couldn’t really see it properly thanks to the lovely blinding spots in his eyes that was no doubt his eyes adjusting to heavenly light, but he was sure his angel was blushing, he sounded a little breathless. Good. “You’re uh… wow”

Eddie hadn’t had much charm before becoming world famous but, he’d gained a little experience. Women and men alike throwing themselves at him, knowing he wasn’t all that fussed, babes were babes. All genders welcome to hop on and take a ride. He knew it was mostly the fame, he was still the same nerd he’d been back in high school, but… if fame got him laid then fame got him laid.

At the very least it gave him the experience to flirt with one of Gods pretty little birds. Maybe even score if the reaction he got was any indication.

So much for lust being a punishable sin, huzzah.

Steve was having a day. Okay no, Steve was having a whole week. The only upside to his overtime riddled ass, was that Robin had been on the majority of his shifts with him, so they could at least talk in the ambulance while they roamed the streets waiting for chaos to drop.

Monday, it’d been a seven car pileup on the highway, a few lost limbs, no fatalities but one hell of a close call on two accounts.

Tuesday, it’d been a tumble at a care home resulting in a popped hip and some heavy flirting from a few old ladies. Poor Robin suffering it from a few old men trying to shoot a shot they didn’t have.

Wednesday it’d been crisis after crisis resulting in him not finishing his shift until six hours after he was meant to finish his shift.

Thursday he had one blessed night off, thankfully his on-call status hadn’t dragged him in, and he got a decent six hour nap in.

Friday, another car wreck, he didn’t want to think about that one.

And now Saturday.

Dispatch sent them to the sold out arena, some idiot had leapt off the stage likely for a crowd surf, his foot tangled in an amp chord, it reduced his air time dramatically and he brained himself on one of the guard rails.

Excellent. At least he wasn’t dead.

Which given how easily one could wind up six feet under from such a whack to the head, he was lucky.

They parked by the side exit, shuffled in by security, and right through into the arena. The patient hadn’t been moved as per dispatchers instructions to the person who’d called. No moving the idiot until the professionals arrived and determined it safe.

Cameras, flashing lights, big beefy security guards standing in front of them blocking the majority of what was happening from view, there was… quite a bit of blood there. It didn’t look pretty in that lighting. “The crowd’s too much, let’s get him to the ambulance.” Robin’s patience didn’t exist when it came to large crowds.

Too many people. Plus she’d been on shift five hours longer than he had.

“Alright, you two, c’mere” Steve singled out two of the big security guys “we’re gonna need you to help us get him onto the gurney, we’ll look him over in the back of the ambulance.” There were no broken bones, nothing stopping them from moving him just enough to get him to the ambulance unscathed.

And then, somewhere between writing out paperwork, checking vitals, and Robin googling who this guy was, said guy… woke up.

Steve, being closer, was quick to check responsiveness, pupils reacted well to light although a concussion did look likely, they’d cleaned up the blood and found the cause to be a cut just above his left eyebrow that’d probably make a kickass scar and oh.

Without the blood. Oh. Oh he was pretty. Pretty plump lips, long lashes, deep brown eyes, faint freckles across his nose. All that hair. He was pretty.

“Mr Munson? Can you hear me?” He’d asked, while shining that little torch into those pretty brown eyes, left to right to check the responsiveness. And then he spoke and Steve— well. Robin was eyeballing him judgementally pretty damn hard given how fast his face flamed red.

Her head in her hands, her fingers plugged into her ears as Munson rattled off promises of worship and good lord— Steve didn’t know what to say, what to do, what does one do when a hot yet slightly delirious rockstar offers to worship your ‘angelic body’?

What does one do with that?

One awkwardly stutters through thanks while bright red and toasty until they can part with the guy at the ER wishing he’d met him under better circumstances cause it’d been a long ass time since anyone even touched him let alone worshipped him but accepting that he’d probably never see the guy again, so it didn’t really matter.

Until a few days later when the official Corroded Coffin account slid into his DM’s on Instagram, apologised profusely, and requested very sweetly to make it up to him with dinner the next time he was free.

Signed Eddie. With a little angel emoji. How on earth could he say no to that?

[libraryraccoon]

Hey lol uh this is my first time requesting and stuff so I hope I won’t be a bother and stuff but could you do a male reader who’s a lot like mommy long legs from poppy playtime.

And basically he is the older sibling of angel dust and always been the parent for him through his struggles, but one day male reader decided to visit the Masquerade While filming, reader arrives and Angel Dust immediately tries to get them away before Valentino sees then. When the reader accidentally ruins the set, Valentino takes Angel Dust away and abuses him when made the reader very angry to the point realizing what’s happening to angel they became deranged to the point there eyes are now completely dilated, giving off an unhinged vibe there hair is now twisted and mangled, no longer the neat curls in there previous form there hands are enlarged maniacally, and his fingers are splayed and elongated to resemble claws. His body is also twisted in even more alarming and unnatural angles.

(Er I don’t really want to put that much but you can definitely decide if you want male reader to do something to Valentino but you don’t really need to do this if this is too much and I’ll completely understand😭)

Gender : Male

Pronouns used : None

Info : Reader is the older brother of Angel Dust.

Message of Raccoon : I didn't have too much idea for that one tbh. I will maybe rewrite it in the futur.

You were like the big brother/father of the Hotel Hazbin crew, and you were Anthony's biological big brother, or Angel Dust as he liked to be called in Hell.

You treated the entire Hazbin Crew like if they were your children, even Lucifer.

You cooked for them, helped Niffty with her work, you helped your kids the hazbin crew to solve their problems, you loved them like any good father would…

A perfect father !

But that also brought problems.

You wanted to break Angel Dust's contract with Charlie, but unfortunately some problems happened.

Charlie had set fire to the set/studio by accident.

But Valentino didn't want to know anything.

He took Angel Dust aside, and, fearing for your little brother, you followed them.

Seeing Valentino hit Angel Dust revealed why you were in Hell.

I neglected to mention that you, Mommy Long Legs!reader, were very protective and that you would do anything for those you saw as family.. This was also the reason of why you were in Hell.

Your eyes were big and black, completely dilated. The smile on your face didn't say anything good.

Your size had greatly increased, making you touch the ceiling of the room and making you appear much more intimidating and strong.

Your body was twisting every which way, in ways that shouldn't be possible. It was like you had no bones.

You took Angel Dust in one of your hand (kind of like Mommy Long Legs with Poppy) and pulled him away from Valentino.

“Don’t you dare touch my brother.” Is everything you said.

You would have killed Valentino right now if Anthony wasn't there, he don't need to see you kill him.

Valentino just nodded silently in fear, your shadow covering him.

"Great !" You said happily, placing Anthony on the ground before changing back to your smaller size.

After that, you, Charlie and Anthony had left the studio.

You might not have been able to cancel his contract today, but that's okay. You will do it another day.

And if Valentino was smart enough, he would do it himself without you needing to ask again.

After all this, Anthony has avoided upsetting you, not wanting to face the same anger as Val had to face.

[unhinged-waterlilly]

Why would you be scared of me?

Ooc Intro

My name's Lilly Darhk. I'm a daughter of Poseidon, adopted daughter of Odysseus, Penelope, and Hector anddddd Legacy of Styx(just don't ask). I'm a ✧female✧.My pronouns are she/her, fuck if I know my sexuality. I'm currently possessed by Nyx, Scylla, Styx, and Hera(how am I alive? We'll never know). A Champion of Athena(my dad's proud of me for thattt) and Achilles.

Reside in Itacha now! I used to live at Camp Half-blood though. I still go to Camp pretty often. Usually I train the newbies. More often, I just kick them down on their ass.

Keep the hellhounds away from me, or I swear to Hades, I will kill them. Sorry, the only hellhound I'm okay with is Mrs. O'Leary and I prefer staying away from her too.

Currently on a self appointed quest of getting as many bows from as many gods as I can so if you're a god or if you know a god who can give me a bow tell me please- gimmeeee.

My fatal flaw? I've been told it's my pride. I can't imagine why.

For weapons, I got two bracelets. Ones for my daggers, the other for my bows. There's a full quiver on there, too. Just flick, and there in my hand. Pretty neat.

My kill count? Monsters or mortals? Do you really want to know? Next is death count. Haven't died yet miraculously. How many times I've almost died is a whole other thing.

Key:

Nyx(purple, bold) Scylla(blue,bold) Styx(red,italic) Hera(orange,italic)

Lilly(normal)

Face Claim:

Something about @/demigod-jack-hearth...

Something about me...

The peeps I knoww:

They, like, possess me: @primordialgoddessofnight , @werelonelydemonsfromhell , @heraaaaaaaa

Champions of: @achilles-the-greatest

My bio dad: @that-little-fucking-shit

Dad, who adopted me: @odysseus-of-ithaca-is-lost

Another version of the dad that adopted me that I don't like as much: @odysseus-reigning-king-of-ithaca

Other dad who looked at me and was like 'That one' (he regrets it every day): @paris-you-idiot

My mom, who was completely okay with ody adopting me and didn't question it at all(which i still find kinda weird): @penelope-is-waiting

My sister from Poseidon: @daonedaonlyskh

My other sister from Odysseus: @reigningprincesstofithaca

My psychotic adoptive brother: @reigningprinceofithaca

Other version of my brother, less insane more sad: @telemachus-of-ithaca

Other other version of my brother, but he's 12 and adorable! (And if anyone hurts him... you better hope you die before I get to you) @telemachus-is-lost

Other other other versions of my brother are 10 noww: @young-telemachus

Other other other other version of my brother and he has horrid taste in men: @the-prince-telemachus

Other other other other other version of my brother who thinks he's Shakespeare or that arrow Apollo dealt with: @ithacas-prince

Other other other other other other version of my brother except Poseidon took him or something: @taken-by-the-seas

Other other other other other other other version of my brother who..wait that isn't right... Not traumatised???? I don't know how this is possible: @youre-fatherless-im-not-hehe

Other other other other other other other other version of my brother who's 15 and just...i don't know how to feel about him if I had to kill a Tele I'd probably kill him: @another-telemachus-wont-hurt

My brother from Poseidon, who's an idiot: @forbiddensonoftheseagod

My cyclops brother, very tall, very blind and does not know what small talk is: @my-baseballs-are-humans

Ma boyfriend, who's very awesome, and if anyone hurts him, I will make sure you die a very slow death. :D @madson-of-hermes-notluke

My boyfriend's half sister(who's also my friend ig): @hispanic-child-of-hermes

Richbitches4lifeee: @if-chaos-was-a-boy

Nyx possesses this dude, too. Oh, and there's also his husband: @idontloveanybodythatsmypower

Some dude who sent me a meme to be my friend and then wrote me a song: @clown-energy-skyrocketing

Fellow Luke defender😌 @childofthewargod

There's more people I know-

Cool art of meh :3

Stuff about Lilly... (1)

Moodboard...

~~~

~~~

No NSFW. DNI if you're zionist, transphobic, homophobic, racist, sexist, a nazi, xenophobic, or otherwise

[ivystoryweaver]

Hello Ivy! Could I please get some headcanons for marital bliss with the Moon Knight system? Congratulations on 1000! 🌹

Moon Boys Marital Bliss

.✧ ˚ Being married is getting to hang out with your best friend all the time˚ · .✧

Heyyy, thank you so much, I love this prompt!

fluff, domestic life, romance, slightly suggestive, gn Word Count: 625

✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧

Steven loves having someone to come home to - someone who made vows to him. It's very grounding for him after a quite confusing existence previously.

Sometimes he gets distracted during his work day just imagining you walking in the door - your scent drifting down the hallway, the timbre of your voice - the allure of your eyes

The cool weight of his wedding band anchors him when he is apart from you and often so easily dismissed by others.

He’ll smile to himself and rub his thumb across it, imagining the way your eyes will sparkle with excitement to see him.

He can’t wait for chance to pull you into his arms and bury his nose in the spot just behind your ear. “Missed you, love.”

Steven is your menu-planning, vegan-shopping, bumping-elbows-while-washing dishes buddy. Dinner is always an adventure (and a mess) with this one.

You’ve never flirted so much while doing chores.

Steven makes life interesting, like an exploration. He's always seeking something - wanting to know more about the world around him, the history before him, and everything that makes you tick, that makes you happy, that makes you fall apart in his bed.

✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧

Marc is so so neat. His past taught him to blend in, fade away, disappear into the background

You hear a groan if your jacket hits the chair when you get home. You gladly pick it up because you hate cleaning the bathroom and Marc keeps it spotless

Showers with Marc are sweet or spicy. He always washes your back, caresses your skin and kisses you senseless. It's your favorite place to have his undivided attention.

You love bumping shoulders with him while you brush your teeth. He is a nonverbal communicator, so you relish the chance to watch him the mirror. Those smoldering brown eyes will rake over your form, whether you're in an oversized t-shirt or your best outfit. (or nothing at all)

It's lovely having someone organized and clean - it takes some pressure off, and it's a relief to not have to pick up after someone sloppy.

Marc is intense and devoted - you're the center of his universe and you know it. You could go an entire day without him speaking a word, and you still know. Long fingers brush your arm, heated kisses fall on your neck, longing gazes set you on fire.

And nothing shows you his intensity and devotion more than when you spend all night in his arms.

✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧

Ever since you moved into a house with a garage, Jake is in his own little heaven.

You never took your husband for a "man cave" kind of guy, but he loves to tinker with his car, have a drink, watch baseball and get into all sorts of projects

Sometimes you catch him with grease smudged on his forehead - somehow Jake makes any look sexy

He teaches you how to take care of your car - change a tire, stuff like that

Sometimes you bring him a beer and hang on to him. He secretly waits for you to do this - for you to seek him out, to cling to him, to need him

And you do need him. Jake loves to take care of you but he fully understands you can take care of yourself. The trust you give him means everything to him. No one has ever trusted him before now, or even really known him.

He loves the privacy the garage affords him - it helps him recharge his personal battery. But before too long, he'll always conveniently want to show you a thing or two - before he does a thing or two to you in the back seat of his car

✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧

1000 Follower/Holiday Celebration Masterlist

Moon Knight Masterlist

Main Masterlist

[the-s1lly-corner]

Various HH characters x Artist reader

Prize 4/5 for @coldestcoconut

This post contains: Charlie, Vaggie, Alastor, Angel Dust, Husk, Sir Pentious, and Nifty

Notes: Reader is GN

CWs: None

CHARLIE

Its canon that Charlie herself is an artist, she makes her own presentations and everything! Shes very open to sharing her supplies with you, though a lot of the colors she has are very bright and saturated. You might inspire her to have an artsy based exercise in the hotel, you... may get a few groans and looks from some of the other hotel residents.. whoops.. gushes and goes insane whenever you make something for her or really show her anything, she can go on for hours and hours about how lovely your work looks! Woukd put it on the fridge/hj

VAGGIE

Not at all an artist, and she doesnt... exactly know techniques and terms. She is proud of you and shes trying her best to show that, but... her compliments seem to fall a little flat when praising you thanks to her voice as well as her just not knowing terms. A lot of the time its comments like "oh, this looks good," whereas other characters can say WHY it's good. Though is that really that important when seeking validation? Keeps all the art you give her in a folder somewhere, neat and away from harm

ANGEL

It should be a given that hes going to ask if you can draw something... rather inappropriate. Were you really surprised? He might likely also ask you to draw fat nuggets, he even offers to pay you. Keeps some of your doodles pinned up on his vanity mirror on his room. Hes an artist, just not in the way you are. He has an appreciation for your work even if it's a different genre! It doesnt matter what your skill level is, hes going to be a little interested. He offers to pose for you if you need a quick reference, he can offer something interesting thanks to his flexibility! Free of charge, too!

ALASTOR

Similar to Angel, hes an artist just in a different way! Angel is a dancer and an actor, and Alastor uses radio as his medium! Hes.. interested enough in your work, though he can be a little more.. critical in his criticisms (but only if you ask for it, hes not rude!). He doesnt intent to fully stamp out your excitement, hes simply trying to get you to reach your fullest potential as an artist. It is balanced out by elements he enjoys in your art. Watches you like a hawk when you work. Dont try to be sneaky and try to draw him, he already knows what you're doing.. but he might just allow it, it's not like you're using a camera

HUSK

Hes indifferent, at least.. mostly.. he listens when you talk about your hobby and he makes sure you know hes paying attention. But you can tell that hes not sure how to keep the conversation going thanks to him just... not being into art. Sure he can tell when something has talent and had work put into it, but hes not the type to sit down and really dissect a piece. Though... his appreciation for art does grow thanks to you. Keeps the doodles you slide to him while he's working the bar- gets a little pissed at himself if part of the papers get wet from the condensation from the drinks

SIR PENTIOUS

NIFTY

She draws! As a hobby and when shes not warring with the bugs in the hotel! Sometimes the two of you sit and draw together- though Niftys more.. scribbling on the papers. Shes just excited is all! Don't ask where she got the red paint from. Hoardes the art you give her, very possessive of the drawings. Probably attempts to stab someone if they get too close to her stash

Hes a bit artistic himself, being an inventor and all! He draws his own blueprints and as well as his own designs. It may not be the same as the things you may create, but it's still a bonding point between the two of you. He let's you use his fancy pens and stuff, just please return them! Will praise you to heaven and back whenever you show him something, he knows some art terms and you can bet hes going to be using them to really push his praise! If you ever draw him anything hes going to keep it, likely framing it as well!

[omuricebreakfast]

IT'S TIME.

Guh,, i've been errrrmmmm procrastinating on posting >>;7 Maybe I should put up a mini schedule or something.. BUT, I HAVE DOODLES TO SHOW!!!!!!!! (finally) While I continue to procrastinate on finalizing the Dating Sim AU designs for Kinito and friends I've been emmm making more au's! One of which has completely taken over my brain!!! So, have my Casino au KinitoPET designs! (Shoutout to @vam-piritz for helping me with Kinito's colors bc gosh darn I be struggling w them ms paint colors dawg,, Kinito got such a blinding pink it's hard not to make it clash w red..) AND since nobody asked, I'll share a bit of info on this au!! (Just be aware this au is purely self indulgent and funnily enough doesn't revolve around any of the main cast being ai's? they just kinda? exist now?) Sam was a well known Seahorse racer that managed to get himself into a bit of a pickle, you see, he got forced to work at Kinito's Casino because his other racer "friends" ended up gambling all of his money away. Now he has to pay off a massive amount of debt in order to get out of this predicament, and to ensure that he DOES end up paying he needs to drop his racing career and put it on hold so he can work for Kinito. Jade and Kinito are fairly good friends and business partners. She owns a seafood Restaurant that is conjoined with the Casino in order for the two of them to be close to each other. She's a very smart and strong lady that keeps an eye on Sam (And Kinito pfft) to ensure he stays and does what he's supposed to be doing. She also has a neat little interest in sciency stuff! And Last but not least... Kinito! The Casino owner himself. As stated previously he's very good friends with Jade, always had an interest in people and money. He's a fairly friendly guy that just wants to let people enjoy their time at his Casino (although the pic i decided to color in doesn't really show that lol). Just be warned, he does have some fairly strict but simple rules... Go into debt and can't pay back? Work for him. Easy as that. He may be friendly, but he won't be your friend. He can be into some... Really shady business at times... (Also The Casino is haunted! some stuff was joked about in a friend group and now it's canon LMAO)

[gomu-fer]

Love recipe

Sanji x gardener!reader

fluff!!!!!!!! Stablished relationship, gn reader, from my gardener!reader series but can be read as a stand alone, I recommend this

Word count: 1.2k

Summary: In which you find Sanji’s cook notebook

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

An endless sea of boxes filled your room in the Sunny, when had you accumulated so much stuff in your time with the strawhats? You didn’t know

You were the kind to keep everything, even the tiniest things held so much memories and meaning that you just couldn’t leave them behind

But you were starting to regret it

A week ago you and Sanji had finally decided to tell the crew that you were dating

After being met with all of your crewmates groans of defeat as they handed a couple berries to Nami you realized maybe you were a little more obvious than you thought

Regardless they were happy and a little relieved that you two had finally settled down

“So is the dumb cook finally moving out? We are tired of you leaving every night to our quarters,” Zoro was quick to ask you looking dead in your bashful eyes, red blush rushing to your face

“WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?” Sanji screamed at the swordsman in your defense

As much as you tried to brush the matter off or deny the accusations everyone had witnessed how at very ungodly hours of the night you’d slip into Sanjis bed to sleep soundly and turning back to your own at sunrise thinking no one noticed

“OR you can move in with us!” Your Captain chimed in but his idea was immediately shot down by your boyfriend

So he moved in your room, something you were happy about but right now, as you choose what to keep, throw away or store in boxes to make space for Sanji, was giving you a huge headache.

You sat cross legged in the middle of your floor between boxes looking like cat in hiding as Sanji walked in with a couple of more boxes in hand, settling them on the ground glancing at your form and smiling in endearment

“Almost done my love” he spoke up making you bend backwards and smiling at him

“Let me get up and help you with the rest”

“Absolutely not” something about you even lifting a finger in his presence always made him shiver, there was no way he was gonna allow you carry his heavy boxes, he knew you were capable, he just didn’t wanted you to

It was the third time you had offered to help him so you just gave up and giggled before returning to your task as the blonde went back to make yet another trip from the boys quarters to your room

You let out a defeated sigh as you finally finished up choosing everything that you decided to get rid off. As you got up with the box you tripped over the others that surrounded you making you lose balance, in an attempt to save yourself from a nasty fall, one of Sanjis boxes opened and some of his belongings scattered across the floor

“Dammit” carefully you place your box aside as you hastily take your boyfriend’s personal stuff and return them into the box, not wanting Sanji to think you were snooping round his personal belongings

As you delicately put his box aside, a notebook lays on the ground that you seemed to have missed to put away, you take it but instead of storing it, your hands explore the markings on the cover

‘Sanjis cookbook’ it read in his neat handwriting, you smile to yourself before slowly opening it, the notebook was well loved and you didn’t wanted it to break apart at your touch. The pages were filled with different recipes the cook had came up with during the years, it was sweet how noticeable was the change in his notes when he joined the strawhats, suddenly more intricate and lively dishes appearing on its pages. It was obvious how much he enjoyed being the crews cook, this was a trait of him you always had loved and admired. The cook had created dishes, drinks and pastries inspired by every crew member, some just being fun experimental ones, while others attended to their nutritional needs

Some really tasty meat recipes made for Luffy

An orangy strong drink for Nami

Boring rice-balls with a hint of sake for Zoro

Coffee infused pastries for Robin

Chicken a lá Soda for Franky

Taroyaki for Usopp

Sweet cotton candy for Chopper

Curry for Brook

Some of them with your name on it eventually show up but were all about either your diet or changing some ingredients up in meals you didn’t quite like or would upset your stomach, even your favorite vegetable soup was in there with a marking on it with your name. Expectancy bubbled in your stomach as you waited for dishes made not for you, but inspired by you to appear, but as you kept on reading the pages of everyone’s meals except yours a frown plastered on your lips

“Oh” you thought, maybe you weren’t good enough to be Sanji’s muse. Of course you knew he loved you endlessly, he would assure you everyday and you’ll see it in different ways he had to tell you ‘I love you’ without even speaking it.

The way he would patiently show you how to cut ingredients in the kitchen so you could help him and spend quality time, or the names he’d call you that sweetened your days, how he would always be on your call and foot for whatever you wished or needed, the dreamy look you’d spark on his eyes and even just the full on attention he’d offer you, as if you were the only thing in the world

But still, one would think you’ll at least have one dish dedicated to you after all the love he exuded in your presence

As you gave up and started to close the notebook, you saw a page near the end with your name on it, making your eyes grow wide in joy. You open it to find not a dish, but a whole different section of the notebook just for you, the cook had even drawn tiny hearts after your name

Pink dusted your face and a bright smile grew on your lips as you admired the dishes Sanji had crafted with such love and dedication, recognizing some of them and even remembering how he had asked you to taste test them in the past. You were moved, over the moon wasn’t enough of an expression to understand how you were feeling, no one had ever shown this much appreciation for you, small tears peaked at the corner of your eyes of the fullness you felt. How could you ever return such a gesture? Such love declaration that you didn’t even were supposed to know about?

You return the notebook to its rightful place before standing back on your feet and taking your box towards the door that slowly opened revealing your tall blonde handsome of a boyfriend with the last box

“Sorry it took so long sunlight, Luffy asked me for another snack and I ha-“ he was cut off by the biggest warmest hug he had ever received in his life, dropping the box as your hands found a spot on his neck and your lips pecked his before hiding your face in his neck, your feet tip toeing so you could reach

The action took Sanji by surprise, making him blush and stand frozen in place at your sudden affection that he still found difficult to come around, always being used to be the more affectionate one until you showed up and made him know how much loved he deserved back

“Is everything alright my love?”

“Yes darling, everything’s amazing”

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

Omg they’re back I’m so happy!!!! Hope you enjoy and remember you can request anything you wanna see about these two or just anything One Piece related technically

[thatdeadaquarius]

That language SAGAU but the Reader can only communicate writing on paper.

Either the Reader is mute and they (characters) don't know/understand sign language or they somehow lost their voices on their transmigration to Teyvat and can only write now. But the characters are left trying to decipher what the Reader wrote.

Examples:

Kaeya: "I may say, that was very unexpected your grace. One such as yourself should be more aware of who you are."

Reader: "wat, y u sayin dat?"

×

Gorou: "Oh, your grace! Careful now. I am most certain that you stepped on something unsightly right now. Let me clean your feet, your grace."

Reader: "r u srs rn? Fml"

Ooooo, this is nice, this is niiccceeee /ref

this would be the energy⬇️

Man I love this show, I gotta finish it (it’s Komi Can’t Communicate for those who want to see it) where she basically is too shy/introverted to speak (non-verbal neurospicy it seems like to me actually lol) and really wants to make friends and do normal things despite not speaking, her main way of communicating is writing (and her first guy friend who can just read her facial/body language really well lmao)!!

☆

Sun: Gender Neutral Reader (they/them)

Planet: Headcanons-ish?

Stars: dashes/mention of most characters

Comets & Meteors: Content Warnings: Reader/”you” are mute/lost their voice, & Trigger Warnings: None Known.

☆

This kinda falls into that post I made abt texting lingo, abt us being nigh incomprehensible when using texting lang. (its basically a code lol)

but i think it’s always neat to see nonverbal rep so here we are (also i think imma go ahead and say it is both selectively mute but also enforced by video game laws!)

u know a good explanation would be for this is actually abt how we technically are only allowed to freely communicate when we’re in chats,

so I could see that still being the only way we can commnicate in Teyvat (look am i little excited abt taking “video game world” a little too literally in every genshin AU ever- maybe.)

tbh i could see so many allogenes having to either learn to make room for you in convos and u also having to get wayyy more expressive in body language/facial expressions

tbh i think itd be pretty easy to get ur meaning, like in a battle or smth fast-paced where u couldnt write, like how Tinker Bell can?

if u dont know what i mean just search “tinkerbell scenes peter pan” on youtube and u can see ppl just having a full conversation with no words with her, which i think would deffo happen with ppl like Kaeya, Lisa, Lumine, Venti, Heizou, Ayato, Yae Miko, Thoma, Beidou and Itto surprisingly i could see it (ppl in the distance just think theyre all talking to themselves sometimes when ur not as visible hehe)

OMG they get u nice gifts for writing all the time, like the newest compact pens from Fontaine, the finest small, medium, and large notebooks from Inazuma,

like a little compact pocketbook so u can easily fit it in pockets!

u know Im absolutely sure you could literally start the texting appreviation trend in Tevyat like this-

like just so it’s easier to communicate with you, a lot of people are willing to adapt/take on abbreviations like “ttyl, gtg, wth, lol, lmao” even stuff like “etc”

lol u start a whole trend in the writing letters business, hehe silly medieval Teyvat is silly and medieval

yknow I think the quieter vision users would definitely find you to be peaceful to be around and easy to understand just with writing (also deffo most likely to adore the soft moments together of just ur pen scribbling and the sounds of nature or a cafe or something around them),

tbh i also think these ppl would be motivated to talk to you alone, or get you away to just talk the two of you for all the reasons above, like Xiao, Aether, Kazuha, Ayaka, Chongyun, Zhongli, Diluc, Sayu, Ei, Sucrose, Eula, Ganyu, Ningguang, Tighnari, Alhaitham omg he might literally be able to take his headphones off around u bc youd be in such quiet spaces all the time, and bc u dont talk he doesn’t have to worry abt u getting loud either lmao

…and then ofc, there’s the bitches that try and guess what ur writing ahead of timeeee 😭

bein all like, “Uh… you.. would like.. to go to… a restaurant… to get some- OH OH I got this one this time! Some pita pockets! …Oh. A drink. Right. Sorry, again.”

definitely Itto, Cyno, Heizou, Xingqiu, Fischl, Amber, Collei, Dehya, Wanderer, Childe, Venti, Keqing (she just used to being fast ok), Kaveh lmao

☆

I hope my reply was a little fun!! THANK U FOR SENDING THIS I LOVE THIS SM!! Man it’s so hard to make you feel my appreciation for this idea thru the damn screen

like how do i send a virtual hug

ANYWAY, if you or anybody else had an idea for celebrating 1000 followers lmk bc i am STRUGGLING with this same issue for that,

like how to make u guys feel my love 😩 ❤️‍🔥

☆

Safe travels ignihideous,

💀♒

♡the beloveds♡

@karmawonderss / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist / @thedevioussmirk / @the-dumber-scaramouche / @chocogi

[justporo]

From the Touch of Gentle Fingers

Just a short little drabble of Astarion and Tav sharing a tender, vulnerable moment worrying what the future might hold. Pairing: Astarion / Tav (You) (Genderneutral reader) Rating: General

You were organising the enormous stacks of books all over the floor in the room Astarion wanted to turn into a study. And he kept buying tons of books and scripts. And yeah, he did read them but he didn't care very much about keeping them in order or putting them back where they belonged. Seemingly his neat outter appearance didn't seem to reach past his own fingertips.

In fact in the months of living together in an actual home you had learned a thing or two about him and yourself. For example, you seemed to care much more about order than you'd thought possible while he seemed to have quite the chaotic nature.

But it might not be that but rather that he tried desperately to find out who he was or at least who he wanted to become now that he was free of higher powers. Maybe it was that with the still pretty recently regained freedom he felt a sort of impeding doom having to choose from a seemingly infinite amount of choices of what came next. You thought about that a lot and hoped you could help him and ease his anxiety.

As you were putting away another dusty old tome, you heard a few soft notes from a piano downstairs. You frowned. There was in fact a piano downstairs - the two of you had bought it. But you had been sure it had been a splurge only for decoration. So either Astarion was downstairs playing the piano or you had to deal with a ghost.

The sounds stopped then began again and started a little melody. You slowly got up and silently walked down the stairs. You felt that what was going on was pretty intimate. You stopped in the frame of the door and saw that Astarion was indeed sitting at the piano. His back was to you.

He softly played the keys and was humming to himself while the melody went on. It was hesitantly at some parts but still pretty impressive. The longer he played the more confident he got, the chords coming more quickly.

But then it ended promptly: a note amiss, Astarion angrily slammed his hands on the keys causing a discordant sound. Then he sighed in desperation and threw his head back. He was about to slam the case of the keys shut when you made yourself known: "I didn't know you could play."

Astarion winced and turned around as you walked over to him. "I don't really... It's been over two hundred years since I last played." "Sounded pretty good for that." He snorted and turned to the piano again while you slid down onto the bench next to him. He shuffled a little to make space for you.

You grabbed Astarion's hand that was closest to you and started to massage it. "You know how to do incredible things with these hands, Astarion, I bet you'd quickly take it up again if you wanted to." "Hmm yes, I bet you know exactly what these hands can do", Astarion replied with a smirk and a wink. Then the vampire sighed, his cheeky demeanor gone. You let go of his hand and stretched yours out to reach for the other. He gave it to you and you started massaging it as well.

"It's so frustrating", the vampire said with another sigh and looked at you. "Sometimes I'm reminded of something in the past, something I felt back then was true to myself. And some of these are things I want nothing more than to get rid off and then there's other stuff I would like to get back but it's all tainted." He softly took his hand from you and pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes. "And then... there's stuff I desperately hope will be true for the rest of time." "Like for example?" "That you're here and that I love you, that there's always a path to take and that at the end of the road the clouds will always pass." You grabbed his hands from his eyes so he would look at you. "Well, the first one's a given, isn't it?", you said and leaned in for a kiss Astarion happily provided.

"And as for the rest", you continued, "I guess you can have and be all of the things because they're a part of you but it's up to you how you let them define you - and you can always make something new... something better." Astarion looked at you for a moment of silence. Then he tenderly cupped your cheek and pressed a soft kiss to your lips: "Then I guess I might have already started doing that."

[akystaracer22]

Distrust Fall:

A leap of faith gone wrong, an eternal promise kept eternally. No matter how long it has been some things never truly change.

Notes

How to fail a trust fall: Step one

Vaggie's relationship with Adam is very complicated, but at the moment there is a lot of animosity and it shows.

Adam is of the opinion that Sorry doesn’t mean jack shit if you make the mistake again, so he just doesn’t apologise because he thinks he’ll just fuck up again so there’s no point.

The hotel needs a licensed therapist at this point dear lord.

Alastor still isn’t over the whole “Radio is fucking dead” thing.

If there is one thing that Adam knows off by heart, it’s the names of animals scientific or otherwise. That was the guys job once upon a time and assuming he doesn’t know that stuff is the true quickest way to piss him off. He’s also really good with animals which pisses off Anthony because Fat Nuggets *likes* Adam and it drives the sinner up a wall.

Alastor and Lucifer are on the ground. Angel, Husk, Charlie, Vaggie, and Adam are on the roof.

Alastor was going to let him get a cm from the ground before catching him dw.

Lucifer used to be friends with Adam in the garden because I live for that sweet sweet friends to enemies tragedy.

Adam really does not like people staring at his face, it’s a mild form of scopophobia caused by his time in heaven with people always giving him shit for how he looked, particularly his facial features (Yes I drew on everyone calling him ugly and average on twitter and shit). He used the mask to get around it, that way people couldn’t actually see what he looked like.

This was originally 1260 but then I got an idea that blew this out by 500 words lol.

The graveyard with be elaborated on in a future connected one shot.

This is officially a fully fledged AU

Regarding Adam's claws, they're gold to combat the greyness of his palette, but also as a nod to Midas, the arrogant king who's touched turned everything to gold. Angelic blood is also gold so if you want you can interpret it as having blood on his hands.

Fingerless gloves because I thing they're neat.

I based Lucifer's wings off of duck wings!

Also Lucifer's angelic appearance was based on space. I heard Sera call Charlie "Daughter of the Morning Star" and I went feral.

He has a full shifting night sky in his wings, clothes, and hat.

Angels have white pupils now I don't make the rules.

References saved my life.

Word count: 1725

(Comic and fic under the cut! Click for better quality)

@irregular-child

Adam leaned away from the edge as the wind drifted through his wings, keenly aware of the fact that his wings wouldn’t break his fall and he did not in fact trust jack shit in hell to break it except the ground.

“Are we sure this is a good idea?”

“I’m with princess perfect this is a fucking death sentence,” Adam agreed, a little reluctantly because it was still the princess of hell, “You’re trying to fucking kill me.”

Vaggie smirked, because of course she did because she was trying to kill him, he wasn’t that dense, and just shrugged, “I mean, worked for me didn’t it?”

“That wasn’t even a fucking trust fall that was to get you to fucking fly and you know it! Fucking bitch,” The first man scowled and tried to step away from the edge, the crack whore of an arachnid immediately shoving him back up, “Would you fuck off?!”

“Would you stop being a dick?”

“Would you stop sucking them?”

The white jumping spider stared at him for a long moment and Vaggie stepped away from him for once, great! Cool! One person was leaving him alone and soon a second one will!

Great! About fucking time they got the message-

-------]

Lucifer paced nervously around Dazzle’s statue; this was a terrible idea. Having Adam go through a trust fall this early was going to end in disaster one way or another.

The main issue being nobody liked Adam and wouldn’t care if he fell. Hell, Charlies girlfriend has already tried to kill Adam off for good multiple times since he got here!

This was going to be a mess; Alastor was supposed to be catching Adam but he was just standing there looking completely unprepared and-

“Are you going to get ready or not.” Lucifer snapped at the radio demon, wings flicking out behind him in agitation.

“Oh, I have no intention of catching him.”

Lucifer froze, his tail stilling before lashing behind him as he turned on the deer-eared sinner, “What.”

“You heard me.”

“Oh, I heard you alright, and I think you should try that again.”

“And why are you getting so worked up, hm?” The sinner hummed, sneering down at the king, “Last I checked, the first man was your enemy after he tried to kill your own daughter.”

“I-” Lucifer paused, then scowled because Alastor was right. Why was he getting so worked up over this. This was Adam they were talking about. Adam who was crass and rude and cold to everyone. Adam, who would rather sit in his room all day than even look at any of them. Adam who was…

“…Luci, do they all hate me?”

…

“I can see why they left me for you.”

…

“It is good to see you again my friend! Come, much has changed since your last visit!”

… Adam who was so much more than who he was now. Who was probably the only person left in hell that remembered Eden.

Damnit.

“That’s none of your business you son of a bitch,” The fallen angel snapped at the cannibal, eliciting nothing more than a growing grin from the bastard.

Not a day went by in hell where Lucifer wished that this wasn’t his circus and that the sinners weren’t his monkeys.

Someone screamed above him.

The seraphim whipped his head up, eyes widening as he registered Adam twisting the air as he was shoved off the roof by Angel Dust.

Fear struck his heart like an exorcists blade when the first man tried to use his wings to glide, only for a single wing beat to send him into a spiral hurtling towards the ground.

He caught Adams eye for a single moment before it was obscured by his good wing, the man was terrified. He didn’t know sinners reformed after death and despite it all. Lucifer would never wish someone to experience falling from their death after quite literally falling from heaven.

Not even on Adam.

Something in his heart spurred the king into action, kicking off the ground as his wings snapped open to catch the air. A single beat of his wings and he was already well off the ground.

Lucifer reached a hand up for Adam as the fallen angel reached out to him in kind, panic written across both their faces at the idea of a horrible accident.

Lucifer’s wings moved the air one more time and-

“And… you will catch me?”

Lucifer laughed softly, a gentle chiming sound from where he stood behind Gods first man. He was trying to show him a game Lucifer and his kin would play from time to time amongst the spires of heaven.

The game was simple, one angel was to stand up high with their wings folded and fall. Then the other angel was to catch them. It was supposed to build trust, not to mention it was a delight in and of itself.

Standing amongst the grasses of Eden, Lucifer saw no reason not to share this game with Adam. He’s already grown fond of the way that Gods creation would go out of his way to show the angel what he’d been up to since his last visit.

“Be not afraid my friend!” Lucifer’s wings spread quietly to punctuate his point, divine magic threading his words, The Voice ensuring that the first man would hear and believe him.

“No matter how far you fall, I shall always be there to catch you.”

Lucifer wrapped his arms securely around the fallen angel as his wings curled around wing and man alike, bracing himself as the added weight as they both fell together.

It’s funny, it reminded him of when Adam first fell, a fiery ball that could have almost been mistaken as a shooting star had Lucifer not known better.

They hid the ground with a slam and the fallen seraphim had to bite back a shriek as his wings took the brunt of the force. They’d be left aching for a while.

Lucifer grunted as he pushed Adam off of him, sitting up and folding his wings in, allowing them to slip out of existence while they healed, he definitely didn’t want to do that again.

He slowly got to his feet while the first man got his bearings, dusting himself off and rubbing his shoulders to try and alleviate the pain.

“Why the fuck did you save me?”

Lucifer jerked and looked down at Adam from where he was glaring up at him, a note of confusion held carefully in his gaze before it dropped.

“I-”

“Well, isn’t this quite a surprise!”

Lucifer’s expression shot into a scowl as he rounded on the radio demon very blatantly interrupting the moment. The bastard just grinned and stared down at the both of them.

From the corner of his eyes Lucifer noted Adam’s good wing hitching up instinctively to cover his face from the demons gaze before dropping.

Lucifer turned his attention back to the radio demon with a glare that could melt steel, “You were going to let him fall,”

“I was going to do no such thing,”

“You just said-!”

“I said nothing you just assumed I was going to do nothing at all!”

“Listen here you!” Lucifer was just off again by the main doors opening and the other’s all barrelling out at the commotion.

Lost in the sudden onslaught of attention and having to field Alastor’s snarky comments, Anthony’s suggestive remarks, and Charlie’s concern, he didn’t see Adam flee the scene.

It wasn’t until much later that he was able to recognize the first man’s absence, searching the hotel to see if Adam was okay.

He found him at the graveyard, sitting among the many tombstones for the exorcists slain in the battle that caused Adam to fall.

Lucifer paused at the entrance to the burial ground, watching Adam sit there facing away from him for what felt like an eternity.

Despite the dead being gone, the king of hell still felt like the exorcists weapons were pointed at him, a warning that if he made one wrong move they would rise from their graves to protect their leader, to avenge him, to strike Lucifer down in an instant.

The once-angel of the morning star carefully stepped away from the cemetery, making sure he didn’t break the silence. Even if Adam wanted to be disturbed, he wasn’t the right person to do it, not in this place.

Besides, he still had his own thoughts to sort through, like why in the name of the divine he saved Adam when he would have survived regardless. He would have been fine even if he did hit the ground unimpeded so why-

Lucifer grimaced as the answer stuck to him like a parasite, he knew damn well why he saved him. It was the same stupid reason he preened Adams wings for him, the same reason he treats the first man’s wing rot and the exact same reason he made that deal with Adam after he fell.

He was attached.

Stupids horribly foolishly, Lucifer still cared for Adam even after everything.

By the stars he beat Adam within an inch of his life! Adam tried to kill his daughter!

But emotions were hardly logical. They weren’t logical when he fell for Lilith in the garden and taught her and Adam both The Voice, they weren’t logical when he freed Eve, and they weren’t logical now.

Lucifer cared for Adam, even if by all logic he should hate the man.

“Dad?”

Lucifer looked up to meet his daughters eyes, a small smile letting her know he was okay, “Hey there Duckie.”

Charlie’s expression softened at the nickname even if he still looked concerned, “Dad… are you sure you’re okay?”

“If I’m not now, I will be, so stop worrying about little old me Char-char,” Lucifer chuckled, “However… Adams in the graveyard if you want to talk to him, he seems like he needs some company right now.”

He made his exit quickly after that, he knew what Charlie would do, it was in her nature to help people, it was what made her so special.

But Lucifer, he helped people once, and now… he had a new person he could help again.

And he might just know where to start.

[piratecaptainscaptainpirates]

On a recent rewatch of s2e3, I noticed how interesting it is to spot clues something's up with the gravy basket before Ed does! The entire episode really rewards a rewatch or ten but I think this part is especially neat. For the purposes of organizing my thoughts, here's what I've noticed so far that contribute to a feeling of "something is definitely off here:"

It is so blue. Blue like water, maybe? Especially when you're expecting and noticing it, it's striking just how blue all the gravy basket scenes look. The blue doesn't let up, either - in fact, I almost think the blue filter gets heavier once Ed realizes what's going on.

Hornigold is always bringing up stuff that's just a little too relevant to Ed's situation - for example, when he's trying to get Ed to eat some soup and Ed resists on the grounds of Hornigold's past behavior, Hornigold says that "I was in a bad place back then, last time I was too much on the rhino horn." I don't think it's a coincidence Ed's also been doing so much rhino horn other characters have been commenting on it.

Part of this is surely just for the sake of adding levity, but you know how no one responds quite right to stuff in dreams? It's like how in the opening scene with Stede's dream, dream-Ed's dialogue is just off enough to notice. The way Hornigold talks to Ed reminds me of that - he's hitting enough rational responses that it makes sense and you don't notice right away, but something's definitely weird. For example, he says "I can see you're agitated" when Ed is, like, thrashing and hyperventilating and visibly terrified of his soup. "Agitated" is such a mild word to use that it almost seems inaccurate.

Hornigold flips topics to things that are probably weighing pretty heavily on Ed's mind in a way that really stands out when you watch for it. When Ed tells him about his mutiny, Hornigold seems very disinterested and then suddenly pivots to ask him "are you worried you're insane?" Ed immediately replies "yeah, a little bit," letting us know this isn't the first time he's had that thought. And immediately after that, no buildup or segue or anything, Hornigold launches right into the "I once fed a cabin boy a live crab" thing, which is probably drifting to the front of Ed's mind considering he's thinking about Hornigold and that was such a traumatic event for him. The conversation is clearly following Ed's thoughts, not Hornigold's.

We know Hornigold is Ed and we know Ed hates himself, and Hornigold is so fucking mean to Ed, even when he's seemingly trying to take care of him, like with feeding him soup. He force-feeds him and talks down to him constantly, telling him his mutiny was basic, shutting down his ideas (like the inn), dismissing his emotional reactions, and refusing to offer him any real comfort.

Really interesting stuff. I adore how OFMD has so many little details in every episode you can only fully appreciate on a rewatch!

[anotherlifelesshawksloverplshelp]

~FLEXIBLE~

KATSUKI BAKUGOU X READER

Okay so it's kinda smut with plot tho (sorta not really)okay just TRUST ME ON THIS.

I've had this idea plaguing me where essentially Bakugo is definitely an intense person. He can be loving, but the mans cant help but want certain things. He loves when his baby is struggling to keep it together for him, or having to try things for his praise yk (i cant summarize things well).

After a long day/during an aggressive session, y/n cant fully handle it, not being flexible enough, so his health aware self whom always pays attention to maximize health via diet and physical wellness makes it his priority each day to stretch with her for her health and to solve their little problem. :]

It's pretty short, sorry<3

i just had to get it off my chest T^T

18+ content NSFW(mdni), fem! reader, fluff + smut, penetration(very short) <3

`````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````` It all begun from one rough night, the product of a rough day at work. Bakugou came back home late in a fit, slamming the door behind him and throwing his stuff on the couch. What gave it away other than the slam of the door? He was a real neat freak. He believed there was a right and a wrong way to do everything, that everything had a place. When he was like this, just dropping his things, usually it had to do with some form of intense emotion. Unfortunately (or so people might say), it was frustration. "Kats, is everything okay?" You call out from the room, having been enjoying a book until he got there. You got up, trailing lightly, rather innocently out to the living room to catch him discarding items onto the couch from pieces of his gear to extra clothing. His crimson eyes lock onto you as he stepped up, pulling you firmly into a kiss.

Despite his apparent aggression, he was nothing but ever gentle with you (outside of bed of course), his big hands holding your face with much care as he took your breath away. The heat of his body radiated from his skin, the contact of your faces and the grip he had on you conducting it over to steadily increase your temperature, the room feeling hot.

When he pulls away, your delicate, flushed face looking up at him through with such pretty eyes, he couldn't help himself. His lips crash into yours again, his hands finding your waistband, tugging them down slightly. He always paused to ask, even if it wasn't verbal. You pull him in deeper, answering his question with a matching want.

He's quick to pull them down, dropping them to your ankles, which you flick away absentmindedly, too focused on his physical presence.

"Turn around for me, baby." He murmurs, patting your hip. You turn to face the counter but he shakes his head, grabbing your waist and turning you away from the surface, doing everything in his power not to slap that pretty ass of yours. "Ah, nope, we're trying something new." He hums as he broke his dick free from his pants, letting them fall down his thighs, holding the base carefully rubbing up along your folds, always sure to focus on how you could enjoy the moment. You shudder, letting out an airy sigh as he does so, voicing what you do and don't like always making him feel that much better about the way he fucks you. He can only the best, after all.

He gives a light slap to your ass, gripping the round plush of it before sliding his hand to get a good grip on your hip, lining up before sinking in, groaning gutturally as he took his time to indulge in you. You coo as he does so, fluttering at the feeling. He adjusts, drawing his hips away slowly just to make them meet again. You cant help but moan prettily over his dick, and he took that in proudly.

He pats your hip again, bringing one foot to the inner base of yours, knocking it to widen your stance, running a hand up from your ass to the small of your back, coaxing you lower. "Go ahead and get lower for me." He hums, drinking the sight. Your hands touch the ground, low enough to bend your elbows slightly, but not going as far as he'd like. "Kats, i can't go that low, I'm not that flexible!" You whine. He stops for a moment, thinking, his vermillion eyes tracing your figure quietly before noting. "we can work on that."

~~~

Forward to now, a week later and he's been going out of his way to get you out of bed in the mornings with him and walking you through his stretching routine, strictly at least 15 minutes each morning. Youd do this every morning, accompanied with another 15 once more either midday, before and after a workout, or at night.

You had gotten the lecture about health from him the morning after.

"You have to be mindful of your diet" "I know" "And your body. Strength is important for your health overall" "I know" "But without stretching it could lead to injuries and you're not that stupid are you?" You shake your head.

He only ever wanted the best for you. He was always health motivated, very mindful of his sleep, his diet, and his physical well being. You best believe he was sure to make it his priority to follow up on yours too.

You were currently sitting on the ground, legs parted and reaching to the side to touch your left foot, matching him. He looks at you and grins, getting up to press a kiss to the side of your head, giving a proud smirk to you, admiring you intently, surely with a glint of mischief as he thought ahead. "It sure feels better to be more flexible, huh?"

After all, he cared for your health. What would he do if his baby couldn't cutely press her chest to the ground for him?

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