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#OR if I should ask said friend of a friend for his number but like.

allwaswell16 · 2 days

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A fic rec of One Direction fics in which a character had experienced abuse of some form in the past as requested in this ask. Please don't forget to leave kudos and comments for the writers! You can find my other fic recs here.

- Louis/Harry -

🧱 Run Like the Devil by benzos

(E, 143k, Supernatural au) Louis hunts demons; Harry's the strangest demon he's ever met, and he keeps fucking meeting him.

🧱 Saving Symphony Hall by @helloamhere

(E, 124k, omegaverse) “That’s the attitude,” said Louis, “I’ll tell you tomorrow. Tonight, I need to do some research. Zayn, give me your number. I’m gonna save our symphony.”

🧱 Hang there like fruit, my soul/Till the tree die by louloubaby92 / @louloubabys1992

(M, 111k, omegaverse) Louis knows he's a defective omega. He knows its also not his fault but it is what it is. He takes the world head on even when the world is unkind to him.

🧱 Give Me Truths by iwillpaintasongforlou / @canonlarry

(E, 110k, punk Louis) the one in which Louis falls in love with a fragile boy and tells him every beautiful truth in the world, as long as it makes him happy.

🧱 The Naked Truth by @larrysmomfics

(E, 80k, Naked Attraction au) The producers of Naked Attraction decide to do a 'Second Chances' edition of the show where past contestants who didn't find love on the show the first time can re-apply in hopes that the second time's a charm.

🧱 Here In The Afterglow by fondleeds

(NR, 88k, historical) 1970’s AU. In a tiny town in Idaho, Louis’ life is changed forever by the arrival of a curious stranger.

🧱 Shout It From The Rooftops by therogueskimo / @bravetemptation

(M, 70k, PTSD) Plagued by memories of the worst day of his life, Louis Tomlinson feels like he’s constantly living in darkness. Harry Styles might just be the person to bring him back to the light.

🧱 These High Walls by LarryAlways28

(E, 68k, omegaverse) Born to one of Seattle's wealthiest families, Harry was raised exactly as a Styles heir should be: sharp as a tack, witty, charming, and powerful. He was the ideal son - until he presented as an Omega.

🧱 you're ripped at every edge, but you're a masterpiece by Valentia

(E, 50k, uni) The one where Harry is soft and pretty but doesn't see it and Louis just wants to love him the way he deserves.

🧱 elephant juice by @stylinsoncity

(M, 32k, uni) harry doesn't understand boundaries. louis doesn't mind at all.

🧱 With These Arms Folded by @taggiecb

(NR, 21k, famous/not famous) Harry Styles is living a peaceful existence in California as a very successful songwriter. That is until he receives a curious email one sunny summer morning, and his life almost immediately gets turned upside down buy a force that's bigger than any storm he's seen outside his window.

🧱 why take your life when you give it so willingly by we_are_the_same / @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed

(M, 19k, pirates) When Louis Tomlinson, Captain of The Rogue, ends up adrift at sea after Captain Cowell attacks his ship, he is surprised to find his enemy, Captain Styles, coming to his rescue.

🧱 vatican cameos by nightwideopen / @themarshalstale

(T, 14k, asexuality) sometimes louis gets sad and sometimes harry lets louis write on him

🧱 Just a touch of your love by @thegirlontheblackhoodie

(E, 12k, omegaverse) Harry is a touch starved omega trying to get through it on his own. Louis happens to be the only alpha around to realize it and offers to help.

🧱 You've Got A New Life (Am I Bothering you?) by LilyBlue28

(NR, 5k, omegaverse) the one where Louis is an omega who suffers from PTSD and is triggered one day. He doesn't know how to ask for help from his doting alpha, doesn't think he deserves it, and tries to handle it on his own.

🧱 I Don't Wanna Hurt Anymore by offwiththeirheads / @hazzabooween

(M, 5k, kidfic) Harry walks a thin line between breaking his best friend’s heart and fighting a losing battle.

- Rare Pairs -

🧱 Sugar, We're Going Down by sunsetmog / @magicalrocketships

(E, 131k, Louis/Nick Grimshaw) At 37, Nick has everything he could possibly want in life: huge success in business, a Bachelor of the Year award hanging in his toilet, piles of money, and a rather odd little habit of visiting a cafe with terrible service on his way into the office every morning.

🧱 It's You by happily_missy

(E, 56k, Zayn/Liam) Liam is a PA for a famous fashion designer and Zayn is their gorgeous new model.

#ficrec #1dficvillage #pastabuse #trackinghappily #trackinghome #tracksintheam #hlcreators #hljournal #1dsource #larry fanfiction #ziam fanfiction #tomlinshaw fanfction #weeklyficrec

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libraford · 2 days

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I know I’m a rando so apologies if this is over familiar but your work situation sounds a lot like what my friend was going through in grad school. She had been doing really well the first year, then the second year her advisor suddenly started finding all sorts of “fundamental issues” with her research project. He discouraged her from applying for grants and said her submissions were too poor to even consider. All sorts of really harsh criticisms that often contradicted each other and were hard to follow. She felt like she was going crazy. Then she learned he found a different student that he would basically be able to pay much less to do all his lab work for him, and he was clearly trying to force her out to make room for the newer cheaper student. Trust your gut, I don’t think this situation is your fault at all. Something fishy is happening with your company for sure. I’m sorry for all this trouble.

Yikes that's harsh.

Part of the reason that my crits have been so numerous and harsh is that this year I was expected to learn something new. And I understand it in concept, but I have been making mistakes that are typical of new learners. But because there was no SAFE place to make those mistakes, the pressure is on to do them correct the first time and every time.

Like with groups, right?

My first groups job I was doing really well, I thought. Up until we got to the football team, which was 45 minutes late to the location. And they lined them up by number even though we asked for tallest to shortest. And the coach said he wanted to do them by number. So I did them by number. When we got to the end of it, he saw how terrible it was to do them by number and we had to redo it by height. At this point, they're frustrated with me for not doing it right the first time. I am frustrated with them for not listening the first time and also being 45 minutes late. The tennis team was waiting for me on the other side of the school, so I did my best. I showed the photo to the coach before leaving. Boss didn't like what I made for the football team and had to go back and do it again because I fucked up. I told her all of this and she said that I should have accommodated them because they're the football team and they have to have the best, even if that means waiting 45 minutes for them to arrive and making the tennis team wait 45 minutes.

My second groups job was a middle school that was asking me to do the team photo AND in between teams do candids for the yearbook. The kids were not behaving well and did not seem interested in taking a good photo, so I did my best even though the kids were fighting. Unfortunately, I made the completely reasonable mistake of leaving my aperature on too low between tasks and they ended up a little bit out of focus- which was not apparent in the camera but WAS apparent on the computer screen. This is a mistake that other people have made. I showed each photo to the coach before letting them go.

My third groups job was a class groups job, which all I had to do was follow the guide given to me. Which I did, up until about the 4th grade classes, which had their special classes going on at that time. Because of this, the number the teacher gave me was incorrect and I had to add students to rows in ways that did not reflect the guide because the other option was to disassemble the class group and reassemble it so that it reflected the guide. Teachers were rushing me to hurry up, so I made executive decisions. This was unfortunately the wrong decision. I also posed them in a way that was consistent with what my boss wanted, but not what the district specialist wanted.

On my fourth groups job, I was told all of the mistakes I had made in the previous jobs and that I need to take consideration all of the details and guides that were there for me to use because my previous jobs required her to go back and do them again, so I had better not make the same mistakes (all of which were different mistakes each time). I am upset. So to make it easier on myself, I asked the coaches if they had a specific way they would like to have them posed. The coaches, delighted that I asked, gave me their feedback on previous years and what they would like to change. And I, delighted that they had preferences, obliged. I showed the photo to the coach before leaving. My boss said I did well! She was very pleased with my work. The district specialist was not! He said that I needed to follow the guide because the numbers were incorrect and that I needed to follow the numbers. He tapes a guide to the back of my slate to use. I ask my boss if she could help me next time.

On my fifth groups job, I am disheartened by the amount of criticism I've gotten but I am determined to get it right this time. My boss is present. I am placing the students with the order given to me by the specialist. I walk away to double check. She tells me that its wrong- that I shouldn't have 9 people in front. I tell her that I was using the guide. She shows me her guide. The guides are different from each other. I ask her which guide I'm supposed to use and she says 'whichever one is correct.' I ask her how I'm supposed to know which one is correct and she tells me the theory of how the placement is supposed to go instead of giving me an answer. I get a little shirty. She tells me that this is my 5th job like this, I should know how to do this by now. I start crying. She goes away for the rest of the day to do admin stuff and I handle the rest of the day fine.

My critique says that I am unable to adapt to change and I am inflexible, struggles to take criticism well or think under pressure.

So I'm expected to do well because its my third year. But I have two different supervisors who don't agree on what 'doing well' is and my progress is not seen as progress so much as 'another mistake.' If my mistakes were consistent, then that would be indicative of refusal to take criticism. But because the mistakes are different every time, that's not the case. I WANT to learn. But I would like everyone to be on the same page about what they want from me.

And when I pointed this out, I was told I was being confrontational.

So I am feeling the rage right now.

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luv4georgie · 6 hours

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ooohh a number 16 and 18 angst with lando omggg pls.

(your writing is so amazing )

the scientist.

Lando Norris x fem!reader

in which formula one star, Lando Norris, and “girlfriend”, Y/n L/n, go through some complications after Y/n finds a-few things out.

warnings: toxicasf!Lando, cheating, allusions to death, mental death, crying, a-lot of swearing, FLASHBACKS IN ITALICS

prompts 16 and 18 for angst- “it was a dare” and “why am i always your last option?”

“tell me you love me, come back and haunt me.”

i was sad. not even sad. more than that. Lando had broken up with me. 2 years gone to waste. 2 years of me loving him. 2 years all a lie. nobody said it was easy, fair enough, but no-one ever said it would be so hard. i could never fall in love again. i just couldn’t. it hurt so much. it still does. every-time i think of it, it feels like a dagger goes through my heart. was it me? was i the problem? why was i so hard to love?

it was a Saturday night when Lando decided to confess. confess the biggest lie of my and maybe, just maybe, his life. “it was a lie.” Lando said. me, still laughing and oblivious to what was happening, responded. “what?” i said still laughing, not turning to face the ‘love of my life’ yet. “everything Y/n/n” i turned to face him, a smile still on my face which quickly dropped seeing his overly serious expression. he had tears in his eyes and looked like he was cowering. “what’s everything Lan?” i questioned again. tears fell from his eyes, then i knew it was bad. “our relationship. my love for you.”

then it happened my stomach did 100 flips, my heart beat 1000x faster. some odd taste popped up in my mouth and before i knew it i was running to my bathroom, throwing up. Lando hadn’t moved from where he was standing. he was crying, letting his head hang low. once i finished being sick. i washed my mouth out and slowly made my way to the living room which looked into my kitchen, where Lando was. on wobbly legs i walked up to him around 3 feet away from him. now i get it. now i get why he never wanted to move in with me. i get why he acted weird and always rejected my love around his stupid friends.

me and Lando was at the club with a few of his friends. he had cheated. i know he did. i didn’t leave though i stayed there. he didn’t bother touching me around his friends. he never has really. i watched Lando dance, grind and kiss on another girl. i was shocked but to drunk to care. i was upset nonetheless but just couldn’t wrap my head around it. i watched as he did the same with 3 other beautiful girls. that’s when i had enough. “Lando!” i shouted. i grabbed his wrist, told him he’s had a-lot of drinks and that he should slow down but he waved me off. offended i scoffed and ignored him. “a bit clingy, ay” i heard Max shout. “yeah, she’s always all over me it’s weird” Lando responded. my eyes widened and i shoved him out of my way and made my way to the the exit. “fucking move” some random man said. “shut up dumbass” i retorted.

“what did you just fucking say?” he said, pushing me really aggressively into another girl, one of the girls Lando was dancing with, who gave me the dirtiest look ever. i tried to say sorry but she slapped me. all i heard was one word getting chanted around ‘fight’. a circle formed around us both. i kept dodging her punches but still took a few. i didn’t hit her back. i didn’t want to. i couldn’t. suddenly i saw a familiar pair of arms wrap around the girls waist, who i found out to be called Chelsea. it was Lando. grabbing onto her waist and carrying her out of the exit. i scoffed again. tears pricked my eyes and i was so annoyed. i was that angry and pissed off i cried. i ran out of the exit and accidentally bumped into a wall-like chest. Lando. “where are you going?” he asked. i didn’t answer just wriggled out of his grasp and ran to the corner of some steps i saw earlier. he followed me. “why am i always your last option Lando? why? i’m your girlfriend, yet you help someone you met 10 minutes ago and comfort them. i don’t get it”. Lando being Lando told me i was overreacting, called an uber and took us both home.

“why are you fucking crying Lando?” i whispered. “you don’t get to fucking cry!” i shouted this time. tears stung my eyes and more fell from his. he dropped to his knees and cried pathetically. i just stared at him in disgust. “you’re fucking sick Lando” i said, my voice broken and wrecked. “sick. i can’t believe it. am i a joke? why am i so fucking hard to love?” i cried. “please baby, i’m sorry, it was a stupid dare and i laughed and did it” he begged. “you laughed at me? you fucking laughed at the idea of asking me to be your girlfriend. you knock me fucking sick Lando. fucking sick.” i cried and cried. he wouldn’t shut up, even after i told him to get out, he didn’t. he just kept saying sorry and please. i didn’t get it. am i that fucking hard to love. that’s when my life ended. everything inside of me died that night, even if i was physically there, i died.

AUTHORS NOTE: sorry this is really short, i’m literally just reflecting on my last relationship with this because most of this is a true story in my life but a-lot less worse, that ex hurt me in every-way possible and as we know Lando would never do something like that so please don’t say i have said he would. thank you. and thank you for all your support recently ❤️❤️

#f1 #f1 x reader imagines #spotify #lando norris #lando norris fluff #lando norris x reader #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #cl16 #nolan hansen

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anathemaspeaks · 20 hours

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can i please get fluff number 13, "delete that! i look disgusting." and 14, "your flirting is so bad it's adorable." with gojo 😁

here you go 🫶

requests are open! (please request stuff)

check out my prompt list.

you stood in front of satoru, arms flailing around comically, trying to jump up and reach the phone in his hand. you never stood a chance. he just stayed in the same position, an arm lazily outstretched above his head, eyes filled with glee and laughs escaping his throat at your futile attempts at capturing his phone from him.

"delete that! i look disgusting" you demanded, thoroughly annoyed by his antics, hair messy, with both of you standing on top of your bed.

"disgusting? i happen to think this is your best picture yet!" he said, eyes filled with mirth, mocking your current helpless state, the wide grin on his face ever-present.

"gojo satoru-"

"not the full government name" he gasped, seemingly offended. drama queen.

the picture of you was downright horrendous. you were napping, mouth wide open, a little bit of drool on the side, head on your pillow with your hair as wild as a bird's nest. and click! he took a picture, being the spectacular friend he is.

being the dumbass he is, the shutter sound woke you up, which brought you to your current predicament.

you tried to reach up again, only this time, you lost your balance and landed right into his toned chest, causing you both to topple down onto your plush bed, with you falling on top of him. red from both the intimacy and frustration, you were still trying your hardest to retrieve his phone.

"that picture is a national threat" you reasoned, trying to convince him, looking into his eyes.

"national treasure, you mean?" he asked with a small smirk, eyes boring into yours. oh. now mere inches away from him, with you straddling his body with your own, you realized he was blushing, light pink dusting his cheeks.

"oh, so you want it because you like seeing me that disheveled, huh?" you teased. what you weren't expecting was for him to blush even more, now completely flustered.

"n-no!" he started, eyes shifting away from yours, the cocky demeanor from a minute ago now gone. "it's just for blackmail, because-"

"aw, your flirting is so bad it's adorable" you interrupted, catching your tongue when you realized what you just said. he paused.

"adorable, huh?" he looked into your eyes again, cocky smirk reappearing. shit. now you were the one blushing and avoiding his ardent stare.

the air had changed, the witty comeback dying on your tongue at the sheer intensity of his gaze. you let out a meek "maybe," and that was all the confirmation he needed.

he tiled his chin, fingers lightly grazing your jaw and pulling you closer, noses almost touching. you could feel his teasing smile, the glint in his eyes shifting from playfulness to fondness and uncertainty, searching yours for permission.

you leaned down, and his mouth captured yours in a soft, hesitant kiss. warmth flooded through your body, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of his lips on yours. you moved your hands into his hair, only breaking apart when you both were breathless, matching soft smiles on both of your flushed faces.

he tucked a strand your hair behind your ear gently, before letting his hand rest on your cheek with an unfamiliar shyness in his eyes.

"i should blackmail you more often" he quipped, breaking the silence, the stupidly handsome smirk back on his face.

"shut up" you mumbled, rolling your eyes. a smile tugged at your lips nevertheless.

"make me" he replied, voice deep and smooth, already leaning up to capture your lips in another kiss.

sorry if he's a little out of character i thought it was cute oops

likes, reblogs, and follows are appreciated <3

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five-rivers · 2 days

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timer

@echoghost1 @everfascinated

It hovered over the surface of the portal, clearly separate from it. A large, flat, disk shape, with a pale, luminous face. More vivid numbers circled the edge, painted neatly. A single, delicate, metal hand pointed towards the number seven, on the left side of the clock. It had been pointing there for the past hour or so, ever since it had been noticed.

Maddie drummed her fingers on the workbench she stood next to. The timer - because what else could it be? - was, thus far, a mystery to her. Usually, Maddie liked mysteries. Exploring the mysteries of the Ghost Zone had been the reason they had built the portal in the first place. This mystery was fascinating, and Maddie was excited about it, but it was also incredibly troubling.

Obviously, the timer - hovering, green, immovable - was ghostly in origin. What else could it be? But how did a ghost place get in here to place it? For what purpose? How much time was left? What was it counting down to? It couldn’t be anything good. Ghosts had no love for her family or their works.

As soon as she’d noticed it, she and Jack had started taking readings, but nothing they did gave them anything conclusive, or any way to get rid of the thing.

It was frustrating and troubling. Frustrating and troubling.

“Uh, Mom? Dad? It’s six and we were wondering if you wanted us to order dinner or anything…”

Maddie looked up to see Danny coming down the stairs.

“Oh, sure!” said Jack. “Pizza sounds great, son!”

“Yeah. What are you even– What’s that?”

Danny stared wide-eyed at the timer for a long moment, and Maddie moved to reassure him. Danny was always so timid around ghosts, so afraid. This timer was doubtlessly malevolent, but she and Jack wouldn’t let it do anything to Danny.

Briefly, Danny’s eyes gleamed green. Then, slowly, but inevitably, he collapsed.

Maddie leaped forward, keeping Danny from hitting his head on the bottom step by the narrowest of margins. “Jack!”

“What happened?” he asked, hurrying over. “Danny? Danny? Talk to me, son! Can you hear me?”

Danny’s eyes fluttered open briefly, overly reflective, then shut again.

“I’m setting up the quarantine booth,” said Maddie. “Will you carry him?”

Jack nodded, grimly.

They’d gotten the quarantine booth set up after Vlad’s unfortunate recurrence of ecto-acne and the revelation that ecto-acne could be contagious under certain circumstances. It was sealed, filtered, protected, shielded. Every precaution they could think of had gone into it.

… and, yes, they should use those precautions more often, but Maddie and Jack loved getting up close and personal with the subjects of study.

“We need to get that thing shielded,” said Jack as he set Danny on the bed. He rushed out towards the timer and started setting up shield projectors around the portal.

Maddie, meanwhile, pulled the medical scanner free from the ceiling. Well, ‘medical scanner’ was a very sci-fi way of putting it, when really it was quite prosaic, if you knew how it worked.

She positioned it over Danny’s body and set it to taking data.

Temperature, low, heart rate, low, bones, intact, nervous system… that part of the scanner didn’t work all that well, ignore that reading…

Ectoplasm levels were off the charts.

Maddie inhaled deeply. Stay calm, stay calm. They would fix this. They’d cured Vlad and Danny’s friends, they could cure this, whatever it was. They would get rid of that timer and they’d save Danny.

“Mom?” said Danny, weakly.

“Hey, sweetie,” said Maddie. “How are you feeling?”

“Bad,” said Danny. He tried to sit up, but Maddie pushed him back down. “What’s happening?”

“You collapsed suddenly,” said Maddie. “We’re trying to figure out why.”

Danny raised one hand to his face. Green light reflected off his hand. Understanding flicked over his features.

“Okay, but I think I’m feeling better, now,” he said. He tried to sit up again.

“We need to figure out what happened before you go running around,” said Maddie, pushing him down again. She looked over at Jack, through the thick, transparent sides of the quarantine booth. Jack was now trying to throw a towel over the timer and–

Wait a moment.

“Stay down,” she told Danny. “Let the scanner do its job.” She walked out of the quarantine booth. “Wait, Jack, wait.”

“But we have to keep it from affecting Danny. We don’t know if its effect is visual or what.”

“I know, I know,” said Maddie. “But look at it. Look at the hand.”

The hand, which had been pointing at the number seven, was now pointing at the number six.

Jack scowled at the timer and tried to throw the towel over it again. The towel passed through it. “Are we sure this is a timer, Mads? Maybe the numbers are counting down charges or something like that.”

“I don’t know, it still looks more like a timer to me.”

“But why did it affect Danny like that?”

“I don’t know. We need to start decontamination procedures right away, though. His ectoplasm levels are off the charts. The sudden spike is probably what made him collapse, but I don’t know how this could have increased his ectoplasm levels so much so quickly.”

I don’t know either,” said Jack. He picked up the latest version of the Fenton Finder (which incidentally, still detected Danny more often than not) and shook it. “None of the detectors we have pointed at it picked up anything. Nothing going towards Danny, nothing ambient, nothing anywhere else.”

Maddie had hoped that their detectors had picked something up, but with the continued failures of the Fenton Finder, maybe she shouldn’t be so surprised.

“We’ll keep looking,” said Maddie. She was forgetting something. What was she forgetting? “Jazz. We need to tell Jazz, so she doesn’t come down here. What if it only affects minors?”

“Righto,” said Jack, shoving the Finder at Maddie. “I’ll do that, you start the decontam procedures!”

Maddie nodded tightly and turned back to Danny. She could see his eyes gleaming from here.But they could fix this.

#danny phantom #phic phight #phic

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5sos-fic-fest · 2 days

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2024 5sos Fic Fest Masterlist

We had a total of 14 fics posted for this round of the fest, spanning a variety of pairings, lengths, and genres! There’s a collection on AO3 that can be found here, and tumblr posts are linked in this masterlist! If you read, try to show the author some love by leaving kudos, comments, and reblogging their post!

We Could Be Anything by @kittenclifford (E, 14k, muke)

It’s become a habit now, a routine, almost normal for Luke to find himself outside of his dorm room, on the wrong side of the door, in the middle of the night on a weeknight. It was the third time this week (and it was only Wednesday) that Luke had been sexiled from his own dorm room by his roommate Calum. But he had to admit, Luke didn't mind being exiled nearly as much as he let on, because it meant that he got to spend time on the floor above. With Michael. Or: college AU where Luke's sexile from his dorm room leads him to Michael's room instead; from the floor to the bed, from friends to lovers

heart is gonna flatline || l.h. by @takemealivelh (M, 7k, luke x oc)

tour puts luke and lucy’s feelings to the test. addiction to sex, alcohol and weed for when things get hard. SMUT.

the cat's plan by @kaleidoscopeminds (T, 11k, cake)

Calum would like it to go on the record that Luke never wanted to keep the cat in the first place. Luke would argue that’s not entirely true. Not that it matters anyway, because when Calum shows up in their flat after work, hoodie soaked through, a pitiful mewing coming from his pocket and a beseeching look in his eyes, there was no way Luke would have had it in him to say no.

on purpose by @burstingsunrise (T, 20k, cake)

The desire to kiss Luke is overwhelming. Calum knows he looks ridiculous right now, but Luke’s right there, face inches away, smiling fondly at Calum’s stupid face caught between his careful palms. His eyes are different too. He’s not looking at Calum like he wants to fuck him. He’s looking at Calum like he wants to gently cradle Calum in his giant hands like a baby chick. Somehow, that’s even worse.

there's something that you should know by @cxmp-writes (T, 4k, malum)

Every summer, skater boys Calum and Michael travel to a sleepaway camp like no other — Camp Woodward — to hone their skills, meet new friends, and take their talents to the next level. But it's what they're not expecting that will change their lives forever.

Under the Moonlight by @ashtons-lemon-tree (T, 682, mashton)

Ashton reveals his feelings for Michael at a party celebrating their album release

the story needs some mending (and a better happy ending) by @clumsyclifford (T, 5k, mashton)

“‘Let's see a witch,’” Ashton says. “‘It’ll be fine, Ashton. What could go wrong?’” “I didn't say witch, I said psychic! How was I meant to know she was both?” “From the sign!” Ashton says, gesturing emphatically at an A-board whose advertised PSYCHIC/WITCH SERVICES couldn't be more clearly outlined. Michael tries to grumble but only manages a rumbly croak. “Look, you're fine. I'm the one who’s a bloody frog.” “Play stupid games, win stupid prizes,” Ashton sing-songs.

caught beneath the landslide by @starvinginbelair (E, 4k, lashton)

“You wanted to hear the playlist,” Ashton says, voice low and gravelly. He shoves the plastic CD case back onto the shelf, the one that once housed this damned CD that’s spinning music around them right now, that Luke should’ve never asked about in the first place. “This is the playlist.” “I don’t want your number no,” the CD croons, clearly unaware of whatever the hell it is that’s going on right now. “I don’t wanna give you mine and nooooooooo.” “I didn’t think you’d put No Scrubs on it,” Luke counters, sticking his thumb in his mouth to bite at the edges of his nails.

may the best man win by @lovesosweeet (T, 20k, calum x oc)

competing for the best toast at their best friends' wedding, calum and tanner go from being pretend rivals to... something like friends. maybe a little more? may the best man win.

the skies falling down (end of the world) by @sup3rbloom (T, 4k, lashton)

Luke is severely hurt, and Ashton is desperate to find something to heal his best friend. He's on the brink of giving up when he meets Michael and Calum, who happen to be from a community that has medical supplies.

Fell In Love With a Boy at the Rock Show by @bandtra5h (M, 4k, malum)

Michael came to Calum with a request, a huge best friend favor: “Calum I need you to drive me Vegas!” Or Michael impulsively buys tickets to an emo festival in Las Vegas to meet up with a girl he's been talking to on Discord, but has no idea how he's gonna get there. Luckily, Calum has a car...

running from something (running back to you) by @the-technorats (M, 23k, lashton)

Luke should have died a long time ago. He’s had every chance to, and somehow he just keeps evading it. Being in the Hunger Games, though, seems like it should be the final nail in his excruciatingly, meticulously constructed coffin. Or, the one where Luke is the District Four male tribute for the Hunger Games and he loses everything. Everything, that is, except for Ashton.

Always In Spring by @chamaleonsoul (M, 17k, cake)

Luke and Calum’s friendship has gone through many highs and lows, and it’s so full of parallels and full-circle moments that it’s almost like the universe is set to make sure they grow, love and stay together.

vampire?! (should have known it was strange you only come out at night) by @igarbagecannoteven (T, 2k, muke)

“What I’m trying to say is, it’s awesome that your family has this whole ‘goth mad scientist finally got paid for all the Frankensteins they’ve made’ type vibe going on, but if you plan on bringing someone home to meet the parents, you should give them a heads up. It was a little hard to appreciate the coolness when I was trying to figure out if I was going to end up as Cult Victim Number Two.” “What made you decide that’s not going to happen?” Luke asked. Michael thought about Calum’s texts and shrugged. “Honestly? Still not a hundred percent sure it’s not. But if you’re doing the sacrificing, I don’t know if I’d mind.”

Thank you to all of the participants!

#masterlist #friends to lovers fest 2024 #5sos fic #5sos fanfiction

17 notes · View notes

begaycommittreason · 6 months

Text

honestly i forgot that dick originally wanted to adopt jason as well just imagine how chaotic that would’ve been like

——————

jay: uh what’s for dinner

dick: well we have cereal and…

dick:

dick: hey don’t kids like the whole breakfast for dinner thing?

jay: i miss alfred

——————

dick: and for a bed i’d like to introduce you to this lovely thing called a futon!!

jay: …better than a cardboard box i guess

——————

jay: can i fight crime yet

dick: you’re a child

jay: you’re a slightly larger child

dick: …fair point, no extreme violence and minimum 4 flips per patrol

——————

dick: when a mommy and daddy love each other very much—

jay: i am not doing this with you dickface i know what sex is

dick: wait no little wing i have a powerpoint presentation. it’s color coded and everything!

jay: i wish i’d stayed on the street

——————

dick: okay that’s enough, you know what, get on top of the fridge

jay, hissing: this house is a fucking nightmare

——————

jay: hey some friends at school wanted to watch a movie, is it okay if they come here—

dick: yes, yes! oh my god finally i’m so proud you’re making friends jaybird, i’m gonna be the coolest host dad ever i’ll make pizza and

jay, already on the phone: yeah he said no, sorry guys, can we do it at tommy’s?

——————

dick teaching jason trapeze and circus stuff 😭

——————

jay: god the circus is so lame

dick: exCUSE ME i’m disowning you, get out

jay: WHAT

——————

dick, who forgot to pick up jay from school: oh god i’m so sorry, i’ll never do it again

jay, who’s thrilled to be allowed in the library after hours every time, but never one to pass on a guilt trip: wow dick i never thought you of all people would abandon me

——————

dick: listen my support group says-

jay: you joined a support group for single moms dickface, that doesn’t count

dick: it does too, they all think i’m very brave for doing this alone

jay: for fucks sake-

——————

dick, coming home late from a date and seeing the lights on: uhh hello?

jay, sitting on a stool: and just where have you been all night young man?

dick: IM 26

——————

jason, pointing at the wayne family photos: so who do we like, and who do i hate on principle

dick:

dick: okay so this is complicated

jason: there’s only like three living people??

dick: right. so—

——————

dick, who pulled an all-nighter working on a case: good morning!

jay, who was reading jane austen and didn’t notice the sun came up: right…morning

dick:

jay:

dick: you didn’t sleep did you

jay: well clearly neither did you

dick: fair enough, coffee?

——————

jay: so this guy was shovin’ me around and-

dick: i’ll kill him

jay: …no.

dick: but-

jay: his mom’s the librarian and i can’t afford to fall out of sharon’s good graces

——————

dick: look it’s not my fault i’m so charismatic

jay: i’m not asking for a lot here

dick: you’re asking me to suppress my nature

jay: i’m asking you to stop flirting with all my teachers at parent teacher conferences

dick: c’mon it’s not that big of a deal

jay: …miss shields gave me her phone number to pass along the other day. so did mr. burnes, it’s getting outta hand dick

dick: oh i see, this is serious

dick: she’s really cute, maybe i should-

jay: STOP IT

——————

#dick actually choosing to pass the robin mantle on to jason 😭#they’d be so cute your honor #dick grayson #jason todd #batfamily #batfam #dc

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headkiss · 5 months

Text

something more

pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!bau!reader

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

word count: 6.6k

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

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

༄

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Whatcha doing?” You’d asked.

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

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

“I should really get this done-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay, put me to work, boss.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And he still wanted to check on you.

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

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

“Get in here, Hotchner.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who taught you that one, huh?”

“I like to keep my sources anonymous.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The flight home from a case always feels the longest.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hopeless, she thinks.

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

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

“Should we wake them up?” JJ asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We fell asleep, but we landed.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s going on?” You ask Aaron.

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

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

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

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

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

He likes that idea, too.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You guess that this time might be up for debate.

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry.” And then, you hung up.

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

So, your instincts weren’t so bad.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“If you say so, Hotchner.”

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

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

“Learned from the best,” you say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll clean it all up, too, I prom-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s perfect,” he says.

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

Similar words come from the rest of the team.

“Finally,” from Emily.

“About time,” from JJ.

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

A sweet, “yay,” from Penelope.

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

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

༄

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

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kleftiko · 6 months

Text

❦ CHERRY SMOKE CLOUDS

“upon learning that your new plug is a virgin, you come up with a new way to pay for your weed”

cw: slight dubcon (sex under the influence), virginity loss (choso), car sex, corruption kink, unprotected sex, blowjobs

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

You met Choso through your little sister's friend.

Without knowing Megumi and Yuji were over, you started ranting to Nobara about how your plug was moving across the country, and it was a travesty. When she gave you edibles, she packed them in cute little heart baggies, and you were never gonna find another one as good as her.

It wasn't until you turned the corner that you saw her and her two friends lounging on the couch.

Luckily, Yuji spoke up, telling you his brother grows and you could get from him.

That got you his number, and having known Yuji, you expected his brother to be a much more enthusiastic texter. You hardly expected one- to two-word responses, absolutely no emojis, and a period at the end of a sentence.

But if it got you what you wanted, you were fine with that.

Most transactions were made through Yuji or Nobara, and despite the lack of customer service that you got from your old plug, his stuff was good, so you couldn't complain.

Then, one day, Yuji messaged you, saying he was having a party at his place and you should come meet his brother. You didn't see why not, so you and Nobara got dressed up together and went.

It was unsurprising that there were a lot of people—Yuji loved making friends, after all—so it took a minute to find him. But he had a wide smile when he saw you two, giving you hugs and telling you his brother was in the garage.

You didn't have to excuse yourself cause your sister was already gone by the time you turned back, so you made your way to the garage.

Inside, there was only one person. A taller man with longer hair who was taking stuff out of the trunk of a car, and when he turned to you, you noticed his tired eyes looking at you. He was cute.

"What?" He asked.

"Choso?" You asked, and he nodded. You smiled a bit and said, "Y/N."

A look of recognition flashed across his face.

"Yuji told me you'd be coming." He then lifted the box in his arms slightly, as if to show you the alcohol. "Leave it to my brother to think a six-pack would be enough for a party."

You couldn't help the amused hum that passed your lips as your gaze traced the strained muscles in his arms.

"Want some help?"

After the two of you brought in a couple cases of liquor, you followed him back to the garage. Besides your sister and her friends, you didn't know anyone, and you figured at least Choso would have some weed on him if nothing else.

He leaned against his car and fished a lighter out of his pocket before looking at you and holding it up as an invitation. You smiled and moved to stand in front of him as he took out a case from his other pocket, placing the joint from inside between his lips.

"You don't wanna hang out with your brother?" You asked as he lit it.

Choso just raised an eyebrow at you, blowing out the smoke slowly and drawing your eyes to his lips.

"You don't wanna hang out with your sister?" He retaliated casually, holding out the blunt for you.

With a couple puffs of your own, you shift your weight onto your other leg. Choso's soft gaze stays on you, waiting for you to continue.

"Why smoke out here?" You asked, and he shrugged.

"Not a fan of people." He explained, and you gave him a look. He shakes his head, "don't make it seem like I'm a loner; I just don't wanna hang out with my younger brother's friends."

"Not a fan of younger people?" You don't give him time to answer before you say, "pretty sure I'm younger than you."

"You're fine." It's casual in the way he says it, but it does something to you, and you end up shifting again when he hands you the blunt.

His eyes flicked down to your legs, taking notice of your movement. "Wanna sit?"

Choso patted the hood of the car beside him as an offer, and you looked at his fingers sitting on top of the metal. They were long and lanky, with prominent veins running through his hand and up his arm. It led you back to his face, which is waiting for your answer.

So you hopped on top of the hood, taking one more puff than is courteous, but Choso didn't say anything as he took it back.

It was a couple minutes of silence; the two of you smoked until it was just the filter, and Choso threw it away. You started to feel the familiar feeling of your head becoming heavier—or, you were just more aware of the weight of it—and you sank back onto your hands with contentment.

"So, were you just here for the weed?" Choso's voice was pretty monotone, but you could tell he was making a joke.

A small giggle escaped your lips as you noticed the red creeping up in his tired eyes.

"I mean, I won't say no if you wanna share another, but I think hanging out with you is fine by itself." You admitted, and he shook his head at you.

A couple blinks was all it took to remind you that he really did grow some good shit, and you grabbed the bottom of his shirt to tell him the compliment when you looked up at his face and forgot your train of thought.

Instead, you tugged on his shirt and coaxed him to stand in front of you as you tilted your head up at him.

"You don't look like what I thought you would." You drawled out.

"What'd you expect?" He prompted.

You pouted, "pink hair."

Choso let out a soft chuckle, and you almost melted at the sight of his smile. Unintentionally, you leaned closer to him, your eyes focused on the bridge of his nose, where you noticed a faint scar that ran across it. With your noses almost touching, you looked up into his eyes, admiring the way they locked onto you.

"You're hotter than I thought." You mumbled, and his eyebrows raised slightly.

Choso pulled back.

"If you think this'll get you free stuff, you're outta luck."

You giggled and let go of his shirt, leaning back onto your hands with a lazy smile.

"I'd tell you that even if you weren't my plug." You said. "Though, I'm sure a lot of your customers offer favours instead of money."

Once again, he shook his head at you, his smile mirroring yours. You let your head fall back, feeling the stretch in your neck as you stared at the ceiling.

"Wouldn't blame you, sex while high is incredible."

"I wouldn't know." He said and you snapped your head at him.

"You've never had sex after smoking?"

He raised an eyebrow at you, and you understand what he was saying.

"You've never had sex?" You clarified, and Choso shakes his head in agreement, unbothered by it.

"Never had the time." He explained, and at the back of your clouded mind, you recalled Nobara mentioning that Yuji was raised by his older brother.

You slid off the car, standing toe to toe with Choso as you looked up at him. He didn't move, and you could smell his cologne and soft hints of weed.

"Do you wanna know what it's like?" You whispered, gazing up at him through your lashes.

The thought that you could give this man everything made that small pulse of arousal that's been sitting between your legs light on fire. As you stared into Choso's eyes, a mischievous smile played on your lips. The anticipation of what you could do with him sent a rush of excitement through your body.

Instead of giving you a verbal answer, Choso bent down and attached his lips to yours.

He tasted smokey, but it didn't bother you as you brought your hands up into his messy hair. His large hands travelled down your sides and roughly pulled you closer to him. Your knee bumped between his legs, and he uttered a deep moan into your mouth.

Detaching yourself from him, you grabbed his shirt and tugged him to switch places with him, pushing his legs into the hood of his car and forcing him to sit atop it.

Your hands then moved to his jeans as you kissed him again, undoing the button and zipper as you bit his lips. Choso let out a little whine, shakey fingers grasping at your own shirt when you stuck your hand down his pants and cupped his half-hard cock. As you stroked him, you scattered kisses and bites down his neck and along his jaw, leaving nothing to catch the hisses he let out of his mouth in response to your attack. You could feel the heat radiating from his body as his breathing grew heavier. The intensity of the moment heightened as you whispered in his ear, teasing him with promises of what was to come.

Then you sank your knees onto the concrete floor between his legs, pulling down his jeans and boxers just enough to free his cock and balls, your mouth watering at the size.

As you looked up into his eyes, you gently licked his red tip and watched him shut his eyes in pleasure, his hand coming to the top of your head. Then you took him to the back of your throat, eliciting a loud and wanton moan from the man above you. Despite slapping his other hand over his mouth to muffle the sound, you felt a shiver at the noise, knowing that you were driving him wild with something so simple. With each movement of your mouth, you could feel his grip on your hair tighten, urging you to go deeper. The intensity of the moment consumed both of you as you lost yourself in the intoxicating pleasure of giving him ecstasy. His dick was slobbered with your spit, and besides the faint music coming from the house, the garage was filled with the disgusting sounds of you slurping and choking on his cock and Choso's beautiful stuttering noises of bliss.

Your eyes rolled back at the taste of him; the salty precum and weight of his dick on your tongue had you rocking your neglected pussy into your heel. When his moans and whimpers started to catch at the back of his throat, you cupped his heavy balls in your hands, gently massaging them as you continued to pleasure him. The intensity of the moment heightened as you felt his body tense and his breathing become more erratic, signalling that he was about to cum. With a mischievous smile, you increased the speed and pressure of your movements, determined to push him over the edge and make him lose control completely.

The grip on your hair tightened as he let out a guttural groan, his hips bucking uncontrollably against your touch. The raw desire in his eyes fueled your own excitement, and you revelled in the power you had over him in the moment. As he finally reached his climax, you continued to stroke him through his release, savouring the feeling of his pulse against your tongue and his cum running down your throat.

His tired eyes were glazed with lust when you popped him out and stood up. His chest was breathing heavily, but that didn't stop him from grabbing your face and pulling you into a searing kiss, licking up the drops of his cum that slipped from your lips. You moaned at his eagerness to clean his own grime from your face and ran your hands down his clothed body, fingernails scraping along his muscles as they twitched.

"Please," He begged between kisses. "Please fuck me."

You pulled away, looking at the man in front of you with hunger.

"Back seat." You commanded, and Choso listened to you.

The two of you stumbled to the car, pawing at each other as you removed your clothes. By the time you shut the door behind you, the two of you were in your underwear. Choso was hard once again as you mounted him.

Taking off your bra, his eyes locked onto your tits before eagerly going for them with his mouth. but you grabbed his hair and pulled him back. He nearly whimpered at the denial, but you were firm.

"I need to see your face when I take your virginity, baby." You told him.

Choso nodded his head and helped you two rid yourself of the last bit of clothing. Grabbing his cock, you lined it up with your soaking lips as Choso's fingers fluttered over your hips in anticipation. You looked at him, only to find his watery eyes locked on your pussy as he swallowed harshly. You were sure that if you led him on any longer, he would start crying.

"Choso," your sweet voice cooed.

When he locked eyes with yours, you sheathed yourself over his cock, watching firsthand as his mouth dropped open and his eyes rolled back as a broken moan pushed past his lips. It was filthy and erotic, and it made you lift your hips and slam back down onto him just to see his reaction again. His body trembled beneath you, his grip on your hips tightening as he surrendered to the pleasure coursing through him. The intensity of the moment fueled your own desire, igniting a primal need to dominate and explore every inch of his body.

"That feel good, baby?" You asked, knowing he couldn't answer. "Feel good to get fucked in the back of your car?"

Choso whimpered.

You leaned in closer, your breath hot against his ear, as you whispered, "You love being used like this for your first time, don't you?"

The sound of his desperate moans only fueled your attack further, pushing you to take him even harder.

"Your cock feels so good inside me, Choso." You continued to enjoy his reactive body. "so big, I don't think I can just fuck you once."

In his first bout of control, Choso grabbed the back of your head and shut you up with a kiss, hips lifting against yours in desperation.

"So fucking perfect." He managed to huff out, and you rewarded him with a squeeze of your pussy, making him lose the rhythm of his thrusts. The intensity of the moment heightened as Choso's grip tightened on your head, his kiss silencing your words. With each desperate thrust of his hips, he struggled to maintain the little bit of control he had.

He managed to gasp, overcome with the pleasure you were giving him, "You're absolutely incredible." The squeeze of your pussy caused him to lose his rhythm, further intensifying the passion between you.

You smiled wickedly and leaned in to whisper in his ear.

"Yea?" You asked. "Wanna cum inside me?"

It was as if a switch had been flipped. His eyes darkened with desire, and a primal growl escaped his lips. Without hesitation, he grasped your hips firmly and increased the pace, thrusting into you with an urgency that matched your own. The room filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin, and you let out your own noises of pleasure at Choso's actions.

Feeling your climax near, you dug your nails into his bare chest, urging him on. The intensity of the moment consumed both of you as you reached the peak of pleasure together, lost in a whirlwind of ecstasy. Spurts of his cum painted the inside of you, making you moan at the feeling before collapsing against him, sweaty bodies entangling. For a long moment, heavy breathing was the only sound in the hot car. As the air slowly cooled, you both basked in the afterglow.

With a satisfied smile, Choso gently brushed a strand of hair away from your face and whispered, "That was incredible."

You breathed out a laugh, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and cuddling into him.

"Yea," you agreed. "We need to smoke together more often."

#kleftiko’s kinktober #jjk x reader #jjk smut #choso x reader #choso smut #choso kamo x reader #choso kamo smut #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #choso kamo x you #kamo choso x reader #kamo choso smut

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nathaslosthershit · 2 months

Text

A Much Needed Interview (OP81)

(Part 2 of Teen Dad) Summary: After the shock of Oscar revealing himself to be a former teen dad, he joins an interview in the hopes of clearing everything up and limiting the overwhelming amount of questions he has been getting.

“Oscar, it is nice of you to sit down with us. I know it has been an interesting few weeks for you and your family. How are you guys all doing?” The interviewer asks.

‘Yeah, y’know, I had expected to one day have to open up about it all, but I never thought I’d have to do it the way I did. It has been fine, obviously my kids are young enough to not be impacted because they aren’t on social media, but it has been strange for my fiancée who is now getting hundreds of requests on her private account. I have sort of decided to take a break from social media because the response has been overwhelming and like none before. Mostly positive but I think a few people have gotten the wrong idea so I was hoping to clear everything up.” Oscar rambled. He was more nervous about this interview than any he had done before.

“Of course. Why don’t we start at the beginning, how did you and your fiancée meet?”

“We actually met at one of my races. She went to support one of her close friend’s brothers. After the race that I sadly didn’t do too well in, I saw her with her friend and I was kinda frozen in my spot, immediately head over heels. Sadly, it seems like everyone but her noticed. I was too scared to do anything so I just watched her leave. I think I sulked for days, totally regretting my decision to do nothing. A totally heartbroken 16 year old. I looked for her every single race until she finally came back a few months later.”

“Oh please tell me you finally got the confidence to shoot your shot.”

“Nope! I just stared at her and stuttered when she caught me looking then ran off. I then had an amazing race, I think part of me was just trying to make up for the embarrassment and luckily it seems my car got the memo. After the race she came up to me and asked for my number.” God, he was blushing profusely at the memory. He knew he would be getting slack for this for a very long time.

“Such a story! The young Oscar Piastri was no ladies’ man.”

“He was absolutely not. Soon after we started dating.” Oscar awkwardly laughed, sensing what was about to come up.

“And then kids came shortly after?” The interviewer asked with care in his voice, certainly able to sense Oscar’s change in attitude.

“Yeah. Uh, obviously not planned. I don’t think many people plan to become parent’s at 18. It was a shock… I didn’t handle it the best at first, something I think I will always regret. She was scared and while so was I, I should have been more supportive. I was embarrassed for a while. Felt like a total idiot. I didn’t tell anyone outside of my family and made them swear to secrecy. I also began to isolate myself from friends because I couldn’t bring myself to tell them but also felt terrible lying. A few months in I finally snapped myself out of it and began to focus on all the wonderfulness that was to come. I loved her more than anything and I would be lying if I said I hadn’t already imagined a life together in great detail. By the time we found out it was twins, a boy and a girl, I was ecstatic.”

“Well mate, I don’t blame you for your feelings. I definitely would have been a terrible father at 18 so I salute you.” The interviewer joked.

“Honestly, I had the same thought for a while, even when I was excited to have kids. I had so many doubts about it, I mean how could I not? But when it came down to it, I couldn’t afford to be anything less than a great father. Of course I had my moments, and still do years later, but I wouldn’t be able to let myself be anything less than I am. If you love your kids enough, you find a way.”

“How did having kids so young impact your career? Obviously it didn’t hurt it too much considering you are in your second year driving in Formula 1.”

“Well, I decided I wouldn’t advertise my situation unless a team was very serious about me. Prema knew, Alpine did too and of course McLaren does. All were welcoming and accommodating, as much as they could be. I don’t think I would have gone with any of them if they weren’t cool with it though. I realized the minute my kids were born I would give it all up for them, which scared the hell out of me.”

“That is admirable. All these years later you are still with their mother, correct?”

“Yes! I asked her to marry me over break. Everyone close to us had been confused as to why it took so long but we had discussed marriage together many times and made the decision that because our relationship moved so fast with having kids so young, we would wait a bit. I mean, we are still young but I honestly couldn’t wait any longer. She is everything to me and the most wonderful mother my kids could have.”

“Have your kids been around the paddock yet? I assume they are old enough to understand what you do.”

“They have been to the factory and come with me to meetings when we haven’t had a sitter for them. Luckily, they are both very well behaved in public, they also really like watching the races on tv and have somewhat of an understanding of what I do. They don’t believe I actually drive the car though.” Oscar rumbled. Trying to convince his twins that yes, their father actually does drive the cars they see going super fast, has been an ongoing issue. They seem to believe he is tricking them but have no problem believing Uncle Logan and Uncle Lando drive the cars. It has definitely humbled him immensely.

“Well you will have to fix that soon huh? Will they be attending races in the future?”

“I am trying to work that out with my fiancée actually. They are almost four so we don’t want them traveling too far, I also don’t believe they will be able to be entertained solely by the race the entire time so we have a lot to deal with. But I think seeing them on the paddock supporting me will be one of the best moments of my life. I selfishly can’t wait for them to come.”

The interview wrapped up shortly after that. Getting to reminisce on the start of his relationship and how far they have come and how many wonderful things are in the future put Oscar in a deliriously happy mood. He couldn’t wait to get home to his family.

Walking through the door, he was immediately welcomed to the sound of toddler meltdowns. Fully entering the house, he saw his very tired fiancée rubbing her face as she tried to calm her babies down. Clearly this had been going on for a while.

Despite how upset she looked, she immediately perked up at seeing Oscar had returned. But that immediately went away as she remembered the screaming kids and how messy the house and herself were.

“Sorry honey, I know you are probably so tired after the interview and meetings earlier and these two missed their nap so they are so cranky and I just-” He cut her off with a kiss. Once he pulled away she looked at him, perplexed. A kiss from Oscar was never unwelcome but it was the last thing she expected at that moment.

“Hey, look at me.” He said as he put a hand on her cheek. “I love you and our little family so much and you never, ever have to apologize for something as trivial as this. Why don’t you go get in the bath and relax a little and I will try to wrangle these two, okay?”

In her eyes, Oscar had never been hotter than he was now. Now it was her turn to surprise him with a kiss, even more passionate than the first. They would have continued if it hadn’t been for more screaming from their two kids.

Still, Oscar wouldn’t change a thing.

#formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri #op81 fluff #op81 imagine #op81 x reader

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vivwritesfics · 7 months

Text

Mini Me

With how shitty my life is rn, I keep having these depressive episodes. Turns out my depressive episodes breed fluff

Max's six year old son has just started karting and his wife has to take him. Boy oh boy, does he miss his wife and son.

"So, Max, can we expect to see your little one around the paddock today?"

Ever since the day he was born, Fabian Verstappen had been seen with his parents around the Formula One paddock. He was always smiling and waving at those he knew and those he didn't. Fabian Verstappen was the happiest boy around.

Max was very proud of his boy. He showed him off to whoever he could. When he was young, he sat on Max's hip while he completed interviews and such.

Fabian was Max's number one supporter (Tied only by Max's wife and Fabians mother, Y/N. She followed him around the world three times before agreeing to marry him. It was a year long engagement, and in that time Y/N found out she was pregnant. They managed to keep it hidden until after their wedding, although Y/N did have to get a dress that better fit her bump).

There was a year between Fabian being born and him being able to attend his first race. Christian was happy to get him fitted out in Red bull Racing merchandise. He got his own little hat and a too large Red bull shirt with a thirty three on it (Max had lost that years championship. Red bull had won the constructors but Max had just missed out on the WDC. Red bull had worked out the kinks in the car and Max was bound to win this year, just as he had the previous year).

This year was the first year Fabian and Y/N weren't there to cheer Max on. And interviewers certainly picked up on it.

"Uh, no," Max answered when they asked about Fabian. "He and my wife are at a karting event right now."

The interviewer gave him a nod. "Following in your footsteps perhaps?"

Letting out a laugh, Max nodded his head. "We can only hope," he said.

"Do you think we'll be seeing him in a Red bull Racing suit in the next fifteen years?"

Again, Max nodded his head. "If he's anything like his dad, he'll be in a Red bull Racing suit before that," he said and adjusted the cap on his head.

Max left the interview and checked his phone. As much as he wanted Fabian and Y/N at his race, he knew how important karting was to his son.

Max has always been Fabian's hero. His first full sentence was 'I wanna be like daddy'. Max and Y/N did whatever they could to make Fabian's dream come true.

The one thing Fabian wanted but he couldn't have was to have his daddy at his karting races, watching him. There had been a lot of screaming and crying while Max and Y/N tried to explain to him why his father couldn't be there.

But Fabian had made friends at his Karting matches. He and the other kids he had raced against got along like peas in a pod. Fabian's first ever play date was with his karting friends. Some of them had been sat with their eyes and mouths wide open while Max brought them juice. They couldn't believe he, their hero and favourite driver, was Fabian's dad.

Max pulled out his phone and checked his messages. Nothing from his wife yet, but Fabian's race should have been done, he realised when he checked the time.

Dialling her number, Max pressed his phone to his ear.

It took Y/N a moment to pick up. "Hey handsome," she said in a chipper voice when she picked up the phone. Her voice was distant and slightly distorted, and Max realised she was in the car.

"Hello, Liefje. How's our little racer?" He asked her.

"Daddy! Daddy!" Came Fabian's voice. "I won! I won! I won!" He shouted.

Well, that answered Max's question. His cheeks were warm as he smiled, listening to his son. "Ik ben zo trots op je, mijn jongen. Ik kan niet wachten om jullie twee weer te zien!" (I'm so proud of you, my boy. I can't wait to see you too again!)

There was a moment before Fabian responded. He was fluent in English and French, but he was only good at Dutch. It still took him some time before he could work out what Max was saying and respond.

"Papa, ik... heb een... trofee." (Daddy, I got a trophy.)

There was a certain sense of joy that filled Max whenever Fabian answered him in Dutch. "Fabi, make sure mommy sends me a picture of your trophy," he said.

"I will do, Maxy," Y/N responded for the little boy. "Fabi, what do we say to papa?"

Again, Fabian was quiet for a moment. "Oh!" He suddenly cried from the back of the car. "Good luck with your race, Papa! Maybe you can win like me!"

The Verstappens laughed.

"Good luck, Max. Call me after you've won."

"I will, Liefje. I love you."

"I love you too."

Max hung up the phone after that. He his qualifying to get ready for. As he got ready, though, he spent the entire time thinking about his wife and son. He checked his phone constantly, waiting for Y/N to send over the picture of Fabian and his trophy.

No father had ever been prouder of his little boy than Max. Fabian was his everything and he couldn't wait to see him in the big leagues. Who knows, maybe Max would still be racing alongside him. Maybe he'd have Horner's job, team principle of Red bull Racing while his son raced as their number one driver.

No matter what, Max would always be Fabian's number one supporter.

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