bvckleyydiaz
just keep swimming
e | she/her | twenty-four | evan buckley and oliver stark enthusiast | mdni | requests are open! | e's character list| e's tag list form
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so like… do i have anybody that writes for eddie from stranger things that would be willing to let me talk about a fic idea i have for him?
#e posts#stranger things#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#i haven’t even watched st but i love this man#he’s so precious
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so just a question for you guys..
if i were to start making cm smau fics, would you guys want to read them?
@greg-montgomery @ssahotchnerr @hotchnerobsessed @hotchs-big-hands @wifeyreid @strawbeerossi @ssamorganhotchner @ssaaaronmontgomery @hotchs-babygirl @hotchnerbau @luvehotch @hotchandspencearedilfs @criminalskies @boldlyvoid @mrs-ssa-hotch
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aaron hotchner has a housewife kink i don’t make the rules.
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sooo two new fics in the works maybe??
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I know. Guys, believe me, I know. Alright, now that we are ignoring my unintentional months-long hiatus, I come bringing a gift.
(I thought about also writing this scenario for another fandom that I’ve recently fixated on again. Say, the one with the two brothers and the gay angel. Let me know if you would want to see that.)
May also end up rewriting this one. Not sure if I like how it turned out.
So, here’s the scenario:
tw: creepy men in convenience stores
You and Aaron met years ago when you’d been finishing up law school and he’d still been a federal prosecutor. Somehow, the two of you strike up a conversation, and you offhandedly mention to him that you’re looking for work now that you’ve gotten your degree. He pauses for a moment, purses his lips, then says that he has a friend—a fellow prosecutor, you later find out—in search of a legal aide. He tells you that if you wanted him to, he could talk to his friend about setting up an interview. This takes you by surprise. A man that doesn’t even know you, a man that’s only talked to you for about five minutes, is offering to help you get a job. Aaron laughs when you tell him as much, and he tells you that over the years, he’s learned to trust his instincts, and his instincts are telling him that you’re worth the risk. He then hands you a card with his phone number on it and says to call him to set up the interview.
(No one but you has to know about the tiny zaps of electricity that shoot up your arm when you take the card from him. Nor do they have to know about the disappointment that simmers in your gut when you notice the gold band resting at the base of his left ring finger.)
For the first year or so, your friendship with Aaron was... difficult to navigate. Not because of anything he said or did but because of what he was. Aaron being a married man really limited what you felt comfortable doing within the boundaries of your budding friendship. You couldn’t text him as often as you’d like to because of the fight it could cause between Aaron and Haley. It’s for that same reason that you don’t feel comfortable inviting him to meet you for coffee or to grab a bite to eat after work. You know that you aren’t doing anything wrong, that your intentions with Aaron are pure, but you also respect his relationship enough to make certain that you don’t give Haley a reason to suspect otherwise. So, that means settling for sending him a text every now and then to check up on his family—not just him—and see how they were doing.
Less than two years into your friendship with Aaron, he tells you that he and Haley are getting a divorce.
(The giddy, child-like grin that spreads across your face when you hear the news makes you feel like shitty person. But you can’t help it.)
Aaron’s divorce serves as a blessing in disguise. Not just for you but for him, too. It gives the two of you a fresh start, a chance to properly develop your friendship without the fear of stirring up trouble for Aaron at home. You two texting maybe a couple of times a month quickly turns into you two texting nearly every day, even if you don’t really have anything to tell him about. Throughout the day, the two of you would send each other things that remind you of the other, random musings you’d have, just anything that would keep the conversation going. The most liberating thing about Aaron becoming a single man again was that you had the freedom to ask him if he wanted to grab coffee on the way into the office, even if he and the team wanted to grab drinks after a case, or if he and Jack wanted to come to the park near your apartment for a picnic.
Fast forward to the present, almost four years later.
It’s just after midnight on a random Saturday night, and Aaron’s just about to head to bed when he feels his phone buzz in the pocket of his sweats.
He mutters something along the lines of if this is another fucking case before he picks up his cell, puts it to his ear, and answers with a soft, sleepy, “Hotchner.”
“Hey, love. I know it’s late, but I was hoping we could meet up.” There’s something in your voice that feels off to Aaron, but he can’t quite put his finger on it.
His mind screeches to a halt when he processes what you say to him. Hey, love, you’d greeted him, the words coming out of your mouth like it was every-day thing. Like it was something you called him all the time.
That’s the first red flag.
“Y/N?” He asks. “Is everything alright? Are you alright?”
“No,” you laugh, a cute, breathy sound that wouldn’t be out of place to anyone else, to anyone that doesn’t know you the way Aaron does. That laugh sets off the alarm bells in the older man’s head. “No, I promise it’s nothing major. I just thought we could grab a snack.” You pause then say, “Oh, there’s a sale on those gummy bears you like at the convenience store on Fifth and Kennedy. Want me to get you some?”
Aaron doesn’t like gummy bears. You know that he doesn’t like gummy bears. Why would you—?
Aaron's body starts buzzing with adrenaline, like he got a shot of espresso straight to the head. The convenience store on Fifth and Kennedy. Aaron knows where that is; it’s only a couple of blocks from your apartment.
“Are you in danger?” He asks.
“Yeah,” you tell him. “I’ll just put it with my stuff. Don’t worry about it, love.”
“Do you need me to come to you?”
“Yes, baby, I’m sure. It’s not a problem at all. Oh, your sister mentioned something to me about coming to see her this weekend. She lives in New York now, right? How long do you think the drive will be?”
Aaron glances down at his watch. “I’m ten minutes from you. Stay out of sight until then, okay?”
“Yeah, okay,” you agree. “It shouldn’t be too bad then, especially if we leave early enough. Hopefully, we won’t get caught up in the usual weekend traffic.” You huff out something between a laugh and a tired sigh. “I’ll be there in a few minutes. I love you.” Then, the call ends. Biting out a curse, Aaron slips on his running shoes, grabs his zip-up and his keys, and rushes out the door.
Under normal circumstances, it takes Aaron roughly ten minutes to get to your apartment. That night, it takes him a little under five. He zips through the late-night Virginia traffic at speeds he’s surprised he didn’t get pulled over for. He haphazardly parks the SUV before making his way to the store.
He doesn’t even have to go into the store to find you. You’re standing just outside the double doors when he gets there, your figure illuminated by the harsh LED lights overhead.
“Y/N,” he calls to you, his steps hurrying into a jog. “Y/N, are you alright?”
You lift your head up to meet his gaze, and he watches you blink at him, as if you’re surprised that he came. “You came,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.
“You needed me,” he says. And that’s all that matters. “You’re okay now?”
You nod. “The guy ran as soon as the kid behind the counter threatened to call the cops. He didn’t do anything, but I just... something about him weirded me out.”
“Trust your instincts,” he tells you, like the night you’d first met. “They’re usually right.”
“The night we met, you said that your instincts were telling you that I was worth the risk. Were they right?”
With as much confidence as he has in you, which is a lot, he says, “They were. You’re worth the risk.”
tagging: @greg-montgomery @ssamorganhotchner @ssahotchnerr @ssaaaronmontgomery @canuck-eh @wifeyreid @criminalskies @luvehotch @strawbeerossi @hotchs-big-hands @hotchs-babygirl @hotchnerobsessed @honeypiehotchner @hotchnerbau @hotchsdoormat @hotchsdharma @mrs-ssa-hotch @hotchandspencearedilfs
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it’s the fact that the protective!aaron scenario is turning into a full fucking fic at this point. i mean—
“Hey, love. I know it’s late, but I was hoping we could meet up.” There’s something in your voice that feels off to Aaron, but he can’t quite put his finger on it.
His mind screeches to a halt when he processes what you say to him. Hey, love, you’d greeted him, the words coming out of your mouth like it was every-day thing. Like it was something you called him all the time.
That’s the first red flag.
“Y/N?” He asks. “Is everything alright? Are you alright?”
“No,” you laugh, a cute, breathy sound that wouldn’t be out of place to anyone else, to anyone that doesn’t know you the way Aaron does. That laugh sets off the alarm bells in the older man’s head. “No, I promise it’s nothing major. I just thought we could grab a snack.” You pause then say, “Oh, there’s a sale on those gummy bears you like at the convenience store on Fifth and Kennedy. Want me to get you some?”
Aaron doesn’t like gummy bears. You know that he doesn’t like gummy bears.
tagging: @greg-montgomery @ssamorganhotchner @ssahotchnerr @ssaaaronmontgomery @canuck-eh @wifeyreid @criminalskies @luvehotch @strawbeerossi @hotchs-big-hands @hotchs-babygirl @hotchnerobsessed @honeypiehotchner @hotchnerbau @hotchsdoormat @hotchsdharma @mrs-ssa-hotch @hotchandspencearedilfs
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drunk!aaron confessing his feelings to reader/saying that he should've married them instead of haley. with a sad smile, they tell aaron, "i wish you were sober."
reader doesn't tell aaron that they've thought that too, that they wished aaron had married them instead of haley. when aaron is sober again the next morning and asks reader if he said anything embarrassing to them the previous night, reader tells him no.
aaron's drunken admission is something reader will take to their grave.
thoughts? 😊
@canuck-eh @greg-montgomery @ssamorganhotchner @ssaaaronmontgomery @luvehotch @strawbeerossi @hotchs-big-hands @hotchs-babygirl @hotchnerobsessed @hotchnerbau @hotchsdoormat @hotchsdharma @mrs-ssa-hotch @criminalskies @ssahotchnerr @hotchandspencearedilfs
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so, for the scenario today, do you guys want to see protective!aaron or feminist!aaron?
@greg-montgomery @canuck-eh @ssamorganhotchner @luvehotch
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so, for the scenario today, do you guys want to see protective!aaron or feminist!aaron?
@greg-montgomery @canuck-eh @ssamorganhotchner @luvehotch @criminalskies @strawbeerossi
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aaron scenario coming tomorrow? 👀
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.
why is being gay so fucking hard?
#e reblogs#it’s like#do i say something?#do i not?#like it’s so bad#to the point where i even typed out a confession letter for her#i hate this so much#why can’t things go back to where they were?
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.
why is being gay so fucking hard?
#e posts#e rambles#pretty girls confuse me#especially when they’re my friends#and they try to flirt#im just like wtf am I supposed to do??
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tagging: @ssahotchnerr @ssamorganhotchner @ssaspenceswife @greg-montgomery @ssaaaronmontgomery @moonlightspencie @mrs-ssa-hotch @spacecowboyhotch @spenciesprincess @canuck-eh @strawbeerossi @hotchnerobsessed @hotchnerbau @hotchs-big-hands @hotchstanaccount @hotchs-babygirl @hotchsdoormat @criminalskies @wifeyreid @luvehotch @countryboylullaby @find-y0ur-j0y
the dress - percy jackson
title: the dress
summary: you get an unexpected but not unwelcomed visitor while you try on your dress for your older sister's wedding.
pairing: percy jackson x f!reader
word count: 651
warning(s): none that i know of
a/n: first fic in a while and first percy fic! here we go!
The dress is beautiful, you can’t deny that. The fabric is silky, the skirt just barely touching the floor with a slit cut into it at your upper thigh, and the dark blue color reminds you of how the ocean might look on a stormy night. The body of the dress is held up by thin little straps at your shoulders, and the neck... well, let’s just say that it shows a little more of your chest than you’re used to.
Like you said, the dress is beautiful. It just... didn’t look right on you. The dress felt too tight against your skin, and there was too much of you on display, no fabric to hide your body from the eyes of anyone who looks at you. Your hands come up to your stomach, smoothing over the fabric there, and your nose scrunches at what you see in the mirror.
“There’s still time to take it back,” you tell yourself in an effort to placate your anxiety.
“Wow,” murmurs a voice from behind you. Standing in the doorway of your bedroom is none other than your friend, Percy Jackson. Meeting his gaze in the mirror, you expect his usual, easygoing smile to greet you, but the look you see isn’t at all what you’re expecting. His lips are parted, as if he wants to say something but can’t get the words out, and his eyes are roaming your dress-clad body. “That’s, uh... That’s the dress, huh?”
You sigh, your eyes falling back to your stomach. “Yeah, I just...” You pinch the fabric there, trying to maneuver it in a way that might make your stomach look not so exposed. It didn’t work. “I think I’m going to take it back. Find something else that’ll do a better job hiding this.” At this, your hands make circular gestures to your stomach.
Percy’s voice is barely above a whisper when he speaks. “Don’t.”
“What?”
“Don’t take the dress back,” he repeats, a bit louder this time. “You look,” he stops himself mid-sentence like he’s trying to find the right word to describe how you look to him. “Gorgeous.” The slight hitch in his breath when he calls you that does something to you, something that you don’t know to describe.
You give him a sheepish smile. “Thank you, Percy.” Your eyes return to your body in the mirror. “I guess I just—it’s weird to know that people actually think I’m pretty. It’s uncharted territory, as depressing as it sounds.” You watch Percy walk toward you through the mirror, until you can feel the warmth of his body at your back. His blue-green eyes meet yours once again, but his gaze is confident, determined.
“I’ve always thought you were pretty,” he admits. His mouth sits just above your ear because of his height. “The inside of my head turns into one of those computer buffering memes because of you.”
The snicker of laughter escapes you before you can stop it. “Are you sure that’s not just the ADHD?”
Percy fixes you with a look of feigned irritation and lightly pinches your side for your remark. “See if I ever give you a compliment again.” A moment of comfortable silence passes over the two of you. and you notice that Percy’s expression softens into a genuine smile. “Seriously, though, Y/N. Please don’t take the dress back. It looks beautiful on you.”
You nod. “I won’t take it back.” You turn around to face him before you wrap your arms around his neck. You feel him stiffen under you, only for a moment, before he relaxes into your touch and hugs you back. “Thank you.”
“For what?” He laughs.
You don’t answer. You can’t, not really. Not after everything he’s done for you. So, you nuzzle your face further into the crook of his neck and breathe in the familiar scent of salty ocean air.
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the dress - percy jackson
title: the dress
summary: you get an unexpected but not unwelcomed visitor while you try on your dress for your older sister's wedding.
pairing: percy jackson x f!reader
word count: 651
warning(s): none that i know of
a/n: first fic in a while and first percy fic! here we go!
The dress is beautiful, you can’t deny that. The fabric is silky, the skirt just barely touching the floor with a slit cut into it at your upper thigh, and the dark blue color reminds you of how the ocean might look on a stormy night. The body of the dress is held up by thin little straps at your shoulders, and the neck... well, let’s just say that it shows a little more of your chest than you’re used to.
Like you said, the dress is beautiful. It just... didn’t look right on you. The dress felt too tight against your skin, and there was too much of you on display, no fabric to hide your body from the eyes of anyone who looks at you. Your hands come up to your stomach, smoothing over the fabric there, and your nose scrunches at what you see in the mirror.
“There’s still time to take it back,” you tell yourself in an effort to placate your anxiety.
“Wow,” murmurs a voice from behind you. Standing in the doorway of your bedroom is none other than your friend, Percy Jackson. Meeting his gaze in the mirror, you expect his usual, easygoing smile to greet you, but the look you see isn’t at all what you’re expecting. His lips are parted, as if he wants to say something but can’t get the words out, and his eyes are roaming your dress-clad body. “That’s, uh... That’s the dress, huh?”
You sigh, your eyes falling back to your stomach. “Yeah, I just...” You pinch the fabric there, trying to maneuver it in a way that might make your stomach look not so exposed. It didn’t work. “I think I’m going to take it back. Find something else that’ll do a better job hiding this.” At this, your hands make circular gestures to your stomach.
Percy’s voice is barely above a whisper when he speaks. “Don’t.”
“What?”
“Don’t take the dress back,” he repeats, a bit louder this time. “You look,” he stops himself mid-sentence like he’s trying to find the right word to describe how you look to him. “Gorgeous.” The slight hitch in his breath when he calls you that does something to you, something that you don’t know to describe.
You give him a sheepish smile. “Thank you, Percy.” Your eyes return to your body in the mirror. “I guess I just—it’s weird to know that people actually think I’m pretty. It’s uncharted territory, as depressing as it sounds.” You watch Percy walk toward you through the mirror, until you can feel the warmth of his body at your back. His blue-green eyes meet yours once again, but his gaze is confident, determined.
“I’ve always thought you were pretty,” he admits. His mouth sits just above your ear because of his height. “The inside of my head turns into one of those computer buffering memes because of you.”
The snicker of laughter escapes you before you can stop it. “Are you sure that’s not just the ADHD?”
Percy fixes you with a look of feigned irritation and lightly pinches your side for your remark. “See if I ever give you a compliment again.” A moment of comfortable silence passes over the two of you. and you notice that Percy’s expression softens into a genuine smile. “Seriously, though, Y/N. Please don’t take the dress back. It looks beautiful on you.”
You nod. “I won’t take it back.” You turn around to face him before you wrap your arms around his neck. You feel him stiffen under you, only for a moment, before he relaxes into your touch and hugs you back. “Thank you.”
“For what?” He laughs.
You don’t answer. You can’t, not really. Not after everything he’s done for you. So, you nuzzle your face further into the crook of his neck and breathe in the familiar scent of salty ocean air.
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would anyone like to see percy Jackson fics from me? 👀
i have ideas
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tagging: @ssahotchnerr @ssamorganhotchner @greg-montgomery @ssaspencerreidswife @moonlightspencie @ssaaaronmontgomery @mrs-ssa-hotch @spenciesprincess @spacecowboyhotch @canuck-eh @strawbeerossi @hotchnerobsessed @hotchnerbau @hotchs-big-hands @hotchstanaccount @hotchs-babygirl @hotchsdoormat @hotchsdharma @criminalskies @wifeyreid @luvehotch
a little preview of what’s to come 🫣
“Well,” you hear Derek’s voice call out before you’ve even entered the conference room, “Look at who finally decided to grace us with their presence. Not like you to be late, Y/N.” Your friend grins at you boyishly from his chair. You’re going to miss seeing it every day. Don’t give in, don’t show any resistance. It’s the only thing that will save you now.
You offer as much of a smile as you can. “Guess there’s a first time for everything, Der,” you murmur, trying and failing to sigh away the prick of tears behind your eyes. Your gaze travels to a spot on the far back wall, just between Spencer’s and Emily’s shoulders. You can’t let yourself look them in the eye. If you do that, this will have been for nothing. “I...” You try to swallow the growing lump in your throat, “I want all of you to know that I love you with everything I have left in me, and... that’s what makes this so fucking unfair.” You take a deep breath to steady your voice, tears already seeping through and breaking down the walls you’ve built. “I didn’t want to do this, but I see no other choice.” You unclip your badge and place it and your gun on the table. You then take the manila folder out of the bag hanging heavily on your shoulder and slide it across the table in front of Aaron.
The sound of your heartbeat thundering in your ears muffles all other sounds around you, and you fear that you’ll break your hand if you clasp them together any tighter. It’s the only thing anchoring you to reality. Aaron’s voice brings you back, the folder opened and his eyes stormy. “What is this?” The sound of his voice makes you shudder. You’ve known your boss long enough to know that if he raises his voice any louder, all the restraint he has will be out the window.
“My resignation,” you tell him and watch his left eye twitch, “Effective immediately.”
Five bodies stand all at once, spines ramrod straight. Rage, desperation, bewilderment, and a few other emotions that you can’t quite decipher mix into a cocktail of misery on their faces.
“You’re leaving?” Derek demands, his tone harsh. “Just like that, no second thought?”
“I said that I didn’t want to do this, that I had no other choice, and I meant it,” you stress. “I’m going to spend the rest of my life hating myself for what I’m giving up. But... I don’t see any other way out.”
“Can you at least tell us why?” Penelope asks, and you feel the knife in your chest twist. You never wanted it to end like this; hell, you didn’t want it to end at all. You remember the text you got earlier this morning, right before you walked into the building. You’ve made your choices. Now, live with them.
“Somehow, confidential information from one of our cases—one of my files—was leaked,” you lie. “The Brass wants someone to blame. And they’re going to blame me because my name was attached to that file.”
“Do you have any idea who could’ve gotten ahold of that intel?” Emily asks. You shake your head.
You knew exactly who it was.
“Why wasn’t I told about the leak?” Aaron asks, his Hotch voice making an appearance. “That’s something I should’ve known.”
“I’m sorry, sir,” you tell him, and you are sorry. Just not for the reason he thinks. “Strauss said that the director wanted it handled quietly. This was the fastest way to do that.”
“So, some asshole is going after one of our own, and we’re just supposed to do what?” Rossi asks, his shoulders tight. “Sit with our thumbs in our asses until he’s brought in?”
“Dave’s right,” Aaron agrees. “Y/N, you’re not going anywhere, I won’t let you. I’m going to talk to Erin.” He takes a step forward, but you place a hand on his chest to block his path.
You feel his heartbeat under the tips of your fingers. It’s quick. He’s angry. “Sir, don’t. Please. I’ve already caused enough trouble. I need to just... take it with grace, I guess.” You try to give him a reassuring smile, but it does nothing to ease him. “Thank you for trying to fight for me.”
With that, you take your hand off his chest and walk out of the room without another word. Your palm still tingles from where it laid on Aaron’s chest.
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a little preview of what’s to come 🫣
“Well,” you hear Derek’s voice call out before you’ve even entered the conference room, “Look at who finally decided to grace us with their presence. Not like you to be late, Y/N.” Your friend grins at you boyishly from his chair. You’re going to miss seeing it every day. Don’t give in, don’t show any resistance. It’s the only thing that will save you now.
You offer as much of a smile as you can. “Guess there’s a first time for everything, Der,” you murmur, trying and failing to sigh away the prick of tears behind your eyes. Your gaze travels to a spot on the far back wall, just between Spencer’s and Emily’s shoulders. You can’t let yourself look them in the eye. If you do that, this will have been for nothing. “I...” You try to swallow the growing lump in your throat, “I want all of you to know that I love you with everything I have left in me, and... that’s what makes this so fucking unfair.” You take a deep breath to steady your voice, tears already seeping through and breaking down the walls you’ve built. “I didn’t want to do this, but I see no other choice.” You unclip your badge and place it and your gun on the table. You then take the manila folder out of the bag hanging heavily on your shoulder and slide it across the table in front of Aaron.
The sound of your heartbeat thundering in your ears muffles all other sounds around you, and you fear that you’ll break your hand if you clasp them together any tighter. It’s the only thing anchoring you to reality. Aaron’s voice brings you back, the folder opened and his eyes stormy. “What is this?” The sound of his voice makes you shudder. You’ve known your boss long enough to know that if he raises his voice any louder, all the restraint he has will be out the window.
“My resignation,” you tell him and watch his left eye twitch, “Effective immediately.”
Five bodies stand all at once, spines ramrod straight. Rage, desperation, bewilderment, and a few other emotions that you can’t quite decipher mix into a cocktail of misery on their faces.
“You’re leaving?” Derek demands, his tone harsh. “Just like that, no second thought?”
“I said that I didn’t want to do this, that I had no other choice, and I meant it,” you stress. “I’m going to spend the rest of my life hating myself for what I’m giving up. But... I don’t see any other way out.”
“Can you at least tell us why?” Penelope asks, and you feel the knife in your chest twist. You never wanted it to end like this; hell, you didn’t want it to end at all. You remember the text you got earlier this morning, right before you walked into the building. You’ve made your choices. Now, live with them.
“Somehow, confidential information from one of our cases—one of my files—was leaked,” you lie. “The Brass wants someone to blame. And they’re going to blame me because my name was attached to that file.”
“Do you have any idea who could’ve gotten ahold of that intel?” Emily asks. You shake your head.
You knew exactly who it was.
“Why wasn’t I told about the leak?” Aaron asks, his Hotch voice making an appearance. “That’s something I should’ve known.”
“I’m sorry, sir,” you tell him, and you are sorry. Just not for the reason he thinks. “Strauss said that the director wanted it handled quietly. This was the fastest way to do that.”
“So, some asshole is going after one of our own, and we’re just supposed to do what?” Rossi asks, his shoulders tight. “Sit with our thumbs in our asses until he’s brought in?”
“Dave’s right,” Aaron agrees. “Y/N, you’re not going anywhere, I won’t let you. I’m going to talk to Erin.” He takes a step forward, but you place a hand on his chest to block his path.
You feel his heartbeat under the tips of your fingers. It’s quick. He’s angry. “Sir, don’t. Please. I’ve already caused enough trouble. I need to just... take it with grace, I guess.” You try to give him a reassuring smile, but it does nothing to ease him. “Thank you for trying to fight for me.”
With that, you take your hand off his chest and walk out of the room without another word. Your palm still tingles from where it laid on Aaron’s chest.
#e posts#e writes#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner series#aaron hotchner angst#y’all are gonna hate me for this one#not gonna lie
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