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#never say i’ve never done anything for you guys

sergeantbarnessdoll · 8 hours

Note

Looks like a group of guys from your college won’t leave you alone.

Oh would you look at that,

1940’s!MobBoss!Bucky Barnes

has got your back, and will continue to have your back forever.

(Also hi babes!!! 🤗🤗Thousand kisses from me to you! 💋💋)

Have Your Back Forever And Always » 40s Bucky Barnes

Pairings: Mob Boss!40s Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky steps in and saves you from the guys in your friend group who won’t leave you alone.

Warnings: Fluff, language, alcohol, smoking, unwanted touching, kissing, use of pet names

A/N: @amathslutsguidetofandom I love the thought of 1940s!Mob Boss!Bucky Barnes and decided to write it as a one shot🥰🩵

Written on my phone. I’m sorry for any mistakes.

Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier

“No thank you.” You say, politely turning down a drink from one of the guys you go to college with.

“C’mon, sweetheart. It’s just one drink.” Gerald says, wrapping his arm around your waist.

Bucky watched from the other side of the bar as you continued to politely turn the guys down, but they wouldn’t take no for an answer. He could tell how uncomfortable you were.

“It’s just a drink, Y/N.” Fred says, putting his hand on your thigh.

That made you even more uncomfortable than you already were. Bucky downed the rest of his drink and made his way towards you.

“She said no.” Bucky says, standing behind Gerald and Fred.

“No one asked you, man.” Fred says.

“Why don’t you run along?” Gerald says.

Bucky chuckled before grabbing the back of their necks and slamming their heads against the bar counter, making everyone in the bar go quiet and look at them. You quickly stood up and backed away with wide eyes.

“How about you two run along?” Bucky says.

They were too scared to say anything so they just nodded their heads. Bucky let go of them and they stood up. They were about to bolt out of the bar when Bucky grabbed the back of their shirts.

“If I ever and I mean ever see you two near her again, I won’t hesitate to kick your asses, got it?” He says.

“Got it.” They say in unison.

Bucky let go of them and they sprinted out of the bar. You stood there with a surprised look on your face. No one has never done that for you.

“Are you ok, ma’am?” Bucky asks softly.

“I am now. Thank you.” You say, giving him a smile.

“Can I buy you a drink?” He asks.

“I’d like to know your name first.” You say.

“James Barnes.” He held his hand out for you to shake. “Everyone I know calls me Bucky.” He says.

“Nice to meet you, James.” You shook his hand. “I’m Y/N.” You introduced yourself. “Now that we know each other’s names, I’ll accept that drink now.” You say with a smile.

You and Bucky took a seat at the bar counter and he ordered you two drinks.

“So tell me, doll face…” Bucky took a sip of his bourbon before asking his question. “What’s a pretty girl like you doing at a bar like this?” He asks.

“I go to the local college and I wanted to come here for a couple drinks after all the studying I’ve been doing lately.” You tell him.

“What are you studying?” He asks curiously.

“I want to be a nurse.” You say.

“That’s amazing. I hope all that studying pays off.” He says.

“I hope so too. I graduate next month.” You say.

You learned that Bucky is one of the most powerful men in Brooklyn, New York. You and Bucky spent the whole night talking and getting to know each other till the bar was about to close. He even offered to walk you home from the bar. Bucky being the gentleman he is, wrapped his arm around your waist to keep you close to him and to protect you.

“Thank you for saving me and for walking me home, James.” You say with a smile.

“You don’t have to thank me, babydoll. I have your back forever and always.” Bucky smiles. “If you don’t mind, I would like to see you again.” He says.

“I would absolutely love that.” You smiled. “I’m free tomorrow afternoon after school.” You say.

“Great so it’s a date.” He says.

Bucky cupped your cheeks and kissed you passionately. Your hands grasped his suit jacket to steady yourself. Your lips moved in sync with his. It felt like everything around you guys was in slow motion. Bucky pulled away slowly, looking deep in your eyes.

“See you tomorrow afternoon, doll.” Bucky says softly.

“See you tomorrow, Bucky.” You say, smiling widely.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

-Bucky’s Doll

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waspredteeth · 7 hours

Text

I’ve noticed that a problem with the “Batman shouldn’t/should kill” debates around here is that a lot of people tend to self-insert themselves into the equation.

It’s always “if killing a violent guy in self defense is bad then I’m a murderer?” or “well, if it were me, I would’ve killed the guy a long time ago.”

Newsflash, you’re not Batman. You’re a real person where consequences can be applied and you need to live with whatever you’ve done.

Batman isn’t real. He’s a character owned by a massive company. In tense situations, you might often have no choice but to commit violence to save yourself. In a tense situation in DC, Batman has writers that can get him out of anything.

DC writers have the ability to write him out a situation where he could kill, with no violence committed and everyone safe. Now, whether or not they’d actually implement this kind of outcome is another issue entirely but the point stands.

Batman is a character with long-established personality, traits, moral code, history. Because he’s a fictional character, writers can’t change every single aspect of his character, they have to keep something otherwise they’re writing someone different. He’s not a real person whose sense of morality or justice can change as he ages and learns - because he can’t age. Rarely, he learns, but this chalks up to comics evolving over time due to the great conflicts/hot buttons of a specific time period when a story is being written.

“But Wasp! Writers self-insert themselves into Batman all the time!” You say. Yeah, they do. And 9 times out of 10, that piece of media turns out horribly wish-fulfilling and severely out of character continuity. Modern writers lost the plot when it comes to making Batman an undefeated god, but regardless he should be a hero.

Therefore, Batman shouldn’t kill because:

DC can always write him out of the necessity to kill.

He’s already been established for a long time to live and die by his own moral code.

He believes strongly in rehabilitative justice

He’s been established to be a symbol for a better Gotham. He kills, even discriminately, and then he’s no better than the hundreds of cops in his universe. Racism, classism, police brutality exist in Gotham. There’s full storylines and series about the GCPD and the role they fill in Gotham when Batman exists.

Batman does their jobs better than they do (usually). He’s supposed to represent justice in a way the police can never be. In a city like Gotham, fictional it may be, distrust and violence comes easy. Murder and assault runs rampant. A vigilante committing themselves to killing would do nothing to change Gotham, nothing to change the GCPD, nothing to project an image of safety, nothing for anyone.

Batman is Batman because he represents hope and compassion in a city without it.

#you want a vigilante that kills and is morally grey? read a damn Huntress comic #or Catwoman #or take your ass to Marvel Comics #Batman is never the character to project your personal belief in killing and death onto #you want to do that? stick to Jason #dc #dc meta #batman meta #batman #bruce wayne

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sweetiepoison · 1 day

Text

Famous Baby (Blurb)

The confession

Warnings: verbal argument, angst, smut, flashbacks italicized

You were stringing every curse word you could think of in your head as your right leg shook up and down uncontrollably. Tonight was supposed to be a good night. A night of celebration and friends, but that turned south very quickly when you got to your table.

The outdoor venue that was chosen to host the drew house celebration was big. There were plenty of areas to sit or stand and seating wasn’t assigned. So it infuriated you to no end when Auston decided to sit right across from you with the beautiful blonde he brought as his date.

There was always tension between you that was predictable but the tension that was happening now was palpable and uncomfortable.

Shawn rested his hand on your leg under the table in an attempt to help you relax. You looked over at your ex and gave him a gentle smile and his hand a light squeeze of appreciation.

“So, any big plans before you guys leave LA?” Your best friend asked trying to diffuse the tension.

“Yes!” Steph picked up immediately also trying to lighten the mood, “We planned a hike to the Hollywood sign tomorrow morning.”

“That’s awesome, we’ve done that a few times and honestly the view never gets old.” Your best friends boyfriend, Ryan commented.

“Are you all going?” You asked wanting to know what Auston would be doing, especially if his plans involved his “friend”.

“Nah.” Auston shook his head, “Alexa and I are just gonna chill by the pool.” He smirked, his eyes never leaving yours, “You know what they say, nothing like the California sun.”

You hummed a response your jaw tightening. The thought of Alexa near naked next to Auston made you sick.

“Well I think we all deserve a break especially you two,” you best friend pointed between you and Auston, “(y/n), told me about all the time you put into this event.”

“Yeah, we really had to work together to make the party a success.” Auston kept his eyes on you as your chair made a screeching sound against the ground as you stood abruptly.

“You okay?” Shawn asked as all eyes at the table turned to you.

“Yeah.” You reassured, “I’m just gonna go get another drink, do you want anything?”

“No, I think I’ve had enough. Thank you though.” He smiled brightly up at you.

“Okay.” You gave his shoulder a squeeze before making your way to the bar. After you ordered you put your head down on the cool surface to try and regather yourself. You were annoyed by the emotional strain you were already feeling and the night had barely even begun.

“Almost didn’t recognize you earlier with your clothes on.” You didn’t need to turn around to know the voice whispering in your ear was Auston’s.

“Funny.” You deadpanned sitting back up, but refusing to look at him.

“Were you planning on ignoring me the whole night?”

“For as long as I could.” You admitted with a shrug.

“Don’t you think you’ve done that enough already?” Auston picked up his own drink that he ordered. “You won’t answer any of my calls, you’re ignoring all my texts.”

“Mhm” you agreed. “If you don’t see this going anywhere I don’t want to be involved.”

You both stood side by side back to the bar watching the crowd. You felt a pang of sadness in your chest watching the table you came from. As everyone interacted and laughed your eyes specifically fell on Shawn.

You could be with him if you wanted to, not him specifically but a guy like him. A sweet guy, someone who is kind and polite and treated you well. All of your ex boyfriends fit that description, they were everything you needed. Auston was the opposite. He was loud and assertive and honest, even if it hurt your feelings. He wasn’t everything you needed, but he was everything you wanted.

“That’s not what I said.”

“You told me you didn’t want me.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Oh right you just left me there crying.”

“I didn’t ask you to catch feelings for me, in fact I made it abundantly clear that you shouldn’t.”

You weren’t sure if you regretted that night with Auston or not. The back and forth game between you two was finally over, but the last few weeks also left you lonely and missing him.

With it being the off season, Auston had the time to come to your concert in New York. After the show he joined you at your hotel before you left the next day for the next state.

The night went as it usually did, sex…cuddling…sex again…cuddling again…shower (sometimes sex in the shower). But you didn’t let the routine get past the first round. As you laid there in his arms you took the risk and asked where he saw things going. You tried to deny your feelings for as long as you could but after a while there was no point in ignoring how you felt.

“I’m over it, Auston.” You gulped down the rest of your drink.

“Are you over me?” You sucked in a breath as his fingers timidly touched yours, not fully holding your hand but close enough.

To say the night ended badly would be an understatement. You slammed the bathroom door shut after he rejected you and soon after your hotel room door was slammed shut following Auston’s exit. You’ve ignored him since that night, wanting to forget everything that happened and move on.

“Yes.” Placing your glass down on the bar you rejoined the crowd. You spent the next hour mingling with others and avoiding Auston.

“You okay?” You stood off to the side with Steph.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” You twirled the small straw that came with your drink around your glass a few times.

“You just haven’t seemed like yourself.” She shrugged, “and I don’t want to assume but..” she trailed off avoiding eye contact.

“But, what? Steph.”

“But even your fighting with Auston isn’t like your usual fighting.” She shifted from one foot to the other. “Usually it’s annoyed fighting, but tonight it feels almost…personal.”

You swallowed thickly, “What are you trying to say?”

“Did something happen between the two of you?” She finally huffed out.

“No.” You shook your head, “he’s just more irritating than usual tonight.”

You watched as she processed the information but the frown she wore didn’t leave, “If there was anything wrong, you would tell me right?”

“Of course.” It felt like a knife right through the heart as you lied to her, “you’ve become one of my best friends.”

She let out a deep breath and finally smiled, “Okay, good. I’ve just been worried about both of you.”

You wanted to ask her why she’s been worried about Auston. Has he been acting different also? Had your conversation actually had an effect on him? But before any of your questions could be answered the devil himself interrupted.

“Hey Steph, could you keep Alexa company? I forgot a gift in my car and need to go grab it.”

The blond looked over her shoulder before side stepping to allow a spot for the new company to join, “of course we were just gossiping.” She giggled.

You smiled at Alexa but your eyes really never left Auston as you watched him walk away, “excuse me, I’m going to talk to one of the sound guys.”

You backed out of the group and sped walked through the crowd careful to not trip on your own heels. You caught up to Auston right as he was getting his keys from the valet guy.

“We need to talk.” You demanded latching onto his arm.

“Okay, walk with me to my car.” You walked in silence to the parking garage and once you arrived Auston unlocked the doors getting into the drivers side. “Get in.”

You slid into the passenger side crossing your arms over your chest, “what do you think your doing?”

Auston reached into his backseat grabbing a small box, “Getting Justin’s gift.”

“Not that,” you slapped the small box out of his hand back into the backseat, “you brought one of your old hookups as your date.”

“What about you?”

“Me?” You raised your eyebrows.

“Yes, you.” Auston mocked your voice, “you brought your ex boyfriend, which is way worse.”

“He’s Justin’s friend too.” You defended.

“Yeah, that’s not making it better.”

You crossed your arms over your chest,“Watching you with another girl isn’t any better for me.”

“Don’t be jealous.” Auston placed his hand on your thigh letting it slowly creep under your dress.

“I told you, we aren’t doing that anymore.” You grabbed his wrist stopping his hand from moving any further.

“You say that every time and then next thing you know we’re hooking up again and the cycle repeats itself.”

“No. I was for real last time, if you don’t want anything serious I’m done. And don’t look at me like that.” You grumbled keeping you arms crossed and eyes straight ahead.

“Like what?” Auston teased a smile playing at his lips.

“Like you actually care.”

“I do.” He responded. “I care about making you feel good.” His right hand made itself comfortable on the back of your neck and began applying pressure, “And you look really tense right now.”

“Wonder who’s responsible for that.” You sarcastically responded.

“The same person who can also help you relax.” He suggested his hand back on your thigh again, but this time you let him go under your dress.

It was pathetic how easily your body responded to him. How your head fell back against the head rest and your hips shifted toward him. Your legs spread further apart and your hand came up to play with the hair at the nape of his neck as he pushed your panties to the side.

“You’re really wet for someone who’s done with me.” He commented as he massaged your clit, spreading your wetness around.

You ignored his comment

“If you want me to stop I will, but you have to tell me.” You could only manage to shake your head, taking deep breaths while Auston’s middle finger ran up and down your slit.

“Use your words.” Auston whispered into your ear as his fingers continued to dance around where you needed him the most.

“Don’t stop.” You chocked out almost like a plea. Auston followed your command as two of his fingers started to slowly move in and out of you. He used his right hand to unzip the back of your dress. Allowing the top of your dress to fall down, he began sucking and kissing all over your chest.

You reached over the center console to stroke the growing bulge through his dress pants. However, you suddenly felt empty as Auston’s fingers thar were once inside you were now wrapped tightly around your wrist stopping you, “no, this is about you.”

He put your hand back in your lap before bringing his fingers to your lips. He watched intently as you wrapped your lips around his fingers sucking gently. Auston gave you for a hum of approval before going back to pumping his fingers in and out of you at a pace that only someone with significant wrist strength could manage.

You should’ve been embarrassed about how easily he had you falling apart around his fingers, but the feeling was nonexistent as you moaned hiking your leg up on the seat to give him more access.

You bit down on his lip hard keeping your lips connected as you came down from your first orgasm. Auston continued to move his fingers building you up for a second and then he did it again for a third. His fingers continued to move despite your pleas for him to stop.

“You have one more in you.” He encouraged kissing on your neck.

“Auston-I can’t, please.” You whined overstimulated. Auston loved to hear you beg, it didn’t matter if it was for more or for him to stop. He loved the way your voice strained and your body pulsed and his absolute favorite part was hearing the way you said his name.

Hearing you now only motivated him to move his fingers quicker and at more of angle, “Yes you can. You’ve done it before you can do it now.”

Your hips bucked up involuntarily over and over again to meet his fingers. Your body felt like it was on fire as you reached your climax and that’s all it took before you were slumping forward gripping on to the dashboard to keep yourself steady. Your body was absolutely wrecked and you weren’t sure how you were going to stand, let alone walk back to the party.

“Good girl.” Auston kissed the side of your head, finally removing his fingers. He brought them to his own lips this time sucking them clean.

“Enjoy sitting next to your hookup with me still on your fingers.” You commented through ragged breaths.

“Enjoy singing with your ex boyfriend after I just did that to your pussy.” Austons smug remark had you moving with a sudden burst of energy. You reached for your phone looking at the time as it read 7:45. “Fuck,” you mumbled as you frantically pulled your dress back up. You pulled down the passenger side mirror fixing your makeup and hair before pushing the door open.

“Where are you going?” Auston asked as he followed your lead, also getting out of the car.

“Back to the party, I’m supposed to sing with Shawn at 8:00.” You ran your hands over your dress looking at your reflection in the car window.

“I hope Shawn doesn’t remember what you look like after you get fucked.” Auston dismissed your panicked behavior locking the car before walking around to your side.

“I hope Alexa doesn’t mind sitting in the seat where you fucked me.” You threw back as he picked up your hand leading you back to the venue.

You ran straight into Scooter’s chest as you and Auston sped walk back through the side gate that led to patio.

“Woah, slow down turbo.” He joked placing his hands on your shoulders to steady you.

“Sorry, we uh went to Auston’s car to get his gift for Justin that he forgot and we didn’t realize how far away it was and so we basically ran to make it back in time and they should really give his mom a price reduction because of how far away parking is.” You rambled out of breath as you fidgeted with your fingers.

“Where’s the gift?”

“Huh?” You questioned trying to play it cool.

“The gift, that you guys went to go get. Where is it?” Scooter questioned again looking back and forth between the two of you.

You opened your mouth, but no words came out. You began panicking and searching for any plausible explanation as to why you didn’t have the gift.

“She told me it was stupid.” Auston spoke up clearing his own throat, “the gift, she didn’t like it, told me to return it. Ya know…how she usually acts.” Auston’s voice shook and you mentally rolled your eyes. You may have been a bad actor, but he was worse.

“Right.” Scooter nodded glancing between the two of you again for any real answers. “Well, Shawn’s getting mic’d up now.”

“Yeah I’ll go find him.” You nodded.

“I’ll go back to the table.” Auston said at the same time as you.

You both turned to leave but you turned to your right and he turned to his left causing you to bump into each other. You awkwardly fumbled around each other until you were out of the way.

“Oh and (y/n),” Scooters voice interrupted your awkward interaction “you have a hickey on your neck, might want to put your hair down to cover that up.”

Your cheeks instantly became warm as you kept your head down avoiding eye contact with both of them. “Thanks for letting me know.” You kept your head down as you released your hair from the claw clip it was in and sped walk to the side stage.

“I was starting to think you ditched me.” Shawn joked as he noticed your appearance.

“Sorry I was gone I got caught up in something.” You explained as you were handed a mic. You tucked it under your arm as you placed your inner ear ignoring the way your hands shook.

“You okay? you seem flustered.” He held onto your arm to keep you in place.

“Yeah, Im just nervous.” That wasn’t a total lie.

“I got you, it’s just you and me up there.” His sweet smile made you feel sick. Shawn tucked a piece of hair behind your ear which you quickly began to play with to ensure it didn’t move from your neck.

“You guys ready?” The sound guy asked.

“Yep.” Shawn answered for the both of you as the best you could manage to do was nod your head.

“Alright, you’re on.” He nodded placing headphones over his own ears.

The crowd applauded loudly as you and Shawn took the stage. You were very grateful to whoever’s idea it was to have you sit and perform as you perched yourself on one of the stools center stage. The crowd settled as you sat down and the anticipation built as the opening chords were played by the band.

—

The crowd erupted into cheers as you and Shawn harmonized on the final note. You held tightly onto his hand slowly opening your eyes.

“I’ve missed singing with you.” He placed a gentle kiss on the back of your hand and then kissed your temple.

“I’ve missed it too.” You agreed, pulling him into a deep hug. Your happiness, however was short lived as you looked out into the crowd and watched a body you knew all too well leaving through the side gate.

You shoved your mic into Shawn’s chest, “I’m sorry give me five minutes and I’ll be back.” You promised leaving without a response.

You sped walk through the crowd your eyes locked on the side gate. You brushed off all the praises you received from people as you passed them, your sole focus on catching up with Auston.

“Auston.” You shouted after him as you exited the gate. He didn’t turn around but kept walking.

“Auston!” You shouted again trying to catch up with him on the sidewalk. “Please stop!” You begged tugging on his arm when you finally caught up.

“What do you want?” He turned around to face you ripping his arm out of your grip.

“I want you to talk to me.”

“Oh like you’ve been talking to me these past couple of weeks?” His voice boomed above all the cars on the street.

“You hurt me.” Your voice was soft, barely above a whisper.

“I just listened to you sing love songs with your ex, so you hurt me too.”

“That’s not fair.” You crossed your arms, tears starting to form in the corner of your eyes. “You left me at that hotel, I shouldn’t be chasing after you.”

“I left because you slammed the bathroom door in my face.”

“Because I told you I had feelings for you and you said that our relationship wasn’t that serious to you.”

“Because I was scared!” Auston finally burst, “I’ve known I wanted something with you ksince that night at our home game when you got into a fight. But I could tell you didn’t want anything so I kept up the little game we had, but then you stayed the night and wrote the song and my feelings just got all confused.” He ran his hands through his hair letting out a deep sigh, “That night I came to your apartment to apologize, that’s all I should’ve done was apologize and then leave. But once we started, I couldn’t stop, you became addicting. And then you became comforting and-fuck-It’s you, you are all I want.”

“Auston-“ you tried to cut him off, but he didn’t let you.

“And that night you told me you wanted more, I panicked because it would mean we would finally be on the same page. And I started to imagine all the scenarios where it wouldn’t work out. I’ve never wanted to hurt you, but that night I did and I haven’t been able to forgive myself since.”

“I forgive you.” You tentively reached for his hand, “I was confused after that night at your apartment too, but I knew there was something there. And I was hurt after my New York show so I tried pushing you away. But, fuck, I can’t turn off how I feel and you’re all I think about. You are everything I want.”

You chewed on your bottom lip as you waited for him to say something, anything. The all consuming silence reminded you of your last night together. And that silence ended in both of you slamming doors and neither of you getting what you wanted.

Up until now all of your relationships for the most part had been easy, especially at the beginning. This was the most you’ve ever had to work. Was being this vulnerable scary as hell? Absolutely. Was Auston worth it? Absolutely.

Auston smiled as a sigh of relief left his lips. He pulled you in by your waist resting his head on your own, “For real?”

You giggled nodding, “yes for real. I don’t want anyone else.” The relief you felt was incomparable. It was like a weight was lifted off your shoulders and you could finally breath.

“I don’t want anyone else either.” He admitted rubbing his hands up and down your back. “I want you to be my girlfriend.” The last sentence was whispered lowly into your ear.

Your grin was enough of an answer, but still you nodded and whispered “I want you to be my boyfriend.”

“I’ll be whatever you want, baby.” Auston reassured placing a kiss on your neck, followed by your cheek, and then your lips.

“Would it be totally wrong if we ditched our dates?

“Yes.” Auston confirmed, “but when have we ever been morally sound people.” He bent to pick you up causing you to squeal and giggle at the sudden change as he carried you down the street.

“That song you performed with him wasn’t even that good anyway.” You laughed at Auston’s bitter tone.

“I’ll perform some new ones for you that I’ve been working on.” You offered running your fingers through his hair.

“As long as they aren’t about another guy.”

“Nah, they’ve all been about the same guy lately” you admitted, hoping the darkness would hide your blush.

“I can’t wait to hear it then.”

#famous reader #hockey #maple leafs #nhl #nhl blurb #toronto maple leafs #celebrity reader #justin bieber #hockey imagine #nhl imagine #auston matthews x reader #auston matthews #party #shawn mendes #performer

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apollos-boyfriend · 9 months

Note

i would love to hear about indie horror rpg number 957!! i adore indie horror rpg games

WELL since u so kindly asked. it is now time for one of my Many corpse party rants ^_^ and yes ik corpse party is not as like. unknown as like, jimmy and the pulsating mass or smth (which is something i REALLY need to get around to playing, actually) but with the recent sequel announcement i have been spinning it in my head much more than usual. more accurately, how bad the writing got by the end and how disappointing the ending to the heavenly host arc was, because it had SO much potential!! the initial game was such a hit for a reason!! (initial referring to the like, DS version era, which feels weird to say but you get my point. initial full version of the main story.)

book of shadows highlights this issue the most for me, because like. it has Such a good concept. the idea that everything is contained in a horrifying time loop in which these characters slowly regain the memories of their past loop, including their gruesome deaths. that’s fucking terrifying!! having to face the fact that not only have you done this before, but you didn’t survive, and maybe you’re fated to never make it out of this alive, no matter how hard you try. that your fate will actually worsen the deeper you go into the loops. that nothing you do matters. it never did and it never will. (it also does some other things i like, such as delving into the alternate endings/realities and fleshing out more characters, dynamics, and backstories. that was good!! i enjoyed that!! largely bc the new stuff they introduced was actually yknow. new. and not characters from a novel they just threw in and acted like you should already be acquainted with them.)

the issue with book of shadows for me is that like. the characters are SO stupid. like. fucking mayu?? she REALIZES the marks on her body are there because that’s how she dies, then just. never fucking tells anyone?? and SPLITS UP??? i don’t care how self-conscious she is i will never excuse that choice. she recognizes the room that killed her. she makes a conscious decision to not enter it. and then enters anyway!!! because fuck you!!! if she’d ended up there again in any other way i wouldn’t have cared so much because like. again. they’re fated to always die in exponentially terrible ways yadda yadda. but the way they got her there is SO stupid. had she not ran into i THINK ayumi and yoshiki(???) it would’ve made everything a hundred times better. have her panic over her situation and not pay attention to where she’s going. running into others and not saying anything just makes it all so frustrating to play through. the concept is fun but it just becomes annoying instead of horrifying because you’re forced to sit through these characters being idiots and get distracted by that instead of the actual horror of the situation.

book of shadows just has gameplay issues as well, like jesus christ did we need such insane completion goals 😭 having to spam click through 30+ endings is more torture than anything they ever put their characters through. it’s not even worth it considering how much the ending sucks either. you had a good premise!!! an amazing one even!!!! why did you do her like that!!!

anyways. mods are asleep post mayu splatter dot jpg

#muse talk #anon #gore tw #blood tw #<- it’s like 9 pixels but just in case #also. i couldn’t fucking find the original mayu splatter #like every google result is either the anime or manga or book of shadows or whatever #like full cgs. which i felt was Far too graphic for just this silly joke ending #so i did in fact have to scrub through an entire 2 hour vod for this screenshot #bc it was the only one i knew reliably had the scenes i needed #never say i’ve never done anything for you guys #<- aware absolutely No One asked for this

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blithesylph · 2 years

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saw another post about voting and like. the reasoning to convince people to vote is always “to stop the republicans from doing even worse shit” and like isn’t that just fucking unbearably depressing? that’s it? we vote for democrats not because we believe in their ability to pass legislation we care about but because at least we’ll save ourselves some more time before it all falls to authoritarianism. is democracy really working out for us if this is how it’s going? i am almost 19 and this has been how it is my whole life and i feel so worn down. all i hear is talk and platitudes and i get emails from democrats as a call to action and we have the house and the senate and the presidency but it doesn’t fucking matter. sure i’ll vote in my very blue district and i’m sure the country will be saved.

#the thing is voting isn’t as appealing when the whole government looks rotten to the core to me #and do you think that i like not doing anything revolving around what i believe?#i feel so empty and helpless and i hate it #and people on the left say ‘organize!’#but i truly don’t know what that means when i live in rural areas full of upper middle class people or college students #i don’t know what i can do #i signed up to help my local abortion fund #but i never heard back #i want to be useful and i want to help people but everything is vague and confusing and voting felt like one of the most hollow things i’ve #ever done #i voted for a local position this guy who wanted to make public transit free in our county #he lost to the incumbent #we deserve a better world than this and voting will never lead to the necessary changes #because you cannot vote out capitalism #this country is built on bodies upon bodies upon bodies and voting will never change the fact that death is in its very structure #the democrats may over all not be as evil as republicans but you cannot fucking deny that they are owned by corporations too #ok rant over

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suguann · 1 month

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He has a feeling that the new girl running the front desk at the gym is going to be a problem—a distraction disguised in a gym uniform polo and khaki pants.

It starts with you smiling too brightly as he walks in one morning, all teeth and that little twinkle in your eye that feels like trouble when you scan his membership card.

“Good morning, Mr. Riley.”

“It’s just Simon,” he tells you as he takes his card off the counter.

The following day, it’s the same, except Johnny is there to make it worse.

He nudges Simon with his elbow. “She’s kinda pretty, huh?”

“Say it any louder, and she’ll hear you, mate,” he grumbles.

Simon’s not blind; of course, he knows you’re pretty, but he doesn’t have time to commit to anything outside of work—even if you smile at him like you’re happy to see him and how he’ll think about it later: on missions, at his desk, during morning runs. His head is nothing short of woven webs with thoughts of you stuck in the middle.

Honestly, it’s that you—

(You try to make small talk with him every morning, and Simon is starting to think it’s just for him because on the days he doesn’t come alone, you merely scan his card and go back to reading the open paperback book on the desk.)

It’s weird because it’s almost like you—

(He bumps into you at the supermarket and makes a dumb joke about carrots that makes you laugh. It makes him a little tongue-tied and awkward afterward because he realizes he hasn’t talked to a woman outside of only wanting a quick fuck in a really long time, but more importantly, he wants to hear it again.

Instead, he tosses potatoes in his cart and walks away.)

He tells himself it means nothing, or not how Simon wants it to.

You’re just…he’s not even sure; acquaintances? Maybe more than that, but less than friends. Somewhere in that odd in-between phase where he only knows bits and pieces but not the whole picture.

Sometimes, he wishes—

(Simon doesn’t know what he’s doing the first time he invites you to meet the guys from work on a night out. He’s dated around a few times and had his fair share of hook-ups, but this isn’t like that. His palms are sweaty, more than usual, and no amount of wiping them on the thighs of his jeans keeps them dry.

Then you walk into the bar in a dress that’s probably too light for early spring in London—even though he stares appreciatively at the long expanse of your legs as you walk up to the table—and he wishes he wasn’t introducing you as his friend.)

But you—

(A new development happens after you slip him your phone number on one of the gym’s business cards—it’s weird that we don’t have each other’s numbers, so message me sometime or whatever—and he messages you ‘hey’ right before he leaves for a mission a few days later.

It slowly shifts and changes over time.

You start sending him texts in the morning. Never an actual good morning text, but of the dogs you take on walks, the sunrise, the new flower box in your window. Somehow, it’s better.)

You really are—

(His house feels too hot, and he’s distracted from the movie by how close you are, how your leg drapes over his under the blanket, fingers fisting into his sweater at his stomach that clenches. An ache that grows, throbbing, spreading from his abdomen to his groin.

It feels monumental—something more than the gentle touch to the elbow to squeeze by each other in his entryway earlier or giving you his jacket that night at the bar—a tilt of the axis that makes the messy pieces fall neatly into place.

He must be staring because you glance up at him, smiling, and the sound from the TV turns into white noise in the background.

“Can I…would you—fucking hell,” Simon runs a hand through his hair. “Can I kiss you?”

When your lips press against his, and his hands are pulling you onto his lap, where you settle hotly against his dick tenting in his jeans, he wonders why neither of you has done this before. Just kissing—him licking the seam of your mouth, and you panting his name.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while,” you mumble, lips brushing his.

“Me too,” and he fists his hand into the hair at your nape and pulls you back to his mouth.)

“I knew you’d be trouble,” he tells you one day, glaring at the bloke further down the bar who tried making a swipe at your ass before Simon showed up, towering over his shoulder with your fruity cocktail in hand.

“Oh, yeah?” you giggle, leaning into his side.

“Yeah,” the corners of his mouth quirk, though he hides it when he presses a kiss against your temple. “A real pain in my ass, love.”

“But yours.”

This time, he does smile. “Yes, but mine.”

Masterlist

#simon riley imagine #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost x you #ghost imagine #simon riley fluff #cod imagine #cod x reader #cod fic #mw2 x reader #mw2 imagine #.things i write

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headkiss · 5 months

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something more

pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!bau!reader

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

word count: 6.6k

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

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

༄

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Whatcha doing?” You’d asked.

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

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

“I should really get this done-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay, put me to work, boss.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And he still wanted to check on you.

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

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

“Get in here, Hotchner.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who taught you that one, huh?”

“I like to keep my sources anonymous.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The flight home from a case always feels the longest.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hopeless, she thinks.

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

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

“Should we wake them up?” JJ asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We fell asleep, but we landed.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s going on?” You ask Aaron.

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

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

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

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

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

He likes that idea, too.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You guess that this time might be up for debate.

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry.” And then, you hung up.

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

So, your instincts weren’t so bad.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“If you say so, Hotchner.”

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

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

“Learned from the best,” you say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll clean it all up, too, I prom-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s perfect,” he says.

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

Similar words come from the rest of the team.

“Finally,” from Emily.

“About time,” from JJ.

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

A sweet, “yay,” from Penelope.

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

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

༄

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

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augustinewrites · 1 year

Note

does gojo ever freak out or worry ab reader when she’s alone on missions? obviously she can handle herself & knows what she’s doing, but he gives the vibes that he’d be internally panicking 😭

“hey, welcome back!” gojo grins, quickly shoving a half melted spatula to the bottom of the trash can.

“hi,” you murmur, tipping the bill of your cap down as you close the door behind you. odd. he doesn’t think he’s seen you wear a hat before.

“how was it?” he asks, flicking off the stove and closing in to welcome you properly with a kiss. well, he attempts to. you immediately take a step back, avoiding his embrace. he definitely doesn’t remember a time you’ve ever done that.

“i’m all sweaty,” you tell him, toeing your boots off and heading straight toward the bedroom. you say hello to the kids before shutting the door, the lock clicking into place.

“are you mad at me?” he asks as soon as he warps into the room.

“satoru!” you startle, staggering back into the door. “get out!”

“nope,” he hums, closing in on you. “we sleep in the same room and you know that i don’t respect boundaries.”

with that, he reaches over and pulls the baseball cap off your head.

“satoru, please don’t freak out—”

he freaks out.

he grabs your chin so you can’t turn away, inspecting the sutures lining your temple. “this is deep! are you okay? why were you hiding it from me?”

you swat his hand away, frowning. “i’m fine, and i wasn’t hiding it. i just didn’t want the kids to see. speaking of, did you guys eat dinner yet?”

“what grade curse was it?”

“special. i thought i smelled something burning—”

“you’re only grade one. why would they—”

“only grade one?” you repeat with a scoff. “don’t say it like that. you know the only reason i’m not special grade is because the zenin’s—”

“because the zenin’s are holding you back until you join them. they’re dicks, babe. that’s old news,” he finishes, tapping his foot impatiently.

“listen,” you tell him, pinching the bridge of your nose. “i just didn’t get out of the way fast enough. it’s just a cut. i’ve had worse.”

“well, next time they call you up for assignment, i’m coming with you,” he decides. “we’ll get a sitter for the kids and make it like a date night.”

“whoa,” you interrupt. “you’re inviting yourself on my assignments now? “do you think i’m not good enough?”

“well when you come home hurt, yeah!”

he regrets it as soon as he says it.

and he hates the way you’re looking at him. you’re hurt, and it shows. “wow. thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“hey…”

he says your name, reaching for your hand, but you pull away, shaking your head.

_____

freshly showered and changed, you pull your robe on, exiting the bathroom. gojo’s sitting on the bed, waiting with his head in his hands.

“you know i think you’re more than capable,” he says quietly. “i wasn’t making a dig at your skill. you’re incredible.”

“i know,” you hum, dumping your uniform into the basket.

he looks up at you, apologetic. “but if anything happened to you, and you were really hurt…it would be my fault.”

“that’s not true,” you say quickly, sitting beside him.

“it is,” he insists. “and i could never forgive myself, because i’m supposed to be the strongest.”

(and what’s the point of being the strongest if he couldn’t protect the people he loved most?)

“satoru,” you murmur, smoothing a hand across his back. “you have such a big heart. i’m dating you because of your heart— well, mostly your abs but also your heart. ou already take on so much for everyone. and i need you to trust that i can’t take care of myself. i don’t want to be another burden to you.”

wordlessly, he takes your hand and presses it to his chest, so you can feel his heartbeat.

“you are my whole heart. if i lost you and i could have stopped it, like i could’ve stopped—” he purses his lips, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. “i just can’t lose you.”

“and you won’t,” you promise, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “now let’s go have dinner.”

“ah. about that….”

_____

“alright, dinner’s served!”

you the kids exchange a look.

megumi leans close to you, whispering, “can we get sick from this?”

“go on,” satoru encourages, picking up his own sandwich. “it’s a spam sandwich! i used to eat these all the time before i met—”

“you’re really lucky you met her,” the twelve year old grumbles, peeling the bread back to look at the burnt piece of spam.

tsumiki, ever the people pleaser, takes a bite and chews very thoroughly before swallowing with great effort.

“um…the smoke added a nice hickory flavour to the spam.”

“okay, we’re getting pizza,” you decide, shooting your boyfriend an apologetic look.

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x reader #jjk drabbles #jjk angst #keeping up with the fushigojos #keeping up with the fushigojos: extended cut!

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