PLEASSEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE show us your cat i am BEGGING on my HANDS and KNEES
im so happy i found your account i love the angst to fluff so much 😭😭 if you're feeling up for it can i request suna forgetting your birthday or anniversary? i know it's so cliche and has been done hundreds of times but i just love it so much lol 😫
aren’t clichés the best tho? i got you hun
Forgetting s/o’s birthday
Pairing: Suna x gn!reader
Genre: angst to fluff
Warnings: none (well it’s angst so there’s bound to be some—message me if so)
a/n: I had so much fun with this one
Today is your birthday and you’ve been looking forward to it for a while now
Especially because you‘ll be able to spend it with Suna
He’s been quite busy with practice lately
You didn’t want to bother him too much and wanted to let him concentrate
So you haven’t been able to see each other a lot
But today you planned to spend the evening together by having dinner and cuddling by the tv watching a movie
7pm; the table is set and dinner is nice and warm. The pillows and blankets are already in the living room and the movie is ready to be played. All that’s left to do is wait for Suna to arrive in about an hour. You’re so excited to finally spend time with him, that you find it hard to sit still.
It’s already 8:45 and still no word from him. He usually says something when his going to be late, so you’re a little worried, wondering if something happened. You grab your phone, looking at the time one last time and decide to call him.
He picks up a few moments later. “Hey babe.” You hear his husky voice on the other side of the line. He was asleep. Your mood turns a little glum as you think that he forgot your plans, but you try to convince yourself that he was probably just tired and overslept.
You pick yourself up and ask him as best as you can without sounding disappointed, “Aren’t you coming over?” However, you weren’t actually expecting him to ask why, not remembering that you two made plans today, on your birthday.
After a couple minutes of silence, you hear him, “oh yeah! Sorry, it slipped my mind. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes,” then he hangs up the phone.
You let out a tiny sigh of relief. Even if he forgot, you were still happy he remembered after. You decided to take the opportunity to reheat the already cold dinner in the microwave. Once that is done, you place it back on the table just like before.
You hear the sound of the door bell and skip your way to the door. You open it and greet your boyfriend with a joyful expression, happy to finally be able to hug him. However, the bright smile on your face fades when he speaks.
“So where is it?” You stand there without a clue of what he’s talking about. Seeing the confusion on your face he adds, “You know, my jacket. I need it for practice tomorrow. But don’t worry, I brought you another one.” You freeze, staring in awe at his face, then at the hoodie in his hand and back at his face.
He forgot… and to make matters worse, he didn’t remember like you thought he did…
You fight the urge to cry, turning on your heels and storming to your room. After you grab his team jacket, you throw at his chest in frustration. “There you go. You can keep both.”
“What do you—?” Before he could finish, you shut the door in his face. He stands outside your door, struggling to understand what just happened, unable to come up with a single reason why you’d act like that.
He start making his way home, hardly paying attention to what’s happening around him as your angry expression imprints in his mind. Suddenly, the pocket of his trousers vibrates. He pulls out his phone and sees Atsumu’s number on the caller ID.
“What’s up? Make it quick, I’m busy”
‘Tsumu laughs on the other end, “thought as much. Don’t worry, I don’t want to take up the time you reserved for them.” Suna is a little confused and before he can ask anything, the voice on the phone continues, “just tell y/n ‘Samu and I wish them a happy birthday. I tried calling them, but they didn’t answer.”
Suna’s heart drops as he realises he forgot your birthday and forgot about the plans you made to spend the evening together. Without a second thought, he turns around and sprints back to your house. Upon arriving, he rings the doorbell and knocks on the door continuously.
He thinks to check if the door was unlock and to his surprise: it was. Walking in, uninvited, he search the house for you, but his guilt grows the more he searches.
He looked for you in the living room, only to be met with soft looking pillows and blankets, which he knew were meant for both of you. Then, the kitchen, where he sees the dinner you prepared gone cold, again, from sitting on the table for so long.
When he gets to your bedroom, he hesitates a bit, but walks in anyways when he hears movement coming from inside. The last thing he’s expecting is to see you fully dressed, as if you were going out.
“What are you doing?”
“Oh you came back? Forgot something else?” You shoot daggers at him through your eyes and sharp tone. “Well whatever it is, look for it yourself. I’m heading out”
Suna starts to panic seeing how mad you are. He knows he messed up and that you’re probably more upset than mad in reality. “Where are you going at a time like this?” You don’t spare him a glance and carry on with your business.
“A bar or something. Got to cheer myself up on my birthday somehow.” Your words break his heart. You brush passed him. “Leave the key under the pot outside,” you say as you place your key on the furniture beside the door frame.
You’re already halfway down the corridor when he chases after you and grabs your wrist, pulling you and caging you in his arms. You struggle for a bit; hitting and pushing him away, but deem it useless as he isn’t letting go.
Once he’s feels you stop, he speaks, “I’m sorry.” With those words you begin sobbing into his chest; hands gripping the back of his shirt tightly. “I know, I’m sorry.”
“No, you don’t know! You have no idea,” you scream at him as you cry louder than before. “Do you have any idea how I felt when you showed up at my door to ask for a jacket when we had a whole evening planned out?”
His chest tightens thinking about how you must’ve felt, “I know, I’m sorry.”
After a while, your sobs seize and Suna’s grip softens, but he moves his arms down to your waist to make sure you don’t run away. He waits until he feels like it’s okay to speak and then continues, “baby, I really am sorry. I don’t know I how could forget something so important, and I’m not going to make up excuses because there’s no excuse for forgetting such an important day.”
You huff, hearing that after what happened, but he’s having none of it and gives you a tiny squeeze to draw you attention back to him. You stare up at him, contemplating what to do next. He looks down at you hopefully, waiting for you to forgive him.
The moment you sigh in defeat, his eyes light up. He smiles, bending down slightly to give you a warm hug and whispers into your neck, “can we have dinner and cuddle like we planned?”
You hug him back, having missed his touch for a long time. “Fine, but you still have a long way to go before you’re fully forgiven, understood?”
“Yeah, don’t worry. I’ll make sure to make it up to you,” he reassures you, giving you a kiss on your forehead. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
Pairing: Draco x Ravenclaw Reader
Genre: fluff with very (I mean very) light angst.
Note: No Voldemort Universe. Seventh Year.
Word Count: 1.1k
Since I couldn’t post my Fred fic, here is a Draco one I wrote today. I honestly wrote this during my break after a random idea popped into my head. So I’m sorry if it’s not my best work.
(Not my gif. Credit to the owner)
Draco protects his secret girlfriend in front of everyone after someone is mean to you. Ravenclaw reader x Draco
Your relationship with Draco was unconventional. You had been secretly dating him for a couple of months now. Both of you had decided it was best to keep it secret for the time being due to both of you running in very much different friend groups. You both wanted to make sure you were hundred percent serious before letting your friends in on your relationship.
Plus the both of you loved the adrenaline and risk of seeing each other is secret. The nights you spent together, bodies intertwined together just like your souls were now. Nights pressed against the walls of the corridors as you both attempted to not get caught in the dark of the night. Hair disheveled, breathing hitched, eyes glossed over with lust.
You were everything and more to him as he loved every detail about you. Completely infatuated with your intelligence and beauty. Intoxicated every time he got to hold you close. He wasn’t perfect, but you didn’t need him to be when you loved every aspect of him.
The rush of being with him was never ending. Your love for each other is indescribable.
It was no secret within your house that you shared a rivalry with a fellow Ravenclaw named Ethan Jacobs. The two of you could not agree on anything or even have a civil discussion. Always looking to outdo each other in any way. Better grades, better marks on exams, being in a professor's good graces. The two of you made anything into a competition against each other. Your conversations were always filled with snarky remarks. Just recently, you had beaten him out for top of your Divination class, which completely enraged him.
He had always known which buttons to hit to irritate you. Although you did your best to ignore him. As well as assure your boyfriend later that you were fine and you can handle an idiot like him. You had been dealing with him with him for years. Which usually stopped Draco from doing something drastic. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t send Goyle and Crabbe after him every once in awhile.
Until one day he took it too far.
This year, Ravenclaw shared Potions class with Slytherin. Which meant you were luckily placed in the same class as Draco. The two of you sent each other secret looks throughout the lesson. Or your hands would brush together when you accidentally grabbed the same ingredients.
“Who can explain to me the ingredients needed to brew amortentia”, Professor Slughorn addressed his class as he paced the room. “How about you Miss (y/l/n)?”
“To brew amortentia the ingredients to add are powdered moonstone, pear dust, peppermint, ashwinder egg, and rose thorn”, you responded with a proud smile.
“Very good Miss (y/l/n)! Prepared as always I see.” Professor Slughorn enthusiastically responded to you. You could hear Ethan mumble something incoherent at the remark. “Now who can tell me what it does? How about you Mr. Jacobs?”
“It’s a love potion that creates a powerful obsession but it doesn’t create true love.”
“Which is the only way (y/n) could ever get anyone to even look her way.” Ethan added quietly as Slughorn walked away from him. That earned a snicker from one of his annoying friends. It was just low enough to be out of earshot of the Professor but enough for you to hear.
“Can you ever shut your mouth”, you turned around with an eye roll. “You know the rest of us are simply trying to learn here.”
“It’s true though. I mean look at you. Who would ever willingly love someone…no...something like you?”
The room grew uncomfortably silent. This argument was different from the rest.
“That’s enough”, Professor Slughorn finally spoke up.
“Merlin, anyone who would willingly love you must be under some sort of spell. Poor bloke. “ Ethan continued to speak, completely ignoring Professor Slughorn’s direction to stop.
“I know an annoying prat like you isn’t talking.” Draco sneered as he came closer to you and Ethan. Directly placing himself in front of you. You didn’t even have a chance to speak up.
“Stay out of it Malfoy. This doesn’t concern you.”
Draco was now properly mad at the situation. He wasn’t about to let some idiot speak to you like that.
“I’m not going to stay out of it if it’s in regards to my girlfriend.” A shocked expression graced your features. This isn’t how you imagined the school finding out about your boyfriend. But here he was defending you in front of everyone. Your heart swelled with pride and love for him. You grabbed his hand and gave it a slight squeeze.
“I reckon she has you under a love spell mate. Don’t worry, there are antidotes for it.” Ethan’s attempt at a joke only triggered Draco further. For him to even insinuate something so outrageous about you angered him.
Without warning, Draco let go of your hand and grabbed Ethan by his collar and lightly lifted him off the ground.
“If I so much here you’re still bothering her, I will make sure your life is miserable for the rest of your pathetic excuse of an existence.” Draco spoke quietly so the thrashing Ravenclaw was the only one able to hear the threat. Everyone knew Draco Malfoy kept his word. Especially if it was to protect someone he loved.
Draco let go of him, causing him to fall to the ground. Ethan scrambled to scout away from Draco while still on the floor. Fear coursing through his body and that same fear evident in his eyes.
Draco could only smirk and find joy in this. Someone so inferior learning their place brought an unexplainable satisfaction to him.
The class completely enthralled with the scene unfolding before their eyes.
“I apologize Professor for what you have witnessed. You’ll have to excuse us.” Draco didn’t even wait for the shocked Professor to even respond. He grabbed your hand once again and pulled you out of the classroom. He dragged you into another unused classroom.
“Are you okay”, he asked with worry lacing his voice. He grabbed your cheeks and tilted your head up so you were staring directly at him.
“Of course I am. How couldn’t I be when I have someone like you to protect me.” You reached for his cheek as your thumb lightly grazed his jaw. He leaned in and placed a sweet and delicate kiss on your lips.
“I think it’s safe to say everyone knows about us now.” He said as he pulled away from you. Hands long gone from your cheeks as he pulled you in close to his body.
“Doesn’t matter. Now they know who my amazing overprotective boyfriend is. They should be afraid.” You joked as a laugh escaped your lips. The vibrations of your joy jolting his entire body.
“They should be. I’m sure they’ll know what’s coming to them if they do.” He kissed the crown of your head and held you a bit tighter.
“You know I love you right?” You pulled away slightly from his body to look into his eyes.
“You tell me everyday darling.”
“Good. Never forget it.” You placed your head back on his chest. His embrace felt like home to you.
Taglist: @daisyyy2516 @id-kill-to-be-an-assassin @slytherinambitious @bonkybabe @phatcrackdad @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @instabull @gwlvr
Reminder: None of my work can be reposted anywhere. It doesn’t matter if you give credit, please do not repost!
don’t answer that!” nozomi snatches kuroo’s phone from his hands, she scoffs as she sees the selfie of you on the caller id. kuroo swears he can see the envy she must be feeling practically oozing from her body
kuroo is starting to regret the decision to drive nozomi home. shortly after they entered his car, her "inconsolable" tears dried up far too quickly for his liking. it’s clear to him now. this entire thing was an act; a performance put on to get him alone and he cursed at himself for falling for it so easily.
the distance between their houses seemed like a thousand miles as he sits in the car with the other woman, wishing nothing more than to redo the last 10 minutes and stay by your side. pulling over and parking his car on the side of the road, kuroo looks at the mess of a woman in the passenger seat. his eyes scan her flushed, tear-stained face. the runny mascara leaving dried streaks down her cheeks. why she doesn't, at least, wipe her face is shocking to him. he guesses she needed to really sell the performance, huh?
“give me my phone, nozomi. now!” nozomi flinches at the volume of his voice, her head hung low as she hesitantly handed him his phone.
again, his phone rings. kuroo takes a few seconds to recollect himself. he scared of what you're going to say. he's terrified of what you'll do. he's petrified at the thought of you possibly ending your relationship, right here. right now. however, he know it'll only be worse if he ignores your call, so, with shaky fingers, he answers.
“where are you?” damn, you sound pissed.
“uh i’m taking nozomi home.”
“she was in hysterics, y/n, there was no way she could drive home by herself.” an excuse. a shitty excuse that he hopes will ease your anger, but he's sure it probably won't.
“she could’ve ubered. and hysterics for what? she was in the wrong, kuroo.” that's true.
“you would let your friend uber by herself? really, y/n? Yys, she was in the wrong, but that didn’t give you guys the excuse to tear her apart.” another half-assed excuse.
“she’s a big girl, kuroo. besides, you’re my boyfriend and you left my birthday party for another woman. do you seriously not see the problem with that?” again, you're 100% correct.
“y/n, please, i’m just trying to be a good friend”
“and you do that at the expense of being a good boyfriend?”
“save it, kuroo…..” he can hear the way your voice strains, he knows you're fighting back tears and it's breaking his heart. “all i know is you’re not here. instead, you’re with another woman. do you really not see how bad that looks?”
of course, he sees how bad it looks.
kuroo falls silent. his brain is running a million miles per hour, searching for words to calm you down, “i’m sorry, y/n. i’ll drop her off and come straight back.”
“whatever, kuroo. i might not be here when you get back.” oh no.
“wait, y/n please just wa-”
“fuck.” kuroo rests his forehead on the steering wheel, hands gripping the wheel tightly. he takes a deep breath in, holding it for a few seconds before exhaling and shifting the gear into drive.
“are you really going to just drop me off at home?” kuroo almost forgot she was in the car, he winces slightly at the sound of her voice.
“yes.” kuroo says with no hesitation. he keeps his eyes trained on the road, determined to complete his mission and return home to comfort you.
“well, that’s a waste of a trip.” kuroo notices the familiar drop in nozomi’s tone of voice, still he keeps his eyes on the road. nozomi undoes her seatbelt, her fingers sliding up her thighs and towards the hem of her underwear beneath her dress. carefully, she hooks her fingers into them, lifting her hips up slightly to slide them down her legs.
hi bunnii here!! below the cut contains nsfw content, pls be 17+ if ure planning on reading the next section. the nswf part will be indented for easy skipping for my younger audience tysm ilysm MWAH enjoy the rest of the chapter <3333
“you should stay with me. i know you miss me, we haven’t fucked in so long, kuroo.” nozomi takes a second to pop her index and middle fingers into her mouth, dampening them before she pulls them out with a pop. “we both know how you get when you haven’t cum in a few days.”
“nozomi, i am begging you to put your fucking clothes back on.”
“fuck, baby, you know i love the way you beg.” nozomi touches herself, softly; the sound of her wetness echoing inside the otherwise silent car.
“do you have no shame? hitting on a man who doesn’t want you?”
“you wanted me last week.” nozomi deadpans. "and the week after that and the week after that." she slides a finger into herself, taking a moment to appreciate the heat of her core and the amount of slick she's produced in such little time.
“i don’t want you, nozomi.”
“sure you don’t.” once again, nozomi slides her fingers into her mouth, sighing softly at her taste. “do you want a taste, tetsuro.”
kuroo’s eyes doesn’t leave the road in front of him, not even once. however, the resolve he has is fading. with every whimper that leaves nozomi's mouth, the pants he's wearing grows tighter.
noticing kuroo’s tough resolve to get back to his girlfriend, nozomi decides to push him a little more. he may be determined, but so is she. besides, he's fallen prey to her seduction many a time before. slowly, she slides a finger into herself and begins to pump steadily. she raises her right leg to settle onto the dashboard and tugs her left leg to her chest. if it wasn’t for the darkness, kuroo’s tinted windows and the scarce amount of cars on the road, she’s sure she would’ve given someone the show of their life.
“tetsu...” nozomi moans, loudly, her voice filling the emptiness of the car once again. “please touch me.”
“tetsu..” she adds another finger, her pace picking up just a bit. she’s determined to crack him, to make him lose control and take her in his car.
“no.” kuroo's grip on the steering wheel tightens, his knuckles turning white and palms aching, slightly. beads of sweat begin to drip down his forehead. he despises that it's taking so much out of him to resist her. he hates that her moans are music to his ears. he hates that the growing scent of her arousal makes his mouth water. he truly doesn't like that his hands are itching to touch her.
kuroo's heavy breathing and nozomi’s soft moans and whimpers fill the inside of kuroo's car.
he almost jumped out of his car in joy as he sees the turn for nozomi’s neighborhood quickly approaching. he swerved onto her street and sped down the road until he reached her driveway. to his surprise, nozomi makes no move to exit his car. instead, she adds another finger and quickens her pace; her left hand moving from her clit to kuroo’s hand, tugging on it to guide his hand to her wetness.
kuroo gasps softly as his hand makes contact with her warmth. he gets lost in the way her back arches when his middle finger brushes over her clit. he hates this. his brain and heart are screaming at him to kick her out of his car, but the heavy bulge resting and pulsating between his legs tell him to replace her finger with his. it tells him to take her right now and think about the consequences later.
the increase in volume of her moans, lets him know that she's close. thankful and also morbidly disappointed, he watches as nozomi slows the thrusting of her fingers,
"come inside, kuroo. please. make me feel better." better? make nozomi feel better? a wave of disgust washes over him. why is he making her feel better? she doesn't deserve that. she doesn't deserve to be in this car with him. you deserve to comforted. you deserve to be fingered like there's no tomorrow with his hand rubbing circles over your clit. not nozomi. he quickly removes his fingers from her grasp and leans over her body to open the passenger door.
“get out of my fucking car.”
“GO! god, i told you that i don’t want you. i told you that i wanted to make things right with y/n and when i try to do so, this is the shit you do. pull your fucking dress down and get the fuck out of my car.”
nozomi looks at kuroo, shocked and frozen in place. she removes her fingers from her core and her leg from the dashboard before fixing her dress and hair. she gets out of the car, slamming the door behind her and making her way to her porch.
nozomi expects to see kuroo getting out of his car when she turns around to look at him after unlocking her door. she saw the way he was look at her. she saw the bulge growing as he willed himself to keep his promise. he felt the way he touched her, softly, like he usually does. she wishes the drive from his house to hers was a little longer. if it was, she was sure she would've had in him balls deep inside of her in the back seat of his car. however, she’s disappointed to see him back out of her driveway and speed back down the road.
down the road and to his girlfriend.
the woman she envies most.
kuroo knows you’re gone before he steps foot into his house. he knows you didn’t wait for him when he sees all of the decorations removed from the living room, save for the countless amount of glitter on the floor. he knows he upset you when he finds his gifts unopened and the red dress and shoes displayed neatly on his bed. he knows he’s in deep shit when he calls your phone, but is automatically sent to voice mail- a sign that you must’ve turned off your phone. or blocked him. he wouldn't blame you for doing so.
kuroo feels like absolute shit. he’s not sure why he left with nozomi; thinking back on it now, he’s sure she was faking from the start. but you know what they say: hindsight is always 20/20. he hates himself for falling into her trap once again. he's disgusted that his body reacts to her the way it should only react to you.
kuroo chuckles dryly to himself, shaking his head from side to side as he lets a few tears fall.
“you think i’d have learned by now,” setting his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands, kuroo spoke only to himself and the walls of his room.
a few hours pass and kuroo decides to stop calling your phone for the night. he moves to relax his body, back hurting from hunching over for too long. curled into the fetal position and clutching onto the dress you wore just hours before. it smells like you. the scent of sunshine, love, and all things positive; it's a stark contrast to his scent- betrayal, lust, and whatever fruity perfume nozomi was wearing.
he drifts off into a deep slumber. dreaming of you and the many great moments the two of you shared, before he fucked everything up.
before he grew feelings for another woman.
xxiv. u think i'd have learned by now
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YAAAAY FINALLY A NEW UPDATE!!! tysm for bearing w me nd being patient i really appreciate u sm<3333 i really needed that break nd m glad to say ive gained some inspo so yay me hehe
i tried a new writing style pls lmk what u think about it (nicely pls). is it okay? should i go back to my previous writing style? can u not tell a difference??
sorry this chapter isn't properly proofed w like capital letters nd shit. my computer goofed literally an hour ago nd i had to re-edit everything so everything lowercase, i hope that doesn't bug anyone
in knee wayzzz
tell me what u think about this chapter pretty pls
i accept nonies so feel free to send me ur thoughts via anon hehe
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*:･ﾟ✧ reblogs are greatly appreciated *:･ﾟ✧(◠‿◠✿
m gonna start adding tiktoks to the end of my chapters so pls enjoy this extra content hehe
bo nd y/n at the after bday party sleepover
this is y/n nd ken
this is giving huge y/n nd lev energy
OK SHUT UP SHUSH SHUT THE FUCK UP IT’S 1AM BUT SHUSH LISTEN! HEY, LISTEN!
I AM GIVING YOU THE TOOLS TO FIND THE EXACT DISTANCE OF ANYTHING ANYWHERE IN HYRULE, CUSTOM MAKE YOUR FIC JOURNEYS TO THE METER, FIND THE AREA OF ANY TOWN OR LANDMARK, OR JUST FIND OUT HOW BIG (or small) HYRULE KINDGOM TRULY IS ONCE AND FOR ALL SO GO AHEAD AND SAVE THIS POST TO YOUR DRAFTS CAUSE YOU MIGHT WANNA SEE IT FOR FUTURE REFERENCE
Ok so this all starts with THIS
FEAST YOUR EYES LADIES, LADS, AND GENTLEFOLK ON THE ONLY PIECE OF INFORMATION IN ALL OF HYRULE CONCERNING DISTANCE AND TIME.
[Image ID: A screenshot from The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild, depicting a picture of Ash Swamp hanging in Impa’s house. The dialogue box from Impa reads, “Does it look familiar? From this village, you should be able to get there in a half day’s time.” End ID]
Impa states that it would take you half a day, about 12 hours, to travel from Kakariko Village to the depicted 13th memory, which is at Ash Swamp by Fort Hateno.
Now here is where I took this information. I took it to
A fantastic online Botw map resource with tons of features like finding specific objects, and highlighting areas, and placing pins, and the basics of showing the locations of everything like shrines and korok seeds and all that.
BUT the thing that we care about today is this ability, here:
With those widgets on the right, I can specifically mark lines and shapes and the website will give me the distance of it in meters!
“But Kip, if the map already gives you the distance of anything you want then isn’t this entire post pointless?” Ashshshshshhshh no, shut the fuck up, shush shut, no, stop, silence, I am high on caffeine and I haven’t slept for two days. No.
As great as the map is, the exact ratio isn’t the best. Like, it tells me that the length of Hyrule is only 10km, or 6.2 miles.
I wager that realistically, Hyrule would be a bit bigger than that. And THAT, is where I come in. Or, more specifically, Impa.
Impa states that it takes 12 hours to travel from Kakariko to Fort Hateno. (I am saying Fort Hateno and not Ash Swamp because I am going of the nearest prominent landmark location near the 13th memory, and I highly doubt that Impa knew the exactly square foot patch of dirt that Link needed to stand on to activate his memory)
According to Google, it takes around 10 to 12 minutes to walk a kilometer. (I am assuming Impa was referring to walking and not riding, because I feel like she would have said, “You should be able to get there in half a day’s ride” or something of the sort. So, walking it is)
12 hours divided by 12 minutes
(Which is 720 minutes / 12 minutes)
The distance between Fort Hateno and Kakariko village is 60 kilometers.
Badabing badaboom, great job! We did it. BUT NOW this is where our handy dandy online object map comes in.
[Image ID: A screenshot of the Breath of the Wild map showing the area of Kakariko Village and the plains in front of Fort Hateno. A blue line highlghts the path from the village to a marker on Fort Hateno. The line reads “1.89km.” End ID]
[Image ID: A screenshot of the Breath of the Wild map showing the area of Kakariko Village and the plains in front of Fort Hateno. The blue line from the previous image is still there, however, there is now a more prominent yellow line. The yellow line runs from Kakariko village, but ends at a marker point at the location of the 13th memory at Ash Swamp. The yellow line reads “1.55km.” End ID]
So while this map doesn’t give me distances that are exactly to my liking, it DOES give me a measuring means that will stay consistent. SO! As you can see, the map says Kakariko to Fort Hateno is 1.89km. (And just to be safe, I also did the distance exactly to the point of the 13th memory as shown in Impa’s picture, which came out to 1.55km. But! It’s doesn’t matter anyhow, because) We’re going to round this to 2km for the sake of my sanity because surprise surprise! I actually suck at, and hate, math.
So the map says Kakariko to Fort Hateno is 2 kilometers, but we know that in real life, the distance is actually 60 kilometers. So, if you want to use this object map effectively, you have to make a means of converting the “false” measurements, (which I will be refering to as “zelda” (kilo)meters, or zm/zkm) from the actual ones.
So THIS is what I fucking did oh my god help me it took me way too long even though it was really simple in hindsight I was just stupid and spent two hours trying to get the ratio equations right when really all I had to do was divide, it was a whole thing, anyhow, read away.
[Image ID: A screenshot of MATH oh my god it’s fucking math...BUT it’s kinda color coded so that’s nice. The top left of the page depicts text. In red text reads “zkm (Zelda km) = per the measurement on the objmap.zeldamods.org” and below that, in black text, reads, “Kakariko to Fort Hateno = 1.89 zkm ~ 2zkm,” which is underlines in yellow. Another line of black text reads, “Impa says it takes half a day’s time to travel from Kakariko to the 13th memory location AKA 12 hours.” Another line of black text reads, “It takes about 10-12min to walk a kilometer,” which is underlines in green.
Handwritten in blue ink is the equation,
“12 hours = 720 min
720/12 = 60″
The 12 is highlighted in green, and the 60 is underlined. In green text, below it, reads, “It takes 12 hours to walk 60 kilometers.” In black text under this, it reads “So Kakariko to Fort Hateno is 60 kilometers.” Another line of black text under this reads, “So based on that, we can find the actual values of a zkm (Zelda kilometer).”
Handwritten in yellow ink is the equation,
“2zkm = 60km
1km = 30km” [typo, I meant 1zkm = 30km]
The 60km is in blue, and the equation 1zkm = 30km is circled.
To the right of everything, in bigger, yellow text, reads “So: 1zkm = 30km 1zm = 30 meters
The map of Hyrule measures roughly 10zkm (length) by 8zkm (height) [typo, I meant width] giving it an area of 80 square zkm.
Therefore, the “true” size of Hyrule Kingdom os 2400 square kilometers.” End ID]
SO ARMED WITH THIS NEW KNOWLEDGE, you can now use this map to measure whatever you want, and by converting 1zm to 30 meters, you can get accurate result as to what that distance is.
Chart the roads, measure the rivers, the map even gives area tools for polygons, squares, and circles! This entire post was born out of a desire to see how long the characters in my fic should rest for when travel between different stables.
Now before anyone asks, yes! 2400 square kilometers is fairly small. That’s around 930 square miles. I believe even Wales is more than three times bigger than that. BUT! Considering Hyrule is a medieval kingdom that’s actually pretty sizable considering the average size of a Kingdom was 100 to 900 square kilometers.
And juuuust to double check, I ran the size though a Medievil Demographics generator, and 2400 (under the conditions of Fertile Land with 64% of the land being arable since I figured roughly 46% for lakes, the ocean, plus unusable land was more than enough to cover the Hebra, Death Mountain, and the Gerudo Desert. Which honestly is even MORE generous considering there are races that occupy these areas, but I digress) This still gives Hyrule Kingdom a good population of 108,000 people! Before the Calamity when all of its villages were up and occupied, of course. So the area is definitely more than enough, and can still give Link a more realistic amount of time to travel between areas (when you add eating and rest of course. Don’t make my guy walk for 10 hours straight from the Great Plateau to Hebra D: plz)
TL;DR: Hyrule is 2400 square kilometers; use the map, plus the conversion 1 zelda meter to 30 meters to measure anything you want; I am tired
Quick Edit: Please note that this conversion is for the purposes of people out there who need more realistic means of measuring distances for larger scale travel and such, like for writing fic journeys, or dnd campaigns. This conversion isn’t the best for smaller scale measure like buildings and such (EX: I’ve checked with buildings in Castle Town and the Coliseum, and they come out much too big, just a symptom of game design ratios not being perfect since it’s hard to balance consistent measurements and the immersion and plan a creator has for their game world!) So if you are measuring those smaller entities using the linked map, just stick with the given zelda meters! (EX: The Coliseum radius in zelda meters matches up nicely with the real world Roman Colosseum, beating it out by a few dozen meters!)
Also if you are a true believer in the interpretation of Impa’s dialogue as “half the amount of daylight hours,” see the reblogs!
hey, i love your blog, i'm just genuinely confused. i know homesteading is a historically racist term, but is the dream of owning a cottage in the countryside racist too? am i missing a piece of the puzzle here :(
hi! firstly, im white so i dont really have any sort of authority to speak on this subject. i do think its important to be deeply critical of cottagecore and all that it implies, and while the dream of owning a cottage and living in the countryside isnt, insofar as i understand, inherently racist. however there is certainly some significant baggage there, in many ways. like the idea that the land is just "up for grabs" when the land on which your idyllic cottage rests is very likely stolen. on the other hand, in much of the planet so is any land. is it inherently racist to buy any house?
i would have to do a lot more reading to begin to tackle ideas like this. secondly, the rural, "pure" "traditional" cottage lifestyle has long been imagery used by white supremacist and nationalist movements in europe and the us, thus why the subgenre is rife with people like tradwives and eco-fascists. a bit down on my blog i reblogged a post which deals with this, which id recommend reading (for some reason its not letting me link it). to add a bit of a class element, the cottagecore fantasy can be seen as rural gentrification; replacing the poor farmers (often POC; i recently read about farmers in south america having to contend with white people encroaching on their livelihoods in order to maintain an alpaca raising rural fantasy) with cute little cottages, the productivity of which their owners dont depend on to feed their families.
i sort of rambled for a while; anyway, its less that ur missing part of the puzzle and more that the puzzle is a complicated moral, social, and economic tangle which is, in some ways, still playing out. any poc are welcome to add on to this post, as i said, i dont claim to be an expert on the subject and would welcome further education
Home For The Weekend
Gif not mine, found on Pinterest
Summary: after finally closing the case he’s been working on for weeks, Walter comes home to his equally exhausted wife. They decide to spend the weekend on the couch, cuddled up together and eating takeout.
Pairing: Walter Marshall x teacher! Reader
Warning: nothing really, fluff, tiiiny bit of angst if you squint maybe, implied nudity? (Walter takes a shower), also worth a warning that i’ve been pretty writer-blocked the last few months and am still not completely rid of it... also not beta’d all typos are mine, aaalso this is my first time writing for Walter and this is completely based on the very few soft moments we saw of him, especially his last scene
Not your thing? Don’t read it.
A/N: this is me committing to that one idea I had with Walter trying to prove his wife’s innocence on a crime she’s wrongly accused of
Word count: 1750
Title: Home For The Weekend
You know the drill... Like, comment and reblog if you liked it❤️ Writers live off validation💕 Enjoy💗
Ugh, finally home, you think to yourself as you close the door behind you, slumping against it while you toe off your shoes and drop your purse. Shrugging off your coat, you walk over to the couch, eyeing it longingly before tossing your coat over the backrest and shuffling over to the kitchen, getting yourself a glass of water, eagerly gulping it down to wash away the stale taste of coffee from the school’s old machine. After setting the glass back down on the counter, you slowly make your way to the bedroom, finally allowing yourself to sit down and pause.
Two minutes, then you get up and look for some comfortable clothes you’d wear the entire weekend. But you don’t look in your closet. Oh no, you open the door to Walter’s and pull out a random sweater, tossing it onto the bed along with your yoga pants you carelessly discarded of yesterday. Yawning, you quickly change and just when you’re ready to fall onto your bed again, you hear your phone ringing… from inside your purse, still by the front door.
Groaning, you rush to answer it, but your mood brightens immediately when you see the caller ID.
“Hey, babe,” you squeal, plopping down on the couch.
You’re met with a chuckle on the other end of the line. “Hi, baby. Are you home already?”
“Uh-huh, just got here few minutes ago. What’s up? What’s so important that it couldn’t wait until you come home tonight?” you ask teasingly.
“Well, I’m on my way home right now,” Walter chuckles. Someone’s in a good mood, apparently. “Hey, did you, uh, have any plans for dinner today?”
“Nope, and I’m not going to cook. Work was a lot today, all I wanna do is curl up on the couch.”
“So take out it is?” you can hear the smile in his voice.
“Definitely. And now get off the phone, Detective Marshall, before I call the cops on you.”
“Good thing you’re already talking to the cops, Mrs. Marshall. I’ll see you at home, baby. Love you.”
“Love you too. Hurry up.”
With that, the line goes dead, leaving you to listen out for the deep rumble of his truck. The drive home from the station should take him about 15 minutes, if traffic allowed it. So you’d have to wait a bit. During that time, you had to force yourself not to go wandering around the house looking for food or falling asleep on the couch, exhaustion from the day paired with near to no time to eat while trying to discipline a bunch of seven-graders begging you to do both things at once. So, you preoccupy yourself with grading the last few remaining essays your students kept you from looking over in class.
The moment you hear Walter’s truck pull up in the driveway, you practically skip to the door with excitement, leaving your work spread out on the coffee table. All that matters right now is that your husband is home, and that not just for sleeping a couple hours before going back to the station. You rip the door open and throw your arms around his neck, holding him tightly until he hugs back. Still, he grumbles. As a homicide detective’s wife you should know better than opening the door without checking who’s there!
“This was dangerous. I could have been whoever. How many times do I have to te-?”
“I missed you, baby,” you mumble against his neck, cutting him off and pulling back to quickly peck his lips, stopping him from saying anything further. “Now come on, it’s cold.”
With you still in his arms, he takes step after step inside, making you walk backwards with him, until he can kick the door shut with his heel. Only then, he lets go of you to take off his jacket and shoes. You watch him, leaning against the wall.
“So…” you draw out the word, “This is more than just a few hours stay?”
“I’m done with the case,” Walter smiles at you, handing his heavy jacket to the rack, “You’ll have me for the whole weekend. C’mon.”
He takes your hand and goes into the living room. At one point, you let go to take a short trip over to the kitchen, getting your tired husband a glass of water as he slumps down on the couch.
“Thanks, baby,” he hums when you hand it to him. You just nod and sit next to him, squishing into his side.
“If I remember correctly you said something about takeout?” you smile, pulling out your phone.
“I did? I don’t remember,” Walter chuckles, setting down the glass in midst all your papers.
“You sure did. So, what will it be? Pizza? Burger? Tacos? Or maybe Chinese?”
“I don’t care, really, baby. You pick, I’ll go have a shower,” Walter groans, standing, lightly squeezing your knee as he gets up.
“Okay, Chinese it is,” you grin, turning on the couch to watch your husband rid of his gear. You’ve seen him do it many many times before, but something about him putting his gun, badge and handcuffs onto the kitchen counter always amazes you. But it’s the same every time: before you can figure out what exactly it is that makes you love that little ordinary thing he does, the moment is gone and Walter is already on his way to the bathroom.
Deciding not to dwell, your rumbling stomach making itself known, you open the site of your favorite Chinese place. You add your usual to the cart and then stare at the menu, your mind blank.
“Babe, what do you want?” you call over the running water when you peek your head into the bathroom.
“Where’re you ordering?” Walter calls back.
“Alright. Uh… the broccoli beef, fried rice.”
“Mhmhh,” you hum, adding his order, “Anything else? Spring rolls or soup? Or both?”
“Whatever you want, baby.”
“Okay,” you call, adding some mini spring rolls and spicy chicken noodle soup to the cart.
Stepping out of the bathroom, you finish up your order and then go into the bedroom, getting out some comfy clothes for Walter to wear once he’s done showering. Settling on a tee and some sweatpants, you leave them on the toilet and throw his old clothes into the hamper. After that, you go to clean off the coffee table, sorting your papers and putting them back into the folder – to be corrected another time – and start laying the table. A little bit later, Walter comes out of the bathroom, fully dressed; his curls still damp, leaving little droplets on his tee. He joins you on the couch, pulling you onto his lap.
“I missed you, baby,” he mumbles into your neck before softly kissing the skin, his beard tickling, making you squirm in his arms and turn a little to face him.
“I missed you, too,” you breathe back and lean in to kiss him properly for the first time in days. The two of you practically melt into each other as your lips and tongues dance, time seeming to fall away.
The more you get lost, the more the doorbell startles you, indicating your food has arrived. Gently, Walter pushes you off his lap and gets up. While he’s busy paying and taking the food, you go over to the kitchen and pour each of you a glass of wine. As soon as the two of you are back on the couch, the feasting begins. You chat about your day, well, mostly you telling Walter about your day while he smiles and nods at everything you say. You chat about your plans for the weekend and come to the conclusion you’ll spend it holed up on the couch, watching TV. While you’re immersed telling Walter about how a colleague dumped all the organization for an upcoming field trip on you, your husband takes his chance to steal a spring roll off your plate. You stop mid-sentence.
“What?” you laugh and reach your chopsticks to steal a piece of broccoli of Walter’s plate, but he catches your wrist, giving you a playful smirk. “Hey! Not fair,” you huff.
“Is it?” Walter lets go of your wrist, picks up the chunk of broccoli you had been out for and brings it to your face. Rolling your eyes, you open your mouth, allowing him to drop it on your tongue. You continue eating, stealing or feeding each other bits of food here and there. When you’re done, you load everything in the dishwasher while Walter takes out the trash. After that you settle back on the couch, cuddled together, wrapped in a blanket, each of you equipped with a filled up glass of wine.
Walter turns on the TV and picks out a movie, holding you a little tighter , making you snuggle closer to his side. You rest your head on his shoulder and within the first 20 minutes of the movie, you’re fast asleep. Walter chuckles quietly at you, turns off the TV and carries you over into bed. He lies you down and climbs in behind you, holding you close with his nose buried in your hair.
Oh, how he had missed your scent that past week. He swears to himself he’d try to work regular hours, so he could spend more time with you. As he always does on Friday night. And every week again he’s faced with the reality that it just doesn’t work out. But this time he’d do it. For you. Even if it was just to watch you grade papers. Even if it was just to hear you chuckle at some mistake one of your students made. He’d try to be there for you. No, he will be there for you. Because you do the same for him, doing most work at school so you could spend the little time you had together completely focused on each other.
With one of his arms beneath your head, the other wrapped tightly around your middle, he pulls you close against his chest, and soon falls asleep to the feel of your small, warm body in his arms, the even rise and fall of your chest and the quiet sighs that leave your lips, letting him know you’re dreaming.
I Don't Count
Word Count: 1,479
Warnings: Drinking. Mentions of a car accident (briefly). Soft caretaker baby Will Miller. It's just fluffy.
Author's Note: Fully formed this out of my need for a hug and comfort and decided I wanted to write it for the only blonde haired, blue eyed man I'd ever let get in these guts.
The Millers still had a landline. Of course they did. Benny’s big brother was very staunch about his boundaries. If he wasn’t going out after work, his cellphone went off as soon as he walked across the threshold. If you needed to reach him for any reason after that, you could call the house phone.
“But it better be a goddamn emergency,” he’d always say.
She bit her thumbnail as it rang, leg bouncing to a nonsensical rhythm. A drumming only she could hear. Once, twice. It was her last ditch effort to reach her best friend, to hear his voice telling her everything is okay. Three times and,
She contemplates hanging up, her voice stuck somewhere in her chest. This was most certainly not an emergency no matter what the bottle she’d been nursing had to say about it. But she can’t. Can’t speak. Not to Will, not about this.
Can’t let the phone fall from her ears. Can’t even breathe.
“Shane,” he sounds concerned, “are you okay?”
“I uh—“ the breath releases, “I was looking for Benny.”
A small laugh on the other end, “it’s Tuesday, Sunshine, he’s at the gym.”
Sunshine, his nickname for her. It started out as Sunshane but he got pissed at the autocorrect of his own brain, stopped fighting it after a while.
A sharp sound rings through, a whistle to get her attention.
“You didn’t answer my question,” it’s warm, “are you okay?”
She sniffs, “yeah, Billy—“
Another laugh, both disbelieving and amused, “you can’t lie to me. What’s going on?”
“Just…” another swig, “have Benny call me when he gets home, okay?”
“Are you drinking?” Not amused.
“I’m an adult, Miller, I drink.” It’s harsh.
“Yeah,” another disbelieving laugh, this time at your boldness, “but you sound like shit. Why are you drinking?”
Because I’m forcing my feelings for you onto others and I have the gall to be shocked when it blows up in my face.
“Look,” she’s pacing the kitchen, “just have Benny give me a call when he gets home. I’m really sorry t—“
“Did that fucking boyfriend do something?”
There it is, the sob she’d been swallowing.
“Give me half an hour,” he whispers down the line, “I’ll have my cell if you need anything, okay?”
The bottle’s gone when there’s a knock at the door.
She jumps but settles back against the couch, believing it must be coming from somewhere deep within the wine soaked sponge of her brain.
But there it is again, “it’s me, Sunshine,” coming from the other side.
She stands too quickly, blood rushing to her head as her right foot struggles to come back to life. He knocks again, nothing if not persistent.
“Don’t make me bust down this door, you know I can do it.”
She fumbles with the chain lock with wildly inebriated fingers, scratching desperately with her nails to get it through that little fucking hole. It springs free and she’s working at the deadbolt, much simpler, before throwing the door wide to the man on the other side.
“Would you really have busted down my door, Miller?” She slurs out, ever the lightweight.
He shrugs, “yeah but… I would’ve built you a new one so…”
“What's that?” She notices the bags for the first time, swinging idly at his side.
“I figured you were about halfway through the bottle earlier when you called, based on how the swish of liquid sounded on the pho—“
She rolls her eyes, “it's fucking creepy how you do that.”
“—so I brought cheeseburgers.”
She launches unsteadily toward him, wrapping her arms around his midsection.
“May I come in?”
His scent fills her senses, fresh laundry and a hint of Tom Ford as she nods against his broad chest.
Letting go, she stumbles back into the tiny apartment, the couch taking over the entire wall of the living room, and plops back down with her feet tucked under her as she makes grabby hands for the bag in Will’s hand.
He catches her out of his peripheral while he refastens the lock on the door, “can you be patient?”
“Absolutely not,” she whines out, “I'm starving.”
He toes his shoes off at the door and pads to the front of the couch, in front of her, and kneels down. He reaches into the bag and hands her a burger, “I got you two singles because I know you feel self conscious when you try to eat a double. Even when you’re alone.”
“But I’m not alone,” she mumbles through a bite, wrapper torn in half as soon as it touched her hands.
“I don’t count, I’m just Will.”
She almost chokes at that, because he does count.
“I'm really not trying to deep throat a fucking Big Mac in front of my best friend’s older brother.”
“Oh,” he stands and kisses the top of her head, “Is that all I am?”
She watches him walk into the kitchen, the clinking of glass and the sound of the tap rushing back out to meet her.
Thoughts swim in her drunk mind, the events of the day—the phone call, the fight, the follow up text messages. Colin’s raised voice still ringing through her ears as he accused her, “I don’t know if it’s Will or Ben but you’re fucking one of them and I’m done!”
“You wanna tell me what happened?” He’s soft, pulling the wrapper from her hands and pushing a glass of water in place of it.
“Um, ya know,” she swallows hard around the lump building in her throat again, “just what typically happens with men in my life.”
He looks defeated, apologetic. Colin’s not the first to accuse her of being with a Miller. It’s been a theme of the last three—Ryan, John, Adam—and this makes four. Four men that William Miller wishes he could add to his confirmed kills list.
That’s not what she wants to hear right now though, no matter how safe his words of protection always make her feel. Because it doesn’t matter.
“I'm sorry,” his heavy hand falls on the bare skin of her calf, sending a bolt of electricity through her body.
She was relieved.
Colin wasn’t right but he wasn’t far off from the truth she’s been hiding.
She’s in love with William Miller.
“Hey, Sunshine” his rough thumb across the smooth skin guides her back, “where are you?”
The alcohol has her still, a looseness in the hurt of her heart that makes up her mind before she fully realizes the words are already coming out of her mouth.
“He’s not wrong, Billy. None of them have really been wrong.”
He laughs, fingers stilled on her leg and she is aching for the movement to return as his stare seeps through her pores.
“You and Benny got something you need to tell me?”
Her breath is shaky.
She trails her fingers along his wrist before placing her palm on the back of his. Now or never.
“I think it’s more like you and I have something to tell Benny.”
He pulls away, blue eyes piercing through her, “you're drunk, Shane.”
“Just enough to not give a shit anymore,” she whispers, lifting herself up to her knees and pressing closer to him, “I know how we look at each other, Will.”
“Benny will kill us.”
She giggles, “I’ve been to his fights, my money’s on you.”
His heart swells as his laughter jumps up to meet hers. This is the first time they’ve been alone together, properly alone, since he realized his love ran deeper than that of just a friend.
When he realized on the last mission that he just really missed the smell of her hair when she gives him a hug. Or the way she laughs the hardest out of everybody whenever he tells a dumb joke.
He came home and, to stop himself from being reckless, made sure that he was only ever around when Benny was. He didn’t want to fuck up Benny’s friendship, that was something his little brother could excel at on his own.
But now, with her full lips inches from his, he decides.
It’s a decision he made less than an hour ago when her name popped up on the caller ID—she’d only called the house phone one other time, a car accident, and that same worry seeped beneath his skin again.
Her fingers run through the soft hair on the side of his head, his lips heavy against hers as he pulls her in and pushes her down.
He breaks away, “Are you sure?”
A question that dies with a crash as she tugs him back to her and he melts against her warmth when—
Her phone vibrates.
Got a figure like a pin-up, got a figure like a doll…
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Editing Commissions! (OPEN)
NOTE: ive been in a rough place lately and, while im still up for taking commissions, they may take longer than expected. please keep that in mind before deciding to commission me right now.
hewwo! ive been contemplating this for a while, but ive finally decided to open commissions. i will be taking commissions for video edits. prices, rules, and other additional things will be listed under the cut.
must have read my dni before commissioning, and if you fit any of the criteria of my dni then you can not commission me. if you do regardless, i will block you.
i have the right to refuse any commission, and i'm not required to disclose to you why.
do not repost anything on other sites without crediting me. you don't need to ask to repost, but i do want credit.
don't claim my edits as your own or remove my watermark.
pricing will be discussed before i start to work on any edits, so if what it turns out to be is too expensive for you or you change your mind, that is totally okay!!
the way you pay for it is up to you-- so if you wanna pay it all at once afterwards or even before i make it, or pay half before and half after, any of that is fine with me! so long as you like,,, actually pay me, im cool with whatever <3
you can check in at any time to see how your edit is going, but pls dont rush me, im v anxious
pls message me when you want to commission something, and once everything has been agreed upon there i can start to work on the edit.
i dont have anything other than paypal, so if you cant send me it through there than i cant do your commission, im sorry :(
pls let me know whether or not youre comfortable having a video edit i make for you posted, i may not post a lot of these but if i do want to then id like to know if youre okay with it before hand, bc i dont wanna upset u :(
the minimum price for video edits is $6.00. you get to pick what i edit, what kind of edit, what style its in, and the song and type of thumbnail (if you have those in mind).
for coloring it's $1.00 more, and for adding overlays its $1.00. PLEASE specify if you want either of these in your edit, or they won't be added.
please keep in mind that i edit using alight motion on my tablet, so there's only so much i can do. but i can promise i'll try my best!!
anything that i add on my own YOU WILL NOT HAVE TO PAY FOR!!! bc thatd be mean and unfair >:( hmph
what i'll edit
this is a list of what i will edit, although i am open to doing other stuff so long as it doesn't make it uncomfortable. i mostly make cute and soft edits, but i also can make cool, angst, and ship edits if i'm comfortable with it.
sonic the hedgehog
my hero academia
tmnt 2012 & rottmnt
101 dalmatian street
the owl house
legend of zelda
okay cool thats all bye bye ily <3
☆ [nostalgic] summer romance! juyeon
birthday present for him and one of my best friends! | tw: drowning
a soft splash of water cascades down the side of your arm and you turn your head, still floating, to see eric waving you toward him
flipping over, you dive down into the ocean and push yourself toward his direction
coming up for air - you see his eyes sparkle as he whispers, “let’s go scare chanhee!”
you scrunch up your nose and tell eric that’s not nice but he just insists he has to get back at him. did you forget the incident at the beach two days ago? you know, with the ice-cream?
you roll your eyes - recalling some argument over chanhee grabbing the last mango pop or something - but eric is gone before you can answer
you watch him doggy paddle to where chanhee and younghoon are - wrapping his arms around the other boy and pulling him down into the water
the shouts of shock and laughter wring around you like bells, everything is so happy and sweet, just how summer should be like
but something feels weirdly empty
you look up to your left where some of your other friends are, cuddled up against each other, even in the heat people in love just gravitate to each other
to your right are strangers, strangers clearly in the middle of their own summertime loves
all of a sudden - in the middle of a crowded, bustling ocean - you are hit with loneliness
when am i going to find someone who loves me?
you sink a little down, haloed by the oceans water, when you hear another sound
this one isn’t joyful, in fact it sounds like terror, and you turn to see a flaying hand only a couple of meters away
your body freezes - is that person drowning? - your muscles act before you do, propelling you down back into the water and toward the murky outline of the figure
you’re a decent enough swimmer, making it to the person - a small boy - just in time to do something
but do what? you’ve never saved someone before, do you carry him - do you -
“help get him on my back!”
the new voice comes from your side, you turn and see that you aren’t the only person who has made it to the boy
this person, all cut angles and seriousness, is wearing the lifeguards whistle around his neck and a wave of relief overtakes you
you do as you’re instructed and the lifeguard tilts his head toward the shore
you follow behind him and scramble up the sand - hand on the boys back as you watch everything play out in slow motion
all you’re aware of is that you’re down beside the boy, you’re watching the lifeguard do CPR, his mother and father scurry over, people are talking and yelling
then the boy jerks up - coughing and doubling over - the lifeguard is asking him something and you don’t even notice till everything is ok
that you’re holding the boys hand in your own
it’s a blur after that - after the parents thank you and the lifeguard, named juyeon, over and over.
and now - you’re sitting in a small cabin off the boardwalk, the lifeguards cabin, and you’ve got a towel on your shoulders and eric is asking if you’re ok now
you smile and say you are - just in the time for juyeon to come out of an adjoining office room and you get to look at him seriously for the first time
he’s tall, with wet dark hair pushed back from his forehead.
a light golden tint runs down through his muscular proportions and his eyes are ...
long and outlined by a perpetual darkness, long eyelashes to envy over, and a brown that almost looks onyx under the light
he’s shirtless, wearing just the bright orange swim shorts and that whistle
he comes over and crouches in front of you with a smile full of kindness, puts a hand on your knee that makes your entire body ignite
“thank you for helping me today, whats your name?”
eric answers for you and you’re thankful because up close his apparent beauty is way more to handle than you had imagined
words - no matter how hard you try to think of one - don’t even manage to formulate in your mind
that hand on your knee pats your skin, giving it a little squeeze before juyeon stands back up and says he’s gotta go back out - his shift isnt over
eric thanks him and when he’s gone, you hear him chuckle
“you know you’re drooling, right?”
that summer - you go to the beach every damn day you can
you tell your friends you’re just trying to get some workouts in, you know swimming uses all your body’s muscles
but no one is fooled
because you’re not the only one with what becomes known as “juyeon fever” around town
he just moved here, took a summer job lifeguarding at the local beach, and - to only add to your dream boy list - drives a cool looking sports bike to and from work
you get to the beach early one day, trying to hide your identity with a ridiculously sized sun hat and issue of the paper you stole from the grocery store - to see him pull up for his shift
he’s wearing those swim shorts, same color as his bike, and a hawaiian print shirt in navy (unbuttoned and fluttering behind him as he pulls up and parks)
he pulls the helmet off, shaking his hair lose, and you nearly curse to yourself - what is this? am i some extra in a movie all about juyeon, because he looks like the main character of a blockbuster for sure. baywatch level.
when he turns in your direction - you hide behind the sunday sudoku and hope he doesn’t notice - but suddenly the sound of feet on sand get louder and louder
he says your name and you try to compose yourself as you lower the paper
you smile, and ask if juyeon is here to start work
he plops himself freely down on the sand beside your towel and pushes the shirt off as he says he is, but he’s a little early
you avert your gaze and even as the sun beats down on you both, you feel yourself freeze when juyeon mentions he’s seen you around the beach alot
“well - it’s summer.”
you explain and juyeon laughs, and even that sound is perfect
“that’s true - the ocean is the best place to be in the summer.......and all the time.”
you see him stare out at the calm waves, his usual sweet smile still on his face, but those eyes of his look like they’re searching through a memory
“do you swim even in winter?”
you joke and he laughs again, “i do, at the indoor pools. oh - by the way your friend eric invited me to a barbeque are you going to be there?”
barbeque? what barbequ - your eyes widen as you remember that it is THAT barbeque the one you were supposed to come over and help set up
“right, yes i am - i actually i promised id buy the plates and stuff so i have to go-”
you scramble, rolling up your towel and reaching for your bag when juyeon says
“oh - id give you a ride back but my shift starts in five. ill see you there then?”
a ride on the back of your bike? - is what you want to ask, knees going weak at the thought - but all you do is nod, dumbfolded smile on your own face
he waves as you make your way up the sun and you don’t even have time to get giddy because your phone rings and its exactly who you think it is.
eric’s voice from the other side chides; “hey, where are you!? haknyeon just dropped the watermelon all over my kitchen!”
you keep looking at your watch
the little minute hand ticks to 11:39 and you wonder if juyeon is really going to come
the party has already been going on for a good three hours - the summer moon sparkling up above the strings of lights in eric’s backyard
everyone you know is already here and you know the public beach closes at 8:30 so it’s not as if juyeon is still on his shift
not unless something bad happened.........or he’s decided to skip out on the barbeque to go do something else, you know, which someone else-
just as you set down your drink, little umbrella pathetically floating to the empty bottom, you hear the reave of a bike
everyone else hears it too because the chatter gets more excited and you hear his name float from one person to another
“is that juyeon?” “isn’t that the hot lifeguard?” “oh my god, do you think he’s single?”
you try to hide your own anticipation - not cool to get so excited over a boy right? - but the butterflies flap in your stomach and you just turn away
if he wants to talk to you he can come up to you and if he doesn’t then well it’s his -
“hey, sorry im late - do you know where i can put these?”
you turn and see juyeon there - for the first time he’s not wearing those neon swim shorts, but a pair of black denim jeans
the shirt, still hawaiian print, is slightly buttoned this time but you can still clearly see the dip of his chest and the pretty silver chain that rests on the jut of his collarbones
he waves the bags full of chips he picked up on his way over and you lead him toward the refreshments table, every pair of eyes on the two of you
“did you get stuck at the beach?”
you try to make conversation
“oh no, my bike had a flat tire so i had to get that fixed before i came over.”
“oh! well eric is inside if you want to-”
juyeon is looking at you, you can feel it because the intensity of his gaze is unmatched, and you don’t know why but you can’t meet it
he tilts his head and then agrees - he’ll go see eric, but he’ll come back
when he’s gone you let out the breath you’ve been holding and try to scurry away from the gazes that have wavered on you and juyeon the whole fifteen or so minutes he’s even been here
you find solace inside, past the kitchen and near the back staircase where the guest bathroom is
you’ve been in eric’s house enough times that you know it’s a perfect hiding spot so you don’t bother closing the door
you just lean back against the sink and cross your arms - what are you going to do now? juyeon is here, but that doesn’t mean anything.
plus every last single person at this party has him on their radar
what makes you any different? the fact that you helped him ONCE?
and you didn’t even do anything that serious......you had just been there at the same moment he was......
“ah - sorry, i didn’t know anyone was here.”
you look up suddenly and juyeon is in front of you again
he has this cute, flustered expression on his face - he starts saying something about how eric told him to use the mirror in here since the main bathroom might have a line in front of it and blah blah blah
you step forward and you think it’s whatever was in that tiny little umbrella drink you had that makes you put a hand on juyeon’s shoulder and stop him mid sentence
“can you take me on that bike ride now?”
the second you ask - you think regret starts to bubble in your chest - but juyeon just breaks into another of those heart melting smiles
“of course. i actually....” he scratches the back of his neck “i actually dont really like big parties.”
you’re remembered of those lovers you had seen at the beach, tangled in each other despite the summer heat, as you press a little tighter against juyeon’s back
the wind from the bike flutters your hair - and you feel his strong figure through the thin fabric of that ridiculous shirt he’s always wearing
you close your eyes, thinking back to the shocked expression on everyones face as juyeon had pulled you through them and toward his parked bike
how they had looked so confused - and eric had just shot you a thumbs up from the back step of his door
your heart beats heavy in your ears and at the end of your fingertips you feel the flex of juyeon’s abs in response to your tight hold. it feels so intimate.
juyeon stops at the only place you’d expect him too, the beach
it looks serene and beautiful in the darkness of the summer night
the sand isn’t as scorching as usual and the waves only kiss the shore slightly
you and him walk down toward it - feet reaching just the edge before you run back to avoid getting wet
juyeon laughs and runs toward you, strong arms picking you up and before you know it, you’re up in the air and dangling above the water
you’re telling him to not let you go, no matter what and juyeon is chuckling promising over and over he won’t he won’t
i will never let you go
your laughing and playing around leaves you breathless, when you and juyeon lay back down on the sand and stare up at a starless sky
just that summer moon glistening down on you both
“why did you become a lifeguard by the way?” you ask - just to break the comfortable silence
“because i love the ocean, but know it can be a scary place too.”
you turn to look at his profile, even more perfect inches away
“i like that about it, that it’s both beautiful and a little dangerous. i like things that have that duality.”
“so you must like love too?”
you don’t even mean to say it, it simply slips from your lips and juyeon turns to face you
his smile turns to another expression, more earnest and soft
“yes, i do.”
you swallow, “ i do too, that’s why im looking for it.”
the silence that follows is coated with the midnight waves and insects that come out only in the warm months
before, when you couldn’t meet his gaze, you were just being shy and afraid
now you are vulnerable and staring back - deep into those darker than the earth browns when suddenly his large hand comes gently up to your waist
his eyes don’t leave yours, not until you’ve been pushed up flush against him in the sand and they close in time with yours as his lips ghost over yours
polite, without having to be, he whispers - can i? and you whisper back - you can.
the first kiss is chaste and pure, vanilla bean ice-cream flavored with a little speckle of a firework.
it’s after you breach this first step that you both decide you can do better than that.
juyeon pulls you ontop of him, rolling his back deeper into the sand as you sit up on his hips and push your hands into the flimsy fabric of his shirt
it gives way, off his broad shoulders and you lean down to press kisses down from the edge of his jawline to the curve of his long throat, and then down to his shoulders
the entire time, his large hands seize you in place by your waist, he makes sounds of wordless pleasure and when you bite down into that perfect skin of his you feel like you’re marking an untouched beauty
he runs one hand up to the back of your neck and he pulls you in back to his mouth
sitting up easily as his tongue runs across the seal of your lips, you get yourself comfortable in the crook of his lap - pressed to the bare skin of his chest
this kiss tastes of fiery spice, multiple fireworks - a whole parade
and when you grind down slightly juyeon makes an animalistic echo that runs from his lips to your spine and you think you could really just let him slip whatever you’re wearing off
but just as you separate to help him with the task, you hear the screech of a car pull up
“who is there? the beach is closed!”
you pull back off of juyeon and gather yourself up - juyeon jumps to his feet too and you turn to help him button his shirt back up so you two look like you haven’t just been making out for god knows how long
the voice calls again, “hey - you two - you know the beach is closed right!”
you see the officer’s figure and wave back
“oh we didn’t know! we’ll leave in a moment!”
the officer motions for you two to get back up to the street and you and juyeon try not to laugh as he lectures you two on public decency
after that, juyeon drives you back on his bike and although you are more than willing to invite him back inside with you, all you do is share another kiss on your doorstep
“i should at least take you on a date before, you know?”
he mutters against your lips and you roll your eyes - modesty in this day and age?
“fine, but after that we have all summer.”
and you do have all summer. despite the fact that half the towns population is seething with jealousy about it.
you have the entire summer to bask in the unfiltered, sweet, and hot like the sun romance you have wished for for so long
meeting up with juyeon after his shifts, taking bike rides to other towns, picnics, amusement parks, dates shopping because you need him out of that hawaiian shirt, and get togethers with your friends as everyone else who is coupled off sticks to their other half and you ......... you stick to yours, juyeon
little kisses before he has to go to work - little hand touches when you’re sitting around eric’s dinner table playing monopoly as chanhee schemes you all out of your properties - arm around your waist when you go out to dinner
and pressing close in the depths of his room or yours, the sound a symphony of little noises and the buzz of the fan on your naked skins
its a summer that you only thought was possible in a movie or at least in someone elses life, not yours
and when embarrassing tell juyeon about your theory that he’s the main character of a summer romcom blockbuster
he looks at you clearly and smiles, “and so are you - since you’re my love interest right?”
you feel a flush overtake you and you laugh, say something about how you’re not star quality, and juyeon just pulls you back into him
“what are you talking about, you’re the only star for me.”
and you don’t expect him to remember that little line all these years later
when you’re standing with your toes in the sand, back at the beach you and juyeon fell in love with so long ago
you point to the lifeguard chair and joke
“i used to watch you and think you belonged on baywatch or something - you know everyone was in love with you right?”
his hand is a comfortable, knowing weight on the curve of your waist
“well i was only in love with you.”
you scrunch your nose up and lean in to peck his lips
“i mean, you were the only star for me.”
you turn, juyeon’s face - still handsome even though more mature - seems to flash for a second with a look he had when you two were much younger
“the only star for me then and now.”
gifs from @missinghan 💕
part 1? lmk if you guys want me to continue hehe
warnings - detective!minho, kissing, riding (if you squint), suggestive
minho x fem. reader
word count - 2.9k
The sun was creeping over the trees, hints of orange and yellow rising. You take a sip of the steaming coffee from your cup, propping your feet against the edge of your balcony. Taking a deep breath, you close your eyes, appreciating the leafy early morning smell, listening to the birds chirping.
You jump at the sound of your ringtone, your eyelids open quickly, pulling you out of your relaxed state. You read the caller’s name.
You answer the call, pressing your phone against your ear.
“yah! Y/N! where are you? we’re supposed to be at the Jeong residence in 10 minutes!” Your partner’s voice rang in your ear.
“w-what?! 10 minutes? I thought that wasn’t until later today?”
“no no no, didn’t you hear? there’s been a homicide at the house, you need to get over here right now.”
“HOMICIDE?!” you scream, ending the call and running into your apartment to change into something more professional than your Chimmy pajamas.
Walking up the driveway, you notice the crowd of officers and squad cars, silently counting them in your head. You see forensics taking pictures of the house and lawn. The front of the house is guarded by 4 officers who stand inside the tape.
Walking up the driveway, you notice the crowd of officers and squad cars, silently counting them in your head. You see forensics taking pictures of the house and lawn. The front of the house is guarded by 4 officers who stand inside the tape.
“ID please?” the man stops you at the caution tape. You quickly whip out your badge, stepping under it. He stops you. “Woah! Hold on there, sweetheart, let me make sure it’s legit.” He steps in front of you, scanning the ID picture than back at your face.
No other nickname in the world bothered you as much as that one. It just screams “you don’t belong here with the boys.” But that’s exactly what you proved wrong to everyone. You had your dream job, but some men still didn’t respect that. You roll your eyes, seeing the officers eyes go back and forth from your ID to your face.
“If you’re done checking her out, can I have my partner back, officer?” Minho calls from the porch, tilting his head at the cop. The officer looks back, “She’s with you?” he asks, sounding a bit scared. Minho nods obviously, widening his eyes. “My apologies, sir!” The cop hands you your badge and you snatch it from him. He holds the tape up for you to bend under but you walk away angrily, entering from a different spot.
You reach the porch, seeing a fresh Minho, looking quite handsome in his light brown trench coat. You sported a similar one, but in black. “Well good morning, sunshine!” he fake smiles. You return an exaggerated smile. “I’d get here a bit sooner if Mr. misogynist would let me through.” You add, rolling your eyes. Minho laughs, he wipes a few raindrops off your head, and puts a hand on your back, “Let’s get you up to speed—but I’m warning you, it’s pretty smelly in there.” He adds, letting you walk in front of him, entering the home. Minho looks back at the guard, seeing him smirk and laugh with the others, pointing towards you. He frowns, following you inside.
The house wasn’t really a house—it was a mansion. Tall ceilings, dimly lit chandeliers in almost every room. It smelled of wet, aging wood. The sound of your boots and Minho’s shoes squeaking against the hardwood floors mixed with camera clicks. The forensics were already inside, collecting samples and pictures of the home. When you entered the kitchen, that’s when the smell hit you. Rotting flesh. You see a man with multiple stab wounds laying on the floor, next to the dining table. His throat was slit open, flies buzzing around the wound. You groan, covering your mouth with your hand. Minho reaches in his pocket, handing you his handkerchief. You take it instantly, covering your nose and mouth.
“What the hell am I looking at here?” You ask, muffled.
Minho stares down at the body. “Strangulation attempt, followed by 15 stab wounds, perpetrator barely left any trail. We’re going in pretty blind here.” Minho glumly adds. He steps away from the kitchen, taking a deep breath away from the smell. You walk with him, taking a look at the living room. “We already checked the inside of the entire home, inch-by-inch. All we know is the footprints match a male, shoe size 12, about 250 pounds. Other than that, he didn’t leave a single fingerprint or clue...” He mumbled, looking up at the ceiling fixtures.
You look around, seeing the patio door. You go open it, looking at the wet grass and noticing the mud. “No one checked outside?” You asked, stepping out. “It rained a lot last night, there’s no way there’s any tracks left.” Minho joins you outside. The light rain hitting your head and boots. You hear him prop open an umbrella, placing it over the two of you. “Shouldn’t stay out here too long, you’ll get sick.” He whispers, standing close to you to shield you from the rain. You look up at him, seeing him smile softly at you. “Minho?”
“Did you seriously not look out here for anything?” You ask, focusing back on the case. He shook his head, “N-no, why would we? The mud cleared everything.” You shake your head, stepping away from him, going further into the yard. He follows you with the umbrella, hovering it above you. Your boots squish into the mud, covering them in the thick, wet substance. You see a shiny piece laying in the mud, near the edge of the fence. You kneel down, picking it up. A house key. You smile to yourself. “Oh, y/n you’ve done it again...” You stand up, turning to Minho, who’s mouth is slightly parted, seeing your discovery. “It might not be much, but if our guy dropped this, it could be his own house key. We can trace it back and find him.” You tell him, motioning a forensics member over to collect the key. Minho looks at you, stunned. “H-how did i miss that?” He whispers to himself, looking around in the mud.
“That’s why you need me, partner.” You add, patting his chest and squishing your way back into the house. You stomp the mud off your shoes and go back to the porch. You watch the medics prepare the body to be removed from the scene. The scientists tell you they’ll have the samples ready to look at by tonight. You thank them, heading back to your car.
“Y/N wait!” Minho calls after you, jogging across the street towards you. You stand in the opening of your car door, hand resting on the top. “Since we’ve got time until we get some answers...” he catches his breath. “You wanna get a cup of coffee?” He asks, tilting his head. You smile at his question, laughing through your nose lightly.
He smiles back, hearing laughter behind him. You look past him, seeing the officer from earlier smiling and eyeing you from afar. Your smile fades, walking up to him. “Is there something wrong, officer?” You ask boldly, standing straight in front of him. Minho watches you, and doesn’t dare interrupt. “Just admiring you, honey,” He adds, smiling like a disgusting pervert. “First of all—“ you cross your arms. “I’m not your sweetheart, not your honey. And if I hear you call me that again, I’ll get your ass fired, got that, bud?” He frowns at the name, and stands up straight when he sees Minho walk over. The officers step back from you.
“Can I see your badge, officer?” Minho stands in front of you, asking him in a low tone. He hands it over. Minho looks at it, then back at him. He repeats this a few times. “Something wrong, detective?” He asks, oddly quiet now. Minho frowns at the ID. “Well it doesn’t say you’re a creepy bastard on your badge...so I wonder why you act like one?” Minho asks, staring the officer down. He looks around at the other cops, embarrassment creeping onto his cheeks.
The guard shoots his eyes up at Minho. “What?”
Minho steps forward, towering over the guard. You gulp.
“Apologize. To her.” Minho says, jaw clenched. The officer nods, turning to you. “I-I’m sorry.”
“Address her properly. She didn’t train for years just to come be disrespected by assholes like you.” Minho adds angrily.
“I apologize, Detective Y/L/N.”
You nod, not really forgiving him. “Don’t let me see that shit again.” Minho pats his shoulder. “Thank you, sweetheart.” Minho says to him, turning to walk back towards your car. You hold back a laugh, following him.
The other officers walk away, not daring to look back at you. Minho opens the car door for you, “I took a taxi here, you mind driving?”
“Not at all.” You reply, smiling at him, climbing into the drivers seat. He walks around, opening the passenger side door, taking one last look at the frown on the officer’s face. He smiles to himself, sitting down.
You drive off, finding yourself on a two-lane road, beautiful fall trees along the path. Minho flips through pages of the police report, rereading it for any details. Seeing Minho stand up for you made you feel things for him you’ve never felt before. You look over at him flipping the pages.
God he looked so good even without trying. His coat fit him so perfectly, his hair styled a bit messily but still presentable. You wondered how long it took him to get ready. Was he torn between two jackets? Maybe he would’ve worn a black one similar to yours. Black would look so good on him. His fresh scent told you he showered this morning. How did he look after his shower? Wet droplets dripping off his hair, landing on his soft, muscular body.
You hear a loud honk. Minho shoots his eyes up and reaches for the steering wheel, turning it back into your lane. You slam on the brakes, then turn to park along the road’s shoulder. “Y/N what are you doing?!” He yells. You were so lost thinking about him your eyes got lost on the road. You both breathe heavily, shocked from the near death experience.
He looks at you, fire in his eyes. “What. the. hell.” He says, gripping the paper in his hands. You bite your bottom lip. “S-sorry— uhh I just—” “What just happened?” Your hands fall off the wheel, landing on your lap. “I was just...thinking about what you said back there...” You mumbled. “To the officer...” you continue. He leans back in his seat, setting the papers in his lap, listening to you intently. “I deal with guys like that all the time, but no one has ever spoken up for me. Especially not another man.” You say, a hint of sadness in your voice.
“Well...” He leans into you. “I wasn’t going to let them talk to my girl like that...” He whispers, placing his hand on your cheek. You blush at his words, looking into his dark brown eyes. His eyes drop to your lips, seeing the soft skin ready for his. You lean in slowly, pursing your lips to meet his. He wraps his hand around your neck, holding your jaw in his grip. His soft lips felt like velvet against yours. You let out a soft moan as you reached around to hold his hair. He clicks your belt buckle, letting it slide off your body. His soft hair in your fingers made it hard to hold on to him. He unbuckles his own seatbelt, pulling you onto his lap. He watches you slide your jacket off your shoulders, letting it slip onto his knees. He returns his lips to yours, feeling your hands loosen his tie. You feel him tense underneath you, knowing this was going to be intense. Thankfully, you got your windows tinted recently. His hands travel up your back, holding the back of your neck, kissing you deeply. He was so specific with his lip movements. So delicate. Yet so hungry for you. As if he’d waited his whole life for this kiss. Your hips pushed against his, and he groans lightly in your mouth. You pull his neck closer to you, kissing him as if he was the last man alive. His hands land on your ass, helping your hips roll into him. You moan at the hardness in his pants.
Suddenly, there’s knocking on the window. You both whip your heads and see a cop leaning down at the passenger side of the window. Minho awkwardly rolls the window down, still holding you on his lap. “Good afternoon, lovebir—DETECTIVES?!”
The officers eyes widen and you scramble off of Minho, settling back into your seat. You fix your hair and button your pants back up, wondering when they got undone in the first place. “Uhh— Where are you two headed?” The officer asks, awkwardly continuing the conversation. Minho sneakily slides your jacket over his lap, covering his obvious boner. “J-just for some coffee, we’re waiting for results on samples from the Jeong case.” Minho adds, his mouth dry as a desert. The officer nods understandingly. “We got a call about a car pulled on the side of the road and wanted to see if you needed any help?...” You both shake your head furiously. “No no no! we’re fine! just- uh... Had some...jacket troubles. It got...caught in the uh... door and uh—”
“Detective?” the officer furrows his eyebrows.
“Yes?” You ask, helplessly hoping for this conversation to be over.
“I know very well what happened in here. If you two could keep this in a private setting, that’d be very much appreciated.”
Minho nods. “Sorry about that, officer. It won’t happen again.”
He nods. Waving both of you away, he returns to his squad car. You look in the rear view mirror, seeing his mouth moving as he shakes his head at his partner, who widens his eyes at your car. You bury your face in your hands then drive off slowly. The car ride is painfully quiet. Your eyes never leave the road, wishing Minho’s hard-on would go away by the time you need your jacket. You get to the cafe, and park the car. He readjusts his tie and hair during the ride.
“Let’s uh...not do that in the car again...” You mumble, slowly reaching for the jacket. Minho nods, staring at the windshield, not daring to make any eye contact with you. He might get hard again. He slowly gives you your jacket back, stepping out of the car. You step out, your boots hitting the wet pavement. He holds his jacket buttons close together, attempting to conceal his obvious arousal. You walk to the doors, opening it for Minho. He lets you walk in first, asking for a table for two. You sit, and order your drinks. Two iced americanos.
You both avoid each other’s gazes, staring at the table and outside the window.
“I can’t do this anymore” Minho blurts out.
You look up at him, halfway taking a sip from your drink.
“What do you mean?” You ask, swirling the straw with your tongue. His eyes move to your tongue. You realize your actions and stopped. A devilish smile creeps on your lips. “Wish you were my straw, huh?” You whisper.
He swallows, clenching his jaw. “Is the bathroom open here?” He asks, looking around. Your mouth drops open. “There’s children here!” You whisper-shout. He rolls his eyes, looking back at your parked car through the window, then back at you. “No, not my car. Leave her alone...” You add, slightly offended. “Her?”He asks, looking confused. “Yeah, my car’s a her. You never named your cars?” You ask obviously. “No, actually.” He says, taking a sip from his drink. You watch his lips form an o around the straw, how pink and kissable they looked. You sigh, noticing his eyes on you as well.
You look around to make sure no ones nearby. A few people sit on tables across the room, and a family in the corner. You reach down, unzipping your right boot, taking your foot out. Minho looks busy on his phone, probably reading his notes again. You slide your sock covered foot over his clothed calf. His thumbs stop typing on his phone. You move upwards, your foot pressing against his thigh. He looks up at you, eyes begging you to keep going. You casually keep drinking your drink, moving your foot dangerously close to his length. When you reach him, he chokes on his drink, causing a few servers to look back. You hear footsteps approaching and move your foot back into your boot.
“Everything okay over here? Can I get you guys anything else?” The server asks kindly.
“No! I think we’re ready for our bill now.” Minho adds with a painful smile. The server leaves and returns with the book. Minho slides the money in and leaves the rest as a tip. You zip up your boot and walk out with him following closely behind you. He opens your door for you, standing behind you, dangerously close. He leans down to whisper in your ear,
“You’re gonna pay for that...”
last first kiss | charlie gillespie
paring: fem!reader x charlie gillespie
summary: reader and Charlie are just friends, until Charlie gets jealous and finally admits to reader how he feels ... “I wanna be last, yeah, baby let me be your last, your last first kiss”
warnings: jealous!charlie, angsty, drinking
!! NOT MY GIF !!
author’s note: i was listening to one direction’s “last first kiss” when this imagine idea popped into my head. enjoy :)
The day you were cast to be in season two of Julie and the Phantoms was one of the best days of your life. You met the cast and immediately started getting close to Owen and Charlie. You got so close with the guys that they even offered to be roommates with you while in Vancouver to shoot the show.
It’s the first day of filming and after a very successful day of shooting, Owen invites you and Charlie to go out. You accept the invitation and begin to get ready by showering and using a blow-dryer to dry your hair. You curl your usually straight hair and do your makeup. You do a silver smokey eye with a nude lip color. You add highlight to make your face shine.
Owen knocks on your door and calls, “Y/N! Hurry up! We’d like to get to the club before it closes.”
“Don’t get your panties in a twist, Owen,” you call back. “I need like five more minutes and I’ll be ready to go. Just grab Charlie and get in the car.”
Footsteps walk away from your door and you go to your closet, pulling out a short, light green dress. The dress has sequins all over it and has spaghetti straps as sleeves. The back is open and the neck runs straight across your neck. The dress hugs your body, showing off your curves, and ends about halfway down your thighs. You grab a pair of sparkly silver heels and put them on your feet before grabbing your wallet and phone.
Charlie and Owen both are in the car when you leave the house that the three of you are renting while you’re shooting season two. You see Charlie sitting in the passenger’s seat and notice his eyes are on you. Owen must say something to Charlie because his lips move like he’s talking.
You open the back passenger side door and slide in. Owen looks at you in the rearview mirror of his Tesla and says, “You took forever to get ready. Jesus, Y/N.”
“You spent about ten minutes getting ready and it shows, Owen,” you say, teasing him. Charlie laughs in the passenger’s seat.
Owen looks over at his friend and says, “You don’t have any room to talk, Charles. You spent about ten minutes getting ready too.”
Charlie says, “I didn’t just put in a button-up and call it a day.”
In Charlie’s defense, you say, “Charlie looks like he put effort into how he looks. He doesn’t look like a dad.”
A flash of pretend hurt crosses Owen’s face and he says, “I do not look like a dad.”
“You look like a dad, bro,” Charlie says. “Who wears a Hawaiian style button-up?”
You laugh and Owen says, “We don’t have to go out.”
Charlie says, “We’re going out. Y/N did not spend almost two hours getting ready to not going out.”
All three of you laugh and you say, “Thank you, Charlie.”
Owen smiles and playfully rolls his eyes before he drives off to the nearest club.
The three of you end up at Aura Nightclub. You show your IDs. All of you get stamped to show that you’re legal and can order drinks. Owen is 20 but the legal drinking age in British Columbia is 19 so Owen can legally drink tonight if he wants. He won’t though because he told both you and Charlie in the car that he’s designated driver tonight.
Owen finds a table for your group to sit at while you and Charlie go order a drink at the bar. You show your stamp to the bartender and ask for an Old Fashioned cocktail. Charlie asks for a Martini.
“I never pegged you as a Martini kind of guy,” you tell Charlie as the two of you head to the table Owen found. This is the first time you’re drinking with Charlie since meeting him a few months ago at your audition.
Charlie laughs and says, “I never pegged you as an Old Fashioned kind of girl.”
You take a sip of your drink and say, “Touché.”
Both of you approach the table Owen picked. He picked a high-top table with three chairs. Owen says, “I ordered mozzarella sticks.”
The mozzarella stick catch your attention and you say, “Ooh. Food.”
Owen and Charlie both laugh.
As you are sitting and talking with the guys, a random guy with long jet black hair that’s tied back walks up to you. You can see that he has a very muscular build under the dark blue button-up he’s wearing. He has a full beard and blue eyes.
“Hey,” he says, his attention on you. “I just wanted to come over and tell you that I think you look very nice tonight.” He has a broken Scottish accent.
You look at the man and say, “Thank you.”
The rather handsome man asks, “Would you like to dance with me? Just for a little bit.”
Both Owen and Charlie blink at you as you reply with, “I’d love to.” You smile and hop down from your seat. You hook your arms with the man and head to the dance floor with him.
As you walk off, Charlie’s eyes trail after you. He sits back in his chair and makes an annoyed face, his eyebrows coming together. Owen says, “One of these days, you’re going to miss your chance with her, Charlie. You need to make a move before she finds another guy.”
Charlie says, “And possibly ruin our friendship? No thanks. I’d rather have her in my life as a friend instead of possibly ruining our friendship.”
Owen says, “What about that small chance of her feeling the same way about you? You could be missing your chance and all you’re doing is sitting here and pouting about it. Do something, Charlie, before you lose her.”
With that, Charlie chugs the rest of his Martini and walks to the bar with every intention of getting wasted tonight.
Meanwhile, you dance with the handsome man. You found out his name was Andrew and he’s in Vancouver for work. When you asked what his job was, he replied with, “I lift heavy things up and put them down.”
While you dance with Andrew, you can’t help but think about Charlie. One of the reasons you agreed to come out was to dance with him. The other reason was to see him all dressed up with his hair somewhat neatly done. Occasionally, you’d look at the table but he seemed to disappear.
After about thirty minutes, you say, “Excuse me. I need to use the ladies’ room.” Andrew nods and you walk back to the table. You look at Owen.
“Where’d he go?” you ask, curious.
Owen says, “He’s been at the bar since you walked off to dance with Long, Tall and Handsome.”
You tilt your head in confusion before you find your way to the bar. You spot Charlie with at least half a dozen shot glasses in front of him and he’s drinking a glass of whiskey. You approach him and say, “You left Owen by himself.”
Charlie says, “He can handle himself while I drink. He’s a big boy and he can wear his big boy pants on his own.” His words are slurred.
“What have you been drinking?” you ask.
He thinks for a second before saying, “I’ve had some vodka shots and three glasses of whiskey. Why?”
You take the glass out of his hand and say, “That’s enough for the night. You’re already drunk and we’ve been here for less than an hour.”
A pout forms on Charlie’s face and he says, “That’s not fair that you get to have fun and I don’t.”
You take Charlie’s hand and say, “There are dozens of girls in this club, Charlie. You’re a handsome guy so I’m sure that anyone would be lucky to dance with you. For now, you’re going back to Owen.”
Charlie looks down at your hand connected to his and he says, “You’re holding my hand.”
“We’ve held hands before,” you tell him. “Several times, if I can remember correctly.”
Your memory isn’t the best right now. You’re a severe lightweight and you’ve had two Old Fashioned drinks so you’re tipsy at best.
He tugs you toward him and you’re chest to cheat with Charlie. You stare up at him and he says, “I don’t like that you’re not dancing with me, Y/N. It should be me that you’re dancing with, not him.”
You feel your heart begin to race in your chest. Between how close you are to Charlie and what he just said, you understand why your heart is pounding in your chest.
He’s been your closest friend on the cast, but you’d never turn down the opportunity to be with the brunette.
“You’re drunk, Charlie,” you say. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”
Charlie says, “I know exactly what I’m saying, Y/N. I’m jealous, and yes I just admitted that to you because I am drunk.”
Jealous. Charlie’s jealous.
You hear One Direction’s “Last First Kiss” begin to play throughout the club and you ask, “Then why didn’t you ask to dance with me before he did?”
He reaches up and cups your face with one hand before he says, “I’m scared that you won’t feel the same way that I do and that I’ll ruin our friendship. I won’t want to ruin our friendship.”
“How do you feel about me?” you ask, meeting Charlie’s hazel colored eyes. His eyes flicker down to your lips as he thinks about his answer.
Charlie’s other hand comes up and cups your other cheek. He says, “I’ve been falling for you since the day we met at your audition, Y/N.”
A little gasp leaves your lips as you look up at Charlie. You take a small step closer to him as you say, “You should do something about it if you’ve been falling for me since day one.”
Slowly, Charlie brings his lips to yours. Your heart flutters in your chest and butterflies appear in your belly as your lips make contact with Charlie’s. Your eyes shut as you grab a fistful of Charlie’s shirt, pulling him closer to you.
I wanna be last, yeah, baby let me be your last. Your last first kiss.
Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader
a joyful future fic
a/n: i am so excited to share this one with you. the tropes are PACKED in here, and it was a blast to write. i also realized some time ago that i keep forgetting summaries on my works, so i’m gonna do my best to add those from now on. as always, let me know if there are any mistakes in here! thanks to @writefasttalkevenfaster for helping me today <3
intended for the ‘a joyful future universe,’ but does not require context. takes place in 2011, early season six, prior to the valhalla arc.
warnings: language, some vague mention of aaron’s anatomy, alcohol use, when i say slow burn i mean s l o w burn.
summary: "...and there was only one bed." - old fanfiction proverb
waldosia (part 2) | absence (part 3) | mean it (part 4)
masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | requests closed!
updated: january 5th, 2021
It’s way too late and you know it, but Jack is still on his annual winter vacation with Aunt Jess and the rest of the Brooks clan, so there’s simply no incentive to leave. You’re with Hotch at his desk, kicked back like you own the place, while he sits back in his chair with his hands laced behind his head.
The Montana case wrapped up neatly, and any remaining or incoming paperwork this week is light. Though it is admittedly weird without JJ, Seaver seems to be settling in alright. You’re glad that the team decided to take a chance on her like they did with you.
“What do you mean he drew on the wall?” You say through a laugh, popping a grape in your mouth. “Are we talking like a crayon mark here and there or a full-on mural.”
“Multi-media mural - glue, paper mache, markers, crayons, you name it and it was there.” He laughs and he takes a grape from your bowl, kicking his feet up on the desk - mirroring you. “I have no idea how he managed it. I was in the house the whole time.”
“Oh my God, he’s a terror!” Before Aaron can agree, your phone starts ringing. You pick it up, smiling as you see the caller ID.
“Hey Dean!” You stand and give Aaron a ‘sorry, just a second’ finger and step out of the office, leaving the door open behind you. You stay where Aaron can see you, leaning on the rail next to the stairs. You don’t really mean to stay within his eyeline, but it’s habit at this point.
“Hey babe, I hope I’m not calling too late.”
“Oh not at all. I’m still in the office with Hotch getting some work done.”
You catch Hotch’s eye and he mouths ‘Work?’ and you shrug as if to say ‘It’s a loose term.’ He rolls his eyes and steals another one of your grapes.
“Ah, I see. Late-night work with the hot boss-man.”
You don’t dignify that with a response. “So what’s up?”
He sighs, and you already know what’s coming before he says it. “Something came up at work and I won’t be able to make it to the wedding next week. We’re closing on this huge property in Georgetown and it’s really big for the firm and -“
“It’s okay. I get work stuff, trust me.” And you do. It just fucking sucks.
“I’m so so sorry to leave you hanging. I know it’s going to be super rough. Maybe one of your work friends can go with you? Maybe boss man? His name’s Aaron, right? Hopscotch or something?” His humor doesn’t make you feel any better, but you promise to keep ‘Hopscotch’ for later.
You tip your head up to stare at the ceiling and will the tears away from your eyes, blinking them back. “Yeah, I’ll figure it out. None of them knew to ask off work, so if we have a case I’ll be on my own regardless.”
“I’m so sorry.”
Two tears fall out of the corner of your eyes, and you turn around, wiping them away. “It’s okay.”
“I’ll call you day-of to check in, okay?”
Hotch watches you carefully, doing your best to hide your tears from him. Bad news, certainly, but he wishes you wouldn’t hide from him like you do. Or rather, he wishes you wouldn’t try to hide from him like you do.
He can’t hear the entire conversation, obviously, but he resolves to do what he can to return at least a little of the care you always show him without hesitation,
“Okay.” You heave an uneven sigh. “I’ll talk to you then... Really - don’t worry about it, it’s fine.” You hang up before he can respond and rest your forearms on the railing. You let your head hang for a second, collecting yourself before you have to face Hotch again.
You take a deep breath and turn, sitting across from him again. Attempting to restore your good spirits, you kick your feet back up and have another grape.
Hotch’s voice is quiet. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah,” but your voice breaks. You clear your throat and blink a few more times.
You can feel him squint at you. “What’s wrong?”
“Oh, you know.” You sniff, and gesture vaguely as you continue. “My best friend from college was supposed to be my date to a friend’s wedding next week, and the friend getting married also happens to be someone I dated in college so I was really hoping Dean could come with me, and now…” You trail off, realizing you’re rambling.
He’s quiet for a little while, and you shove some more grapes in your mouth to make up for the silence. You know each other so well, but it still feels a little weird to explicitly talk about your personal life in the office. Sure, you spend a fair few weekends together with Jack, but the whole thing is a little embarrassing - and you’re not sure if the worst part is admitting you have an ex-boyfriend from college or you now have to go stag to his wedding.
“Do you want someone to go with you?” He watches you chew on your lower lip. A long time ago, he decided there was nothing worse than seeing you upset.
This is the least you can do, Hotchner. First personal weekend in nearly four years, you can at least do what you can to make it suck less. He reasons with himself, but he can’t help the sly thought that sneaks in on the tail end. Being a backup is better than being nothing at all.
You scoff. “Well, yeah. Obviously.”
He smiles a little, knowing you completely missed his point. “If you wanted…” He clears his throat and looks out the window, and you reply before he can continue.
“Oh, God, Hotch.” You cover your face with your hands. “Please don’t feel like I’m trying to guilt you into anything. I’ll be fine.” You try to laugh it off, but can’t hide the anxiety in your voice.
His laugh warms you. “You’re not guilting me into anything. I’m offering.”
You remove your hands from your face and look at him. There’s an earnest sort of kindness in his eyes, and you find yourself a little short of breath. “Really?”
“Really. I can get the weekend off - things are pretty slow around here. Where is it?” You had trouble reading his tone. Really, he’s just treading carefully. He doesn’t want you to feel pressured, or give away his own selfish motivations.
“It’s, ah,” you stutter for a second, getting your metaphorical feet back under you. “It’s down at Berry Hill Resort, right by the North Carolina border.” Your lip disappears between your teeth again. “It’s about a three and a half hour drive.”
He opens his phone, and you know he’s checking the map. “It’d be easy enough if we left early and switched in Richmond. I’ll start, if you’d like.”
You smile at him, wide and genuine. “Hotch, you’re the best.”
Hotch calls you up to his office, and you swing in, your hand gripping the doorframe. You bite back your greeting as you find him on the phone.
He beckons you in and you step inside, closing the door behind you.
“...Thank you, sir. I’ll be sure to pass that along to the rest of the unit...You too, sir.” He hangs up and laces his fingers, addressing you. “Question.”
You sit, resting your elbows on his desk. “Answer.”
You smirk, and he continues. “I’m not sure if it matters to you, but I have an absurd number of ties. Color preference?”
A huff of laughter leaves you in disbelief. “You called me in here to ask whether or not I want to have a color scheme?”
“Yes,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “A united front, or at least a coordinated one, seems like the best strategy, right?”
Aaron walks down from his office, his phone to his ear. You’re helping Ashley with a consult, walking her through your process just like Emily used to do with you.
“Hotch usually likes to approach the profile starting with a demographic consideration, but I usually start from physical evidence and -”
A hand falls onto your shoulder, and you look up. “Yeah?”
He pulls the receiver away from his mouth. “Jack wants to talk to you.”
With a shake of your head and a fond smile for Hotch and an apologetic one for Ashley, you put the phone to your ear. “Hey, bud! How’s Grandpa’s house?”
“So fun,” Jack says, almost yelling into the phone. “Aunt Jess has let me play in the snow every day.”
You laugh. “I am so glad.”
“Dad says you’re busy at work, but I miss you.”
“Aw, bubba, I miss you, too. You’ll be home really soon, and when you get back we’ll go out to ice cream and you can tell me all about your visit.” You, for just a moment, forget where you are, and you lean back in your seat as if you’re leaning into Jack himself. “Does that sound okay?”
“Yeah, that sounds good. I love you.”
Your breath catches, and you keep our eyes firmly planted on your consult as you reply. “I love you too, bub. Here’s your dad.” Placing the phone in Hotch’s hand, you return your attention to Ashley and do your best not to acknowledge Aaron as he walks back up the stairs. “So, like I said, Hotch prefers to -”
“Hey.” Ashley stops you with a hand on your arm. “You’re really good at your job.”
A confused smile pulls at your lips. There’s a question in your eyes, and she answers it.
“Oh, I just...You’re a good teacher and a good friend, that’s all.”
On a rare weeknight off, Emily and you gather at Penelope’s apartment. You’re all sitting on the floor, bottles of wine making an occasional rotation, and a pile of snacks on the floor taking up the space in the loose circle you’ve created.
“You’re taking time off this weekend?” Penelope sounds almost insultingly surprised, as if the concept never occurred to her.
You nod. “Yep. First time in four years, so I think I’m about due.”
Emily laughs and asks. “Where are you going?”
“I’ve been inexplicably invited to an ex-boyfriends wedding - he’s a friend from college and we were friends before we dated etc. etc.” You wave your hand as you speak, outlining the tedium of it all. “His mom loves me, and I suspect she was the one who added me to the list.”
“Are you going with anyone? Penelope’s concern is touching.
“Yeah. One of my college friends was supposed to be my date, but he bailed for a work thing.” All the girls roll their eyes and nod. They get it. “So, Ho - someone else - is going with me.”
“Who?” Emily narrows her eyes and searches you.
“Oh come on, profiling is against the rules.”
She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, okay, sure.”
“Spill it.” Penelope throws a goldfish cracker at you to emphasize her point.
You take a deep, long-suffering breath, suddenly missing JJ and her powers of redirection. “Fine. Hotch is coming with me -” you intercept their eager questions “- only as a favor.”
“That’s very...thoughtful of him.” Emily’s chin tips up suggestively, and you throw Penelope’s goldfish at her. “Who’s idea was that?”
There’s a moment here somewhere, where you realize you’ve just dug yourself a hole you’ll be hard-pressed to get out of. “He overheard Dean bail, and offered. I’m sure he’s just doing it because he feels bad and -”
“Oh, don’t be stupid!” Penelope nearly falls into Emily, giggling. “I can’t believe you two.”
You throw your hands in the air. “What?”
Both women share a look before looking back at you with identical disbelief. Emily speaks first. “You can’t be serious.”
Take a deep breath. You’re not that obvious.
Maybe you are. You’ve only been half-or-completely in love with him for five years.
“Serious about what?”
Emily rolls her eyes and finishes her second glass of wine, reaching to refill it immediately. “Nevermind. You’ll figure it out eventually.”
You’re finishing your last bit of packing, leaving your toothbrush and toothpaste out for the morning, when your phone rings.
“Hey, it’s Aaron.”
“Ah, my saving grace,” you say with a laugh. “Calling to cancel on me, after all?”
His laugh just isn’t as good over the phone, but it’ll do. “Not even close. Is 6am still good to come get you?”
“It’s so early.” There’s absolutely no shame in your whine, and you’re rewarded with another laugh. “But yes, that’s fine. That gives us enough time even if we hit some traffic out of the District and into Richmond.”
“My thoughts exactly.”
You look at your suitcase, resting open on your bed. “You’re still okay with this, right? I know I couldn’t grab that extra hotel room for you and I don’t want you to feel pressured or -”
He cuts you off, calling you out by name. “Enough. I offered, remember? I’ll see you at 6. Bring a pillow so you can sleep in the car.”
Your lips pinch, holding back a smile. “Thanks, Aaron.” And he knows you don’t just mean it for the pillow reminder. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Of course. Sleep well.”
You don’t, but are nevertheless ready with bells on, pillow tucked under your arm, and coffee in-hand at 5:55am the following morning. He looks surprised when he pulls into the driveway and sees you standing on your porch, looking only a little worse for wear. At least your teeth are brushed.
“Thought you might want this.” You hold out the travel mug to him as he approaches, and he takes it (and your suitcase) from you.
“Thank you. Jump in.”
You follow instructions and immediately stuff your pillow between your head and the window as he throws your suitcase in the trunk. You’re forever grateful Aaron drives the same SUVs you all have at the bureau. He claims it’s easier to not think about different car specs, but at this moment you only care about the temperature control and familiar, soft leather seats. Your eyes shut on their own accord, still heavy even after your abbreviated morning routine.
He slips into the driver’s seat and, with your eyes closed, you miss the way he looks over at you with a barely-there, fond smile. Your sweatshirt is too big for you and your face is adorably smushed into the pillow.
With a sigh and shake of his head, he places his hand on the back of your seat, backs out of the driveway, and gets on the road.
The silence gives him plenty of time to think about things he’d rather not address. This favor, for one, is something he’s still trying to reconcile.
Would I have offered to Emily? JJ? Hell, Dave?
If any other member of the team had a friend bail out of their role as a wedding date, he’d like to think he’d drop everything and take the weekend to make them feel better, but he knows that probably wouldn’t be the case in reality. He knew you were different, and it frustrated and confused him.
As often as he acknowledges his love for you - he wishes it would just stop.
Only a year and change had passed since Haley’s death, and there were still some mornings where he woke up and couldn’t breathe. Jack still had some nightmares too. Those broke his heart more than anything in the world, but he knew you would always pick up if he called - no matter the hour.
It happened more often than he’d like to admit.
“Hotch? Aaron? What’s up?”
“I’m sorry to wake you.”
You’d always talk to him about something or nothing at all, sometimes turning on your bedside lamp and reading from whatever book you were perusing before bed.
He knows you understand. You were the only one there with him, when he found her body. You were there to take his son out of his bloodied hands. You were there when he was afraid of himself.
The nightmares still come for you, too, sometimes. There are nights where Haley’s dark blue eyes stare into you, whether your eyes are open or closed. You told him that, once, and he was grateful - grateful that he wasn’t the only one.
You murmur something in your sleep, about twenty minutes outside of the city. You’re still an hour or more away from Richmond, and Hotch figures he’ll let you sleep if you don’t wake up between now and then. It’s not a hard drive to Berry Hill, and you need the rest.
Might be good to pick up some food on the way...
He turns the music off, letting the sounds of your breathing and the road wash over him.
He turns, expecting your watchful eyes, but finds you burrowing further into the pillow, a little smile on your face as you remain blissfully unaware of your surroundings. Something warm starts to radiate in his chest as he looks back out at the road, the Virginia countryside stretching out in front of him, around him, and in every direction he can see. The warmth vibrates into his fingertips. He flexes his hands around the wheel, trying to shake it.
You’re not sure how you manage to sleep so soundly in the car. You had tossed and turned all night, thinking only of facing a part of your life you hoped you’d never address head-on ever again. Why you accepted the invitation at all (or why you even received one) was beyond you.
It must be his mother’s doing. She always loved you, and she did her best to keep your friendship alive much longer than its natural death.
Exercising control over her child’s life due to an exceptional lack of control and consistency during her upbringing. Relating to her son’s partners to achieve some semblance of intimacy without facing the root of her insecurity that she’s failed as a parent.
The profiling never stopped, it seemed.
It wasn’t just the wedding keeping you up last night. The thought of spending the weekend with Aaron in an environment where you will inevitably feel (if not look and act) distraught close to the whole time still wears on you. Spending weekends at home, where you sit together with a glass of wine and leftover popcorn after Jack gets tucked in feels different.
That’s comfortable. That’s safe. This? This is scary. Vulnerable. Burdensome.
Even then, there’s nobody you’d rather have at your side while you face friends you haven’t seen in ages. He’s charismatic, almost entirely unapproachable (when he wants to be), and tall. All those factors should be enough to keep anyone from trifling with you for the duration of the weekend.
But now, in the car, all those thoughts are far from your mind. Your mind is blissfully dark and blank, your body soothed by the low hum of the car and the smell that follows Hotch wherever he goes - spicy, earthy, and something that reminds you of the air right before lightning strikes.
The car slows, and the subtle change in ambiance wakes you. You lift your head, finding Hotch turning on an offramp.
“Are we in Richmond already?” You ask, bleary.
He smiles. His sunglasses are resting on his nose to combat the rapidly-rising morning sun. “Not yet, but I figured you hadn’t eaten yet.”
You tip your head. He’s right. “I could eat.”
He glances at you out of the corner of his eye. “You should eat.”
After food and a top-off for the gas tank, you offer to drive.
Aaron refuses. “If you drive, I don’t get to pick the music.”
“I thought shotgun picks the music.” You frown at him, admittedly still a little tired. You’ve shoved your pillow behind your seat and start to sit like an actual human being for the first time that morning.
“Those are Morgan’s house rules, not mine.”
“Ah,” you say, sagely. “I see. What are your house rules?”
There’s a smile behind his sunglasses. “Driver picks the music and critically considers any suggestions made by shotgun.”
Thus, the Beatles’ White Album starts from the top. You can’t say you’re surprised - it is his favorite. You’ve grown rather fond of it yourself, if you’re honest, Though, you’re not sure if you fondness for the album has anything to do with the man beside you - the one who’s hair is soft and floppy in the morning light, the one wearing an uncharacteristically casual ensemble of jeans, sneakers, and a black t-shirt, the one singing along under his breath.
“Why is this one your favorite?” You hear yourself ask.
He’s quiet for a minute, as if you are the first to ask that question. Maybe you are. “I’m...not sure. I think it might have something to do with my mom. She bought the record a couple of weeks after I was born in late ‘68, and made sure I had a copy when I got my own record player in my first college apartment.” He shrugs. “It’s been around just as long as I have, and there’s something a little - I don’t know - comforting about that?”
You nod. “I get that.” You’re quiet for a moment, considering all the things that happened in 1982. “Grease 2 came out the year I was born, so I can’t say I share a similar affinity for the pop culture phenomena of my birth year.”
Hotch lets out a low whistle and a grimace. “That film really was awful.” He waits for your laugh and is rewarded before continuing. “I saw The Who on their final tour that year.”
You furrow your brow. “Weren’t you like, barely in high school?”
He nods. “We snuck out, a couple of friends and me. It was really stupid and we got in a lot of trouble, but it was fun.” There’s a nostalgic smile on his face. “I have no idea how we managed to get all the way into the District, let alone find tickets, but everything was a little less complicated back then. Buses ran on time, people read maps, and parents didn’t all have cell phones.” He shrugs and shoots you a smirk. “But of course, that’s before your time.”
You roll your eyes. “Oh c’mon. I’m not that young. I remember the world before the mainstream internet and 9/11 and all that pre-Patriot Act shit. I remember when the Berlin Wall came down, at least.”
That gets a laugh out of him. “Fair enough.”
You lapse into silence for a little while, handing him fries from the drive-thru bag when he puts his open palm over the center console. You notice his left hand shift slightly in time with the music, and you watch a little more carefully.
And I see it needs sweeping
Still my guitar gently weeps
I don’t know why
Nobody told you
How to unfold your love
I don’t know how
Someone controlled you
They bought and sold you…
“Hotch, do you play guitar?” There’s a touch of disbelief in your tone, but you try to hide it for the sake of his pride. It’s not that you think he doesn’t have a musical or creative bone in his body, but you’re rather surprised by the relaxed subtlety of his movement. It was your impression he never did anything without thinking about it, and to see the slight, almost unconscious action sparks a pleasant little flicker of warmth in your chest.
He shrugs. “I played a little when I was younger. I guess you could say I know how to play, but I don’t claim to be decent at it in the slightest.” His head tips, and you could swear you see an eye roll. “Sean’s always been better at those kinds of pursuits.”
As usual, he doesn’t seem thrown or surprised by your question and doesn’t hesitate to answer them. After almost five years, he’s used to your keen observations. He’d never admit it, but he expects them - maybe he’s not able to guess at the content of the questions themselves, but he always knows there will be one eventually.
“Have you and Sean always butted heads?”
Aaron snorts, and gives you a simple, “Yes.”
You’d never met the younger Hotchner, but you’d seen photos and heard tell. From what you understand, he’s a little wilder than his older brother, a little more idealistic and far less practical. Sean seems like someone you would like, but you doubt he would rise to the top of your Favorite Hotchners List - a list with only two names so far, tied for first.
It’s safe to say Jack and Aaron are hard acts to follow.
You talk about everything and nothing, when finally, he asks. “So, who is this guy?”
“Ugh.” You tip your head against the seat. “You really want to know?”
“Of course. Isn’t it protocol to brief the team before arrival?”
You snort, immediately regretting your decision to make fun of Strauss over drinks last week. “Yes, sir.”
He laughs, and you tell him.
You tell him about Austin and how you met in a random general education class and became fast friends and started dating, talked about marriage and kids and the whole nine yards. You told him about your semester abroad, your traveling, and returning home to find he’d been dating someone else while you were away, without your knowledge.
“It’s kind of cliche, I know, but it broke my heart in half.” You laugh a little to cover the truth of it. Hotch keeps his eyes on the road, letting you go at your own pace the same way you let him the entire time he’s known you. “I was really close to his family, and we did our best to remain civil and friendly for everyone else’s sake, but we’ve only kept in touch through other people the last few years.
“I think his mom sent the invitation. I mostly accepted because I’d love to see her and Austin’s little sister - I miss them the most.”
“What are they like?”
There’s a smile on your face as you tell him about them - how Allison likes more cream than actual coffee in her mug, how their mom has the best taste in books and still sends you worn copies of her favorites every once and awhile.
“It’s good of you to keep in touch.”
You shrug. “I guess. I mean, I know it’s different, but you have Jess.”
The difference, he decides, is that you are kinder, more patient than he is. Jess would hardly be in his life at all if Haley was still here. He had a hard enough time keeping up with Haley’s family when they were married. Keeping up with them after the divorce?
There was no way to know, but he can’t remember much affection between them even before Haley’s father decided to hold him personally responsible for her death.
You notice his preoccupation, and reach out. Your thumb traces back and forth over the skin of his bare forearm. “It’s different now, and it would be different then. There’s no right way to do anything.”
He exhales in a huff, and you bring your hand back into your lap. “I spent almost twenty-five years knowing Haley. You know that?”
“I do. I also know you spent longer than twenty-five loving her, and probably won’t ever stop.”
There’s a sigh, and then an elbow on the center console. He leans heavily on it, and you do your best to keep your hands to yourself. “How do you know everything?” He asks.
You rest your head against the seat and adjust so your body is angled toward him. A small smile crosses your face as you take in his profile - relaxed, his wrist hanging loosely on the wheel, sunglasses resting on the bridge of his nose. “I dunno. I guess I just pay attention.”
You let out an exhausted exhale upon reaching the room you will share with Aaron for the weekend. One king size bed dominates the room, instead of the two doubles you halfway expected. He recovers faster than you do, shrugging and setting his things down on the left side of the bed, closest to the door.
Instinctively and completely without previous confirmation, you kind of figured he sleeps on the left side. The realization of that fact is a little unsettling, but you follow his lead and set your suitcase on the stand opposite his, unzipping it and unfolding your garment bag.
There’s a small part of you that’s pleased by this arrangement. Another part of you shames that part.
He’s going to think you’re taking advantage of him.
Are you kidding? He’s a SWAT-trained senior FBI agent. And a lawyer. It’s impossible to take advantage of him.
Yeah, of course that’s what he wants you to think.
Do you ever shut up?
Your outfits for the cocktail hour and the ceremony day are all set. So are Hotch’s, apparently. You look over to find him hanging a grey pinstripe suit in the closet you’d never seen before. It looks beautifully tailored, and expensive.
“Mind if I take up some real estate?” You ask, holding up your handful of hangers. He shakes his head and makes some space for you.
When you’re all settled, you sit on the bed, still tired. It doesn’t make any sense, seeing as Aaron insisted on driving the entire way.
“What time is our first obligation?”
You huff a laugh at his rhetoric. “5pm. Cocktails at the hotel bar. Rehearsal dinner after that is wedding-party-only, thank God.” Glancing at the clock, you confirm, “We basically have the day to ourselves until then.”
He nods thoughtfully before meeting your eyes over your shoulder. “How do you feel about a nap?”
I love you.
You can’t imagine how tired he is - working off minimal sleep and coming off a drive just shy of four hours long. “I feel great about a nap.”
Aaron’s lips quirk up in a smile, and he picks up a pair of flannel pajama pants from his bag and shuts himself into the bathroom.
Oh my god. Oh my god.
You quickly shuck your sweatshirt, suddenly too warm. Standing, you cross to the window and draw the blinds, covering the room in a kind of gentle shade that isn’t quite darkness. You toe off your shoes and slip under the covers, thankful you never really changed out of your pajamas. Curling up facing the bathroom door, you try to stay awake until Hotch returns, but your eyes close of their own accord.
Hotch leaves the bathroom to find the room darkened and you under the covers, dead to the world. He takes another moment to look at you, the way your brow sits smooth and relaxed above your closed eyes, your hands curled loosely in front of your face, the way your breath evenly comes and goes past the curve of your lips.
Taking the risk, he places his jeans back into his duffle bag and gingerly stretches out on top of the covers beside you. His eyes close eventually, but he can’t remember falling asleep - entirely preoccupied by the phenomenon before him.
When you stir again, your hands are warm. You take a deep breath and your eyes crack open, finding a sight that steals your breath. Hotch is on his side in front of you, ramrod straight, with your hands clasped between his. Your heads are bowed together - not touching, but close.
There’s no memory of him joining you in the massive bed, nor any recollection of contact, so he either held your hands on his own, or you found each other in sleep.
You’re not sure which one makes your heart flutter faster.
Resolving to get a little more sleep, you close your eyes. Only moments later, you feel him stir beside you. You know he’s watching you, and you endeavor to keep your breath even and slow, hoping he can’t hear the racing of your heart.
He releases one of your hands, and you let it drop down to the cover, praying your fingers don’t twitch.
You’re proud of yourself when you don’t flinch as his fingers brush butterfly-soft against your cheek, tracing from your brow bone, down your nose and across your lips. Impossibly gentle touches find their way down your temple to your jaw before disappearing.
His hand closes around yours again and it takes everything you have to keep your breath steady as he presses his lips to your fingers before tucking them back to his chest. When his breath evens out again, you know he’s asleep.
You open your eyes, thinking it's more than high time to study him for a change.
He looks years younger in his sleep, closer to your age than his. Even awake, he hardly looks the picture of a father in his mid-forties. His graceful aging is more obvious when his face isn’t drawn up in stress or that aching kind of sadness that lingers around him.
Curious about what he saw and felt on your face, you follow his path, slipping your hand out from under his, tracing his jaw, his cheek and brow bones, his handsome, straight nose.
Your finger rests lightly on his cupid’s bow for a moment, his breath rushing slow and warm over your hand. The feeling of his breath stalls yours, and you swallow. The next breath you take is almost a sob, and you press your lips into a thin line. Light fingers brush through the hair at his temples, the sparse, soft silver strands seeming to glow in the low light.
What you don’t know, however, is that he has taken a page out of your book. Though his eyes are closed and his breath even, he is very much awake, heart pounding. He’s sure you can hear it, or even feel it, with your remaining hand still trapped between his.
The catch in your breath makes his chest ache. Even then, his eyes remain closed, and he’s mindful of his breath. With the route you take, tracing his features, he realizes with a shock of adrenaline and cold panic that you were probably awake, playing at sleep then as he was now.
If that was the case, you know how he feels about you. He knows how you feel about him.
But you can’t. You don’t want to take up space in his life he doesn’t have, space better used to heal, space reserved for his son.
He can’t. It's too soon. He can’t subject you to the ghosts, the baggage, the long journey to wholeness he’s endeavored to embark upon with only his son at his side.
The new normal, his therapist had told him, is the hardest thing to find.
He was sure, then, that it would be easier to find the new normal on his own, but he wasn’t so sure, now.
You slip your hands away from him entirely and roll over, making play at rising. You check the time on your phone, finding the early afternoon awaiting you.
There’s a deep breath and a stretching noise, and you turn to find Aaron rolled over on his back, his hands laced behind his head.
“Good afternoon,” you say, and you’re proud of yourself for sounding normal.
A smile plays at his lips. He looks like he knows something. “Good afternoon.”
“So, tonight.” You decide it’s best to move on before anyone admits anything they don’t mean to share. “Do you just want to be ‘work friends’ or do we want to lean into the whole ‘let’s ruin Austin’s life’ thing?”
He laughs a little. “I’m comfortable leaning in if you are.”
The cocktail hour isn’t as horrible as you thought it would be. Aaron sticks to your side like glue, your right hand firmly placed in the crook of his arm while your left babysits a small glass of wine, more for show than for anything else.
You hear your name from across the room, and you see a huddle of some old friends and their respective dates. Aaron tips his head down to get the briefing, and you tell him names, relationships, and brief histories as you approach.
As you expected, he’s warm and charming, taking cues from you as you navigate eight years of catch-up with classmates you remember well and alleged classmates you don’t recognize at all.
“How did you two meet?” The woman asks (You’re certain she’s someone’s sister - Hotch caught her name while you missed it. Oops.).
You glance up at Aaron for a second before answering. “We’re in the same department at work.”
The man with her takes a sip of his drink. Him, you kind of recognize. Casey? Carson? Maybe. “Where is that, again? I can’t remember where you landed after your internship.”
“DoJ, in Quantico.”
Leslie, who you met in guided research your senior year, rolls her eyes. “They work for the FBI, Carson, keep up.”
Carson, that’s it.
A small group has gathered around you, and you shuffle closer to Aaron. He wraps his arm around your waist and steps a little behind you, protective and secure.
“Shit,” you reply, jostling Aaron with your shoulder. “We don’t have our creds on us tonight, so if you get arrested you’ll have to bail yourselves out.”
“We also don’t have jurisdiction even if we did, so keep it high and tight and we’ll all do just fine.” Aaron’s voice rumbles through you with a laugh, and you take an overlarge sip of wine.
He really shouldn’t say things like high and tight with his hand where it is.
And his hand isn’t really in any kind of questionable location, just resting above your hip with his chest to your back, but it's still more contact than you’re used to. He wasn’t joking about leaning in.
“There he is!” Carson crows, and your head whips around. You almost lose your balance, but Hotch keeps his feet. A warm hand presses to your shoulder.
“Thank you,” you whisper. You know he can hear you, and he presses a kiss to your temple.
It’s just an act. He doesn't mean it. He can’t mean it.
Austin approaches with his drop-dead gorgeous fiancee and a smile.
Aaron releases you as Austin gives you a warmer hug than you were expecting, and examines Hotch over your shoulder. He introduces you to his fiancee (Madeline), and you introduce them both to Aaron.
“Austin, this is my…” you pause, realizing you never actually established a cover story, letting the implication speak for itself. “Aaron.” You recover with a light laugh, and Aaron pulls you to him with one hand while he shakes Austin’s with the other.
You try not to smirk at the grimace that flashes across Austin’s face when Aaron’s hand closes around his in a very firm and assertive handshake. “Pleasure. Congratulations.”
Austin laughs, a little uncomfortable, and stretches his hand once it reaches his side again. “Thanks. We’re really glad you both could make it. Mom will be really happy to see you.”
“That could have been so much worse.” You shuck Aaron’s blazer off your shoulders and hang it in the closet as he passes behind you. He’d passed it to you when you shivered slightly at the bar and it wasn’t even a point of conversation. It had been second nature to him, draping it over you and placing a hand on your back. The memory pulls a smile from your lips. “Thank you for enduring the mayhem down there.”
Aaron sits on the bed and slips off his boots. “I can’t remember the last time I went to a social event that didn’t directly affect my career trajectory.” He looks up at you, and his grin makes your heart skip around in your chest.
You shake your head, walking past him to retrieve your pajamas and toothbrush. “Do you ever want to move up the chain at all?”
“Not really. Something big would have to change to get me to leave the BAU.” He looks at you over his shoulder. “We tried that, remember?”
“I do, actually.” At his chuckle, you continue. “I can’t say that’s something I’d like to relive anytime soon.”
You move easily around each other, changing into pajamas and brushing your teeth and getting otherwise ready for bed. He’s cute at night, with his pajamas and floppy hair and big yawns. It’s not like you haven’t seen this side of him before, what with all the late nights watching movies with Jack, but it is significant that it’s just the two of you. He’s not Jack’s Dad right now, or Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner who won’t go to bed until The Case Is Solved, but Aaron.
Sleepy, charming, funny Aaron.
Eventually, you throw back the covers and crawl in without thinking about it too much, while Aaron lingers in the bathroom doorway.
“I really can take the couch.”
You look at him and pointedly turn off the lamp resting on your side table. “We’re adults. I don’t mind it if you don’t. And for that matter, if either one of us is sleeping on the couch it’s me.”
“Oh?” He asks. “Why’s that?”
“Because as you so astutely pointed out earlier, I am significantly younger than you, and I think my back will fare better than yours after a night of lumpy cushions.”
The bathroom light flips off, and you hear a scoff in the dark. “Never once did I say significantly younger.”
“Well, Aaron, ‘before your time’ is rife with implication.”
The mattress dips beside you, and his form takes shape in the darkness, facing you. Before he can speak again, you cut him off.
“You know what? Nevermind. I forgot who I was talking to, and I would hate for you to go full-tilt lawyer on me.” You curl up, bringing the covers to your chin. He laughs, and you can almost pretend that this is your life, that you get to fall asleep beside Aaron every night.
Don’t get comfortable.
Why not? He’s here, isn’t he?
He is, but not like that. This is a favor for a friend, nothing more.
You’re both quiet for a little while, listening to each other breathe in the dark. There’s a sigh, and you belatedly realize it came from you.
“Are you okay?” Aaron’s voice floats to you in the dark, and you nod. “I know this isn’t easy for you.”
You think for a moment, trying to articulate your thoughts. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just - I really can’t tell you how grateful I am that you’re here with me this weekend.” A hand reaches out, and you find it.
“Of course. I’m glad I can be here for you.” He means it. The trust you’ve placed in him does not go unnoticed or unappreciated. Your willingness to be vulnerable and funny and so yourself is a precious gift to him, and one he’ll never take for granted. “Thank you for letting me come.”
I’d like to let you come -
Now is not the time.
“With that in mind,” he continues, his voice gentle in the dark, “I’m really proud of you. And not in a ‘I’m your boss and you’re making significant progress,’ way. As your friend, I’m really proud of you.”
He is your friend.
I know but that…sucks.
It doesn’t have to.
There’s something in his voice that almost makes you stupid, but you hold your tongue. “Goodnight, Hotch.”
He takes a deep breath, missing the way his first name fits in your mouth. It sounds safe there, like you’d never use it against him. “Goodnight.”
You feel warm and feeling somewhat constricted, but not uncomfortable. There’s weight at your back and an arm around your waist, and you lean into it in your state of half-wakefulness. A little noise leaves the body behind you, almost like a sigh with tone.
Remembering where you are, you resist the instinct to jump. Hotch is wrapped around you like a koala, his knee between yours, one arm under your head and the other around your waist, face buried into the crook of your neck and shoulder.
His hair smells divine, and he’s so warm.
Your theory from yesterday morning seems confirmed - you definitely didn’t fall asleep touching each other, so you must have found each other in the night. The thought warms you, and you close your eyes again.
The ceremony isn’t until the early afternoon, so you have all the time in the world to doze and prepare for the hellscape of the day.
That’s not a fair assessment. You think, and correct yourself.
If the prior evening was any indication, things would go smoothly. Aaron was the world’s best wingman. He kept conversation flowing and took your cues without a second’s hesitation. Everyone loved him, and people asked you all night how you met, how long you’d known each other, how long you’d been together. The first questions were easy, but the last one was one you hadn’t prepared for. He, of course, had an answer for all three.
“We work together.”
“We met, what? Five years ago now? Maybe a little more?”
“We’ve been partners for almost four years.”
And...he wasn’t lying. You always paired off with him at work, whether naturally or by assignment. His lack of specifics in defining your relationship both settled and raised your blood pressure, depending on the way you decided to approach it. The words accompanied an affectionate squeeze around your waist or a kiss to the back of your hand.
You know he’s just playing the part for the weekend and everything will go back to normal when you get home.
But God, he’s good at it.
You almost believe him.
He’s still sleeping behind you, his breath fanning slow and even across your shoulder. You’re both fully clothed, but there’s something intimate about it. Sleep, you think, is inherently vulnerable, inherently a trusting state. You two not only managed to fall asleep in the same bed, but woke up tangled together.
You drop your hand to your waist and rest your hand on top of his, falling back into sleep without too much thought.
When Hotch wakes, it’s thankfully late. He’s far too comfortable to be in a hotel bed, but quickly realizes it’s not the mattress. You’re wrapped in his arms, and for a split second he almost panics, concerned that you’ll wake to find him glommed onto you like some kind of ridiculous backpack.
But then he remembers the way your fingers traced his face when you were sure he was asleep, the way you leaned into him the night before - taking shelter in his willing arms.
He feels your fingers pushed between his, your palm warm against the back of his hand, holding him to you.
He’s fucked. He’s totally and completely fucked. He’s even more fucked to even consider the possibility you’re fucked, too.
How could you possibly want him? A man nearly fifteen years older than you, with one failed marriage under his belt, an inability to tear himself away from his work, and more than enough trauma to drown in is hardly the ideal partner for someone as vibrant as you, with so much life yet to live.
And yet, it’s so hard to imagine a life without you. Whenever he looks into his future, he sees you there with him. It’s far too easy to let himself fall into the fantasy as you peacefully sleep in his arms with your fingers laced together.
You shift a little in your sleep, and he arches his back a little, definitely trying to keep you away from...certain parts of his anatomy that are a little more awake than the rest of him.
Quit while you’re ahead, Hotchner.
He very gingerly disentangles himself from you, and he’s pleased when he only gets a few sleepy protests in return. The shower is calling his name, for more than one reason including but not limited to the uncomfortable tightness of his flannel pajama pants.
With one last lingering glance at you, he picks up his toiletries and locks himself in the bathroom for a long (very) hot shower, followed by a much shorter (very) cold shower.
While he’s gone, you stir and stretch your arms over your head. A little disoriented, you find his side of the bed empty but not quite cold before you hear the running water of the shower.
What if you just -
Do not finish that thought.
You are not one iota of fun.
Reaching for your bag, you pull your laptop out and get started on some emails. You have a couple from Seaver and one from Emily.
You sigh and pull out your phone.
“Hey, Em. You wanted me to call?”
“Oh, I just wanted to see how things are going down there.” her voice is the picture of forced nonchalance, and you can almost hear Penelope leaning over her shoulder.
You laugh into the phone and trace patterns on the bedspread. “Things are going well. Hotch was the perfect gentleman last night, and we have the ceremony and reception today. We head home tomorrow morning.”
“Has anything happened? Where is he right now?”
“He’s in the shower. And no, don’t be ridiculous.” You shove your phone under your chin and answer all of Ashley’s questions in confident keystrokes. “You and I both know he’s just here because he likes to owe me favors.”
Aaron pauses in the bathroom, in the middle of towel-drying his hair. With a smile, he overhears: “...he’s just here because he likes to owe me favors.”
He can’t hear the response, but he does hear you when you say. “My God, Em. Would you quit?”
Ah. So it is Emily.
“I’m not going to do anything about it because there’s nothing to do anything about...Don’t give me that...You have absolutely no proof...I don’t care if you’re a profiler or not, there is no way you can say with any definitive certainty -” You pause, and your voice drops to a low murmur he can’t hear over the hum of the bathroom fan.
With a frustrated huff, he ties the towel around his waist and ventures out, entirely aware of his state of undress.
You’re so glad you drop your voice to finish your thought (“- that he’s in love with me. Don’t be stupid.”) because the door opens and you are immediately confronted with Aaron Hotchner in a towel and every single coherent thought flies out of your head. He smiles a little at you, and something in you melts.
“Are you good?” Emily’s voice is full of laughter.
The heat rises in your cheeks and you whip your head back to your laptop, typing just for something to do with your hands. “Yeah, for sure.”
“He just walked out wearing a towel, didn’t he?”
“Emily, you know I’m not going to dignify that with a response.” You roll your eyes, and miss the smirk on Hotch’s face as he grabs his hanging clothes from the closet.
“So that’s a yes.”
Austin’s family clearly spared no expense for either the ceremony or the reception. You and Aaron had walked in arm-in-arm to find a spot on the groom’s side near the back. It’s still weird - there was a time where you thought for sure Austin was the be-all-end all for you.
But here you are, sitting next to Aaron. He’s wearing that beautiful suit that looks even better on him than it did on the hanger (and that’s saying something). As promised, his tie matches your outfit, and you’d be lying if you didn’t say it made your heart all warm watching him put it on.
The ceremony itself is a blur. You stand and sit when you’re supposed to, and spend the vows with your head on Aaron’s shoulder - playing the role, of course. You take a few unsteady breaths, caught off guard by how affected you are by the ritual of it all.
You don’t love Austin anymore, not by a long shot. That said, the reminder that you’re not married to anybody but work and rapidly approaching thirty is unpleasant.
“Are you okay?” Hotch’s whisper doesn’t carry far.
You nod. “Yeah. Just thinking.”
You shake your head, the soft wool of his suit jacket pressing into your temple. “Later.”
His cheek presses to your hair for just a moment. He’s not worried about you, per se, but he’s never seen you in this existentially forlorn state before. It’s a feeling he recognizes in himself, but to see it on you makes him feel a new kind of helpless.
You’re at the open bar, snagging a glass of wine for yourself and two fingers of whiskey for Aaron (the good stuff, of course), when Austin’s mother warmly accosts you.
Against your will, a genuine smile breaks out across your face. “Hey, Laurie!” You set the drinks down and embrace her, the familiar smell of her perfume engulfing you. Suddenly, you feel nineteen years old again. “Congratulations.”
She pulls back and waves off your good wishes. “Oh, please. I haven’t done anything.”
You laugh and shake your head. “I beg to differ, but alright.”
She takes you under her arm and holds you close to her. “So.” Her tone is conspiratorial, as if a great plot is to unfold before you. “Who is that devastatingly handsome man you’ve brought with you to shame my son?”
“I did not bring him to shame your son, he offered to come when my original date bailed. You remember Dean?”
“Of course. Such a sweet boy. Still married to his work?”
You shake your head. “I would be...hypocritical of me to get upset with him for that. My work at the bureau keeps me plenty busy. If I’m honest, this is the first personal time I’ve used in four years.”
She squeezes you for a half-second. “I’m so glad you’re here with us.” Her lips purse. “But don’t think you can get out of telling me about that fine, fine man over there.”
“His name is Aaron,” you start, fighting a smile. “We work together at the bureau and he’s just a friend, Laurie, so don’t get any ideas.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, I always have ideas. Now, introduce me so I can see for myself.”
With a long-suffering sigh, you grab the drinks off the bar and lead her to the table, where Aaron sits with his fingers pressed thoughtfully to his mouth, his elbow on the table and ankle crossed over his knee. Approaching from behind him, you set the whiskey down where he can’t knock it over and lay a hand on his shoulder. “Aaron.”
He turns, and a broad smile breaks out over his face. You’re sure he’s just being polite - you’ve never seen him smile so much. Offering a hand to Laurie, he stands. “SSA Aaron Hotchner. Thank you for having us. I’ve heard so much about you and your family.”
“Oh no, that can’t be good.” She laughs lightly and takes his hand in both of our own. “Laurie Miller. As I’m sure you know, I have a great amount of love for this one here.” She releases Aaron’s hand and tucks you into her arms again, kissing your cheek. You laugh, tickled by her demonstrative affection designed only to embarrass you.
“C’mon, Laur. You don’t have to lie for my benefit.”
You try to ignore the fondness in Aaron’s eyes as he watches the two of you, Laurie cooing over you and your successes. She returns her focus back to Aaron. “Sit, sit and tell me what you crazy kids get up to over there in Quantico.”
Aaron sits and relaxes back into his chair, resting his arm on the back of your seat. You lean forward with your elbows on the table, your hands propping up your head. Aaron’s a great storyteller, of course, and it’s so interesting to watch him talk about work outside of the context itself. He seems to bloom - effusive, charming, and warm - before you.
When you look at him, it’s as if you’re seeing him for the first time.
“...Preventing loss of life is always rewarding, and our team is a family.”
Laurie is clearly enamored, completely drawn into his gentle description of your very-stressful and often-gritty line of work. “It’s so lovely you have so much fondness for each other. I imagine it makes everything much easier.”
He nods, and glances at you. “It does.”
Your phone buzzes on the table, and you excuse yourself with a hand on each of their shoulders.
“Dean, you bastard!” You answer. Hotch’s huff of laughter tells you he overheard it, but he picks up right where he left off with Laurie.
As you step out onto the banquet hall balcony, almost feel bad leaving him to his own devices, but then you remember all the times he’s been left alone with serial killers and you feel much better.
“Hey babe! Are you surviving? Are you alone? Tell me everything.”
You laugh into the phone. “I’m doing alright. Hotch actually offered to come with me. I just stepped out, but he’s in there holding his own well enough.”
“Oh my god. When I said that I didn’t actually think you’d do it!”
“What do you mean?” You look up and out over the property, and the views are simply breathtaking. The moonlight falling across the Virginia landscape almost makes the world look like it’s holding its breath.
What it’s waiting for... you’re not sure.
“When I said bring your hot boss to the wedding I was joking. You didn’t ask him, did you?”
You let out a snort and it almost disrupts the peace of the evening. “Of course not. He offered.”
“I have never met a pair of people so fucking stupid in all my life.”
“You’ve never met Hotch, idiot.”
“Don’t have to,” Dean says. “I know you are you’re dumb enough for the both of you.”
When the dancing starts, you’re understandably resistant. The playlist is a playful mix of contemporary and classic music, and you can’t help but laugh when Signed, Sealed, Delivered (I’m Yours) starts to play.
Aaron stands and offers you his hand. You take his hand without thinking, belatedly realizing his intentions.
“Hotch, you can’t be serious.” You stop dead in your tracks, but his grip on your fingers stays firm as he looks back at you with a look of humorous disbelief on his face.
“When have you ever known me to be otherwise?” He tugs you forward, and you fall into his arms with a huff. “Humor me. Just one and I’ll leave you alone for the rest of the night.”
You glare at him, dubious. “Why don’t I believe you?”
“Because I’m lying.”
And at the end of the day, you can’t refuse him anything - especially when he smiles at you like that.
He’s an excellent dancer. Your grip on his shoulder slowly loosens as you grow more comfortable, trusting him to lead you around the dance floor. He holds you tight, his movement playful in a way that’s almost foreign to you.
You’ve seen him dance exactly once, at Haley’s 39th birthday party, the summer before she died.
You catch sight of Austin and Madeline on the other side of the dance floor and avert your gaze when you find Austin looking back at you.
“Hey.” Aaron’s voice is low, almost a laugh.
Your eyes snap to Aaron’s. “What?”
“You’re one to talk,” you scoff.
He rolls his eyes and throws you out by one arm, spinning you so your back is to his chest. “I’m plenty relaxed. You are tense.”
The feeling of his heartbeat against your back ruins your resolve and you relent. “It just feels weird.”
“What does?” He spins you back out and pulls you close. You try not to be too distracted by the proximity of his face to yours when you land back against his chest, you hand resting over his heart.
“I just -” you push through your reluctance and admit, “I don’t love him in that way anymore, but it’s super weird to even think that I could have ever thought he was it for me. And now he’s with someone he loves and both of our lives just...kept going after we split, you know?” You shake your head, scattering your thoughts.
He nods. “I do.”
You believe him. The very concept of his heartbreak with Haley - the separation, the anger, the divorce, her death, the love - is overwhelming. You know he understands.
The silence that lapses between you is comfortable.
Yeah, I've done a lot of foolish things
That I really didn't mean
I could be a broken man
Here I am, baby...
When he turns you under his arm, you laugh until you can’t breathe. There’s a smile on his face, too, and there’s something warm and inexplicable about it. You turn the tables on him, turning him under your arm and pulling him back to you.
The song changes to something slower and, true to his word, Aaron keeps you out on the dance floor. You’re exhausted all of a sudden, and your eyes close as you rest your head against his shoulder.
“Thank you for being here with me.”
You’re only sure you spoke aloud when Aaron replies, “Of course.”
Your feet ache when you finally call it quits and head upstairs to your room for the night. Aaron’s suit jacket had long since left him, leaving him rolled sleeves and a loose tie with his top two buttons undone. It traveled from the back of his chair to where it now rests, slung over his arm.
You look over your shoulder as you slip your shoes off. “You look positively rumpled, Agent Hotchner.”
He lets out a laugh, and it makes your breath catch. His laugh always takes you by surprise; it’s much brighter and higher than his speaking register, and frankly, adorable. “It’s past my bedtime.”
“You don’t have a bedtime.” And it was true - you could count on one hand the amount of times you’d known him to actually sleep, especially on a case. You could neither confirm nor deny that he even needed it to function prior to this weekend.
The thought makes your cheeks a little warm, and you turn away from him, setting aside your pajamas and packing the rest of your items.
There’s a little chuckle behind you before the bathroom door closes and the shower starts up.
When Aaron leaves the bathroom, his hair wet and pajamas on, you’re asleep. Curled up on top of the covers, out like a light.
He flips all the switches, leaving the room in darkness. Creeping to your side of the bed, he reaches over and pulls the covers down, gingerly shuffling your legs underneath, followed by your torso. You stir a little, and catch his hand as he moves to tuck your hands under the covers.
His eyes close, just for a moment, before slipping his hand out of yours. He’s already dreading going back to his empty apartment tomorrow afternoon.
That feeling is only amplified when you curl up against his chest as soon as he’s settled under the covers, your leg hooked over his.
You wake up warm again, and snuggle into the body beside you. Arms tighten around you, and you remember where you are and who you’re with. Unlike yesterday, you can’t pretend to be asleep - when you look up, Hotch is awake, brown eyes looking down at you.
“Good morning,” he says.
You tuck your face back into his chest. “I’m sorry - I’m clingy when I sleep.”
His laugh sings over the crown of your head. “It’s alright. I don’t mind.”
Don't read into that.
I’m going to.
“What time is it?” You crane your neck and look at the clock on his bedside table, but you can’t quite see with his arm in the way.
“Just before nine. We have an hour before checkout. Want to get packed, grab some breakfast, and head out? I’ll drive.”
“You drove here.” You shove at him and sit up.
He shrugs and you take a moment to admire the tousled, floppy state of his hair. “I like driving.”
“I won’t argue with that.”
You sigh, stretch, stand and start rolling. You brush your teeth (twice) and put your clothes back into your suitcase, zipping it up without much trouble. He, of course, takes it off your hands right away and brings the bags to the car while you take care of checkout.
He meets you outside, sunglasses on, and the sun hits his hair. You can see all the nuances in the black - the touch of silver, the dark browns and reds. They all seem to make a halo around him in the sunshine. “Ready?”
You snap back to attention and give him a wide smile. “Yes, sir!”
Breakfast is an eventful affair. As soon as you sit down, you get a call from Penelope.
“Hey, Pen, what’s up?” You look across the table at Hotch with amusement in your eyes, and he smiles, still digging into his eggs benedict like a starving man.
“Tell me everything.”
“Oh, well we’re just at breakfast, almost on our way back. My laptop is in the car, can I take a look at that for you when I get home?”
Not now, Penelope, I’ll call you when I’m home.
She hums, following right away. “You better give me every single detail as soon as you step through the door or I swear I’ll riot.”
With a laugh, you reply, “Of course. You know, it might be easier if you just stop by - I’ll text you when I get home and we can do dinner or something.” You push your food around your plate, trying to ignore the fact that the only person you actually want to have dinner with is right across from you.
“Perfect. Yeah, just text me when you get home babycakes. Can’t wait!” She hangs up promptly, and your eyebrows raise for a half second.
You put your phone away and shake your head. “She’s very predictable.”
He nods, looking at you from under his brows. “Indeed.”
You both continue to dig into your food, not realizing how hungry you are from all your antics the night before. His phone rings next, and it’s Jack.
There’s nothing better than the way his voice transforms when he speaks to his son. You hear your name and return your attention to his conversation.
“...we’re at a wedding this weekend, remember? We got to go to a big party last night, and we’re driving home today… Yeah,” he looks at you, “we did have a lot of fun… I’m so glad you had a good time with Aunt Jess and the Brooks cousins this weekend… You got to go ice fishing? That’s so exciting! Did Grandpa take you?... Awesome, bud… Sounds good, I’ll call you when I get home, okay?... I love you too.”
When he puts his phone away, you ask, “How’s he doing?”
“It’ll be a fight to get him home, that’s for sure.”
You take another bite of your food. “How are things with Haley’s family? Any better?”
“Not at all. I’m not sure there’s much I can do, at this point. Jess does what she can, but her dad is… not a fan of mine.” There’s a kind of sadness in his eyes, and you almost regret asking.
“I know you know this, but none of this is your fault.” You look into him and hope he can see the sincerity in your eyes, hear it in your voice.
He thinks for a moment, and you’re almost nervous he’s going to disagree (it’s happened before), but he just meets your eyes and says, “Thank you.”
Hotch lets you pick the music on the way home, and doesn’t say a word when you sing along (sometimes good, sometimes bad). He does occasionally smile a little secret smile to himself, which makes your heart skip around in your chest.
At a certain point, you turn the music off and sit back in your seat.
As usual, Aaron knows you’re going to say something long before you say it. “Yes?”
“I know I keep saying this, but thank you for coming with me this weekend.” Your body shifts toward him, and you can’t seem to tear your eyes from his profile.
“You’re welcome.” He glances at you before looking back at the road. “Thank you for trusting me not to embarrass you in front of people you haven’t seen in almost ten years.”
You smile a kind of lopsided sort of smile. “You could never embarrass me.”
He frowns playfully. “That’s not true.”
“You are exceedingly upstanding, and you just got your hair cut, so the odds are in my favor.”
“Hey!” He self-consciously runs a hand over the back of his hair. You reach over to shove at his shoulder and you’re rewarded with a laugh.
“I’m kidding! I like it long.” You look over fondly at him. “It was longer when I first met you, remember?” You’re not sure why you continue, but you do nevertheless. “You started keeping it shorter after the div - well, after.”
He quirks his brow, the corners of his lips upturned just the smallest amount. “Nobody ever accused you of being unobservant.”
You grin widely at him and turn the radio back on.
You’ve never been more disappointed to see your own driveway in your whole life. Hotch pulls in and turns the ignition off, and you sit in silence for a minute.
There’s so much to think about, and most of it is at least a little uncomfortable. Of course you’re in love with him and he’s your favorite person (and that’s bad enough), but that is even harder to stomach now that you have to go back into the real world.
It’s easy to pretend that it was real, that it wasn’t just for show to make you feel less awful about the direction of your love life. If anything, now that you’re home, you feel even worse.
The only person you want is seemingly the only person you can’t have. There’s something so unattainable about Hotch. You’re not sure if it’s his stern exterior or his age or his role, or if it has more to do with how devastatingly handsome he is, but it’s something.
Aaron wishes he could do anything else, than leave you here at home. Nevertheless, he sighs and gets out of the car. You follow him around back, though you’re not really sure why - he takes your suitcase and insists on carrying it all the way to the door.
You stand there, fumbling with your keys, feeling more and more like a character in a romantic comedy with every passing second. Aaron sets your suitcase on the ground and covers your hands with his. You look up at him, and he leans toward you, pressing a gentle, chaste kiss to your cheek.
“Thank you for inviting me.”
All you can do is nod, with a tight, closed-mouth smile.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says
“Bye, Hotch,” you call to him as he trots back to the car. “Thanks again.”
He turns toward you, puts his sunglasses on, opens the door, and says, “Anytime.”
You wave with the tips of your fingers and slide into your house. Your back to do the door, you slide down to the floor and cover your face with your hands.
tagged: @arganfics @quillvine @stxrryspencer @agenthotchner @wandaswitxh @hurricanejjareau @fics-ilike @ange-must-die @ughitsbaby @rousethemouse @criminalsmarts @dr-reid-ismyspiritanimal @shrimpyblog @genevievedarcygranger @ssaic-jareau @saintd0lce @good-heavens-chris-evans @angelsbabey @gublergirls @writefasttalkevenfaster @venusbarnes @vintagecaptainspidey @micaiahmoonheart @ogmilkis @thatreallyis-americas-ass @marvels-agents100 @newtslatte @risenfox @mrs-dr-reid @captain-christopher-pike @joemazzello-imagines @pinkdiamond1016 @sebbybaby0 @pan-pride-12 @hotchlinebling @lee-rin-ah @sunshine-em @word-scribbless @jdougl-love @sageellsworth05 @emmice9 @nohalohoseok @giveusbackourbucky @bauslut @yourlovelynewsbian @sparklingkeylimepie @aili28 @kingandrear @reader4027 @spnobsessedmemes @rogers-mouth @dreila03 @forgottenword @aaronhotchnerr @ssa-morgan @hotchnersgoddess @buckybau @phoenixfyre374 @sana-li @tegggeeee @abschaffer2 @ssacandi-ass-prentiss @songbird400 @dontkissthewriter @ellyhotchner @a-dorky-book-keeper @lotties-journey-abroad @mrs-joel-pimentel-23-25 @laneygthememequeen @ahopelessromantic @violentvulgarvolatile @andreasworlsboring101 @mooneylupinblack @ssareidbby @violet-amxthyst @zizzlekwum @lcvischmitt
Submitted prompt: The Being Born From Miraculous Fusion.
I added art :)
And I know it says this prompt was submitted by me (Rjalker) but that’s a glitch tumblr keeps doing whenever I edit the submissions to add a read-more…
Kwamibuster AU in which using multiple Miraculous is NOT casually handwaved, and it has unexpected consequences.
When Marinette wore many Miraculous the first time, she felt that the slight dizziness she had was worth the risk for the sake of executing her plan to save the city and the akumatised victim.
When her plan succeeded and she returned the Miraculous, after doing more Miraculous fusions, there was no side-effects she could feel, and ultimately, she and Fu shrugged at that.
If using multiple Miraculous had not harmed her, then maybe there is no huge threat from that, most likely. Maybe it was a myth.
Little did they know that somewhere close to the building the Akuma was fought, a sphere of colors was being materialized, growing, until it became large enough to fit a human.
The sphere, ever-changing in color, moved, as if sentient, as if it was searching for a safe place to hide in.
It found a good place inside an abandoned house, and stayed there.
Days passed, and weeks later, the sphere started cracking, like an egg.
A sound of shattering erupted, and what looked like a clawed tiger’s arm extended out of the crack.
A few more cracks later, an entire half of the sphere was broken, as the being now shown itself.
A figure looking like a mix of many animals, having multiple parts of their bodies.
A cat’s tail, a snake’s eyes, a fox’s whiskers, a monkey’s face, ears of a mouse, a chicken’s beak, a hide made of what seemed like a mystical dragon’s scales, and a huge set of ladybug’s wings on it’s back.
[ID: A digital drawing of the being described above, shown crouching against a white background, drawn from the side.
It has a chicken’s beak at the end of a red fox’s muzzle, a brown and tan monkey’s face with lighter grey mouse ears, and two small grey goats horn’s. There is a ladybug’s shell on its back, its front legs are those of a tiger, it has a dark red belly, and the hind legs are those of a brown rabbit. It has a long black tail of a cat, and a shorter brown tail of an ox.
The being looked around, realising it was alone, with barely any memory except of what it was:
A being born from the excess energy created by Marinette, using fusions multiple times in a row, and using more than a dozen Miraculous at the same time.
Normally, the energy made from fusion will be too little to do any real effect, and will just dissipate into the world, but this wasn’t the norm.
Fusing Miraculous many times in a short period caused the energy to exceed the limit of what can be naturally fixed, and the energy became denser, absorbing a tiny amount of the power around, creating the previously colorful sphere.
And now, creating a sentient being as well.
“Ma… Ri… Ne… Tte…”
With an unearthly voice, it spoke, as an image of a gentle blue-haired figure appeared in it’s mind, one of the things it caused the being to spread it’s wings, and flying in the sky, as instincts guided it.
And it moved, taking a straight direction towards what it felt to be this “Marinette’s” home.
“Mari… Nette… My… Family…”
So, this is it. Kinda inspired by the “cosmic error” prompt.
By the way, Rjalker, I am genuinely curious, so sorry for inconvenience, but can you tell me if you might write this “the unnamed entity” idea of yours? And thank you.
I don’t plan on writing anything more for that prompt, sorry! But anyone who wants to can feel free! :)
The Tower: Happily Ever After - 1
The Tower: Happily Ever After
An Avengers Fanfic
Series Masterlist | Character Refrence
Pairing: Avengers x OFC, Bruce Banner x Bucky Barnes x Clint Barton x Wanda Maximoff x Steve Rogers x Natasha Romanoff x Tony Stark x Thor x Sam Wilson x OFC (Elly Cooper)
Word Count: 2159
Warnings: Pregnancy and minor language on chapter. Smut (Much smut in many varieties - will warn each chapter), giving birth, post natal depression, breastfeeding, action, canon typical violence, parenthood, angst, fluff on series.
Synopsis: Almost 40 years after Elise Cooper first crashed into Natasha Romanoff outside the library at Columbia University, she and the Avengers are adapting to a near-immortal life together with their large brood of children. Yet things aren’t perfect. Life is moving on without them and they’re starting to discover who isolating being immortal can be.When Angela comes and asks Thor to take the throne of Asgard once more, the group leaves Earth in the hopes that they will find their Happily Ever After there.
Author’s Note: @fanficwriter013 helped me build this world and helped write the first few chapters. I am forever grateful to her. I love this series and can’t quite seem to let it go. There is a link to a character reference sheet if you ever lose track of who’s who with the kids.
Chapter 1: Angela’s Request
The passage of time is strange for even the most normal people. The way it speeds up as you get older. The way some things seem to drag on forever, but others fly by in the blink of an eye.
For me and the Avengers aging so slowly - things seemed to be moving in spirals. We watched as our kids grew and then seemed to stop, looking not much younger than we still looked. Our friends all aged and then began to die and we all were still acting like we were still in our thirties. It’s a strange phenomenon that not even Thor had experience with - and as we watched people pass and the world move on from needing us, we began to discuss returning to Asgard.
The thing that kept stopping us was the kids. We ended up having a lot in the end. Joining Pietro, Riley, Rose, Rebecca, Sarah, and Edwin were five more. Wanda decided she wanted to do the whole baby thing again two years after her twins were born and she asked Clint to father her next baby. It was a boy we named William Ian, though everyone just called him Billy. Three years later Natasha and Clint asked if we could add another and Thomas Paul joined the family, making Clint the only one of the men to have biological children with each of us. We thought we were all definitely done after that, and then nine years later Bruce came to me saying that he had been missing having little kids in the house and that he wondered if I’d make a baby with him. Thus Marya Alexandra was born. Each child had their own set of powers, sometimes, like with Billy and Marya, the power mimicked one of their biological parents. Other times, like with Eddie’s technopathy, or Riley’s command of the winds, it was just their own unique thing. Pietro - who was born before we had bonded - was the only one that had ended up being a normal human child.
Once again, we thought we were done having children after Marya, but thirty-five years after the first incident of Thor’s powers going a little haywire it happened again with me. So with most of our children grown and living their own lives, I was expecting twins again. This time Steve and Thor were the unwitting fathers and perhaps a little strangely; we were all excited about it. It made me wonder if we would ever really be done. Maybe we would end up being the seed family for a planet of people. Maybe one day we could call everyone on Earth a relative.
You see, it wasn’t just us having kids, most of our kids were grown and things like starting a family were in their goals too. Pietro and Riley were still generally what you would consider single. They had moved to Asgard at the age of twenty and were considered children there, and with the new frame of reference, they were in no hurry to start families of their own. Rebecca seemed happy being single and kid-free, she worked with SHIELD as an agent and quickly climbing the ladder. She reminded me of Hill in a lot of ways. Rose got married when she was twenty-five and had twins too, and they were now almost ten years old. Ziggy and Anna were their names - and god, did I love becoming a grandma. Sarah and Billy also had little ones though neither were married and while Billy was happy living with the man he had decided to start a family with, no one actually knew who Sarah had Zak with given when she did date, it was exclusively women. Eddie, who took after Tony in so many ways, had done the playboy life as he ran Stark Industries until just recently and now was living with a guy and a girl and they were talking about having kids of their own. Even Tommy was starting to talk about finding someone and we wondered if the speed that Earth moved was not the best for them. Maybe we needed to convince as many of them as we could to come to Asgard with us so that we could try and curb this need to keep up with what was happening on Earth.
We had started visiting Asgard more often. Everyone was all but retired from the superhero life - the world moved on and there were people that could do more than we ever could, and now they all just acted in an advisory capacity or if something really big happened. With the impending birth of the twins, we knew it was probably time. Then Angela showed up and took the option off the table.
“I wish to abdicate,” Angela said as she sat on the couch across from us. She looked so out of place in her gold armor and winged crown.
“But sister, you only just took the throne,” Thor argued. “I saw you being a fine monarch in my vision.”
“And I believe I was one,” Angela said. “But I grow restless. I grew up being manipulated into being a person I’m not. And now I am a queen, and I don’t think I’m that either. I want to see the galaxy and find out who I am.”
Thor frowned and nodded. “Of course,” he said. “You deserve a chance to work that out.”
“I could of course pass the crown on to Riley,” Angela said. “She is the rightful heir as I have no children. But Asgard would not take kindly to a ruler that is so young.”
“No, they had issue with me,” Thor said. “And I was raised to rule. It has to be me.”
“We were talking about moving to Asgard anyway,” I said. “Maybe this is a sign?”
“You wouldn’t be alone this time,” Steve agreed.
Thor smiled. “If you are all at my side, then I will gladly take the role,” he said, rubbing Steve’s thigh. “You should start proceedings for the succession. I will prepare to join you there.”
The soft hiss of the elevator opening made us all turn. Sarah hustled three-year-old Zak out of the door and the toddler came running down the entry hall towards us. She and our grandson both still lived with us. Not that anyone minded, of course. It was nice having them around still and it wasn’t like we couldn’t set them up with their own place and help if that’s what she wanted. She liked living with her family and having them around to help them with her son and we loved having our children close. “Auntie Angela,” Sarah said, with a smile. “I didn’t know you were visiting.”
“Hello, child,” Angela said, standing and embracing Sarah as she approached. “It is a brief stop in. I just needed to talk to your parents about Asgardian business.”
Zak climbed up onto Bucky and began to climb him, so Bucky stood to allow the toddler to have a better climbing frame.
“Nothing serious, I hope,” Sarah said.
“Your aunt wishes to step down as ruler of Asgard,” Thor said. “It is my duty to take her place.”
Sarah furrowed her brow and sat, taking a cookie from the plate of snacks on the table. “What will that mean for all of you?”
“Well, honey,” Sam said. “We’ve been talking about going there anyway. This whole lifespan thing is starting to get a little weird here. Your mom is having babies again, but you have your own son. It’s hard to get a frame of reference for when it’s reasonable to start doing things when you live for thousands of years and everyone around you isn’t likely to get even a hundred.”
“Woah,” Sarah said. “That’s… that’s big. Does everyone else know?”
Steve shook his head. “No. We’ll have to have a family meeting. But,” he said. “We want as many of you that will agree to go to come with us. We’re not going to force anyone to do anything they don’t want to, but I think you’re all going to start feeling like us eventually. I mean, look at you, you still look barely twenty.”
“Yeah, I know,” Sarah said. “I’ve already started to feel it, but more in a ‘stop asking me for ID’ way. I’ll come. It’s not like anything is tying me here. It’ll be good if Zak does things more at an Asgardian pace. Won’t it buddy?”
“I wike Asgawrd,” Zak agreed.
“I’m not sure Becca, Rose, or Eddie are going to agree,” Sarah said. “Not now anyway. And Marya is gonna be pissed…”
“Well, don’t you mention it to Marya,” Natasha warned. “That’s our job, not yours.”
Sarah put her hands up in surrender. “Jeez, Ma,” she said. “I wasn’t going to.”
Angela stood and gave a nod. “I best return home. Call to Heimdall if you need me.”
We stood with her and hugged her goodbye. “I’ll see you out,” Thor said, walking Angela to the elevator.
“Wow,” I said, sitting back down. “It’s a little surreal now it’s official. Does this mean these two are going to be born on Asgard?”
“I guess so,” Clint said. “Little alien babies.”
“I’ll want to look into their obstetrics… or whatever they call it there,” Tony said, flicking open a virtual screen and tapping things into it. “You’ve got a history of trouble delivering, and you were going to have a c-section. I don’t want you to be at extra risk.”
I smiled. Even after almost forty years together, Tony still had a fiercely protective streak regarding my safety. “Yes, yes. Thank you for taking care of me.”
He looked out at me from the corner of his eye and smirked. “You’re welcome, dear.”
“Alright, kiddo,” Bucky said, flipping Zak upside down. “What do you want to do?”
“Umm…” he hummed. “Wunch?”
Bucky looked over at Sarah. “You haven’t had lunch yet?”
“Nope. Was going to now,” she said.
“Alright, buddy,” Bucky said and tickled Zak’s tummy. “Let’s go get you some lunch.”
“Gwandpa!” Zak squealed, flailing in Bucky’s arms as the supersoldier carried the boy down the stairs toward the kitchen.
“Thanks, Dad,” Sarah called, earning a small wave from her father.
“I’m so happy you’re coming with us,” Wanda hummed, wrapping her arms around Sarah’s shoulders, and cuddling her.
“Can’t lose my favorite babysitters,” Sarah teased. “Besides, what’s keeping me here? It’s not like I can’t visit my friends. Riley and Piet are here all the time.”
“That’s true, the galaxy is large, but it’s also very small in a lot of ways,” Bruce agreed.
“Alright,” Steve said, opening up his holoscreen. “What needs to be done. Family dinner where we ask everyone to come with us. Packing. Checking on medical care for Elise.”
“A killer send-off party,” Tony added.
Steve smiled affectionately and shook his head. “Killer send-off party.”
“I guess we need to figure out what to do with the properties. And if we do somehow convince Eddie to come with us, the running of Stark Industries,” Sam said.
“Let’s see what Eddie wants to do first,” Tony said. “If he stays then that’s his. I mean, even if he doesn’t, the way communications are these days, he can probably run it from Asgard. We can always just keep this place here as our visiting Earth property anyway. And if any of the kids stay we can just let them figure out what to do with the other places. I mean, I’m sure Rosie isn’t going to complain about having a place in Paris to take the kids on vacation still. She uses that place more than we do.”
“Whatever we do with the Island we need to be careful,” I said. “That employs and houses a lot of people from nearby and on most years it’s breakeven. Any year that has a huge catastrophe it makes a loss. I’m worried that if we sell it’ll mean a bunch of people suddenly lose their jobs.”
“Don’t you worry about a thing,” Tony said. “There’s nothing that’s going to come under the header of Stark Industries that will just be abandoned to be run by anyone. I’ll either leave it with Eddie, find someone I trust - like Niesha Rhodes, or I’ll take the running of it with me. You know I’m never going to let go of complete control anyway.”
“I think we also need to make sure that Thor knows we are there for him,” Sam added. “He was relieved to give up the throne. But now he’s not going to rule alone. He may still see it as something that isolates him.”
“I’m sure we can handle that,” Clint said suggestively. “We can make him feel really good.”
“Gross, Dad,” Sarah said, pulling a face as the rest of us broke down laughing. “Did you have to say that in front of me?”
me after you
pairing: jimin x reader
summary: the same voice, the same laugh, the same heart, the same man. that’s the thing about falling in love—it’s never only once: it’s over and over again, always with the same person.
song inspo: superstar by taylor swift
genre: so much fluff
word count: 3.4k
author’s note: i’ve loved this song since i was thirteen and have always imagined myself writing it into a story someday. i hope you enjoy it! happy reading~! :]
(link to masterlist!)
Under the glint of the morning sun, the dainty ring on your marriage finger glitters magically, as if showing itself off to the little world inside your incandescent apartment. With a child-like eagerness, you rotate your finger to help the ring catch light and reflect off the miniature diamond. You remember the way your parents and his had ohh-ed and ahh-ed over the small piece of jewelry on the day of your engagement.
That was over a month ago and you were still re-living the day over and over again in your mind. After all, it is the prettiest ring you have ever seen and on days like today, you cannot believe it sits so confidently on your finger. Yours. Not another girl’s. Yours, alone.
You call yourself lucky to be his and you know he thinks the same way about you—your fiancé.
You have never cared much for the French language but this word—fiancé—has managed to carve a special space for itself within in the walls of your heart so securely that you know it will never leave. Unless it’s to make room for the word husband, which you cannot wait for the day he will become.
As you giddily admire the ring, the phone rings. It sounds throughout the house in the tune of Fur Elise, awakening you from your dream-like state. You blink and pull your arm down and away from the window. You scurry around the kitchen, throwing pots and pans awry. Thankfully, you find it in the nick of time hiding beneath a piece of Tupperware. I really need to be more organized, you think to yourself as you pull the phone up to your ear without noticing the name on the caller ID.
“Hi, baby,” the soothing voice of your fiancé swims through the speaker and settles lovingly in your ear, making your heart flutter. Years, it’s been years. And yet, one word from him makes your knees weak. Half your mind says you will feel twenty years old with him forever. The other half cannot help but agree. “Did I wake you?”
“Minnie,” you breathe as you clutch the phone tighter against your ear and lean against a countertop. The smile on your face cannot get any bigger. “No, I, uh—no.”
He laughs, sounding as breathless as you feel. “You don’t sound too sure.”
“I’m just surprised,” you say as you unknowingly start to walk the few steps between the refrigerator, stove, and back again. “I wasn’t expecting to hear from you until tomorrow.” A faint rustling sound is heard from his end, and a moment later, you hear a sniffle. Is he crying? “Are you okay? What happened?”
He breathes heavily, coughs a bit before he is able to reply. “Nothing, um—it was a long day. The schedule was packed. I kind of fell during the concert.”
With your heart beating in your throat, you come to a standstill in front of your kitchen window again. It took only a moment for the beautiful sun from a few minutes ago to feel suffocating as worry pours from your veins. “I’m calling you on FaceTime. Wait.”
Before he has a chance to argue, you end the KakaoTalk call and tap on FaceTime. You wait impatiently as the phone rings. All it takes is a few seconds for your brain to conjure up all sorts of harrowing scenarios about what is happening to him, how he feels, how hurt he is. When he finally answers, you blurt, “I’m getting on the next plane to LA tomorrow.”
“You’re hurt. How am I supposed to stay here while you’re over there?”
For a first time since he answered the call, you take a moment to observe him through the screen. The video is a bit pixelated but not enough to distort the full image. He is huddled under a soft-looking white blanket with a custom hotel logo printed along its hem. His golden blonde hair is disheveled from all the moving around the pillow he must have been doing before he called you. It should be 4 am in the United States right now, and well past normal people’s bedtimes. You want to scold him for staying up late, again, but one glance at his pretty, sparkling eyes under the hotel lamp has you curling your fingers tightly around the phone.
“Jimin, what happened?”
He shuffles closer to the phone, causing the blanket shift. It leans away from his mouth, and that’s when you notice the gash along his chin. He must have been hiding it this whole time. If your heart wasn’t plummeting before, it is definitely broken now.
“I’m fine,” he assures you, trying to smile. “Jungkook and I got a little too excited during Anpanman with the water guns, and I slipped. The doctor says I’ll be fine. Nothing’s broken.” And just to be annoying, he adds, “Except my heart. Because you’re not here.”
“Park Jimin, I swear to God—“
“I love you,” he cuts in, giggling at the furious expression on your face. “And I miss you.”
“I miss you, too.”
“And you love me…?”
You chuckle, feeling tears spring to your eyes. “You’re ridiculous. Of course, I love you, too.”
He smiles—big, bright, and beautiful. Just like him. “I love it when you tell me you love me.”
“I know you do,” you tease, “that’s why I try to keep the love minimal. What if it gets to your head?”
“You want to give me head?”
He giggles again. It sounds like more than music to your years—it sounds like the rivers in paradise. “Maybe you should come to LA…I’m really lonely…”
“You’re such a baby,” your groan gains another laugh from him. “What am I going to do with you?”
“Cuddle with me in LA.”
He juts his chin out for you to see. “I’m hurt, remember?”
You shake your head at his cute mannerisms and his adorably manipulative tactics. He always knows exactly what he’s doing. He knows exactly how to cause trouble and get what he wants. A part of you even wonders if he planned the whole fall just to bring you to the other side of the world.
With a playful sigh, you tell him, “I’ll book something during my lunch break.”
“I already did,” he sings, “5 am from Incheon to LAX.”
The fact that he booked your ticket before this conversation ever took place is telling of his sly mind. What Park Jimin wants from you, he always gets. It’s a continuous rhythm going back several years to when you first met and he asked you out, and even though you were uncertain about dating a boy who was so damn sure he was going to make it in the music industry, he flew past all your insecurities and took you on the wildest, cutest, most wonderful date of your life. And he did everything in his power to keep taking you on more. No matter the hurdle.
“Then I guess I’ll see you in two days,” you grin, mirroring his expression. “Take care of yourself, okay? I’ll kill you if you get hurt again.”
He does the army salute and bids you goodbye with one more I love you and a promise to see you at the airport.
. . .
After a flurry of micro-aggressive emails from your department head, you managed to get a week off work by the end of the day. With only an hour or so left to go in the schedule, you were only able to tell your eighth grade students about the substitute teacher they would be learning with for the next few days. Their collective groans of pure agony made you giggle, but once you explained the situation, they—especially the girls—were more than on-board with your impromptu departure. Two of your female students even made a card for Jimin. Though your relationship with him was still a secret for the general public, it was enough for your students to know their teacher’s mysterious fiancé was hurt and needed her. You promised to bring some snacks back for them.
You can feel your students’ card under your fingertips as you rustle around in your purse in search of your phone. It was a mess, as per usual. Two packs of tissues, one tube of strawberry chapstick, a compact mirror, and a small paddle brush later, you manage to find your phone buried under a small notebook you usually kept for writing shopping/grocery lists.
With a grateful sigh, you pull it out and immediately scramble to replace your Korean SIM card with the American one you purchased right outside the arrival door. Once that is settled, you scroll through your apps to find KakaoTalk and call Jimin. You don’t know where you should meet him and it would be best if the two of you could leave the airport without bringing attention to yourself. The last thing you need is for your relationship to be outed inside LAX airport as you stand surrounded by confused business people in their tailored suits and monochrome briefcases.
The familiar voice shouting your name makes you whip your head around.
Off to the right, behind a few families, Jimin stands alone with a bouquet of white peonies enclosed in his fist. He waves his arm up high in the air. Without thinking twice, you drop your phone back inside your purse and run to him. Your legs fly across the room in a haze, and even though you get quite a few bewildered glances from onlookers, you don’t care.
Jimin catches you with a big huff as you fall into him. The weight of your rushing body nearly topples you both to the ground. Thankfully, he has enough strength—and perhaps the knowledge of knowing you as well as he does—to keep you standing upright. He laughs wholeheartedly as you latch yourself to him like a koala. A content sigh passes through you as you wrap your arms around his neck and nuzzle into him. He smells like home.
He rubs quietly at your waist, comforting you. “I missed you.”
“I’m so glad you’re you,” you admit, kissing sweetly against this neck. His rubbing ministrations are replaced with the power of his arms wrapping around your waist and holding you tight.
He laughs again, holding you even tighter. You wonder if he holds you tight enough, would you become one? “I’m glad I’m me, too.” You lean back at his teasing as he continues. “Because I get to love you.”
Blame it on your hormones or the fact that he smells like him or the fact that you love him so much that without a single word spoken, you quickly pull his mask down and take his lips between yours. He makes a sound of surprise which easily melts into a soft love as he returns the kiss with equal vigour.
His kiss, after weeks of going without it, makes you silently thank God for bringing you here. You thought a few weeks away from him again, as happens every year now, would not make you grieve this time. But you were wrong. Your heart bled for him this time as it did all the times before. You mean it when you tell him you are glad he’s him. No one else in the world can stand in his place in your life. He is it for you. In this life, and the next.
As you both pull back for some air, you place your hands on either side of his cheeks and examine his face for injuries. Just as you had seen over FaceTime two days ago, you notice the small scar starting to form on the skin of his chin. Tentatively, you press the pad of your thumb along its ridges. Immediately, tears spring to your eyes at the thought of the pain he must have endured. If possible, you would fight the stupid stage which did this to him. And maybe his own legs after, for being unable to keep their balance.
“Does it hurt?”
Cutely, he moves his head from side-to-side, smiling. “It’s better now.”
You look up and connect your eyes with his. “Promise?”
“Yes,” he uses the pads of his own thumbs to wipe your tears away. They sprinkle along his skin as you blink the remainder away. “I’ve got a car waiting for us outside. Lets go?”
You nod, gently pulling his mask back up. His eyes crinkle over the cloth, making your heart beam. With one hand, he reaches for your small carry-on luggage and with the other, he holds yours. His hand feels the same as it always has—warm, soft, loving, his. His hands, which have held you, protected you, loved you, made love to you. His hands which you adore so much; which you never want to let go of.
And when he squeezes your hand as you slip inside the taxi waiting by the curb, your heart knows you will never have to.
. . .
One of the things you will never get used to are the exhilarating screams of thousands of fans inside a gigantic stadium. Over the years, you have been to your fair share of concerts. Backstage, in the crowd, along the sidelines—name it, you’ve done it. And the screams are deafening every single time.
Tonight is no different.
The boys began the concert with a few throwback songs to their previous eras—performing a mix of Blood, Sweat, and Tears, Fake Love, and O.N. Then released their concert VCR while they switched into a different set of costumes for their next performance. It was mesmerizing watching them rush from one stylist to the next, receiving orders from one backstage manager to another up until they were back on stage.
Jimin had set you up with the promise that he’d take care of himself and not work too strenuously as you watched the concert from his dressing room with his makeup artists prepping their tools for any touch-ups to take place after the next set. You were friendly with most of them but with the amount of pressure they were under, you knew bothering them with small-talk was not the way to spend the night. So you kept to yourself, occasionally checking your phone for updates from your co-worker on the state of the students you left behind in Seoul.
Two hours later, you catch Jimin around the waist as he stumbles down from the stage stairs, breathless. His personal manager rushes to you both, immediately placing a ventilator over his mouth as you rub your fiancé’s back. His breaths come out hefty, long and deep. He struggles for a few seconds, and you watch with bated breath of your own as he comes down from the post-concert high. Once his breathing regulates to a normal level, his manager removes the ventilator and shuffles away, leaving you to take care of your now grinning fiancé.
“Did you have fun?”
He nods, and leans over to kiss your cheek. The sweet peck makes your heart pick up and your toes curl. “Lots of fun. I didn’t even fall this time. Did you see?”
“I saw,” you grant him a peck of his own—right on his nose. “You did well, Jiminie.”
“It was all for you. Because I knew you were watching.”
“Is that what the extra hip thrusting was for?”
“And the smiles.”
“The ones which all the girls were screaming for?”
He gathers your face in his palms and kisses you. You smile against his mouth as he takes from you everything you want to give him. The kiss feels electric, magnetizing. Holy. Being with him feels like nothing short of destiny. “You’re the only screaming girl I care about.”
“I’m not screaming, though.”
He kisses you again. “Just wait until we get back to the hotel.”
Without a doubt, Park Jimin makes extra good on his promise no more than an hour later. The hotel is situated close to the concert venue and even though you worry that fans will stalk the group back to their respective hotel rooms, his manager assures you that you will be fine. And you know you will be. This isn’t your first time sneaking in or out with your favourite person. You are a seasoned amateur spy in your own way.
After your—ahem, invigorating session—Jimin cuddles you on the same bed which he called you from two days ago. The sheets smell of passion, love, sex, and you could not be more elated to be where you are in this moment.
He has his eyes closed as you press sweet kisses along his bare chest, making his breathing lift and change and stutter. He sounds the same as he always does after you sleep together, and you want nothing more than to live within the music his body creates. To keep it with you on the nights when you are alone and need him as desperately as you always do.
“What do you do when you miss me?”
His question sits in the air as a pleasant inquisition. One which you don’t quite understand. “When I miss you?”
“Yeah,” he holds your palms together then lets go, then does it all over again. It does not go unnoticed by you, the way his gaze lingers on your engagement ring. “When I’m not home and you miss me, what do you do?”
What do you do when you miss him?
What do you do when you miss him on the nights and the mornings when he is in another country, in another town, sometimes a whole other universe, as he sings, dances, and models for the world? What do you do when he is answering questions about his love life and he has to pretend you don’t exist? What do you do when you miss his voice and all you can do is listen to it on the radio?
“I look for things which remind me of you,” you take his hand in yours and kiss each individual finger. “Like oranges. I always eat oranges when I miss you. And ice cream. New York Cheesecake from Baskin Robbins. I call your mom and ask her how to make your favourite food or bother your dad at work by sending him a million stickers on KKT. I, uh—when I miss you the worst, like—on the worst days, I just listen to the radio hoping to hear your voice. Spotify is too easy.”
He laughs. “Spotify is too easy?”
“A radio is like you giving me a surprise. I don’t know if I’ll hear your voice, but I’m always over the moon when I do.”
“Come here,” he whispers, softly laying you both down against the pillows. They sink with the weight of your heads side-by-side. You cuddle into his warmth as he reaches for your phone. He taps on the camera button and scrolls until he finds the video icon. He starts recording before you have a chance to say anything, positioning it over your faces. You tuck your face into the space between his neck and shoulder, breathing him in. Nothing ever feels as safe as he does.
“YN,” he says, gazing into the camera as you peer at him from the side. The video records both your faces—his, trained on the phone and you, with your eyes not daring to move away from him. “My best friend, my love, my fiancée, whenever you are lonely and miss me, please know I miss you, too. And I will always come back to you. Nothing in this world can keep me from you. I promise to come home to you, always. I love you more than anything else in the galaxies. You know that, right? I love you.”
It’s a rhythm then, the two of you falling back into the same old movements from moments ago. You pull him into a strikingly hungry kiss, ready to devour him whole, and he does not hesitate to wrap his arms around you and kiss you back. You feel your legs fall limp as he touches your bare skin, painting Monets along the length of your spine with the tip of his fingers. Your own fingers sift through his hair, once freshly washed and now messy again, as you feel him shift so he can gently rock into you again. The change in pace pulls a moan from you so deep, so raw that the heat which coils in your stomach as a result sets your skin on fire.
And all either of you can do is breathe I love you, I love you, I love you until it simmers.
Gingerbread (Ethan x f!MC)
Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Lilac Allende)
Word count: 900
Premise: The competition is on when they each help their patients make a gingerbread house.
Author’s Note: Just a tiny bit of Christmas nothing fluff.
“No offense, Doctor Ramsey, but this is trash.”
Ethan is slightly taken aback by the unrelenting honesty in the statement, particularly coming from an eight year-old. Dropping the handful of gumdrops with a clang against the plate, Ethan peers down at the young patient with unguarded approval. He allows a small smile, especially when young Jayden circles their creation, a very serious expression creasing his brow.
“None taken,” Ethan reassures him.
The gingerbread house they had been working on is pitiful, to say the least, and the term “house” is a generous one. In Ethan's opinion, the monstrosity looks more like a sugary pile oozing frosting than a residence.
“This is never going to win us the contest,” Jayden observes quite gravely. Ethan almost laughs, the severity in the child's statement reminding him of himself when assessing a case and making a diagnosis.
Their eyes simultaneously fall on the half-finished creation on the other table. Already it is looking far more appealing and stable than theirs.
“Angie and the pretty doctor are going to win for sure.”
This time Ethan does chuckle softly at the mention of Lilac, referred to simply as “the pretty doctor.” He can't exactly blame the kid. Ethan himself had mentally referred to her in a similar way before he gripped her ID card and learned her name.
Ethan glances from Lilac and Angie's beautiful gingerbread house to Jayden, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper.
“I have an idea.”
Jayden picks up quickly because he grins widely, brown eyes glittering wickedly.
“An awful idea?”
“A wonderful, awful idea.”
Jayden can't help but laugh lightly at Ethan's reference. Even more amusing to the boy is the dramatic flair Ethan adds to every word, one he would never do for anyone else but his young patients. Then again, he would never decorate a gingerbread house with anyone else either.
“Don't even think about it, Doctor Grinch,” Lilac announces as she enters the room, gently pushing a young girl in a wheelchair.
“Yeah,” Angie adds, matching Lilac's accusatory tone. “Stink, stank, stunk!”
Jayden laughs again and Ethan rolls his eyes, unable to contain the smile breaking across his face. Even more out of his control is the way his stomach flutters at the sight of his girlfriend, looking lovelier than usual in the midst of all the Christmas decorations adorning their surroundings.
He wants nothing more than to kiss her, but with some effort, he reminds himself the gesture would be less than appropriate at a workplace and in front of two impressionable eight year-olds. She arches a coquettish brow at him, making it entirely too clear that she wants to kiss him senseless too.
Instead, her eyes move to Ethan's gingerbread mess and she stifles a laugh.
“Is that… medical tape? On your gingerbread house?”
“I told you it was noticeable, Dr. Ramsey!” Jayden exclaims.
Ethan assumes a faux challenging tone, crossing his arms and peering down at Lilac. “Got a better idea to fix the structural conundrum we encountered?”
She mirrors his actions, except she looks far more adorable than he ever could. “Have you tried not being awful at making gingerbread houses?”
Angie and Jayden both giggle.
“That didn't cross my mind, no.”
“Well, take notes Dr. Ramsey. Angie and I are about to sweep the floor with you.”
“Mhmm. We plan to thoroughly obliterate your gingerbread house.”
“What does that mean? Obliate?” Angie interjects innocently.
“It means destroy.” Jayden's tone is helpful.
His friend looks genuinely horrified.
“I don't want to ruin their house,” Angie protests. “I want to help Jayden fix the tape problem.”
Lilac sighs in defeat but offers Angie a kind, proud smile nevertheless. “You're the sweetest, Angie. Jayden is lucky to have a friend like you.” She throws Ethan a smirk before adding, “Besides, Dr. Ramsey already made our job easier and obliterated that poor house on his own.”
Ethan takes full advantage of the fact the children are occupied with the gingerbread ruins of their house and wraps his arms around Lilac.
“You're competitive today.”
“You love it.”
She turns in his arms to face him, raising herself to press a chaste kiss on his jaw. “I, in turn, love this festive Ethan Ramsey.”
A poor attempt at wrinkling his nose follows her words, but with Lilac is his arms, smiling fondly at him, he finds it difficult to feel anything but elated.
“For my patients.”
Lilac nods once, needing no further explanation.
“I still like seeing you in the Christmas spirit.”
“Enjoy it because it won't last.”
“Fine. Maybe it'll last until we get home.”
Her eyes light up in a way that makes his pulse accelerate.
“So we can finally lift the Mariah Carrey and Michael Bublé ban?”
A genuine grimace from Ethan this time. “We're never lifting that ban. You've proven you cannot be trusted.”
“You love my singing.”
Ethan loves everything about her, terrible singing and all.
“I love you,” he amends, kissing her knuckles and eliciting his favorite winsome smile.
“Doctor Ramsey,” Jayden interrupts. “Doctor Lahela said the other day he's building a mansion with Connor. If that's true, maybe they'll win.”
“Doctor Lahela doesn't stand a chance,” Lilac responds confidently. “We're going to combine our houses to win this thing. Lahela and Connor won't know what hit them.”
The children cheer.
“A common enemy. I approve,” Ethan says with a nod.
“Let's obliate them!” Angie laughs.
Author’s Note: I wanted to get in the habit of writing again. Please bear with me as I get all these ideas out.
Also, I am actively working on the Picta series again, so I hope to have that chapter done sooner than later. Thank you to everyone for your support and patience!
I hope everyone is safe an healthy. Love you all!
tags: @openheart12 , @takeharryandgo , @trappedinfanfiction, @aestheticartsx, @aworldoffandoms, @paulfwesley, @myusualnerdyself, @rookie-ramsey, @ohchoices, @enmchoices, @i-bloody-love-drake-walker, @choicesfanaf, @openheartthot, @octobereighth, @nazarihoe, @utterlyinevitable, @kites-in-our-skies, @maurine07, @schnitzelbutterfingers, @doilooklikeiknow, @snesdudes, @kingliam2019, @perriewinklenerdie, @cinnamonspongecake, , @queencarb, @ethxnrxmsey, @missmiimiie, @jens-diamondchoices, @adamsdumortain, @apphia12, @kalogh, @lucy-268, @binny1985, @queenbirbs, @honeyandsunfl0wers, @newcolonies, @lilyvalentine, @rigatonireid, @interobanginyourmom, @parkerattano, @custaroonie, @nikki-2406, @lilypills, @chasingrobbie, @nooruleman, @lonely-mxxnlight, @ruinedbypixels, @shadynaturehilariouscookie, @tsrookie, @mvalentine, @professorkingslay, @drakewalkerfantasy, @casey-v, @helloblueeyedcat, @mysticaurathings, @blossomanarchy, @thegreentwin, @togetherwearerapture, @rookieoh, @rookiemarsswiftie, @natashajaniphilchoices, @mysticalgalaxysstuff, @hatescapsicum, @choices-lurker, @kiara-36, @junehiratas, @danijimenezv, @macy-ray85, @adrex04, @canigetanawwjunk, @sanchita012, @overwhelminglyaquarius , @scorpiochick8, @skylarklyon, @starrystarrytrouble, @mercury84choices, @drariellevalentine, @ethanrcmsey, @lion-ess24, @aarisa-frost, @udishaman, @a-crepusculo, @quacksonlover, @caroldxnvxrs, @ramseyandrys, @whatchique
@varikasnuori, @dimitriwife, @genevievemd, @shanzay44, @fabi-en-ciel, @trebondialanna, @emotionalswift2, @lady-calypso, @ashiiknees, @dr-ramseys-rookie, @stygianflood
Just As I Am-Ch.3
Actor!Seonghwa x Assistant!Reader
Word Count: 2.7k+
A/N: I did it i have a lot of inspo right now so i’m gonna take advantage of it. Happy Easter everyone and i hope everyone has a good week as i always Taglist is OPEN and I hope you enjoy. :)
Ch. 2 / Ch. 3 / Ch.4
The week had come and went and it was finally Friday. As usual, Y/N dropped off Elijah at work before heading to work. As she arrived she was surprised to see racks on racks of clothing for women as she walked into the green room. She looked at some of the rack dividers reading the brand names on them before instantly realizing that just one of these pieces cost more than her entire wardrobe, maybe even her house. Just as she was about to continue her search for Seonghwa he walked in with Rhea beside her, “Oh Y/N you’re here we can finally start,” she beamed before going outside to make a call.
“Start what? I don’t remember seeing a fitting on the schedule,” she said, turning to look at Seonghwa who sat on the leather couch.
“That’s because it wasn’t. It was a spur of the moment thing,” he explained shrugging his shoulders.
“So what is this for,” she asked him, plopping down next to him laying her head on his shoulder.
“Did you forget what tomorrow is already,” he turned to her smiling warmly as he attempted to contain the butterflies forming in his stomach.
“Hm it’s Saturday, my day off, and the first weekend of the month,” she teased looking up at him knowing the actual answer.
“Well yes but that’s not what I meant,” he said pouting slightly.
Y/N attempted to hold back in her laughter at his expression. Seonghwa noticed how close she was and attempted to stop the heat from flushing towards his cheeks. All he wanted to do was kiss her then and there but he fought the temptation. She pinched his cheek playfully before answering him. “I know it’s your birthday tomorrow don’t worry I didn’t forget,” she smiled as she pulled her hand away.
“Good cause I would have fired you if you did,” he joked.
“No you wouldn’t you like me too much to get rid of me,” she smiled cheekily as his eyes widened making her heart flutter, “So I’m guessing you’re having a party tomorrow night,” she stated.
“That would be correct and you have to come and because I know you’ll make an excuse about not having anything to wear I decided to help deal with that,” he smiled.
“Fair enough you got me,” she replied raising her hands in defense as she got up as Rhea walked back in.
As Rhea explained how the situation was going to go down Seonghwa felt her warmth leave his body the longer she was away. He had zoned out as he watched just admiring her presence. He hadn’t even realized when she had left to go try on the first outfit she was handed by the stylist. She came back from the changing room multiple times going through outfit after outfit neither one really calling out to her. Either it was too flashy, too revealing, or just straight-up uncomfortable. She wondered how celebrities wore some of these things multiple times for hours a day. By the end of the fifth outfit, she had grown slightly annoyed so when she went for the next outfit the bar was set pretty low. She slipped into the white asymmetrical ruched dress before looking over at the mirror. She turned back and forth looking in the mirror. It was definitely something she wasn’t used to seeing herself in; she had never seen herself in something like any of the clothes that she had tried on. She took a deep breath before walking back out to the green room, the stylist and Rhea turning away from each other to look over at her. “Wow take a look at you,” Rhea said standing from her chair to take a closer look, “I think this is definitely going to be the one if you’re comfortable of course.”
“I don’t know, I mean I don’t even wear this kind of stuff. I'm not one for going out and partying,” Y/N hesitated.
“You look great, it shows off the figure without revealing too much. Modest yet fun and flirty,” the stylist adds.
“You see. Seonghwa can you tell her how good she looks before I have to start shoving compliments down her throat,” Rhea threatened as Seonghwa was still spaced out taking in her beauty, “Hello earth to the idiot, I’m talking to you,” she said snapping in his face.
“Huh um y-you look gorgeous Y/N, you really do but then again you look perfect in anything,” he said realizing he said the last part out loud when she blushed looking away.
“Okay love birds, that's enough stop before you make me regurgitate my breakfast,” Rhea scolded, causing Seonghwa to blush as he rubbed the back of his neck, “So what do you say is this the dress?” she asked.
“Well if we’re going by majority vote I guess so,” she said giving in as she couldn’t wiggle her way out of this one like usual.
“Perfect we’ll let the designer know we’re taking this one then. Get changed we have a schedule to follow,” Rhea ordered before walking out holding the door for the stylist that began rolling the racks back out.
Y/N went back into the changing room as Seonghwa plopped back onto the couch with his hands in his pockets. He sighed before palming his face in response to his slip-up as she changed putting the dress back on the hanger and bag before walking out to get started on their day. The rest of the day, fortunately, went on normally as if nothing had happened. Seonghwa sighed in relief as soon as the director yells cut for the last time that day. He walked over to Y/N who already had his coffee and dinner ready to go. He smiled brightly at seeing her face as she held them up for him to see before handing them over. He grabbed them thanking her before the pair began walking back to his trailer so he could get ready to go home. “What would I do without you?” he asked as she sat on his polyester couch scrolling through her phone while he changed in the back.
“You’d probably be dead or miserable,” she teased, “Be grateful I bless you with my presence at least five times a week,” she smirked.
“Oh trust me I am,” he smiled to himself, “What are you doing once we're off?”
“I’m gonna go home and get some much-needed rest before the busy weekend I have ahead of me,” she said looking up as he walked out.
“Are we working this weekend?” he asked, confused.
“No it’s just some personal things and then your party. From what I know you’re free this weekend.
Seonghwa nodded before motioning towards the exit. Y/N got up grabbing her purse and keys before exiting the trailer. Once outside she took Seonghwa’s arm as she offered it and the two headed for the parking lot. He walked her to her car before parting ways with her making sure she pulled out safely before leaving himself. The next day she woke up to the sound of her phone ringing at eight in the morning. She groaned, rubbing her face as she sat up answering the phone not bothering to look at the contact ID. she groggily greeted the person on the other end before hearing Rhea give her the rundown for the day and party. Y/N wrote down the information knowing she wouldn’t be able to retain any of it this early in the morning. Once she finished she hung up before deciding to get up and start her day. She walked out to the kitchen greeted by the smell of eggs and bacon cooking on the stove. Confused she slipped in to find Ms. Wilson, making her remember her original plan for the day. She mentally cursed herself before greeting the woman and breaking the news to her. Ms.Wilson tsked softly shaking her head as Y/N continuously apologizing for having to miss out on their picnic knowing how much the two were looking forward to the rare occasion that was her presence. “I know your job is important but it’d be nice to have you join us as well. If you have to work next week I want you to bring your boss. A man should know that in most cases family comes first,” Ms.Wilson scolded.
“Ms. Wilson, I can’t do that. It's a very complicated situation between me and him and I would rather not mix my work and personal life,” she replied.
“Well I’m afraid that is my ultimatum dear either that or get the day off,” she shrugged before returning back to the stove to finish breakfast, “Now go get ready I don’t want you to be late to work dear,” she said shooing Y/N out the kitchen.
She finished getting ready and went to wake up Elijah to let him know she was leaving before grabbing her breakfast to go, heading over to Seonghwa’s apartment. She pulled into the building’s parking lot grabbing her things as she got out heading inside to take the elevator up to his penthouse. She walked out of the elevator towards his door knocking on it softly. She waited patiently for the door to open. What she didn’t expect was to be greeted by a half-dressed, puffy-faced Seonghwa, his hair messy and pointing in all directions. She giggled at his confused expression before walking in and explaining why she had shown up so early setting down their breakfast on the table. Seonghwa half listened as he attempted to fully pull himself away from slumber even when his bed seemed to be calling his name so loudly. He excused himself going to his room to throw on a shirt before joining her in the dining room to eat as she continued her explanation of the day. Unbeknownst to Y/N as Ms.Wilson and her son continued with their planned picnic they had managed to run into Elijah’s new friends getting to meet Jiwoo’s dad. The mini trio spent the entire afternoon running around the field and playground sharing sandwiches and snacks as they swapped stories about their week in school as Yunho talked to Ms.Wilson about how they had met Elijah at the arcade. Just as the sun began to set he called the girls over telling them to say their goodbyes as they had to go. Before they could leave Ms.Wilson invited them to join them the week after so that the children could see each other knowing it’d be good for them especially considering how well they got along.
Yunho agreed, saying he’d bring his other niece and nephew along as well before saying his goodbye. Yunho then went home to get ready for Seonghwa’s party as he waited for the babysitter to arrive. Seonghwa had finished getting ready and was sitting in the living room while he waited for Y/N to finish getting ready. Just as he was about to get up to see if everything was okay Rhea walked down the stairs saying she was on her way. As promised she followed not long after coming down the stairs looking at the floor. Her hair was curled and pulled out of her face while her make-up was kept natural at her request. Seonghwa got up as he took her in. He had always thought she was beautiful but today she looked ethereal. She looked up to meet his adoring gaze as she reached the bottom of the stairs. She gave him a soft smile before looking at the floor. “Does it look bad?” she asked slightly worried as she hadn’t been one to dress up and impress others before.
“No, not at all. Actually the complete opposite you look perfect,” Seonghwa smiled walking over to her giving her a warm smile as he lifted her chin.
The two stood there looking into each other’s eyes until she returned his smile thanking him for the compliment, “You don't look too bad yourself,” she teased reverting back to her usual playful self. He laughed softly only pulling away once he heard Rhea clear her throat as she walked in with DJ. The pair then pulled away from one another as she rolled her eyes at them shaking her head at how obvious yet oblivious they were to each other. “If you need to get a room I honestly don’t care as long as you get it done before guests arrive,” Rhea said before showing the DJ where to set up. The two stammered awkwardly pulling away looking like two teens caught making out at prom. It didn’t take long for guests to arrive and for music to fill the penthouse. People from all over came to attend all representing different parts of the entertainment industry with a few who didn’t. For the most, Y/N spent the night making sure everything went according to plan with Rhea while Seonghwa spent the night socializing with Hollywood’s elite or goofing off with his friends, Yunho being the only one she could recognize as he was the only she met. As the night progressed Seonghwa became tipsy and began to tell her how he wanted her to join in on the fun instead of work. When she casually brushed him off he turned to Rhea hoping she would help her loosen up. Luckily fate was on his side and Rhea made her way over to the kitchen where Y/N was currently making sure the drink trays were being sent out full. Rhea pulled her to the side speaking into her ear, “Don’t worry about that I’ll take over go have fun with the rest of the guest that’s an order no ifs, ands, or buts,” she said not giving her a chance to reply as she rushed her out the kitchen.
Not knowing what to do she looked around before Seonghwa approached her again handing her one of the glasses he had gotten off the waiter’s tray as he was walking by. She took the cup thanking him before he pulled her to the dance floor. She watched as the ocean of bodies moved their bodies to the music. She observed them hoping to somewhat grasp what to do before chugging the cup of alcohol to help loosen her up. Seonghwa helped her, putting her hands around his neck before placing his arms around her, his grip soft enough for her to pull away if she wanted. Slowly but surely she began to get the hang of it moving her hips to the rhythm as she and Seonghwa moved in sync. She smiled as she realized the fun she had been missing out on, the alcohol beginning to take its effect on her. After a few shots here and there she was definitely just as tipsy as Seonghwa if not more. By the time the cake had come out Seonghwa was about ready to go upstairs and knock out. As the guest gathered to sing happy birthday he could only smile as he looked in Y/N’s direction before blowing out the candles just as the song ended the crowd responding with applause and cheers.
Y/n helped pass out the cake before grabbing another drink and being approached by a man who asked her to dance. Figuring she had nothing to lose she accepted his offer taking his hand as he led her to the dance floor. She swayed her hips to the beat as he held her against him. Eventually, the heat and alcohol had overtaken them along with the sexual tension that had been building since they started dancing. The man leaned down to kiss her and she kissed back letting her hand tangle into his hair before following him away from the dance floor and up the stairs going into one of the rooms before closing the door and locking it behind them. Once he closed it he pinned her against the wall before leaning down to kiss her again, this time turning into a full-blown-out make-out session before moving to the bed.
Taglist: @a-soft-hornytiny @yoheyyosup @purplelady85 @little-precious-baby @ignoretheskies @kimsaerom
20 things i want really badly for sso to update / add
1. regularly scheduled main story updates. this is THE most important thing for a game that is quite story-based, but something sso has problems with. it makes us feel disconnected from the story and main characters and makes players lose interest, not knowing when we will get more story, or if the story will ever go anywhere.
2. work hard on fixing bugs and improving functionality - QA testing a lot more on their own. i know the game has a crappy engine and that theyre trying to improve stuff, but yeah, theres just a lot of stuff that needs to be worked on. (i think they should just move to a good engine. a huge investment, yes, but worth it in the long run with the potential benefits from selling a higher quality game and being able to work on it more smoothly?)
3. ability to use photomode and control the camera properly when our character sits down, at cafes, etc, basically just being able to go into photo mode at all times.
4. weather system. rain, snow, fog, etc. preferrably random aside from during quests that need specific weather ofc. possibly with an ability to turn off weather. optional: updated skies for more variety in colours and clouds and all that to go along with the weather.
5. new areas to be released of the ones that have already been hinted at for ages! north link goes where???????? ashland, etc. and also, ofc, for the new areas to be unique and interesting in design, and to bring related main story updates - or “big side stories” like the nightdust storyline etc. i am just longing to interact with npcs for long storylines again and see some drama :(
6. new tack and equipment, specifically more halters (simple not fancy ones, but cute and colour variety!), would be nice with lead rope too, and ofc blankets, stuff like this. but also more new good designs for tack in general and more colour options for saddlepads and legwraps, it drives me crazy that most pads are ugly and old and hard to match to anything. i want realistic pads with dark, vivid, pastel and natural colour options.
7. new mane and tail styles that are available for all horses (aside from too old models). it makes horses feel more individual and unique as well as giving us options to dress up our horses for photoshoots, eventing, etc.
8. updated player model with new animations and everything, diversity and good representation in the design options. facial expressions, blinking. i would also love if there were more animations for the player character to pet and groom the horses.
9. our own place to live (something theyve been working on but we dont know exactly where it stands) that we can also customise and decorate. i would prefer if we can choose where we live in the way we choose homestables, for example theres this little house between the rescue ranch and the lighthouse on south hoof that would be lovely to live in. id like to be able to choose wallpaper and flooring, curtains, stuff like that, and furniture. we should be able to invite ppl in as well. optional: the pet that’s in your saddlebag shows up in your home and you can pet it. also ability to choose music from lisa, miscreants, etc to play in our home. it would also be great if when it was raining outside you could hear it from inside your home and see it outside the window. oof actually when i say that now im imagining seeing city lights in the distance on a rainy evening looking out the window while acoustic sso music plays in the bg. can you tell how much i fantasise about living on jorvik by how long this paragraph got
10. customisation in our home stable, to be able to choose designs and colours of the interior, etc. i would love to be able to choose decorations like the ones we see during holidays (light strings etc). i would like the tack room and feed room to be more cluttered and stuff too for better realistic rp purposes.
11. more groundwork type of gameplay, like the working equitation races that have been added lately, but not just “races”. maybe possibility of training for xp in different ways than just finishing a race quickly enough. just realistic groundwork stuff.
12. dressage gameplay, and more arenas for it ofc.
13. for jumping courses to keep being better as theyve been lately! theyre more difficult and interesting now and the designs are better! i want for this to continue and im really enjoying the obstacle designs.
14. pasture - i’d love to see my horses run around and eat randomly out in the field without me controlling them, being able to go up and pet them or give them snacks. it would be cool if a paddock near the homestable was just used for this purpose (where you see your horses, but other players see their horses, etc, and we have the ability to hide other players). maybe it would show 3 of your horses at a time, out of the ones that are kept in the field in our stable manager.
15. new (and regularly added!) quests at south hoof rescue ranch, as well as other places where it makes sense like jorvik ranger quests, etc. stuff that doesn’t necessarily relate to the main storyline (but it might!) and is just fun dramatic quests, but it can also have character developments for hugh and others on south hoof, for jorvik ranger characters, etc. it could also be a way to introduce new pets and horses that are adoptable after rescue quests have been completed, as well as unlocking new equipment related to rescuing, rehabilitation and ranger work.
16. more shops, cafes and other things to do at jorvik city mall alongside the mall being updated in general, and to jorvik city which i really love and just hope aideen’s plaza and governor’s fall will also be updated with more shops etc. (add a dance club to the mall like the fort pinta disco! cafes with different aesthetics and menus, a fastfood restaurant, a fancy restaurant, a photo studio for professional horse photos and for our character, a cinema, a theatre stage like thalia’s idk, that whole fashion week catwalk thing, theres a lot of different things i think you can add aside from more shops which could also be added)
17. updates and additions to the cafe food menus and foods we can feed our horses, goes along with adding new shops and stuff too. seasonal event food being sold in cafes like gingerbread at christmas, chocolates on valentine’s.
18. make archaeology more fun - i still haven’t got all the things after years because i just can’t be bothered to do it, it’s too hard to find all the things and it’s not fun.
19. if fishing is going to stay at all, it needs to be improved and be fun.
20. overhaul of all the prices in the game so it makes sense. there are clothing and tack items that just make NO sense when you compare them to each other both in sc and js costs, or when you look at how meh quality they are. and, i dont think it’s reasonable to make individual equipment items (clothes or tack) cost more than like 50sc at the most (look at the real life cost when you buy sc!!! should we be paying that much for a low quality pixel sweater, really?). a good time to do this price overhaul, would be leading up to the player model update being released, since ppl will be buying lots of new clothes after that.
bonus: give us a ferry from south hoof to mistfall PLEASE. PLEASE
bonus 2: updates to every existing area and npc model, this is obvious and will most likely happen given enough time
bonus 3: 500000 pages of backstory and character development quests and bonding with mc scenes for all my favourite npcs. i would also like to take rowan on a date. thanks
Now, I’ll drive alone past your street. (Ⅱ)
A/n: This is the sequel to my last post, I couldn’t write any smut, I wasn’t in the mood for it. Just wait for another story in which I’ll definitely include it !!! If you have any requests, feel free to leave them somewhere ^^ And thank you so much for the interaction on my last post:))
Word count: 1,635
Zelda Spellman x female witch reader
It pained you when sudden thoughts about Zelda flickered in your head. Although you decided on leaving for a while, you missed her, Hilda, Ambrose, and Sabrina. The wittiness of Hilda when you came down for breakfast, looking like a complete mess. Sabrina when she was onto something, including you in every step of the way. And Ambrose, when he was fuzzing about the mess his younger cousin had caused again.
The sudden ring of your cell phone tore you out of thoughts. Hilda’s caller ID showed up just as it did the past week. You’ve always been too afraid to pick up, scared of listening to her ranting about you letting her sister marry this man. But unlike the other times, the Brit has called, now you were brave enough to answer the call. Maybe Zelda fulfilled her task and became High Priestess?
„Y/n, I tried to reach you all week” Hilda hastily explained. „I know, I know but-“
„There is no time for explanations, you need to come back. Something’s wrong with Zelda” she cut you off while unsteadily breathing into the speaker.
You hesitated to speak, not being sure what you shall say. You loved the red-headed witch too much to let her suffer. „I’ll be there Hilda,” you said and quickly ended the conversation.
You knew it was about time to go back and fight for your love and show Father Blackwood who’s in charge.
It didn’t take long for you to teleport you back to the mortuary, you left a few of your belongings where you’d stayed. You took a deep breath before knocking on the red front door. The familiar scent of your friends home crept up your nose and you started to loosen your tension. „Praise Satan you’re here, come in quick” the British woman rambled and pulled you inside.
„What’s going on?” You asked curiously. „My sister has changed during her honeymoon, it’s just as if she’s under some kind of spell.”
You nodded and hung your coat onto one of the hooks. „She does everything Blackwood asks her, Zelda would do anything to protect our family and now that bloke tries harms us and she just agrees with everything” Hilda explained and you knew immediately what she was trying to say. „And, Ambrose is said to have killed the Anti Pop. Nicholas Scratch helped him get away before Blackwood could lay his hands on him” she added pulling a grimacing face.
„I will go to the academy and inspect the situation myself, we will fix this mess” you tried to reassure her. The witch nodded and led you into the kitchen where the two cousins sat, pondering over how to help her aunt. „You’re back Y/n!” Sabrina exclaimed and hugged you tightly. A smile formed on your lips. Deep down you were happy to be back even though it took you some time to realise.
The darkness slowly came over Greendale and millions of stars peppered the night sky. „I will head to the academy and see what happened to your aunt and in which condition she is” you informed them and drummed your fingers on the tabletop. „Be careful, Blackwood is crazy at the moment. His misogyny went up to a new level” the young witch rambled worriedly. „I’ll take care.”
You grabbed your coat before leaving the house, inhaling the sweet scent that lingered in the house once more.
Arriving at the academy, a weird feeling spread in your gut. You entered the school for witches and warlocks, having an exact destination to where you wanted to go. You walked through the halls of the academy searching for either Zelda or Blackwood. A sharp pain shot through your arm when a hand grabbed you and pulled you into a room.
The facet of the person immediately let you know who it was. „Blackwood” you explained and freed yourself from his tight grip. „You ought not to be here” the sharp tone in his voice sent shivers down your spine. „I came to speak to Zelda.”
He eyed me. „Wife!” The High priest yelled and waited impatiently for Zelda to come. Seconds passed before a woman in a flower dress entered the room. „Would you give us a few minutes?” your voice thickly filled with annoyance. The warlock just nodded and left the room.
„Zelds, what happened?”
„I don’t know what you mean?” her voice almost pitching. „Honey, you can tell me” your hand reached for hers. „But there is nothing to tell. If you excuse me now, I ought to make tea for my beloved husband.”
Her words sounded surreal, fake just simply not like Zelda. A hopeless sigh escaped your lips, you should’ve told her how wrong it was to marry that bloke. The only thing to hear was the sound of her music box.
„It’s like she’s a doll” you took a sip of water before continuing, „no free will, and devoted to someone she said she’d overthrow.”
Hilda’s gaze wandered through the room. Footsteps echoed through the Spellman house, both of you looked at each other before stepping in the hallway.
You two saw her walking in the kitchen having her hand draped over something. Hilda followed her sister closely. The next thing you heard was high pitched screams from Sabrina who must’ve been in the kitchen. Your legs moved as fast as they could to see what was happening. Zelda stood there, wounding a mouse through the meat grinder. „Aunt Zel, why did you do that? That was our only chance to save Ambrose?” Sabrinas said stunned while her mouth fell agape.
I didn’t know what she was talking about, but surely Leviathan, who now was just a mashed version of itself, played its role in it. „I think I know what’s going on!“ Hilda exclaimed and it looked just as if a light bulb appeared over her head. „Sabrina, you have to get that music box from Zelda’s room in the Academy“ her aunt explained. The teenage witch nodded. Her aunt expected her to leave but that wasn’t the case, she somewhat teleported the box.
Zelda just stood there, staring at the mashed familiar. You couldn’t deny the fact that you were curious about how she teleported a box to her, but you suppressed the thought until you knew what was going on with your toner girlfriend. „Open it up darling” Hilda demanded her niece, „this has to be some kind of Caligari spell.” „What spell?” You asked genuinely interested. „A spell, typically used by old warlocks, to turn their wives into conscious witches aware of every action, yet, unable to make their own choices” the Brit explained and pulled out a photo of the music box.
„Just smash it and our Zelda should be freed from the spell,” Hilda told Sabrina who now held the picture in her hands. With a loud thud, the glass of the frame was broken, leaving a confused Zelda. You saw her facial expression change when she laid eyes on you. „Zelda is it you?” you asked nearly on the verge of tears.
You knew how stupid it was, leaving her alone with the whole situation, telling her she was better off without you. „Y/n...” the woman stuttered not daring to look away from you. You couldn’t contain your happiness and relive of having her back, you stepped closer and hugged her in a hurry. Her hands instantly sneaking around your waist, pressing you close to her body.
„I was an idiot, Zelda Spellman and I am sorry for how I behaved” you whispered in her ear. Her red locks were spreading on your face, you inhaled her scent. „Don’t worry, I must admit it was my fault too. How could I ask my girlfriend if I could marry another guy?" she mumbled in your shoulder and pressed yourself just a little closer to her body. „Alright, lovebirds” Sabrina sighed and let herself fall back on one of the kitchen chairs.
You loosened your hug and drew back to look at her. „Why don’t we get you something proper to wear?” You suggested and eyed her flower dress. „Satan, wearing this dress the whole time, internally drove me mad” Zelda admitted and tugged on the hem of her dress.
You took her hand in yours and softly moved your thumb over her skin. The fiery woman was broken, you saw it in her green eyes. Gently, you pulled her after you, scared she might break if you’d do it more hastily. Arriving in front of her bedroom door, you were hesitant if she’d even want you to come in put she slightly pushed you towards the door. „Don’t blame yourself, you had every right to leave. I wouldn’t want to see how you marry someone else” the witch remarked after a long silence. „I just feel like I could’ve prevented you from the pain,” you told her.
Zelda just shook her head and patted next to her on the bed. You followed her plea and sat next to the witch, staring down at your hands. „I haven’t told you this for weeks now, but I love you,” the older woman said and took your hand into hers. You slowly placed your head on her shoulder. „I love you too, but never ever marry anyone again as long as we are together” you had to add that. „Never” she mouthed before planting soft kisses along your jawline. „As dominant as ever” you giggled before the woman pressed you down on the bed beneath.
The room was filled with ecstasy and lust after Zelda was finished pleasuring you. You snuggled closer to her chest, not daring to leave her side again. Zelda’s red locks covering your face once more, made you feel comfortable with falling asleep. ‘You’ll be there for her on every step of the way, no matter how much strength it may take’ you thought to yourself before sleep hit you.