#I asked my colleague to tell the kids about my birthday and that they might need a reminder | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

irisintheafterglow · 10 months

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has rockstar!gojo been done yet because i have some things to say

"whatcha drinking there?" a second weight sinks onto the couch and you eye the figure warily from the corner of your vision. you can't see his face well but you think it's a guy; he's got bright white hair, round-rimmed sunglasses, and a half-closed black button up.

"not sure; it was ordered for me. something sweet and dangerous, fruity enough that you can't taste the booze," you answer, crossing one leg over another and propping an elbow on the back of the couch. your body was buzzing with warmth in the stale air of the house, and you'd lost sight of your cousin who begged you to come to the party with her. it was a wealthy colleague's 20something-eth birthday and she wanted to pretend to be in a higher tax bracket for the night. though most of the other people at the party radiated predatory vibes, the other occupant of the couch didn't, keeping a respectful distance from you as you continued to try to make out his face.

"i know a little something about being sweet and dangerous," he drawls and you catch the corner of his mouth turn up in a smug grin. despite the cheesy line, he still keeps a polite space between you two. you scoff at the contrast between the flirty words and the chivalrous body language, taking another sip.

"oh, goodie, another perv ready to slip something into my drink and take me god knows where until i'm a tragedy on the local news," you deadpan and, to your surprise, he laughs. his laugh is boyish and light; it sounds like sunshine. your heart and mind are at odds with each other, one telling you that he might be a good one and the other cautioning against sweet-talking men at parties.

"have people actually tried that on you tonight?" when his laughter dies back, his voice drops its teasing lilt for something almost...concerned? you shrug, leaning your head in your hand. he mirrors your position and you unconsciously scoot a little closer to him. to hear him better, you reason.

"eh, you know how it is."

"say the word and i'll have them out of here before you can blink." it's your turn to laugh at his pretentious arrogance, but you lock eyes with him over the rims of his glasses. they're electrically bright and calculatingly lethal, like clear blue water during high tide.

"what, you gonna tell your security team to kick them out?" you joke, continuing to nurse the remaining alcohol in your hand. you don't expect him to hum and raise his eyebrows thoughtfully; something in your head whispers that he might not actually be kidding. he was an enigma compared to the others that approached you. he hadn't tried to touch you, get your number, or look down your shirt. odd, yes, and admittedly intriguing.

"i could do that, if you want me to. i don't like it when creeps bother pretty people." he flashes another sly grin and his hair falls to the side as he tilts his head. he was pretty cute, but you were still skeptical.

enough. get down to the nitty gritty. "what do you want?"

"hmm?" his sharp eyebrows furrow in confusion.

"what do you want, if you're gonna call me pretty? you want my number, or my socials, or to take me home or something?" you stare at him expectantly and his eyes narrow ever so slightly like he was offended. maybe he wasn't used to people outwardly asking him if he was going to toy with them.

"truthfully, all i really want is to try your drink, and possibly get your name."

"oh," is all you're able to manage after any more biting words disappear from your vocabulary at his honesty. it was off-putting how nice he was, but you decide to humor him and hold out your glass. there's barely any liquid left in it, but he downs it in a blink.

"oh, shit. that's really good."

"right? i wish i got the order because i wanna be able to get that wherever."

"if you do get the order, send it my way too because that is delicious." from what you could tell, it was mostly vodka, with a little bit of strawberry or cherry punch on ice. there was another flavor you couldn't place, something fresh and earthy. maybe mint?

"i'll ask my cousin, then. hopefully she isn't too shit-faced to relay what she told the bartender." he laughs again, that breathy chuckle that made your heart skip a few beats. "how do you know the birthday girl?"

"friend of a friend of a friend."

"i see. this place not really your scene?"

"it is, sometimes. depends on the people present."

"what's your usual scene, then?"

"concerts, mostly." he runs a slender hand through his hair and you fight the urge to stare at its elegance. his voice was smooth and melodic and you leaned closer to him until it was the only thing you focused on. you're close enough to see his fingernails, painted alternating shades of red, blue, and purple. he looks at you like you're the best thing at the party and the rest of the noise fades into the background. "i like when music connects people. it's the closest thing we have to invisible strings tying everyone together, you know?" so he's the poetic type.

"mhmm. do you play any instruments?"

"i sing, sometimes. my band plays in this area."

before you can ask his name or give him yours, a tall man with his hair pulled back and a woman with a short bob steals the stranger away. he glances back at you apologetically, murmuring something about it being a pleasure to meet you. at the end of the conversation, you were left with an empty glass and an unshakable feeling of disappointment.

the subtle ache in your chest whenever you thought of him lasted several more days than you would have liked it to. you texted your friends about it numerous times for cathartic reasons but nothing worked. you wanted to figure out the mystery behind his identity and it was driving you out of your mind. the unrelenting feeling of restlessness was replaced by dread when your cousin dragged you to a concert in some underground venue, insisting standing as close to the stage as possible. you agreed on the condition that she order you another glass of the drink you had during the party.

despite the loud screams echoing through the chamber and the bodies knocking against your arms, the music wasn't terrible, especially when you had a few more drinks. as the night progressed, you found yourself constantly drawn to the lead singer. intuition said you'd met him before, even though it was impossible considering that he was one of the most popular musical artists on the planet. music officials called his innate talent and musicianship the most powerful of the time, earning him the nickname of "honored one." he had a reputation for being a rulebreaker, constantly voicing very blunt opinions regarding the older, more conservative artists of his genre. he was also rumored to be a player, always hopping around from lover to lover and never staying with one too long. it drove the fan accounts on twitter absolutely mad.

even if he was a heartbreaker, he was a professional nonetheless. he certainly knew how to put on a show, sweat dripping from his spotlight-shining hair and licking his lips enticingly while he sang sweet nothings to the audience of swooning fans. his crowd work was admirable and you found your face heating up when he crouched down in front of you between songs. his voice was raspy and overtly flirtatious, but it still bothered you that you'd heard it before the show and couldn't pinpoint where.

"hey there, pretty. you likin' the show?"

"mhmm, the 'drenched in sweat' look is really doing it for me."

"well, i used the last of my water to uh, baptize those ladies over there," he remarks, gesturing with the mic to a group of teenage girls that were shrieking at the top of their lungs. "mind if i get a sip of what you're having?"

"as long as you don't turn it into a super soaker."

inches away from you, you realize his eyes are a vibrant shade of blue and they crinkle at the corners from your joke. he laughs, boyishly happy and contagiously bubbly. you'd seen those eyes and heard that laugh weeks ago, on the night your cousin brought you to that party. in that moment, the realization collides with your body like a semitruck and your legs nearly give out. everything makes sense instantly: his voice, his hair, the way he called you "pretty."

you'd been flirting with gojo satoru.

and he was right in front of you, asking for your drink again in front of hundreds of people.

after a tense moment of stunned hesitation, you carefully hand him your glass and watch his face wash over in realization when he takes a sip. despite the screams from the crowd at the intimate interaction, all you could hear is his voice.

"oh, shit." he stares at you so intensely your heart does a backflip before slamming into your eardrums. the way he's looking at you tells you all that you need to know, all that you wanted to know ever since the night of the party. "that's...that's really good." he observes you for half a moment longer before he remembers what the hell he was doing. he stands to continue the show, but he flashes a knowing grin like he was telling you a secret.

"welcome to my usual scene, pretty."

your cousin is shocked, to say the least, when a security guard finds you after the show and requests your presence backstage.

how did this turn into 1.6k words i meant for this to be a drabble lol but anyways hope you enjoyed it

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

#gojo x you #gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #satoru gojo x y/n #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk au #satoru gojo #jujutsu kaisen

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iwonderwh0 · 11 months

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I accidentally wrote two more scenes, continuing the idea in this post (and associated reblogs) about Connor temporarily existing in Hank's devices (I don't reblog it this time, because I forgot to do that). One is below, and another one is not yet fully finished, so I'll probably post it later.

"Ah, fucking asshole!" Hank slammed the brakes.

"What happened?" Connor asked, his voice coming from a speaker.

"This prick just cut me off."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that."

"No, you're not," Hank glanced at the dash camera he previously found in his garage – it still wasn't plugged in and he wasn't even sure if it had any memory card inside, but now he thought that it might be a good idea to turn it on, or to try, at least. He slowed down at the traffic light and as his car came to a complete stop searched for the hanging cable.

"I just remembered that I have a dash cam."

"Are you going to turn it on?"

Hank plugged in the cable and pressed the "on" button – small LED informed him that recording has started.

"Nah."

From a satisfied sound Hank concluded that android found his way to now fully working dash camera.

"Thank you."

For a couple of minutes they drove in silence, interrupted only by some occasional static from the speaker.

"See that woman in front of you?" Connor asked at some point.

"The one with red Honda? I don't see who's driving it, but yeah, whatever. What about her?"

"She's an attorney. She has two kids and she recently filed a divorce, but her husband doesn't know it yet."

"And you're telling me this why exactly?"

"I don't know. I thought it was interesting, and I doubt you'll ever see her again – her vehicle is registered in a different state."

"You know, the way you can just do shit like that makes me...Shit, I don't even know. It's unnerving," Hank removed one of his hands from a steering wheel for a moment to gesture at the last sentence, even though he knew Connor wouldn't see it.

"I've only used publicly available information starting from her license plate number -- it is a part of the public record anyway -- and the rest of it wasn't too hard to find online, knowing her legal name."

"Not sure if it makes it better or worse."

"If it makes you feel better, there is not much I can find this way about you. Most of what I assume were your accounts are either deleted or haven't been updated in years. There are, however, other accounts that are referencing you, and some of them are quite active to this day."

"Even if I never posted anything at all, those jackals would do that for me," Hank shook his head, "Great. Not like I didn't know that already."

He tried to remember whatever it was Connor could even find on his abandoned profile. He barely used it in recent years and only kept it for the sake of getting reminded about upcoming birthdays, even though he didn't really care much about any of them. Still, it felt useful enough.

"And who the fuck is even referencing me?" He asked after a pause.

"It's not something recent, if that's what you're asking. Most of it is dated at least three years back."

"I'm asking names."

"Just your colleagues, mostly, and-"

"My ex wife?"

"Yes."

Hank thought about the last time he saw her. It was the day of Cole's funeral. He avoided looking in her direction during the whole ceremony, cautious not to make any eye-contact. He wasn't there for her, and neither was she. They didn't talk this day.

"Sometimes I wonder how she's doing..," Hank said, without actually meaning to. Over the past three days, it had started to happen to him more and more often - thinking something and blurting it out loud the same moment without a second thought. Not all of it was something he actually wanted to share or hear a response to, but at the same time there was some comfort in knowing that someone would listen, no matter what he had to say. He wondered if Connor was secretly getting tired of him, but at the same time, it didn't seem like he was, as whenever Hank remained quiet for longer than a couple of minutes, the android would say something himself and encouraged Hank to respond, say something. Anything, even if it's just a humming sound, acknowledging his presence.

Connor's voice brought Hank back from his thoughts.

"Do you want me to-"

"-No! Not like this. I just-," he tightened his grip on the steering wheel, thinking "I don't know, I don't want to know too much. Just wondering if..," he sighed, "Shit. Forget it, okay?"

For a while it was quiet, and Hank already decided that it was over when android spoke again.

"She's fine. It seems like she's in a relationships, but not engaged. No kids, two dogs."

"So she moved on, huh...Good to know."

"You're welcome."

"I didn't ask you to do that, by the way."

"Not directly, but I'm good at reading between the lines."

"Only when you don't need to."

"Hank?"

Hank hummed in response, turning on the signal lights to make a turn.

"Do you..."

For the second time of the day Hank hit the brakes when another vehicle abruptly squeezed into the tiny gap in front of him, coming dangerously close to hitting both his car and the one next in line.

"Shit, did you see that? Fucker needs his license recalled."

"I didn't catch it. I can only process a frame every three seconds or so."

"Wait, you serious? So all this time you've been watching a slideshow, not even a laggy video?"

"Basically. I can't process visual data at the same speed I can process audio, as it leaves me almost no space to process anything else, making it quite useless. I do, however, appreciate seeing something, even if it's just static images every couple of seconds."

Hearing it was...upsetting. More so than Hank expected, although he wasn't sure why. He abruptly thought if maybe his phone is too old and it was the time for an update anyway, but then remembered that Connor was saying something just before he got distracted.

"What were you saying before?"

"Oh.. I think you should turn here and go around, there's a huge traffic jam ahead."

"Really?" Hank frowned and glanced at his GPS unit. It usually warned him about things like traffic jams, but it seemed usual, no warnings of any kind. Hank thought about it for a moment, then turned to drive around anyway. Maybe Connor was right. Maybe he was lying. Hank didn't feel like questioning him this time. Maybe he will do that later, "Thanks."

For a few seconds there was some static coming from a speaker. It got louder for a few seconds, then became slightly softer, and after another second it disappeared completely.

#dbh #dbh connor #dbh hank #Fic ideas that I'll never write #<- I mean it doesn't really belong here anymore as I'm kinda writing it but I'll still tag it to keep it together #+ I don't believe it'll be formed into an actual fic so it kinda counts anyway #dbh fanfiction #pocket ghost

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landwriter · 2 years

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I just. Need to get this out of my head. We all see Hob as a university level teacher but what if he wasn't? What if he was an elementary, or even kindergarten/preschool, teacher. He didn't exactly plan to become an Offical Wrangler of 20 Human equivalent of cats, but it lets him showcase his random knowledge and get even more excited about seeing the future.

Get it outta your head, put it into mine, yes, this is the meta I welcome and adore!!! I think my views on Hob tend to run a little bit sharper and darker than the average fandom take. I've never seen him as someone whose chief trait is hope, yanno? It's hunger for me! Never thought, oh yeah, that is a labrador retriever in human form. I have never associated him with a little classroom that has posters about weather and seasons and a map of the world.

And YET. After getting this ask and thinking about it. I am fucking sold and now I will sell you all too. He would be a brilliant teacher of younger kids. Because I don't think you need to be sunny or kind or friendly to be a good teacher of small children. It’s nice. But I do believe you have to be curious. And sensitive. And patient. And those are some of the traits that characterize Hob to me.

He knows more of the variations of life than can be earned in a mortal lifetime alone. He knows loneliness. He knows losing family. He knows poverty. He knows about moving and leaving what feels like your whole life behind you, when you never wanted to go. He would inherently understand why it's better to talk about 'grownups at home' than 'parents', and why you shouldn't make kids share with the class what they did on their summer vacation.

He is always curious - not just of the world in a way that allows him to passionately transmit that knowledge to his classes like you say OP - but also of his kids. About their dreams and hopes and fears. About how childhood has changed so much. He loves the small stuff. He wants to hear it all. A class of 20 enthusiastic kids might be like herding cats, but it’s also 20 entire lives, mornings and nights and houses and siblings and pets and chaos and weird kid observations and beliefs, and it sates Hob’s bottomless hunger for the human experience far more than a lecture hall filled with a bunch of young adults who are only there three hours a week, whose extent of conversation with him is usually limited to emails asking for paper extensions that he grants each and every time.

He also has this insane sensitivity that you see even in 1389 in the way he pulls back earnestness with humour to match the mood of the room. He is always watching, always feeling, always adjusting. Think of all the little expressions of expectation and irritation and hurt and hope when talking with Dream! I have no doubt he’d ensure each of his students felt seen and understood, even if it's hard at first. Even if it takes a long time to get there. It’s taken him a long time, after all. He is this exquisitely tuned instrument to talk carefully to kids, and to give them back tenfold the sort of validation that a part of him always howled for in those early meetings.

He's good at being earnest. He's good at big feelings. He's good at being funny. He's good at noticing. He's good at these things, in large part, because he's not normal at all.

He’s also as stubborn as a child, but as frighteningly patient as, well, an immortal. It’s probably uncanny to his colleagues. They tell Hob he’s got the patience of a saint, and he thinks, privately, More like the faith of a martyr. But he does. He’s got both.

I think he doesn't get it all right at first. But I think within ten years he’s got so many teaching awards he needs to put up a special shelf for them. Below it, though, are several shelves, already full to bursting, with letters and thank-yous and birthday cards and ‘look at me now’ life updates from former students. Because that is the kind of teacher Hob wants to be.

#the sandman #meta #hob gadling #believe it or not i literally have never thought about this until getting this ask #i truly mean it when i say u can send me meta about anything and i will chew on it like a dog with a bone #god forbid u send me meta asks about things i HAVE thought about #an essay #just caving and making that a tag #best teachers i've had weren't great at being normal humans #but they were great at teaching #they were WEIRDOS and we LOVED them #hob would be SUCH a good k-6 teacher god it's upsetting to think about honestly #another Gloam TM rant against Normal Guy hob couched in meta #i have never even met a Normal Guy irl #even normal guys are full of surprises and weirdness

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elfboyeros · 23 days

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Bits of Patience

⚠️Hey it's basically smut, this your warning⚠️ Bridgehid Goodness Please enjoy

She was put on this Earth to kill him!

“It’s about time a class is labeled with a pink gemstone, I finally get to see you all in pink—" Calvin stopped talking when he exited the bathroom seeing Indigo at her vanity mirror in the most simple pink gown yet the open back, and leg slit on the dress that hugged her body in all the right ways made him stop died in his tracks.

She’s gonna kill him!

Calvin had to do everything in his power not to devour her on-site, and oh boy is it hard! Watching her socialize during this birthday party for a retiring colleague, eyes fixated on her body as he continued to drink to calm himself.

What was it about this dress? Why is his body acting as if he hadn’t laid with her for years? It’s like they haven’t had three children! Like it’s one of the first times they met, and he’s never touched her before and he’s craving to do so!

It must be that stupid dress! That stupid, cotton candy-colored satin gown that hugs her body too well and shows off her legs through that slit and gives a nice few of her back. Oh, why does such a simple dress make her look so unbelievably desirable?

He wants to rip it off her!

“Calvin, darling?” Indigo asked, noticing he was staring off into space, “are you okay?”

“Yeah, angel eyes, I’m fine.”

“You don’t seem fine,” she replied sweetly, placing the back of her hand on his forehead.

He let out a soft chuckle, “I’m fine,” he said taking her hand off her forehead and rubbing her knuckles with his thumb, “I’m not one of the kids. I’ll tell you if I’m not feeling good.”

“Would you really?”

“Of course,” he chuckled.

She drew her hand away, standing beside him watching everyone around them enjoy themselves. He’s been acting off ever since they left the house, it’s honestly starting to get on her nerves, he would have danced with her by now at least, which in all fairness isn’t really an issue. But he would have also kissed her at least twice by now!

Indigo hoped that the whole hand on the forehead would have earned her a kiss on her knuckles, but no, Calvin had stood there beside her, being weird. What is the point of wearing his favorite color if he isn’t going to do anything?

“You can kiss me you know,” she remarked.

He doesn’t miss a beat, “If I did, I wouldn’t be able to control myself.”

“Oh?”

Calvin hummed staring at the bottom of his glass, “So you do like the dress,” she said with a smirk.

“You sound surprised,” he hummed.

“You didn’t really say anything—"

“You are in my favorite color! How could I not be speechless?”

Indigo let out a short chuckle, “And here I thought I—”

“Don’t,” Calvin sighed, looking at her with his head resting against his shoulder, “don’t finish that sentence because you and I both know that’s not true. I could even show you when we get home.”

She smiled, “So, when are we leaving?” she asked with a smirk.

“Whenever you want, angel.”

“Mhm…give me a few minutes.”

“Define a few,” Calvin remarked sweetly, “Is that 10-20 minutes, 50.”

“Five,” Indigo scoffed with a laugh, “Give me five more minutes, and we can be on our way.”

“Five minutes,” Calvin sighed, “If we aren’t leaving in five minutes, I’m going to go home alone.”

“It will only be five minutes, I promise,” she replied, beginning to walk away, “you can even put me with a timer.”

“I just might,” Calvin remarked with a smile, walking her to socialize with a group of individuals.

They were out in under five. Walking home under the cloudy sky, Indigo took off her heels when they hit the dirt road leading to their home as it started drizzling.

“The rain feels nice,” Indigo sighed as they reached their front yard.

Calvin walked her twirl and spin as the rain grew heavier before dropping her shoes in between the blades of grass, joining her.

“I love you,” she giggled as he scooped her up in his arms and she held his face smiling and laughing as the raindrops fell from the sky and onto their skin, while they kissed.

Indigo had only intended to share a small kiss, so they could then go inside and get out of the rain, however Calvin, of course, had other plans! When he said he wouldn’t be able to control himself, he only spoke in truth. Grabbing the fabric of her dress with one of his large hands and the other playing with her with the hair at the base of her skull. Kissing her so forcefully and passionately before stumbling with her to the front door taking what feels like forever to get inside the damn house.

Indigo gasped as he sat her flat on her feet while kissing her neck roughly, “I want it off!” Calvin growled pulling at her skirt and ripping the fabric of her dress with his bare hands.

“CALVIN!” she yelped before he picked her up and carried her up the stairs.

Kicking off his shoes and allowing her to pull at his clothes as he continued to rip apart her dress the sound of the seams splitting filling the quiet room, in between heated kisses and tossing away wet garments.

Calvin pulled her toward their bed, falling back onto the mattress as she got on top of him straddling his hips, “You are a goddess~” he all but gasped, “and I but a mere mortal.”

“A wonderful mortal,” Indigo cooed, “a beautiful, wonderful, and brilliant mortal.”

Calvin chuckled sitting up, pulling her as close as he could possibly get her, water droplets still falling from her short strands of hair, “You speak of brilliance and beauty as if you are not the most gorgeous woman on the planet,” he cooed back in the shell of her ear, “Who is more brilliant than the smartest man.”

“Calvin~”

He chuckled once again before making her shriek out a moan as he placed her fully on his cock, burying his face in her neck, frozen in place, fleshed against her with his hands running up and down her back, “Goddess, you feel so good!”

“Please,” Indigo moaned, “please Calvin.”

His moments were slow, every thrust feeling long and drawn as if time itself stopped when Calvin didn’t move. Moans, groans, sighs, and gasps bounced off their cream walls under the cover of darkness, while Calvin and Indigo continued to pepper each other skin with kisses and burses.

“Goddess,” Indigo gasped as his face laid against her breast, “I love you~”

“I love you too,” he snickered, seeing the hazy, in-love look on her face before pulling out of her.

Silence befell them both as they held one another, Indigo drew random shapes on his chest, whilst Calvin rubbed his knuckles up and down her spine, “We should really jump in the shower,” he remarked softly, before carting his fingers through her still-wet hair.

Indigo groaned, kissing up the column of his neck, “In a minute.”

“How long is this minute?”

“However long I want it to be,” she answered peppering his cheek in kisses.

“Mhm, you have me wrapped around your finger, you know that right?”

“I think my three wedding rings are proof that it is not as one-sided as you think,” Indigo playfully retorted, “plus the fabric at the foot of our bed.”

Calvin snorted, “I’m sorry.”

“No, you aren’t,” She giggled, slapping his chest, “you tore that dress as if it were paper.”

He kissed her forehead chuckling, “I couldn’t help it, I simply lost my patience.”

#Smut #oc #oc x oc #bridgehid #indigo #calvin #indigo x calvin #coralstone #writing #writers on tumblr #writer #fluff #smut prompts #elfboyeros

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teacherintransition · 1 year

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I Got More Behind Me Than I Got in Front of Me

Muerte, décès, morte, tod, смерть, death!

Now, everyone in a good mood?

For over two years, I’ve been engaged in an ongoing exploration of my personal path of adjusting to changing my life in retirement and finding meaning in this new adventure. Without too much paraphrasing, I’ve come across folks who, when confronted with my choice, responded, “retirement… you’ll probably be dead in five years.” W …T …F? You think I’m kidding; but I kid you not gentle reader, there are people like that who roam our fair lands. You may feel such individuals deserve a beating, but listen as I tell that pity is probably the more appropriate response. It must be terrible to feel that the distraction of toil is the only thing keeping away the grim reaper.

There’s probably a number of reasons this uniquely American mindset exists: keeping up with the Jones’s, religious upbringing, trauma, the Puritan work ethic, guilt…etc.. I experienced that mindset…oh yes, I started working at the tender age of thirteen and worked every work day until my retirement at fifty four. Even as a teacher with sixty hour work weeks, I worked every summer until I shattered my leg in ‘06; I even ran theatre camps after that injury. I got my creds baby, oh yeah, I’ve put in the hours. So, what changed my perspective you ask? I dunno, a lot of things I guess. There was some serious questioning of my spiritual and world view that came from tragic events; there was the loss of some significant people in my life at an early age; and I guess I actually picked up some wisdom. Who’d have thunked that?

I cannot deny certain facts though, the big sleep gets ever closer …that’s a fact …Jack! You WILL begin to lose your cultural lodestones as you age. In just a week we lost Jeff Beck, Van Connor, David Crosby and Lisa Marie Presley. If you’re Gen X…it was an emotional kick in the gut! You realize that there are lot less fewer birthdays in your future than you’re in your past. I remember at the beginning of a summer break a few years ago, a friend and colleague commented how she hoped summers would last forever! I replied that I did love summer and if I was lucky I’d have about forty more of them. You would’ve thought I told her that Santa Clause wasn’t real! “OH MY GOD…how can you think that way? I’m so depressed now.” Hell, that’s just the way it is…what can you do? I understand the sentiment… it’s not an “oh boy” moment; and my religious upbringing did foster a terror of the final curtain.

Do I fear death? I used to a lot… now not so much. I’ve got a Buddhist, eastern vibe going on and that’s as much as I’ll say about that. Here, right now, how do I deal with the unavoidable shuffling off of this mortal coil? I’m about to get philosophical right now, so buckle up! I lost a good friend who drowned when we were ten; terrible fear and anxiety followed. Another friend died at nineteen …the fear and torment followed again. You know the routine; we are going to keep losing friends and family and if you’re not careful, each one will take joy away from you. You’ll get consumed with the unfairness of it. I quote from Clint Eastwood’s character, Will Munny, from The Unforgiven, “fair ain’t got nuthin to do with it.” Well, there you go, not much more to say after that. All we are left with a growing sense of impending doom? No, change your mind and your ass will follow. Our life is as long as it’s supposed to be. Don’t go to fairness, or being cheated, or that’s wrong… that’s a losing proposition dude. You might as well try to keep the tide back with a broom. What is …is.

What’s a bigger tragedy: dying at the age of nineteen or living to be eighty and everyday being an exercise in avoiding joy because of some indoctrinated fear? I know what I think. No one knows how many birthdays or Christmas’s you have left, so why the hell do we bother worrying about them. You have today, thats it compadre…just today. If you’re fifteen, all you have is today. If you’re eighty five, all you have is today. Try getting out of that one. With this late in life realization and with the knowledge I had financially prepared for myself and my family; I decided that whatever day was my last, it wouldn’t be spent workin’ for the man! That’s all I got for you …it’s what gets my by. Maybe because I’ve lost so many friends, family and heroes that my connection to this world has lessened…I’m sure that’s part of it. I mean who really wants to live forever? We have right now and if we’re lucky or smart, we have treasured people to spend it with while here. Don’t get tied down with the “what ifs” or “what about’s” …fill your heart with the what is. You can’t avoid the grim reaper, but you can punch him in the teeth when you see him. Have a great day!

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bluecookies02 · 4 years

Text

When they make you cry

pairings: Hawks x Reader, Dabi x Reader, Bakugou x Reader, Aizawa x Reader, Izuku x Reader, Tamaki x Reader

Tamaki, Bakugou and Hawks are in a female!reader perspective, the rest of them are Gender Neutral

warnings: angst to fluff

masterlist

Hawks will get cocky, laughing in your face when he sees your shocked expression.

Both of you were going at each others throats, spitting insults to one another, just your recent daily routine.

Now Hawks knew you were a tough gal, which in his head made it alright for him to strike a really painful nerve into your chest.

As you remained speechless he turned around, a winning smirk plastered on his lips.

Just as he took a few steps forward, sobs wrecked your body as you hid your face in your hands.

"I d-don't think I can take this anymore Keigo" your broken voice reached his ears.

A pang of guilt pierced his chest once he turned around to face you.

He did this. He made you cry. He completely drained your happiness out. He hurt you.

His teeth dug into his lip, his eyes stinging as tears picked at them.

At that point, he didn't give two shits about who's right and who's wrong, his arms reaching for you and wrapping themselves around your shaking form.

He held you there for a while, listening to your cries that gradually turned into soft sniffles against his chest.

"I-" He opens his mouth but his words remained stuck at his throat.

"I don't want us to end..." you mumbled, your own words throwing you into another sobbing fit.

"We won't end here kid, I've got you...shit...I'm a fucking idiot...of course we won't end sweetheart...c'mon look at me" he raised your chin up gently, looking into your red eyes.

"I'm sorry, fuck I'm sorry...not just for today, for every day before this, I-, God... don't leave kid, p-please"

You stared at his face, tears now streaming down his cheeks as his grip on you tightened.

You swallow the lump in your throat, grabbing his hands in yours.

"Something has to change Keigo...I miss you...we've been distant for months. Sometimes you don't even come home to me, do you know how that feels?"

"I know, I know, I swear... I miss you too. I'll tell you about everything I promise. Let's go home please."

You hesitantly nod, putting your heart on the line for the last time.

And now looking back, you're glad you did.

//quirk: flesh manipulation (the reader can manipulate the molecules in a person's flesh just by touching it, making them useful mid-battle to make the other heroes ready to fight again in a matter of seconds, but also making them a threat to their enemies )

If there was one thing he despised about you, it was your guts.

Hell curse him for falling in love with someone so stubborn.

To live through a relationship with Dabi meant that you had to have though skin. You had to be strong enough to bite your cheeks and endure the issues that people in regular relationships never face.

He enters your home, covered in bruises and cuts, asking for your first aid kit.

You sigh to yourself, your usual nagging and yelling never reaching his ears.

You place the first aid kit onto your bedside table, turning your back to him, tiredly walking out of the room.

"Hey-" his voice calls out to you, quiet and confused.

You close the door behind you, making your way to your couch.

One of these days it'll be the last time he walks into your home, the last time you help him clean his cuts and the last time you hear his voice.

The weight of uncertainty pulls at your chest harder with every passing day.

He chose to continue living like this, he is the one that keeps ruining his own life, it's his ambitions that are making you this miserable.

Once he patches himself up, he sits on your bed for a while. Your silance meaning one thing and one thing only. You finally realized how pointless being with him is, you finally got it through your thick skull that he's nothing special to dwell about.

Time passes by quickly, a few hours already gone yet he's still glued to the same spot, not having the strength to leave your room, too scared to face your rejection once he gets out.

He should be happy for you, you won't be hurting anymore, you'll be able to find someone better.

He slowly twists the knob, taking slow steps through your living room.

You are laying on your couch, tear stains on your face and a tissue crumbled in your hand.

His chest tightenes at the sight. You cried yourself to sleep. He wonders... how many times did you cry over him? How many times would you just lay here as he carelessly roamed the streets?

He should leave...he should spare you the pain he brings. You were the only good thing in his life and by continuing this he'll ruin you, piece by piece.

You showed nothing but kindness to him, you made him realize that some people are worth getting close to, you being a hero also making his resolves shake under his feet.

He stretched his arm out to your cheek, careful not to wake you up.

He left a soft kiss to your temple before leaving your house.

-----

You woke up to a persistent ring of your doorbell.

You felt terrible...your hair was a mess, your nose was all clogged up and your eyes burned from all the crying.

You opened your door with annoyance, mad at whoever decided to burst your sadness bubble.

"Hey doll, I would've let myself in but my hands are kinda busy"

Your boyfriend stood there with a backpack on his shoulder and a carton box in his hands.

"So...do you happen to have a room to spare for a year or two...maybe three?"

You stare in disbelief your hand covering your mouth.

"I know that me being a villain might be a setback but...I got some hair dye? I might even consider letting you fix my jigsaw face."

Your body crashed into his, the box dropping to the ground as you squeezed your arms around him.

Maybe he can make you as happy as you make him.

You knew he was rough around the edges, but you never even imagined that you would be the one his rage would be directed at.

As soon as insults came crashing your way you left the room.

You were just trying to calm him down, placing your hand on his shoulder as you urged him to stop shouting and just let it go.

His rough hands grabbed yours, throwing your hand away like you were a mere fly, his quirk burning your skin.

You tried calling out to him just for him to snap around and scream at you.

Once you reached your dorm tears freely rolled down your cheeks.

You yearned for a normal relationship, longed for some peace and quiet just for a week or two.

Yet you just couldn't let the blonde go, always hoping for some miracle to come your way and take ahold of his ego.

--------

It's around 2 am and he can't fall asleep for the hell of it.

You're not picking up his calls nor answering his texts and you've been inactive on social media for hours.

Kirishima has been urging him to go to your dorm for two hours already, spamming him massages about him not being manly enough to win you back.

It's not like he doesn't want to, he just has no idea how to. Should he get you something? Get you some food and flowers? Where the fuck can he find all these things at 2 am? Isn't that how people in movies apologize or something...

He hates when you're mad at him, he is scared shitless of actually scaring you off and pushing you away.

A knock at your door snaps you out of your thoughts and a small flame of hope warms your heart for a split second as you make your way to your door.

He's holding a gray hoodie and a pair of bento boxes.

"That's not gonna fix it Katsuki."

"I know shitty woman you didn't even give me a chance to speak!"

You're sure that that's the first time Bakugou said the word "sorry" in his whole life.

The way it rolled off his tongue was shaky but somewhat determined, his hand grabbing ahold of yours gently.

Guilt was evident on his face as he stroked the bandages covering your hands.

"It's not that bad Katsu, and I understand that it was an accident." you mumbled trying to pull from his grip so he can focus on something else.

He grabbed ahold of your wrists, bringing your palms to his lips.

"I'll work on it, I promise. It'll never happen again. I mean it." you just give a soft nod, leading him to the table.

"Good. Now let's eat, breakfast is the most important meal of the day!" you cheered, opening the bentos and stuffing your mouth with rice.

"Y/N...it's 4 am."

"Exactly, now eat, you're not gonna let me eat all of this by myself?!"

For this man, it was close to impossible to make his s/o cry.

He cherishes the relationship he has with you, making you feel special every single day at a time.

So when he sees you crying, he's confused and alarmed.

He reaches for you, trying his best to give you the comfort he thinks you need.

When you push his hands away and scream at him...Oh boy...

He's terrified.

Did he do something? Did he forget your anniversary? Your birthday? Did he eat your snack from the fridge??

You're pulling at the strands of your hair, your head buried into your knees as you sob.

He looks around, eyes widening when he sees a photo of himself and some girl kissing on the screen of your phone.

He wasn't there? He has proof! He was in a meeting! All of his colleagues could confirm that, he just needs you to listen! Please listen to him.

He's talking...blabbering...begging for you to just look at him.

As soon as you look up for a split second, he's hugging you, smothering your face in kisses as you weakly try to push him away.

Finally he leans his forehead against yours, letting out a long sigh of relief when he realizes that you're not crying anymore.

"Please Shouta, please, if you even have any respect for me, don't lie to me." you mumble out coldly, turning your head from him.

"Y/N, I would never, ever do that to you! Never! I love you so much, please, you have to know that, you do know that!"

You're too stubborn, but he calls all of his colleges one by one, putting them on speaker for you, asking about the time of the meeting or details of the meeting and they all have the same answer.

So now, your throat is dry and there's a lump in your throat, guilt eating at you as you try to apologize.

He couldn't give two shits about any of that, all he has to know is that you're okay and that you're still his.

He's not letting you go for the rest of the day, you're wrapped under the blankets with him as he makes sure you never believe the bullshit you see online.

"Sweetheart if I ever cheat on you, that's the day I cut my own dick off and bleed to death."

It makes you giggle and then laugh hysterically and he's just looking at you with the biggest heart eyes 🥺

Izuku would never do anything to make you cry.

He pays attention to every single detail in your relationship and he especially pays attention to your feelings.

What he is really bad at, is taking care of himself.

He doesn't take in consideration how you feel when he comes home all stitched up and tired, or how he stays up late to train and push himself further than his body can take.

However one day, he is exhausted from his training and he barely has any strength left. His phone rings and he is rushing out the door, already panting.

You don't reach him in time to stop him, so here you are, hours later next to his hospital bed.

The villain wasn't too powerful, but his state caused him to pass out in the middle of the bettle field.

As soon as he wakes up, you're yelling at him, but at the same time sobbing against his chest.

"I can't just stand here and watch you hurt yourself Zuku... I can't, I can't, I can't....O-one of these days you're just gonna slip away from my hands, I can't. Please" You're grip on him softens as you loose the strength in your hands.

His arms wrap themselves around you, trying his best not to flinch as you rub against his bandages.

His eyes are watering, realization dawning on him as he holds your tired body against him.

You're right...He sees the state of himself after a lowlife villain with a pathetic quirk sent him into the hospital. He doesn't even want to think about what would've happened if there was someone much stronger out there.

"Hey Y/N...I-...I might take a week off, to rest yeah? Does that sound good?"

You nod, wiping away the tears as you sniffle.

"And you won't be training at night anymore. And you won't be staying up late!" you scold as he rubs your cheeks.

"I won't. I promise." he places a kiss at your temple, pulling you onto the hospital bed next to him.

"Let's sleep for a bit yeah? I might owe you a few hours..."

You're crying, he's crying.

He's down on one knee and he's stuttering, his hands shaking as he hears you cry out a happy "Yes".

He barely gets the ring on your finger, burying his head into your neck as soon as he gets to his feet.

You always thought that he was going to propose to you at home, maybe some homecooked dinner with roses and candles. You didn't mind that option either.

You were surprised that he even suggested a walk in the park.

I mean, it was a really small park with little to no people in the area but it was beautiful nonetheless.

You're all giddy and happy as he takes your hand in his, his eyes always glancing at the ring on your finger.

Once you spot an ice cream stand you leap in happiness, rushing to get ice cream for the both of you.

The lady selling it smiles brightly at you.

"Is that the lucky guy?" you nod grabbing your icecream as Tamaki hides behind you.

"Good job sweetheart, you're making this lady very happy, I can feel it in my old bones" you laugh at her remark as you nudge Tamaki forward.

She hands him his ice cream and winks at him.

He's blushing and thanking the lady before running off to an empty bench.

”He’s a lil’ shy but he's got the spirit” you say to the lady as you rush off to get him.

You take the time to really study the ring, the beautiful blue crystal shining in the sun.

”I...I hope you l-like it...Nejire helped me out. Uhm I probably shouldn't have said that...S-she-"

"I like it Tama...I love it actually" you place a gentle kiss just at the corner of his lips, his hands grabbing your cheeks and kissing you deeply in return.

His cheeks are warm and his lips are slow against yours but you melt against him, letting him place you in his lap.

"Oh my God, I have a fiancé, oh my God, I have to call Mirio and tell him you said yes. You said yes, right?"

You laugh as you shake your head at him, playing with his hair as he fumbles with his phone.

All of the pictures are from the original anime/manga (please do correct me if I'm wrong in the comments below)

The Tamaki one has no angst in it because I had to heal from all of the emotional rollercosters.

___________

requests:closed

commissions:open

Ko-Fi | Patreon

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letarasstuff · 3 years

Text

Notice me!

(A/N): This was requested by an anon. I hope you like it1

Summary: Teenagers at JJ's daughter's school get attacked. Does she fit the victomology?

Warnings: feeling uncared for

Wordcount: 2.7k

✨Masterlist✨ ___________________________________

“Good morning, my lovelies. The good news: The case is local. The bad news: Somebody is attacking teenage girls from the same high school”, Penelope starts the briefing, dressed in a bright pink dress with matching accessories.

“Are they from the same class? Age?” Hotch asks, looking over the file. Upon opening her own, JJ feels like her heart stops. “Negative, the three girls are from different years even. The only connection is the school.” “It’s (Y/N)’s school. She-she is a Junior there. I-Hotch?” Desperately she looks at her boss.

The team’s eyes soften. It’s already difficult with minors involved, but when it gets personal the case is a thousand times harder.

“Call her and tell her we get her to answer a few questions. At this point we can be sure it’s someone from the staff or a student. Time is the essence. Reid and JJ, you get (Y/N). Morgan and Prentiss, you question the first two. Dave and I take the last one and then go to the crime scenes. Garcia, I want you to find out anything about the victims and their families. Check their social media sites and look out for anything that connects them”, the Unit Chiefs orders.

Everybody gets up immediately. JJ has her phone already at hand. The longer it takes her daughter to take the call, the more nervous she gets.

“Mom? Did something happen? You know exactly I’m at school. I don’t wanna get in-” “Honey, Uncle Spence and I come to get you. There is something we have to question you about.” The teenager is silent for a moment. “It’s about the girls that got beaten up, isn’t it?”

Her mother sighs. Of course nothing like that stays quiet for long. “Yes, it is.” JJ doesn’t see the point in lying to her. “Ok. Uhm, can you just question me at school? I really don’t wanna leave, because I have soccer practice after school for the game this evening.”

A little light blinks at that in JJ’s mind. “Isn’t it that important game, where scouts are coming?” (Y/N) begins to smile. Her mother remembers it. Maybe she does pay attention to her. Maybe, just maybe, she pays enough to come and see her. After all she even took a day off for Henry’s recital last time.

“Yes, you said you will come and cheer for me.” JJ’s heart aches. She knows that her oldest often backs down due to her mother’s job. More often than the blonde agent likes to admit she has stood her daughter up to save someone’s life. “I try to be there in time, Honey. I can’t promise you anything, though. Just let us hope we solve this case quickly, ok?”

(Y/N)’s shoulders drop. Of course, how could she be this naive to think her mother cares enough to at least try to make it to her probably most important game? “Alright. Text me when you are here or just get me excused at the secretary's office. Bye.”

JJ looks at her phone in puzzlement. The teenager always is understanding of her job and the sacrifices it takes. One night under a lot of tears she confessed to her mother that everytime she is away on a case, she is in the greatest state of worry. Will reported repeatedly that (Y/N) is miserable whenever her mother isn’t at home.

So she told her daughter about the pact she made with her sister. Any time they miss each other, they go out and look at the moon, knowing that they see the same. JJ also admitted that she and Henry are the reason she is even working as a profiler. The agent wants to make the world safer for her kids. A safe space, where they can grow up and go to the park without worrying about Stranger Danger or anything else.

“Is everything ok?” Spencer asks as he sees his best friend frozen on the spot. JJ looks up to him, spotting concern in his eyes. “Yeah, no. I don’t know? It’s just, (Y/N) has an important soccer game tonight with scouts coming and such and I’m not sure if I can get there in time because of the case. She sounded really sad when I told her that. You know, I’m incredibly proud of her for getting this far and she plays really well. Scratch that, she is amazing. Especially knowing (Y/N) is responsible enough to think about college in her junior year makes me swell with pride”, she gushes unknowingly.

Spencer smiles. “I see, she is just like her mother. I’m sure (Y/N) will come around, she loves you so much and knows how difficult our job is.” JJ nods, trying to believe him.

Not long after that the duo enters the secretary’s office, explaining the situation. He immediately notifies the teenager’s teacher and a few minutes later (Y/N) opens the door. “There is an empty classroom we can use, I already asked Mr Boyle. He is such a sweetheart”, she tells her mother and uncle.

“Thank you for consenting to answer our questions. (Y/N), do you know the girls?” Spencer begins after settling down. “I do. One of them, Amy, is on the soccer team with me. We mostly talk about her family. She is in love with her little sister. The other two, Rosa and Gina, are in Freshmen. I tutored Gina briefly until her mother said she doesn’t need it.”

Unfortunately (Y/N) isn’t able to tell more useful information. “Thank you so much, Honey. Have fun at your practice later”, JJ tells her while embracing the teenager. “Yeah, thanks. Do you come home tonight?” Her mother sighs.

“I get it, you don’t know. Ok, I don’t wanna interfere any longer. Maybe you are able to solve the case faster. Stay safe. Love you!” Quickly she picks her bag up and leaves the room.

JJ looks at the genius with a face that says “Do you know what I mean?”

“My lovelies, all three girls don’t have the best connection to their parents. They often complain about the missing approval. Do you think that it’s a kid from their classes?” Garcia informs them as the team gathers back around the round table.

Rossi shakes his head. “The crimes are too organized for a kid. Every girl was drugged, but we don’t know how. Then the UnSub waits for the drug to kick in and takes her to a vacant spot, where the beating occurs. And all of this happens right after classes end. It has to be a staff member, probably a teacher.”

“Yeah, but there is one detail that doesn’t sit right with me”, Derek pipes up, “The connection between the girls is the bad relationship with their parents. It has to be someone, who is reminded by their own dysfunctional family.”

“Garcia, look for someone from the area, his comfort zone shows that he knows remote areas that you don’t find by accident. He has to be from D.C.” Spencer instructs her.

“Okidoki, boy won- Wait, are we looking for a male?” Hotch nods. “We are, the amount of strength used to beat up the girls suggests a male, same with the amount of hatred.”

Emily looks unsure. “This sounds all right, but why is he choosing the girls? What does he relive by hurting them? How does it help him?”

JJ wants to partake in the mindstorming, but a ping from her phone distracts her from saying her thoughts out loud. It’s a text message from (Y/N)

If you find the time in your busy schedule to read this, be informed that Will and Henry won’t come to the game tonight, because Henry has a spontaneous playdate. Don’t worry, he brought me my inhaler to school already.

(Y/N) sighs after sending the text. Is it really too much work for her mother to make room for her? This is probably the most important event in her whole school carriere and she decides that a team of masterminds need her more than her own daughter.

Hurt by the clear ignorance she shoulders her bag and makes her way to the counselor’s office.

“Come in”, a warm voice invites the teenager after her knocking on the door. “Hey, Mr Pembroke. Uhm, I have a class before soccer practice and I wanted to ask you if I can put my bag here? I know I got a locker, but I still got my mom’s birthday present in there and I’m scared I’ll leave it in my classroom and have to run back to get the bag if not another kid already took it away.”

Mr Pembroke looks at her with a smile. “Of course, (Y/N), I don’t mind. Speaking of your mother, will she be there tonight? I really hope so, because you are a star on the field. She’s missing out otherwise.” At the end he winks. He is just that kind of guy. Working with kids makes him desperate for appearing younger than he really is, but that is also part of Keith Pembroke’s charm.

“Unfortunately my whole family isn’t able to come. It is like- I mean I get it, serial killers are dangerous and it’s important and the right thing to chase them down. But do I not deserve some time with my mother?” Mr Pembroke evolved into a moral support over the past school year since he started his job at (Y/N)’s high school.

He always has something noice and wise to say. “You do. Everybody deserves some time with their family and especially with their parents. Why don’t you talk to them after all this is over? I can help you work on what you can say.”

Happily the teenager takes the offer and rushes to her class.

“Guys, I might be onto something”, Spencer rips everybody from their train of thoughts. JJ looks at the watch on her wrist. (Y/N)’s game ends in about five minutes. And she sits here, stumped one the case she stood her up for.

“So we thought about how he chooses his victims. The only connection we found was them having a bad relationship with their parents. But how would the UnSub know? They didn’t share any classes.

“But there always is one person, who knows about the student’s problems. They tell them voluntarily”, he finishes, giving his colleagues the opportunity to answer it themselves.

“The counselor!” Rossi exclaims, wondering how they oversaw the obvious.

Penelope’s keyboard is practically on fire from her fast typing until she nearly shouts: “I got him! Keith Pem-” The rest goes under in the loud ring from JJ’s cellphone. “I’m sorry, but this is… (Y/N)’s school! I-” Hotch nods, giving her permission to take that call.

“Jennifer Jareau?” She can’t wait until she is out of the conference room. Now that they know who the UnSub is, JJ is more on edge than ever. “Uhm, Mrs Jareau, I call about your daughter, (Y/N). She is on her way to the hospital, she collapsed during the soccer game. We suspect an asthma attack, even though she used her inhaler.” The teacher on the phone gives her a few more information before hanging up.

“I-I’m - (Y/N), she is- hospital. Her inhaler.” In that moment she makes all the connections. “Garcia, look for the girl’s medical history. Pembroke exchanged (Y/N)’s inhaler, I’m sure he did. Look for it in the other girls. I have to go, she is at the hospital right now.”

In a way even Derek Morgan would describe it as reckless JJ speeds to the hospital, ready to fight any regulations keeping her from seeing her daughter sooner. “I’m here for (Y/N) Jareau. J-A-R-E-” She tells the woman at the reception breathlessly.

“Oh I got her. She is in room 99. (Y/N) was unconscious for a certain amount of time, but she is slowly regaining her senses. A doctor will meet you there.” Before she even finishes her sentence, the blonde leaves the desk into the direction of the appointed room.

In fact there is a doctor waiting for her, updating the mother on her daughter’s condition. “I advise you to not overwhelm her. Her mind is still foggy and there may be things that don’t make sense right now coming from her. But (Y/N) will make a quick recovery, being good as new in only a matter of days.”

Cautiously she enters the room. The teenager might be awake, but her mind clearly is elsewhere. “Hey, Honey. It’s me, your mom. How are you feeling?” JJ asks softly, taking her daughter’s cold hand into her own gently.

“Oh, hi Mom. I didn’t know you found the time to actually come here. Isn’t there like a bad guy out there waiting for you to slap some handcuffs on him?” Ouch, she doesn’t expect that kind of honesty. But it’s true and JJ knows what (Y/N) is talking about.

She sighs. “I’m sorry, Honey, for being seemingly absent from your life. I swear, you can’t imagine how proud I am of you. I mean, you play soccer and there might be a scholarship in sigh. And even if you don’t get one, you can do anything and I would still be proud to call you my child.”

(Y/N) turns her head around, looking deeply into her mother’s eyes. The blonde can see all the pain she brought onto her bundle of joy. “Mom, I don’t even enjoy soccer as much as you think. I only do this, because I thought there would be finally something we can bond over. But I clearly didn’t calculate your stupid job in.”

JJ kicks herself for overseeing her daughter this much. She never stopped to acknowledge her oldest child’s accomplishments in front of her team and family. She always told everybody in the BAU what (Y/N) is up to, if they asked or not is not her problem. But in the whole process the agent forgot the most important person, the one who reached all those goals.

“Oh Honey, I’m so sorry for letting you feel like I don’t want to partake in your life. I- I was just so invested in your life that I didn’t think about you. You don’t have to do anything that I like to get my attention. You can join the school band playing the triangle and I would practically make t-shirts for the whole team sporting your logo.

“Anything you do is enough for me. You don’t need to change yourself to appeal to others, not even me. I’m sorry for letting you down. I love you so much and I hope you can forgive me.”

It seems like (Y/N) needs a few seconds to comprehend her mother’s statements before answering them. “I just need a mom, who is there more often. That would be enough for me. Just once every three games is enough. To let my friends know you care. To let me know you care.” JJ gets tears in her eyes. She promises to be there more often, fully intending to keep that promise.

“Good, now that we have that sorted out I need you to come into bed with me. I feel I could sleep for at least a year because of Mr Pembroke’s really weird tasting substance in my inhaler. Can we just cuddle until I feel like I’m my old self?” JJ smiles while happily laying down next to her daughter, engulfing her in a hug, still being cautious of all the tubes she has going in and out of her.

“I love you so much, Honey Bun”, the blonde murmurs, stroking a few strands out of her daughter’s face. But (Y/N) is too tired to answer. She just nods and cuddles closer to her mother before falling asleep.

Meanwhile, JJ watches over her like a hawk. Not even Will is allowed to come closer to her than two meters (or roughly six and a half feet for Americans), not wanting anyone to disturb her daughter’s peaceful sleep.

Taglist:

All works:

@dindjarinsspouse @big-galaxy-chaos

Criminal Minds:

@averyhotchner @mggsprettygirl @herecomesthewriterwitch @ash19871962

#jennifer jareau #jennifer jareau x reader #jennifer jareau x daughter!reader #jennifer jareau x teen!reader #jj x reader #jj x daughter!reader #jj x teen!reader #spencer reid #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #david rossi #penelope garcia #derek morgan #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #x reader #reader insert #x daughter!reader #x teen!reader

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parkerpeter24 · 3 years

Note

You’re having a really bad day and Prof!tom notices and offers to spend the rest of the day with you to make it up to you, lots of reassuring words and a lil confession! Fluff to the max basically :’)

long day

pairing ➳ prof!tom x reader

w.c. ➳ 1.1k

warnings ➳ professor-student relationship (both are of age)

a/n ➳ rosie, happy birthday!! i wanted to post this today because what better day than today to post a prof!tom fic for you <3

tom was about to go off. he was about to go off like an alarm and there was no stopping him. he had just returned from a long day of running errands and making sure to sit with the librarian and get the stock of history books, his subject, that came in just a day before, stamped. his whole sunday had been ruined with all this and now he couldn’t find his favorite pair of sweats.

he plopped down on the couch of his apartment’s living room in work clothes finally heaving a relieved sigh. his next step was pulling out his phone from his pants’ pocket, dialing your number. he expected you to pick up the phone and listen about his excruciating day as he rambled on, but there was no reply from your end. he hadn’t seen you this weekend and he believed you were busy with assignments.

it was after five missed calls that tom threw his phone on the couch as it bounced against the leather, almost tipping off the edge. he was clear about one fact that you wouldn’t have gone to sleep this early in the evening considering your two am calls that were very evident in his call history.

he was desperate to have you pick up his call, his fingers working on their own accord, dialing your landline number without considering that your roommate could be the one picking up the phone.

you heard the landline ringing continuously but decided to ignore it just like the last five phone calls. you were exhausted but not sleepy at the same time. you didn’t feel like getting rest but your head was throbbing.

“corey?!” you called out to your roommate but got only silence in response, “can you get the call?”

receiving yet no reply, you rolled off the bed, landing on your knees on the carpeted floor before getting up and making your way outside with slumped shoulders. there were no signs of your roommate around the 2bhk apartment. you grabbed the landline in your hands before plopping down on the couch, finally answering the call begrudgingly

"hello?"

"darling, why aren't you picking up your phone, i've been trying to reach you for the longest time! i had such a bad day at work and when i need you, you're not even picking up my calls" tom rambled

"i was busy." your answer was precise, ignoring the way you felt yourself tense at his accusations, "uni and stuff." tom noticed how your voice sounded quieter.

"is everything alright?" he asked, now sitting up a bit straighter, worry lacing his smooth words.

"yeah, i'm good."

lie. he could see right through you. he might have had a bad day and he just wanted to talk to you, maybe even bitch about this one nagging colleague of his who won't stop talking about their kid picking up a block. now, tom loves kids but how many times can you hear a story, certainly not seventeen times in a day. but as far as he was concerned right now, he would've been at gunpoint and still asking you if you were feeling okay, because he could tell something was wrong.

"doesn't sound like good, darling." he let out slowly, as if he spoke any higher, he would irritate and give you one more reason to avoid his calls, "you at home?"

"mhm, i am." you replied.

you worried about sounding rude, making him want to get over with this call and finally get to relax after a long day, but the gears in tom's head were turning in other directions. never in a million years would you have thought his next sentence would be, "i'm coming over." tom stated, already working on putting his shoes back on.

you had thought about retreating to your bed but tom's text reading 'almost there' illuminated your phone screen sooner that you thought and soon enough you were making your way over to the door. opening it, you saw tom in his disheveled state, eyes slightly red and hair flying in all directions, bearing a dopey smile just for you as his hand lifted up a packet. you smiled at the sweet man, "what's that?"

"cupcakes, silly!" he made his way inside your apartment. a sense of relief washed over you as you recalled that your roommate had went out, however the fact that tom didn't make sure of that before coming over made your heart flutter in adoration and nervousness at the same time. after all this secret little rendezvous of yours had to end sooner or later.

"sounds delicious." you gave the older man a smile as you both made your way over to the dining table. tom pulled out a chair for you, making you chuckle, "such a gentleman." you remarked before sitting down.

it was a few bites into your cupcake when tom decided to bring up the question from before, "are you okay, darling?"

you felt your body tense as you gulped down the lump in your throat but tom's soft smile made you nod your head, "better now. i was overthinking about uni and how i could never be really good in any subject."

"what're you talking about? you're exceptional in my subject!"

"you're just saying that because you love me." you chuckled, taking another bite of your delightful cupcake, not giving another thought to the words that left your mouth. it was tom's turn to visibly tense, a sudden epiphany causing you to choke on the sweetness in your mouth, "n-no, i meant- i didn't mean to say that out loud!" you stuttered your way through words, caught off guard but you were surely making up a whole explanation about the words you'd just said, "it just slipped out, we can pretend that never happened, i'm just so stupid, you obviously don't love-"

and before you could go on another rambling spree, tom's lips were on yours. his hand caressing your cheek softly, lulling you in closer as his tongue poked out to swipe the remains of frosting off of your lips. a little upturn of your lips and tom was reciprocating the smile enveloping your lips. you couldn't help but run a hand through his messy locks as the both of you pulled back, oxygen signifying its importance, "i do love you."

you rested your forehead against his, finding pure adoration in his eyes. he did love you, maybe it was never about hiding what you had from everyone but keeping it for each other's eyes only, "i do love you too."

———

#tom holland #prof!tom #prof!tom holland x reader #prof!tom holland #tom holland one shot #tom holland blurb #tom holland imagine #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fic #tom holland au #tom holland fanfic #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x reader #tom holland fluff #tom holland drabble

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rumblelibrary · 3 years

Note

Hello 👀❤️

So... I don't know if this will work or not, but I thought why not, I send it in... And if you don't like it, that's completely fine ❤️🔥

I really like how you write the characters' mind... What they are thinking or how they act... I was thinking, maybe a new mechanic (Reader) at Ferrari (yes, it's a Niki Lauda fic, you know me❤️🔥) who is really shy, but very good at their job, and Niki likes them and he is an asshole with everyone (which is normal from him) EXCEPT with the Reader... And like... Maybe at first he doesn't realize this, but then he does, and gets all conflicted like why is he getting soft suddenly, out of nowhere... (It is obvious, but not for him)... I'm curious how you would see this, write this... The ending of this story is up to you ❤️❤️

Love you ❤️🔥👀

What Is This Feeling [Niki Lauda x Mechanic!Reader]

Word count: 2.5k Warnings: lot of swearing by our favourite Rat King Author’s note: Niki is quickly turning into my comfort character to unleash my sass, thank you for giving me the chance to write him!

Part 2

On your first day at Ferrari nobody took you seriously, but to be a mechanic wasn’t exactly typing letters, it was not a place where somebody high up in the ranks would set a lover to give her some benefit and a free pay check.

You didn’t talk a lot, you stood your ground from the moment you put hands on any part of the car, but you weren’t exactly the chatty type and, being the only woman, it took you time to be allowed to the after work beer, to the birthdays and all the balancing that came with a good team spirit.

In a world full of bias about women, you were spared thanks to your abilities and knowledge. Or maybe, because the mechanics team had someone bigger to fight: Niki Lauda.

To work with him was thrilling, but stressful.

He would walk in at any hour of the day, break some egos, pile up an amount of changes that to make a brand new car would be a faster option.

You sat on the floor beside the baby, yes baby was the car, it wasn’t like you had to stay on the floor, there were more than plenty working stations, but it felt more comfortable for you: it gave you the chance to stand and look at things from afar, you were in need to touch, to understand, to put things together. It was your skill, but also your curse, because it was hard to gain yourself a space on the floor in such a fast paced environment like the one at Ferrari. You were working on the ignition when he stormed inside, the soft chats died fast and the noise of the radio was the only thing left, but he didn’t seem to mind the effect he had on people.

In a couple of long steps he was in front of one of your colleagues.

“What is this?” The man looked down to his sandwich like it was self explanatory, but the following silence brought him to answer “my lunch”

“Nice” Niki said, his lips curling downward in a very sarcastic amusement “well, take your lunch out of my garage because I don’t want your crumbles in my engine” he hissed picking the crumbles that effectively fell on the working table and sprinkling them like salt on the man’s face.

The man frowned and left to eat outside and avoid to punch him as Niki proceeded to his next victim.

“And you call this a design development? I call this dog shit”

“If this is a well done job, I’d better retire already before I get your good job to crack my skull open”

“Just begin again, don’t even ask”

“Are you sure you don’t work for McLaren? Because by the quality of your work I am starting to wonder”

One after the other all your colleagues fell under the axe of Niki’s commentary.

Nobody was spared, it was a butchery.

“So? What is this?”

You looked up at him as he towered over you, Satan himself would be less scary, and probably less attractive, to your eyes. His standing figure with rebel curls and his Ray-ban glasses in his left hand, the polo shirt under the fancy jacket, even his bad character gave him the edge so many men more conventionally attractive lack.

“I am working on the ignition” you said as he bent down crouching beside you as you showed him, his cologne filling your nostrils like the best smell your nose ever encountered.

“Okay, in what way?” He asked resting his elbows on his knees.

You gulped softly “Well, I am trying to experiment if I change this in here” and you pointed to a section in particular “maybe the car will have a better performance at the beginning of the race”

“Have you considered that it could over work the battery?”

“I did, but I wanted to see if I make here something like this” and you took a little tube showing how you lace it around the section “if I use this to push the cooler to work into this part as well, we might avoid over heating”

He listened touching his chin with the edge of his glasses thoughtfully.

“Give it a try”

He just said standing up.

Your colleagues looked at you shaking their heads as he turned around and everybody looked down to their tasks again, so then he left.

______________________________________________________________________ This wasn’t the first time, he wasn’t letting you do things he didn’t approve, but he always listened to you, he advised you, and the harshest thing he said was probably “I think you’re not looking at the bigger picture”

Nobody commented on it and beside some joke here and there, the little preference he had over you seemed to pass unnoticed mostly by him.

“You know, you really need a girlfriend” Clay, the other driver of the Ferrari alongside him, said during some tests.

Niki looked at him.

“Why? Do I look like one that has to fuck a woman to be fine?”

He laughed as Niki was always so overaggressive “No, but you treat everyone like bullshit beside the new girl, so you either can be an asshole only with men or your seduction technique needs a real check”

He frowned, eyebrows furrowing together as his lips parted in disbelief

“You nuts”

“Maybe, but I haven’t heard you complain about her as much as you complain about the rest of the world”

He shook his head “You are just letting you Italian genes getting your head stupid”

Clay laughed at him nodding knowingly “Sure, sure” he patted harshly on Niki’s back knowing how much he hated to be patted around like that as he moved to talk to one of the mechanics working on his car.

Niki crossed his arms resting against the wall of the garage, his eyes instinctively looking for your figure finding you to one of the working table writing down some notes over the changes applied while looking at the projects.

His eyes dropping on your ass like it was the first time he checked it, realising it wasn’t the first time he mentally noted it.

Well, he couldn’t really say you were unattractive, or not his type, or a good mechanic.

His thought process was suddenly interrupted as Clay himself approached you and you moved on side showing him the papers you were just writing on.

He nodded and said something to you, his hand casually resting on the small of your back making Niki’s jaw almost snap for how much he was gritting his teeth.

You shuffled on side avoiding the touch with a casual smile, but Clay kept talking to you and from afar Niki saw him say something and wave his pointed finger between himself and you. You shook your head and smiled turning down whatever he just offered with all the politeness you had, Niki pursued his lips slightly in amusement for his best girl’s behaviour.

Wait a second. Best girl?

He glared at Clay that smirked at him from afar, a big ‘I knew it’ smirk on his lips.

Niki bit the inside of his cheek not liking it.

He was with you like with everybody else, what the hell.

Niki ignored you all day, when you showed him something he himself requested to be shown, he shuffled away, when you handed him something he was looking for, he looked for it somewhere else, he just wasn’t meeting your eyes and hell and thunderstorm fell upon anyone that even tried to engage a talk with him on that day.

“I can’t with your boyfriend anymore, I swear” one of your colleagues muttered to you.

“He is not my boyfriend”

He looked at you “Then he’d better be soon, maybe he’ll chill out”

“Are you even paid to stand and do nothing?” Niki shouted from afar and you two parted ways faster than two kids smuggling candies during class. ______________________________________________________________________

The next day was the judgment day for all the changes done on the car, your nerves were cracking as Niki arrived in his driving suit and your eyes immediately snapped a mental photo on his figure.

Did you ever went home wishing to have his company? Yes.

Did you ever wondered if he was so aggressive ever in the intimate times? Way too much.

Did you have any chance? Probably no.

You let out a big sigh as your colleagues reassured you “Hey, if it doesn’t work we either get rid of the rat or have some more time to work on it” he joked but you didn’t feel any better.

Niki looked up as he noticed your worried look, your lips nibbling down on your lips, your foot tapping rhythmically and nervously, the sudden instinct to lean his hand on that waist of yours, to rest his leg beside yours to make it stop that nerve wracking dance, to forbid your lips any more damage not caused by him.

All of that crowded his mind and he growled tiredly.

Stupid Clay, with his stupid theories.

He finished getting ready and put on his helmet settling down in his spot rolling his shoulders back, he needed to focus.

The head mechanic came over him repeating all the changes and just annoying the hell out of him, he is not always around the car only to check you out.

“When you're done telling me what I know, tell me something I don’t, I beg you”

The head mechanic did a big effort not to spit into his face and just left him waving his arms in the air.

You touched on your forehead nervously, if you failed it would show in the timings or maybe the car won’t even start.

You looked at him, seconds before he pulled down the dark lid of his helmet, his dark eyes so focused a shiver creeped over you.

You gasped as the signal was given and the car started.

Your fingers finding their way to your mouth as you nibbled your skin.

The car was fast, that was sure, you leaned beside the head mechanic that was taking the time. You breathed heavily, your mind going through all the changes you did, all the small settlements, the little details.

An eternal list that kept repeating itself.

Then the question as he was halfway through the leap, what if you disappointed him?

What if he asked you to be sent away?

Then you looked down to the chronometer, he was already almost two seconds earlier than usual.

A smile started to grow on you, the excitement filling your veins.

The sound of the engine roaring beautifully, you made it!

Then it happened, some smoke raised up to the sky, one of the wheels snapped, the breath died in your throat.

The car flexed on side but Niki controlled it and guided it against the sandy side of the track that slowed it down until it stopped.

“He was breaking his record” the head mechanic sighed “now he is just going to break our balls”

Niki moved out of the car throwing his helmet on the ground pushing off roughly anyone that tried to help him or check if he was hurt, some of the mechanics moving to the tow truck to recollect the car, Niki moving past you, his face tense and his posture of someone ready to snap some necks. You didn’t see him for the rest of the day, nobody talked about him, nobody mentioned anything as the storm will fall on all of the team the next day.

Now it was the head mechanic to face it for all of you.

______________________________________________________________________

That night you stayed over time, the other colleagues told you to just go home, to not let the thing sink of you, to look at it with fresh eyes and all those circumstantial phrases people gift you when they try to cheer you up.

As always on the floor, you had now the chance to spread the pieces out, collect them into branches of types and use. You pulled closer your notebook writing down the ideas and things to remember to check, the image of Niki almost crashing gutting you even if you soon realised it wasn’t your change that set off the wheel, but it was part of the cause, the car was now too powerful and the stress on the suspensions was deadly.

You yawned lightly pulling a catalogue of replacements parts trying to find the best mix you could manage, but you surely had to make up something about it. You didn’t expect to solve the problem or to find the solution for everything with a creative twist, but to, at least, plan a sequence of possibilities to present to your chief the next day.

A hand slowly leaning a mug of steaming coffee beside you.

You looked up to find Niki there, another cup in his hand, those messy curls calling to be touched, his impeccable style always winning you over with a dark turtleneck and his tweed jacket.

“Found the problem?” He asked sharply as always.

He was surprised to see you there, he spent the rest of the afternoon after the malfunction with the head mechanic and some of the administrators as he needed a solution in time for the upcoming race.

So he decided he couldn’t trust their promises and reassurances, but take the matter in his own hand, for a change. But when he arrived he saw the lights still on and you there. He was almost tempted to leave, it wasn’t a good moment to screw things with one of his most talented mechanics.

But you, again, were so into it, you looked so beautiful with your working jumpsuit and the hair messed up nibbling on that pen like it was a matter of life and death.

He couldn’t just let you stay so beautiful and alone, who knows who could approach you.

You nodded “I think so” you said showing him the piece, he leaned his head on side studying it

“May I?”

You nodded as he took off his blazer before joining you on the floor, he crossed his legs, your knees touching as he stole those papers from your hand.

“Signal to the administration this night shift, or they won’t ever pay you” he muttered without looking away from the papers.

You smirked “I know, but it is more a matter of principle than money, I didn’t like the heart attack you gave me today”

You were surprised by your own words, maybe it was because you really were over caffeinated or just realising how it was the first time you were alone and how you felt comfortable around him. No, not comfort, it was trust, you trusted him.

He looked up from the papers up at you, he didn’t replied to your comment straightaway, he let it sink in, he let your presence sink in.

A one-sides smirk appeared on his lips

“It is going to be a long night, then” Tagged @cazzyimagines @lieutenantn @handmaiden-of-mischief@thesunflowersutra Let me know if you want to get added <3

#niki lauda #niki lauda headcanons #niki lauda x reader #niki lauda fanfiction #niki lauda hcs #niki lauda rush 2013 #niki lauda rush

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cherryatiny · 3 years

Text

𝐀𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐳: 𝐒/𝐎 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦

𝑊𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: 𝑎𝑙𝑐𝑜ℎ𝑜𝑙 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑝𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 (𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑐ℎ 𝑖'𝑚 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑑𝑜𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔), 𝑖𝑡'𝑠 𝑚𝑜𝑠𝑡𝑙𝑦 𝑓𝑙𝑢𝑓𝑓, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑚 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑎 𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑙𝑒 𝑏𝑖𝑡 𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑠𝑡𝑦

𝐺𝐼𝐹𝑠 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑒, 𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑑𝑖𝑡 𝑔𝑜𝑒𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑜𝑤𝑛𝑒𝑟𝑠

⩥ 𝐊𝐢𝐦 𝐇𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐣𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐠

„Y/N pass me the bottle.”

Said the stern voice of your best friend Hongjoong, you were at a bar, with your other friends, celebrating Hongjoong's career success.

He finally got the chance to join a musical company and fulfil his dream of becoming an artist and a song producer.

Seeing your best friend happy that his dreams came true made you sincerely happy of course, but a small part of you was kinda sad about that.

Hongjoong has been your crush since you two were kids and now, that he is going to become a well-known artist, he'll for sure find some hot idol-model girlfriend and your love will go in the drain.

Maybe it was the alcohol in your blood, maybe the pent up rage and courage that made you confess.

„I have a confession to make... I-i love you Kim Hongjoong.”

Everyone looked up at you in disbelief, it was until you felt your stomach tightening from embarrassment, urging you to vomit, running out of the room to a restroom to push it out, without knowing Hongjoong was following you.

As he saw you scrunched and hugging the toilet he came to you, to hold your hair from falling into your face.

„I may like you too, but that's something we'll talk about once you are sober."

⩥ 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐒𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐰𝐚

„Oh, come on, it would be fun, trust me.” Bullshit.

Going out with your best friend Seonghwa and his crush "to support him" was never a good idea.

Not only did you have to observe the cringiness of Seonghwa's love blind actions, but also see his crush treating him so poorly since she clearly did not have any interest in him.

As the movie ended and it was time for you to go home, you stood in front of the cinema with Seonghwa as he bid goodbye to the girl.

„Bye, be careful on your way home and have sweet dreams, I hope we could go out on another date soon.”

„Ah yeah, sure, bye."

You sighed softly, how could he not see the disinterest. As he turned to you, to thank you for helping him overcome this evening, your words stopped him before he could even start.

„Seonghwa, please stop hurting yourself by loving someone who's clearly not interested, when I've been showing you affection and interest for two years."

„What? Yo-you like me?”

As you realised what you've just said, earlobes and cheeks turning red from the embarrassment.

„I mean... kind of.”

⩥ 𝐉𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐘𝐮𝐧𝐡𝐨

„Y/N, I'm waiting outside the house, come on, let's go.” said Yunho over a phonecall.

You were celebrating the end of the semester with your classmates, and since you've had some drinks in you and despite that, you didn't know how to drive, you had to call your friend and deep-down also crush Yunho either way.

Rushing out to finally see your crush, you were met with the breath-taking sight of Yunho leaning to his car, one hand scrolling through his phone, the second one chilling in his pockets.

„Yuyu, my love, you’re here.”

„Gosh, Y/N you’re so drunk, I’m glad you called me and didn’t try to go home on your own. I don’t want to imagine what could’ve happened.“

„But nothing happened since I called that handsome guy I love.“

Yunho shook his head at your drunk talk, were you talking about him? Not knowing the sincerity of your words, but in the depth of his soul, he hoped the words that came out of your mouth were true...

⩥ 𝐊𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐘𝐞𝐨𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐠

„Happy Birthday dear Mr. Kang, happy birthday to you.“

Handclap noisier than the song of celebration for your boss, Kang Yeosang.

Although being a CEO, he was really warm-hearted and kind, not like the basic CEO type who’s cold and arrogant.

Being his secretary helped you to get to know him better over the years, but also made you grow feelings for him. You sometimes just zoned out and stared at his handsome face for hours, just like now.

„Y/N, can you please follow me to my office, I need to talk to you.“

You had no idea what Yeosang wanted to talk about, feeling only one emotion. Fear. Did he find out you like him? Did you do something wrong? Is he going to fire you? As he closed the door after you two, you couldn’t even look him in the eye, rather observing your high-heels.

„Y/N, what’s with you these days? You seem... different. Your mood’s been down lately, you’re impercipient. You know you can tell me anything, i want my most important employee to be happy.“

Employee. That’s all you were.

„I know you’re probably gonna get mad and I fully understand, feel free to fire me, but truth to be told, over the years I’ve been working for you, I grew feelings and I just can’t get over it... I-I love you, Mr. Kang.“

Yeosang’s face went pale, absorbing the words you’ve just said, mind going blank from the sudden confession.

„I don’t know what to say, Y/N. I mean... you’re a nice, young, hardworking girl, but.. I-I might need a few days to let it sink and think it over.“

⩥ 𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐢 𝐒𝐚𝐧

San's hips moved to the rhythm of the music, his hands on the waist of some random girl, their sensual dancing just irritating you.

It wasn't like you and San were dating or anything, but you still couldn't stand the thought of him being with anyone else. An annoyed groan coming out of your mouth as you picked your glass and took a shot to drink away those thoughts. San taking the girl by her hand and coming your way.

„Hey Y/N I just wanted to say goodbye, since I’m leaving with Sora to my place, if you need anything you can call, but I don’t think I’ll be able to pick up, since my hands will have other work to do, so rather try Seonghwa.“

„Yeah, I thought so, just don’t forget to wear a condom when you get your dick wet, cuz it looks like you’ll end up with STD.“ you responded, rolling your eyes at him.

„Why are you so rude and foul today, are you jealous because I get some pussy and you’re left with no dick because no one wants to approach you since you’re so mean? Get your act together and we can talk tomorrow.“

„No San, you want to know why am I so cheeky? It’s because I have to watch the man I love fuck around with a random hooker. Go enjoy your dick appointment now, you must be busy.“ Without thinking of it any more, you left him there, your aura for sure full of pure rage.

⩥ 𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐠

„Ew fuck no, Yeosang that’s nasty, I wish I could go back in time to five minutes ago when I didn’t hear this confession“ laughed Wooyoung at Yeosang’s confession in the game truth or dare.

Wooyoung took the bottle from Jongho’s hand, ready to spin the bottle and let it pick another victim of his stupid asks and dares. Spinning the bottle, it landed on you. Wooyoung's eyes already glistening from the excitement of daring or asking you something.

„So, Y/N, truth or dare?”

„Dare” a playful smirk finding its place on Wooyoung's face

„I dare you to kiss the person in this room, you have feelings for.”

You immediately started to regret telling him, that you like Mingi, the look in your eyes scolding him.

„Okay, but you all have to close your eyes.”

The 8 boys and your other 3 girl friends closed their eyes, as you hesitantly got up, making your way to Mingi, your crush of 5 months. Sitting on the ground next to him, your fingers landed on his jaw as your lips met his. Mingi’s eyes shot open as all your friends started applauding at your confession.

„I-I think i have feelings for you too Y/N...“

⩥ 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐖𝐨𝐨𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠

You were currently in the changing room, packing your belongings, to take from your workplace. You decided to leave your job as a makeup artist and stylist for the group ATEEZ. The reason was the fact that you liked one of the members and didn’t want to cause any problems to the groups, you knew it was inappropriate to like him, but it was irresistible.

You attached feelings for Wooyoung when you first started to work with them. All eight boys were absolutely amazing, but Wooyoung was just... different. He sparked a flame of interest in you, his personality, his talent, his looks, all those drew you to Wooyoung.

As you cleaned all your makeup brushes, the door to the changing room opened, as the figure of the aforementioned boy stood there.

„What are you doing Y/N? Why are you packing your things, are you going somewhere?“

„I’m leaving, Wooyoung.“

„What, why?“

„That is none of your concers.“

„It is, you’re my stylist, but more importantly, you’re my friend.“

„Yeah, that’s the problem Wooyoung, I’m your stylist - your colleague, that’s why I have to leave.“

„Why would you have to leave because you’re my stylist, what ar-“

„Because I like you Wooyoung, okay?! That’s why I can’t keep on working with you and mix my feelings into my job, it’s inappropriate, now if you excuse me, I’m leaving.“

The boy stood there as a column, without any movement. Should he go after you, accept your feelings and then you’ll keep on working with him and being his friend, or should he stay there and not go after you? Either way, it was already too late...

⩥ 𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐢 𝐉𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐨

„So, what’s new in your life, Y/N? We haven’t seen each other for a long time because of our busy schedules.“ Jongho said as he sipped on his boba tea.

„Well, not that much happened in my life. You know how it is, a lot of work and stress, and lesser free time and sleep. I’ve bought a new notebook since my old one broke down and uhm... yeah well... I’ve been catching feelings for this boy lately.“

„Wow, really? I’m so happy for you Y/N, tell me more about it, I need to know what kind of a boy owns my bestie’s heart.“

„Well, he’s a really talented singer, he’s kind and funny, he’s more of an athletic type, hmm... and he’s really really strong. But he’s for real one of the nicest and best persons I’ve ever met, I like him, but I don’t know whether to tell him, because I'm not certain of his feelings...“

„Wow, he seems to be a nice guy, but don’t be blinded by your feelings, if he doesn’t like you, let it be, I don’t want you to get hurt, because of some stupid boy who won’t acknowledge the feelings such a beautiful and amazing woman like you has for him. Anyway, do I know him or who is he? I’m like really really curious right now.“

„It’s you Jongho.. you’re the boy i like.“

#ateez #ateez reactions #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez headcanons #ateez x reader #ateez hongjoong #ateez seonghwa #ateez yunho #ateez yeosang #ateez san #ateez mingi #ateez wooyoung #ateez jongho #ateez reaction #ateez fluff

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samuel-de-champagne-problems · 3 years

Text

For the Sake of Science

summary: spencer finds himself thinking...like a scientist. he thinks about to the first time fell in love, but ended up scarred. he think’s he’s in love, but he first needs to carry out an experiment for the sake of science.

pairing: spencer reid x fem reader

author’s note: i really hate writing summaries because it’s so hard to capture everything in one-two sentences.

warning: spencer’s internal thoughts are a lot; vague sexual harassments

For the Sake of Science

Spencer Reid thinks that there must be something wrong with him. He’s nearly 30 years old and still can’t shake someone’s hand or welcome one of Penelope’s hugs. He knows he’s different, but this — this makes him feel like a freak.

Maybe it was his childhood? Maybe because his mom couldn’t hold him or cuddle with him the recommended amount to develop secure attachment, he became touch averse. Maybe it’s because his dad left and he felt even more lonely with just his mom that the idea of being touched started to scare him. Or maybe it was the bullies — being stripped naked and mocked will do that to a kid, he thinks to himself. Or it could be even that he didn’t get his first kiss until he was 20 and the kisser being a boy, Ethan, threw a wrench in Spencer’s dreams of having someone who wanted to hold his hand in public or kiss him in the corridor and not care that people were looking.

Spencer is a product of his environment. As a psychologist he tells himself that a healthy mix of parent issues, childhood torment, and being left by the first person he really loved would cause anyone to be insecure in physical relationships.

But something has changed. He wants to hold someone's hand, and it doesn’t fill him with anxiety at thought. It doesn’t make him think of Ethan leaving him. It makes him feel light and floaty -- happy. Ever the scientist, Spencer decides to carry out an experiment on touch. And the subject of his experiment, Y/N, sits a couple feet away from him.

Spencer couldn’t really pinpoint when he started feeling differently about Y/N. Maybe it was when he noticed when her grapefruit perfume changed to cinnamon and something warm. Maybe it was when he noticed that she got really quiet on cases that dealt with family annihilators and the lines on her face would seem a little deeper. Maybe it was when he realized that her touch was much different than JJ’s or Penelope’s. Her touch was a lingering sting that left him craving more. It was like she picked up the pen Ethan left and dipped it into ink to trace the scars of heartbreak on Spencer’s canvas.

Her touch left him wanting more, needing more. Derek would tell him to ask her out. Take her to the movies and try to kiss her. But Spencer isn’t Derek Morgan, he’s Spencer Reid and hopefully that’s enough for Y/N.

________________________________________________________________

Spencer decides to carry out his experiment in the small kitchen that BAU shared with Sex Crimes. Like clockwork, Y/N walks from her desk to the kitchen at 9:34 to get a second cup of hot tea. She reaches up to the shelf to grab her cup that, much to Spencer’s delight, shared a spot next to his mug. He likes to look at the two mugs sitting next to each other and pretend that they aren’t shelved away in a small communal kitchen with a crappy coffee maker, but in their house, in their kitchen.

He checks his watch at 9:31 and heads into the kitchen. Spencer stands there waiting for his coffee to brew, and an eye watching out for when Y/N would walk through to the kitchen. He almost feels bad for hiding her step stool. Almost, but if it means he’d be able to carry his plan out , he’d be able to forgive himself.

“Hey, Spence. Isn’t that like your third cup in an hour?” Y/N says to him, smiling brightly. He moves the mug just slightly out of Y/N’s view.

“Uh-” Spencer starts. “I, well you know me! I love coffee.” Spencer says nervously.

Y/N looks at him, still smiling brightly. Spencer gives himself the benefit of the doubt, telling himself that she could be smiling at him, or even better because of him.

“You need all that caffeine to stimulate that genius brain of yours, Dr. Reid.” She says in a tone that Spencer could not decipher.

He feels his face flush and warm at her using her honorific. Spencer reminded himself of his goal, to figure out if he really does love Y/N. Part of him knows the answer, and the other part of him is too scared to get left in the dust again.

“Huh, that’s strange, where is the stool?” She says aloud, turning around to check the side of the cabinet for stool.

Spencer, whose plan was panning out flawlessly, took the opportunity to reach on the highest self for his mug. It was a plain looking mug, dark blue with his name labelled on the bottom, altering anyone that it was off limits. Until now.

He hands the mug to her in such a way that his finger tips would brush hers. Y/N’s surprised look melted into a pleased smile. Spencer does not want to let go of the mug, maybe it was a slight hesitation at the germs, or maybe it was him just wanting to keep her close for even a couple more seconds.

“I think you grabbed the wrong mug, Spencer” She says, handing him the mug back to its rightful owner.

“Hm, I don’t seem to see your’s Y/N. I guess maybe it-I don’t know” He says dumbly, this is the part of the plan that he was still a little unsure about -- talking to her. He turns, so his back is leaned up against the edge of the counter, so he hid her mug out of view.

“You don’t mind me using your mug, Spencer? Here I thought you wouldn’t shake my hand or even hug me?” She says with an amused tone in her expression.

The only reason Spencer hasn’t tried to hold her hand or hug her is because he knows he’ll never want to let go. He’d be left again - cold and alone.

“Germs don’t seem to be bothering me that much, Y/N” Spencer remarks.

“Hmm maybe it’s something about turning 30? Like you lose your germaphobia and start losing your hair?” She teases.

And then the unexpected happened. Y/N reaches up and ruffles Spencer’s hair. Her fingertips graze his scalp and Spencer forgets how to breathe. He wants to lean down into the touch and fully appreciate her attention.

“You know my birthday is coming up?” He asks. Maybe it’s just a coincidence, or maybe in some way Y/N remembers his birthday. Even though Spencer couldn’t forget her birthday if he tried, the idea of her purposefully remembering his birthday is something that gave him those butterflies.

“How could I forget the day that my favorite person was born?”

“I’m your favorite person?” Spencer speaks. He could feel his cheeks heat as she looked at him like what she just said didn’t just nearly kill him.

“Spencer, I’m pretty sure you are everyone’s favorite person. And well, only because Motel and Tzeitel are cats” She says with a wink, walking away with her hot cup of tea that Spencer didn’t even realize she brewed as he stood there.

He’s her favorite person. Her favorite person. Maybe this is going better than he expected. Maybe Spencer, a man of science, a man whose heart had been shattered one too many times would let himself have an ounce of faith. After all, he’s his favorite person’s favorite person.

“Hey Y/N!” Derek calls as the team walked back into the bullpen, all very tired from the case. Y/N, who was ahead of Derek, but right behind Spencer and JJ, turned to answer her friend.

“Whatcha going to do with Detective Dreamy’s phone number?” He asks, with a suggestive nudge.

Spencer stopped his walk back to his desk. His bag bounced against his leg, he tried to focus on how many times his watch ticked, he tried his hardest to ignore this conversation happening behind him. But something kept him glued to the spot.

“Huh? Oh you mean Detective Allen? Um, he’s uh...I don’t think it’s going to work out,” Y/N tells the group.

“What do you mean, Y/N. Allen seemed cute, for a man I guess,” Emily says with an eye roll. Her comment elicited a small chuckle from JJ.

“Yeah, and he’s a total pig head,” Y/N says, much to Spencer’s delight.

The team looks at her with an expectancy to continue. Spencer turns to face his colleagues, who gather around Y/N.

“He called me a and I quote ‘a fine piece of ass’ and that he ‘reckons girls with my job must know how to put out to get ahead’, so gross” She says, shivering at the thought.

Emily and JJ’s eye rolls and small comments reassured Y/N that if she wanted Penelope could find that man in three seconds and tell his mother what animal she raised. Derek tells Y/N that he could pay Allen a friendly visit to remind him why he got into the FBI. Frankly, doors aren’t that different from a 5’10 man.

Spencer sees red. There are times when he gets jealous of people who came and went in Y/N’s love life. He used to think that it was just a friendly protectiveness. He wouldn’t want JJ to get hurt by Will or Emily to get hurt by Natalie. But this is different. He feels mad that anyone would think that they could talk about Y/N like that. It’s not like he never thinks about her in less than professional scenarios. But they were usually thoughts about what noises she’d make or how beautiful her face would look like after he could kiss her as much as she’d let him.

If Spencer was a different man, a more confident, brazen man, maybe he’d pull Y/N to the side and tell her that she’s a brilliant agent. But Spencer still sees himself as that 22 year old who’s secret boyfriend left him for a gig in New Orleans.

If Spencer was a different man, a more suave, smooth man, maybe he’d kiss her on the elevator ride to the car garage. But Spencer’s quiet on the ride down. He can’t even look at Y/N, he just sees his last chance of happiness flush down a toilet.

If Spencer was a different man, a more assertive, romantic man, maybe he would have gone after Ethan. Maybe he would have chanced his chance at happiness, following the melody of the seductive jazz tunes, along with the pang in her heart. But Spencer thinks he just might let happiness slip through his fingers at the sad look on Y/N’s eyes as she leaves the elevator.

She does something that stops his internal crisis. Y/N stands in front of Spencer as they walk together, but not together to their cars. Spencer swears to himself that even without his eidetic memory he’d never forget the look on her face.

“Spencer, I um-” Y/N said, not making eye contact with Spencer. “I know that you don’t like to hug me or anything like that, it’s just I really need a hug right now,” she said, her eyes darting to the ground.

Spencer doesn’t say anything, instead he wraps his arms around Y/N. He never hugged anyone besides his mom or Ethan. It’s very different hugging Y/N than it was hugging them. For one, she was much shorter and her smell was different too. Sweeter and lighter than Ethan’s cologne, but it had a familiar welcoming and safe aroma. He doesn’t really know what to do with his hands, so he settles on placing one to rub gently on her back and the other tenderly cupped her head. He holds her as he craved that she’d hold him. For now, it was enough to just be the person that she came to when she felt like the world was against her.

“Thank you Spencer, I felt so gross and dirty from that asshat, so I just needed to feel like I’m not-”

“A piece of um- ‘ass’” Spencer says, air quotes and all.

Maybe it was the idea of Spencer cursing, but Y/N snorts at the sound of the unsavory word leaving Spencer’s lips.

“A fine piece of ass, Spencer” Y/N counters.

“Hey, Y/N you know that you don’t deserve that right, what I mean is that, you’re beautiful but that’s the least interesting thing about you,” Spencer says, taking his turn to stare towards the ground.

“Is that way you let me use your cup, Spence? You wanted to show me how you, uh, feel?” She questions, picking up his hand in hers. Her fingers traced the light lines on his palm.

“Hmm, you saw right through me, didn’t you?”

“I watched you hide the stool, Spence and you took my cup! You should have more faith in my profiling abilities” She says laughing.

“I was carrying out an experiment, Y/N.” Spencer explains.

“About what?”

“Um, so you know that I don’t really like being touched, it’s been a thing for a really long time. But for you, I’d rather die than to never feel your touch,” he professes.

“Hmm, well luckily for you, I think I can just make sure that doesn’t happen” She says, brushing his hair from his eyes. Her fingers graze over his cheeks, his eyes, his nose, and his lips. She’s careful in her touches. So light and tender, that she thinks he might break if she presses too hard or gives into everything she’s feeling. It’s so soft that Spencer has to strain himself to feel it. He moves his hands bravely to hug her waist.

Her light laugh breaks him from his trance. Maybe Spencer can remember what the poets were talking about when you hear the one you love laugh. Maybe he can recall what it feels like to be so important to another person. Maybe he can recollect what it’s like to have someone to call his and what it’s like to be someone’s someone.

Both their hearts are beating so fast that they meld into one beautiful beat. He holds her cheek in his hand as she cups the back of his neck, her fingers latched onto his hair. If he gets a chance, he needs to ask her if she likes his hair, because between the ruffles and the tugging, he’s sure it’s a thing. He turns off the part of his brain that can never be silent, or at least as much as he could when Y/N is gently wrapping her fingers in his hair and looking at him like she wants to kiss him.

“Spencer, um, you know for the sake of your experiment you should see if kissing elicits the same response. For science, hmm?” She reasons.

“Well, I can’t fight the scientific method, can I?” Spencer says, before he leans in to meet his lips to hers.

Y/N’s eyes flutter close as she presses her forehead against Spencer’s, who leans down slightly to reach her. Spencer feels dizzy with anticipation and a mix of pure euphoria. Her lips are softer than he imagined and she’s much more confident than him. She kisses the corners of his mouth, up his cheeks, and nose. It’s like she retracing the path that Ethan left open and raw. Her kisses heal him with the medicine of love and security.

Spencer knows he would never be the one to break the kiss. Or any kiss that they would share, if he ever got so lucky. He never wants to let go.

“Come on, Dr. Reid, I have an experiment of my own I want to try”

As Spencer walks to her car, he thinks about how well her palm fits into his. He thinks about how those butterflies are uncaged and free. Those Ethan shaped butterflies morphed into Y/N shaped butterflies. This love was different, because after all, he was different now. And different, different is good.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x reader fluff #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid #dr spencer reid #dr spencer reid imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid deserved a happy ending #criminal minds fics #spencer reid x you #spencer reid reader insert #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fluff

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devotion · 4 years

Text

spider-baby → p.p

summary: you tell tony that you and peter are trying for a baby in a birthday party with the avengers.

word count: 1.2k+ | p.p masterlist

✦───✦

"ready, beautiful?" peter asked you, closing the trunk of his car.

it had been quite some time that you hadn't felt this content with how life was turning out - which is why you replied by wrapping your arms around his middle, pressing your body against his back and taking in the warmth that he logically was blessed with; one last time today before you had to step in and be welcomed by your mentor and his colleagues. a content sigh escaped your lips, basking in the moment and saying, "totally."

throughout the highs and lows that you had experienced in your life; the wonderful relationship with peter, the inevitable pressure and pain that came with university and balancing the tough job you had rightfully earned from tony stark were just the few priorities you were balancing on a daily.

however, you could finally say that your uni graduation was over and done with a few weeks ago, leaving your hands undoubtedly more freer. even if your job and independently living in your shared house with peter seemed to drive you up the wall from time to time.

and it wasn't because you felt like at the epitome of happiness just recently, but the thought of having a child had always crossed your mind.

it was unavoidable, to an extent, how much time you spent and were surrounded by kids. whether it was with your side of the family that would come over ─ your little innocent cousins running all over the place and doting peter whenever they saw him. or if it was just frolicking around with morgan at any time you were in the stark tower. the ardent rush of baby fever would take over you every time.

the more time passed, the more the concept of having a baby would prop up. essentially, you and peter had been trying for one for a while now. today, on morgan's birthday, it felt right to inform tony - mainly because peter wanted his father figure to be aware of it and possibly, it could be another good reason to celebrate with the avengers.

with morgan's present in one hand, peter offered his other, not forgetting to exaggerate it, batting his eyelashes at you. "let's go then, shall we, m'lady?"

you took it and intertwined your fingers with his, imitating his actions, replying,"sure thing, my man." then, planted a kiss on his cheek.

you were greeted with open arms by everyone - almost crying at how overwhelming the idea was that you always felt accepted at any time you were in their company.

eventually the commotion of your arrival had died down, giving you the indication to make a beeline towards pepper and morgan.

the interactions between morgan and peter had definitely made you melt. you really didn't expect him to still pick her up and boop her nose. the sparkle in his eyes you witnessed wasn't rare but it was more special when you found it on occasions like this - where he was in his element.

"i'm quite nervous 'bout this, pete," you told him whilst you sensed the butterflies now fluttering in your stomach.

there was no question that peter was too; it was a big step, really. two high school sweethearts. you had known the avengers and peter for many years now. but you had grown with him from difficult and awkward teenagers to almost sensible adults. responsible for the most part, surely. and to think that every person in the room had seen this big change, primarily nat, makes them shed a tear or two.

peter slung an arm around your shoulder, bringing you to his side and nose nudging your temple. he whispered just enough for you to hear, "you'll be fine, beautiful; you're not alone. you never will be."

you breathed out, trying to take in the reassurance, and in the spur of the moment, you did not think that your sweet moment would be interrupted by the one and only tony stark.

maybe you shouldn't have jumped the way you did because that scared the crap out of your boyfriend and his peter tingle.

"so?" tony started, spreading out his arms for a hug, "how's my favourite power couple doing?"

you visibly retched at his choice of wording, to peter's dismay, making him frown. "i thought we were a power couple," he mumbled sadly.

after exchanging hugs between you all, tony sensed your restlessness. he raised a ruffled eyebrow at you both, "everything okay?" he glanced towards peter and he recognised that there was clear excitement purely written on his face, "you look like you're about to scream, peter."

you look to your right, and indeed, you saw him practically bouncing on the balls of his feet.

some things never change.

but you don't let peter say it yet. instead, you grab his hand in yours and pull him towards you.

"we've been wanting to say his for a while," you began, already earning a quizzical look from tony, "but we're excited to say..."

you prodded at peter's thumb with your own, in order for you to say this at the same time, "that we're trying for a baby!"

tony's face had instantly changed from a look of uncertainty to one of surprise, blinking a few times to register what you had said. but in no time, he brought you in again in his hold. and you weren't quite sure if you heard a sniffle.

shortly afterwards, you both were released and you found tony glassy-eyed, although, grinning at your disclosure.

"i'm happy for you kids," tony smiled. then, as the stark seized everyone's attention, you laid your head next to his, turning your face to kiss his exposed neck lightly. the crowd erupted in cheers when they were also enlightened with the news a few seconds later.

rhodey piped up, "yooo, peter and y/n being the next parents? damn, who knew spider-baby would be coming so soon?" he lifted up his glass of beer to thor, clinking it with his.

"no wrapping before tapping now, is there," bucky announced, making steve howl with laughter.

yours and peter's face flushed beet red at his statement.

steve added, "but it doesn't go to show, buck, that it won't not be sweeter if you wrap your peter," sending a wink your way.

whilst peter scratched the back of his neck at his comment, you decided that you might as well have just died from embarrassment. that being the case, you hid your head into peter's nape, his hand reaching the small of your back as he tried to disregard what he had just heard.

it was true that all happy families were alike in their own way; selfless love shown to each member through actions and emotions. and as sappy as it was, it really did feel like home. it felt like your family. and hopefully, you were going to have your own little one with you soon to make one of your own.

being present in peter's embrace brought to you a state of warm and snug comfort. and when his lips brushed against the top of your head, he was greeted by the fragrant smell of your shampoo filling his senses. the edges of his lips curved upwards, the following words tumbling from his mouth without thinking,

"by the way, y/n," your attention diverted towards his face, not failing to beam at the way he looked so radiant and beautiful; you were so very lucky to call him yours,

"i'm wearing the smile you gave me."

✦───✦

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winterscaptain · 3 years

Text

roots.

Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader a joyful future fic

a/n: another one from 2026! aaron retires from federal service this year, at 57.

words: 2.4k warnings: kids!, missing haley hotchner hours, language

summary: “Every day the increasing weight of years admonishes me more and more, that the shade of retirement is as necessary to me as it will be welcome.” ― George Washington, Farewell Address. au!october 2026

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | requests closed!

SSA Mallory Kagan asks you to outline your career with the FBI - purposefully using your first name instead of using your title. It keeps the students guessing and paying attention.

Plus, the payoff when they figure out who you are is the best part of the whole lecture.

“My career at the FBI is more like a big tree than a path or a journey.”

You look out over the classroom - blue shirts abound - and take a deep breath to center yourself.

You’re used to giving this lecture with Aaron, but this is your first fall without him, which also means that this is the first academy class who won’t know him in person.

They’ll only hear tell of the legend SSA Aaron Hotchner was stabbed nine times, lost his wife to a serial killer, and kept going. You know they’ll hear stories about his severity, his general lack of sunniness, hear rumors about the way he laughs with his children, his wife, and nobody else.

You know the older agents tell stories about you, too. They say you ‘tamed’ Hotch, made him a little nicer. They might even say they’ve seen him smile at you, or they’ve seen you give him hell in public.

Aaron Hotchner is practically a myth, now, only supported by your reputation, tall tales from academy classes of yesteryear, and his own legacy.

That retired bastard currently sits in your house with your kids, right on his fine behind, very likely falling into boredom-addled insanity.

“Everything that I am - a parent, a wife, a friend, and an agent - is because of my work with the Behavioral Analysis Unit over the past nineteen years. My unit is my family, and I can’t get rid of them. Just like our own families, we love to hate each other.”

The room laughs, and you know you have them hooked.

“Jokes aside, I would encourage you to get to know your colleagues. Each relationship I built within my unit put a root into the ground, made the proverbial tree stronger - to extend the metaphor. I work with very few of the same people I started with, but I feel as steady and supported as I did back when they called us ‘The Elite Eight.’”

You chuckle a little, clicking through your introductory slide to showcase a photo of the BAU in 2012. You point to each of them as you speak.

“SSA Emily Prentiss, current unit chief of the Behavior Analysis unit and former head of the Interpol London office, responsible for taking down one of the most prolific international arms dealers in modern history.”

The room is quiet, a little awestruck, so you add, “She’s a bit of a big deal.”

They laugh.

“SSA Derek Morgan - you’ll probably hear stories about how he survived the Boston bombing with SSA Gideon in 2005, but don’t worry. He wasn’t there. He was with his momma in Chicago, celebrating her birthday.”

Another laugh.

You’ve honed this routine over the last five years, knowing what to add, when to pause, what to cut if the students lose interest.

“That said, SSA Morgan is one of the best profilers I’ve had the pleasure of working with. Today, he’s a consultant for DC Metro SWAT and is otherwise retired.”

Continuing down the line, “SSA Jennifer Jareau - JJ. Former communications liaison for the BAU, State Department, and DoD. She currently serves with the BAU as a profiler. If any of you are interested in PR or media relations, find an opportunity to speak with her about her experience. Her husband, Will, is a detective with the DC Metro Police and has plenty of stories of his own.”

A student raises a hand, and you give her the go-ahead.

“Sorry for interrupting -“

You stop her. “You didn’t interrupt. You raised your hand. Don’t apologize for taking up space.”

She smiles a little. “Okay. Um, I’m curious. How many people in your unit are married and/or have children? My understanding is that the work-life balance can be difficult in heavy-travel positions like the BAU.”

“It can absolutely be a challenge.” You look back at the photo. “In the course of my career, six of my colleagues have been or were already married and all of them went on to have children.”

“And you?”

You laugh a little, forgetting you’re alone up here. “Right.”

The class laughs, and you point yourself out on the slide.

“I still had my maiden name when this photo was taken, but now I share five children and a last name with SSA Aaron Hotchner.” You throw your thumb at Aaron’s likeness on the screen again for good measure.

You check in with SSA Kagan to make sure you can share everything you usually do with Aaron present - your marriage was often the punchline of your lectures, letting you toe the line of humor a little farther than you normally would.

She nods, a little smile on her face.

“While I wouldn’t necessarily recommend dating your unit chief or marrying your section chief -“ you pause, holding your hands up in surrender to the echo of laughter “- even if they are the same person - you can certainly find the best people without looking too hard.”

Hands shoot up into the air, but that always happens. It’s around this time people start asking the good questions. The people from their course materials and the people in front of them start to link together.

They also figure out that you’re Agent Hotchner. That Agent Hotchner - the one married to the Agent Hotchner.

You look out over the crowd again. “I know you have lots of questions, and I’m happy to confirm or deny any rumors about myself or my family, but,” you pause for dramatic effect. “Hold them for now - you’ll want to know the players before you ask the questions.”

Hands drop, but pens start moving. You continue down the line, skipping over Aaron.

“SSA David Rossi, a founding member of the BAU in the late 1980’s. He worked closely with SSA Jason Gideon, developing a database that we use to this day - one that outlines signatures, modus operandi, and victimology of modern serial killers. SSA Rossi is also well-known for his books - ten of them, in fact, that cover what we do in a kind of…”

You search for a word.

“Conversational format. He retired a couple of years ago, and is a full-time grandpa to all 16 of the BAU offspring.”

A few scattered chuckles pass through the room.

“And then we have Dr. Spencer Reid - I could enumerate his degrees, but we don’t have that kind of time. He’s the smartest person I’ve ever met, and remains an asset to the BAU in the field today.”

You click to another slide - a photo of all of you taken a few weeks ago.

“SSA Matthew Simmons - retired from the United States Army and former member of the FBI International Response Team, or IRT. He’s been with the BAU for ten years now. Like Dr. Reid and SSA Prentiss, he knows multiple languages - which comes in handy.” You look out and raise your eyebrows. “I hope all of you did well in your Spanish classes in high school - you might need it.”

Another laugh.

“SSA Luke Alvez and Technical Analyst Penelope Garcia are another pair that come from, shall we say, nontraditional backgrounds. While Garcia is no longer with the BAU, SSA Alvez is also celebrating his tenth year with us this fall.”

A student raises his hand, and you call on him.

“Isn’t Penelope Garcia the hacker known as The Black Queen? I learned about her work when I was at MIT.”

You snort. “Nice way to slip in you went to MIT, there, bud.” You pause, waiting for the ruckus to die down as the student in question turns bright red. “But yes. Her experience was invaluable to our team. Just to keep up, we stole an analyst from the NSA to replace her - nobody else could cut the mustard.”

You look back, stepping forward and pacing as you speak.”And finally, Dr. Tara Lewis. Formerly working in the FBI Counsel’s office as a forensic psychologist, she joined our team on cases where specific pathologies were in play before becoming a full-fledged member of our team.

“So, as you can see, there are so many varied qualities we look for in profilers, and your own path will be informed by the skills you develop, your temperament, and your dedication to the work itself. There’s no right way to be an agent, and when you leave the academy in five weeks, the whole world of the bureau will be open to you.”

Clicking back to your introductory slide, you turn to the front of the classroom. “I know all my colleagues well enough to take any questions you may have about their careers and paths through the bureau. For any questions I can’t answer, I am happy to direct you to them with the understanding they may not get back to you due to our caseload. I’ll take your questions now.”

Hands shoot up into the air, and you specifically call on the student in the back - the one you know has a question about Aaron.

“So, when you say SSA Aaron Hotchner, you mean the same one that worked the Boston Reaper case for ten years?”

SSA Kagan checks in with you, ready to shut him down, but you call her off.

“That’s right. SSAs Jareau, Morgan, Prentiss, Rossi, Dr. Reid, Miss Garcia, and I worked that case in its final year as well.”

“I have a follow-up if that’s okay.”

You tacitly give him leave to continue.

“How do you handle cases that get that… close? I know there were considerable...” He searches for the right word. “...challenges. How did you guys deal with that?”

Good question.

Returning to the podium, you lean heavily against it, lacing your fingers in front of you. “You’ve all read the Reaper case file, yes? It’s still included in the MCRT training courses?”

There are nods around the room, but you check in with Kagan anyway.

“The declassified version is covered,” She says. “They’re familiar with the full scope of the case.”

“Okay. So, as you all know…”

You remind them what happened, from 1998 to 2009, finally landing where the students want you. “And on November 23rd, 2009, Haley Reneé Hotchner was George Foyet’s 40th and final victim. She was thirty-nine years old. And she was my friend.”

The room is dead silent, all eyes on you, somber and attentive.

“The case was personal. It became personal because Foyet forced our hands. He attacked Agent Hotchner in his home and then targeted his family. So, the question is, how do we deal with that? Right?”

Even Kagan’s watching you closely. It’s the first time you’ve covered this case without the rest of your team. In your joint lectures with Aaron, the case is off-limits for questions. She’s never heard you tell the story in your own words.

You take a breath. “And the answer is… you don’t.”

There are some confused faces, so you elaborate. “There isn’t anything you can do to push the case away from you - that’s how people get hurt. In the meantime, you make adjustments. Agent Hotchner placed Agent Morgan in an interim unit chief position until the case was over, for the sake of his health and sanity. We chased down every lead, understanding that the faster we caught Foyet, the faster Haley and Jack, Agent Hotchner’s son, could come home.”

A young woman in front tentatively raises a hand, and you open a hand to her. “Yes?”

“What happened, you know, after?”

“We moved on as best we could. Going back to my original point -”

You leave the podium and take your place in the center of the floor again.

“- the trust you have in the people you work with can carry you through a great many things. And not all of you will see horror every day - but some of you will.”

You pause for a moment, hoping this is the part that really sinks in for them.

“Always have something to come home to. Always have something or someone that brings you peace, that can take you away from the work.”

+++

You set your things down and walk through the door, immediately accosted by two almost-eight-year-olds and their over-eager little brother.

“Momma!”

You haul Elliot onto your hip and kiss Sophia’s head as Caroline burrows into your side. “Hi, darlings! Did you already have dinner?”

Sophia moves to answer, but Aaron’s voice shoots around the corner. “Yes!”

With a smile, you seek him out, dragging the girls along with you. Lo and behold, Aaron’s at the sink, washing dishes. Isaac’s supervising - sitting on the counter, swinging his feet.

Aaron gets a kiss on the cheek from you as you pass and he turns over his shoulder, chasing you until you peck him on the lips, Elliot squished between you. Your son squirms, and you set him on the ground to chase after his sisters. Isaac hops off the counter likely off to investigate the happenings before retreating to his room for the rest of the evening.

For once, you’re left alone.

“How was your lecture?”

Your arms free, you wrap around him and rest your full weight against his chest as he backs himself into the counter. “Went well. Missed you, though.”

The corner of his mouth tips up. “Did they ask about Foyet?”

“Mhmm. It was a good segue into trusting your team and building each other up, knowing when to step back, etcetera.”

He nods. “Good way to bring it back around. How’s Kagan?”

“She’s good, loving it, as always.”

“Think she’s ever gonna retire?” He asks, tucking into your neck.

You laugh as he presses kisses to the underside of your jaw. “Probably not.”

Aaron leans back to look at you, bringing his hand to your face to brush over your cheekbone. “Are you ever gonna retire?”

“Probably not.”

“What if,” he says, his hands slipping into your back pockets, “you retired in…” He does the math in his head. “Thirteen-ish years and I make it worth your while.”

“Oh yeah? Worth my while? And you’ll be, what, a hundred years old?”

His eyes roll so hard you’re sure he could see his own brain. You pull him down for a kiss, but it doesn’t stop him from mumbling, “Give me a fuckin’ break,” against your mouth.

“Never.”

+++

tagging: @writefasttalkevenfaster @quillvine @stxrrywildflower @hurricanejjareau @ughitsbaby @rousethemouse @criminalsmarts @genevievedarcygranger @ssaic-jareau @hotchsflower @hotchslatte @risenfox @mrs-dr-reid @mrs-marcus-moreno @pan-pride-12 @sunshine-em @jdougl-love @dreila03 @forgottenword @aaronhotchnerr @ssa-morgan @tegggeeee @abschaffer2 @ssacandice-ray @ellyhotchner @lotties-journey-abroad @mrs-joel-pimentel-23-25 @mooneylupinblack @ssareidbby @qvid-pro-qvo @mandylove1000 @jeor @wakatoshislover @word-scribbless @bwbatta @capricorngf @missdowntonabbey @averyhotchner @joanofarkansass @popped-weasels @evee87 @nuvoleincielo @ssahotchnerr @this-broken-band-girl @winqhster @reidtomestyles @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @the-falling-in-the-danger @softbibxtch @iconicc @mangoberry43 @andreasworlsboring101 @kerrswriting @mac99martin @itsalwaysb33nyou @baumarvel @messyhairday-me @ssworldofsw @deagibs @crazyshannonigans @moonshinerbynight @jhiddles03 @teamhappyme @mendesmelodies @starsandasteroids @unicorn-bitch @ambicaos @itsmytimetoodream @pinkdiamond1016

#aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #tali talks cm #tali writes fanfiction #a joyful future #a joyful future fanfic

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amjustagirl · 3 years

Text

Chapters: one. ~ two. ~ three. ~ four. ~ five. ~ six. ~ seven. ~ eight.

Wordcount: 2.4k

Summary: Being with Miya Atsumu is like chasing a storm - equal parts exhilaration and danger. After all, it’s impossible to tame a storm.

AO3 Link here

Masterlist here

Their daughter enters the world squalling, tiny and pink and bloodied and somewhat wrinkled but healthy which is all that really matters), and Atsumu’s eyes widen before immediately filling with tears when the doctor places her in his arms.

‘You did amazin’, darlin’ he whispers, running his finger against their daughter’s cheek reverently. ‘She’s perfect’.

‘Make sure you count ten fingers and toes before you say that’, she manages to say before dropping her head back into the pillow, bone weary from her labour, and he laughs through his tears.

They name her Shino, which means stem of bamboo. She reasons that if their daughter is going to take the Miya family name, she should in fairness have a name that represents her side of the family – and besides, she’d always been drawn to the whimsicalness of the tale of the bamboo cutter, but thought naming her baby ‘Kaguya’ might be a little on the nose. Atsumu’s grandmother isn’t terribly pleased, but her stoic father bursts into tears when they tell him, and immediately sends over a crate full of toys carved out of the bamboo from their family’s ancestral grove.

The press has a field day when MSBY’s PR team releases news of their marriage and Shino’s birth, but thankfully the full weight of the team’s PR machine manages to twist the coverage to repackage Atsumu’s image as a wholesome family man, so the articles remain relatively positive. Still, they’re forced to sit through a number of photo shoots to keep the press happy, and she shudders at the office gossip she knows she’ll have to face when she returns back to work.

His teammates crowd to greet Shino when she brings her out for one of their matches for the first time. Atsumu presents Shino proudly to his teammates - ‘look at what I made’, he demands, dangling her in his hands so they can ooh and ahh over the little girl - ‘ I learnt it from one of those kiddie cartoons I watched at night when she wouldn’t sleep!’ he tells her later when she scolds him for the precarious hold.

She has to shoo Hinata and Bokuto away when they try to hand Shino a volleyball, the ball looking comically big against the baby girl. Sakusa stands at a respectful distance away, but hands her an adorable onesie in MSBY’s black and gold, wrapped carefully in plastic. The corner of his eyes crinkle behind his mask when he tells her it’s so Shino can support them properly at their next game.

‘Aww, Omi-omi! I always knew you liked me deep down inside’ Atsumu crows, bouncing on the balls of his feet and clapping his hands.

‘You’re insane to marry him’, Sakusa tells her, refusing to even acknowledge Atsumu’s tomfoolery.

‘Maybe I am’, she grins, warmth furling and unfurling in her chest.

Despite her initial fears, Atsumu falls head over heels for Shino, and continues to allow their baby daughter to wrap him around her tiny finger. He wakes up without complaint for night feedings, spends nights pacing their little apartment coaxing Shino to bed, and straps her on his broad chest for what his pronounces ‘daddy-daughter’ adventures during the off-season when she’s away during the day for work. On weekends, they bring Shino to the park to watch the birds and the clouds in the sky, to the aquarium to watch the fish in the sea, and to the museum to marvel at dinosaur bones from a distant past.

It’s at the museum that Shino says her first word, sitting between Atsumu’s legs in the museum sandbox, digging her chubby hands in the sand in search of fake fossils.

‘Say that again’, Atsumu laughs wetly, pressing kisses to the top of their little girl’s head.

‘Oto-san!’, Shino crows, the look on her face so reminiscent of Atsumu’s expression whenever he’s pleased with herself that she’s torn between feeling pride at her precocious little girl - and horror that she’s going to have her hands full with a mini-Atsumu.

‘You’re daddy’s little girl, aren’t you, princess?’ Atsumu says proudly, and Shino claps her hands as he cuddles her close to his chest. He later tries his level best to empty out the museum gift store of toys to commemorate the day and she has to slap his hands from tossing in ‘just one more toy’ into their checkout basket.

‘Are you happy, ‘Tsumu?’ she asks him later, after they put Shino to bed.

‘Why wouldn’t I be?’ he asks with a puzzled frown. ‘I have everything I need.’

‘Just checking’, she replies, her doubts forgotten when he tugs her into bed.

For Shino’s first birthday, both their families squeeze into their apartment to celebrate by strapping a giant piece of mochi that Osamu made to her back, a tradition to rid young children of any impurities. Atsumu nearly trips over himself trying to capture a photo of the auspicious moment Shino falls over on her butt, and showers kisses on her proudly when she does not cry.

They also carry out the erabitori ceremony, setting in front of Shino several objects symbolising the various paths she might choose in the future. Aside from the common items like an abacus, writing brush or books, her brothers insist on including a knife (sheathed, of course), earning raised eyebrows of Atsumus’s family. Osamu tosses in a kitchen spoon and Atsumu naturally places a volleyball right in the center of the spread.

‘Cheatin’ pig’, Osamu mutters when Shino ends up picking the volleyball (attracted by its bright colours, he maintains), but Atsumu ignores him, tossing the little girl in the air in delight.

‘Darlin’, come take a look at this! Kageyama-kun’s playing his first game in Rome, and it looks like - I can’t believe this, why does his technique look better than before?! What - is the water he’s drinkin’ overseas magic or something? How’s he getting so good?’

‘Tsumu, could you keep it down? I just got Shino to bed, and I really need to finish the work I didn’t have time to do ‘cos I took over her pick-up today’. She replies wearily, typing furiously at her laptop.

‘Sorry. I’ll pop over to chat with ‘Samu then, be back late!’

She nods distractedly as she hears the door click behind her back.

‘I can’t believe I screwed up so badly at practice today’ Atsumu grouses, chin propped up on the wooden countertop of Onigiri Miya in between mouthfuls of food. ‘I kept missing my serves, and then that asshole Omi-omi dared to laugh when I ran around trying to get my head back into the game –‘

‘Tsumu’. Osamu cuts in, setting another onigiri in front of him. ‘As much as I want to listen to you complain about your no-good, very-bad day, could’ya help your poor wife out a little bit?’

‘Thanks ‘Samu’, she musters the energy to give him a distracted smile, juggling a bowl of rice porridge she’s trying to persuade Shino to eat and preventing said little girl from smearing rice grains all over the place.

Atsumu plops Shino onto his lap, and continues talking over her head. She takes the opportunity to stuff her face with food – glorious food, and doesn’t notice when he maintains a sullen silence as they walk home.

A hush ripples across the stands like a tsunami when Atsumu gets substituted midway during the last set of the match. She isn’t surprised, not when he started playing badly during the set – there was a little kid that screeched just as he was about to serve, and he’d hit the ball way out of bounds. That had been the start of his downward spiral during the game – his dump shots got picked up, his blocks weren’t quite on point, and worst of all – he’d somehow managed to misjudge the timing of a toss to Hinata-kun, the ginger haired spiker looking confused when the ball missed his hand.

He’d stormed off the court the minute the referee’s whistle sounded, frustration and anger written all over his face and she’d made a beeline for the locker room, tucking a sleeping Shino into her carrier. She can hear him yelling (at himself, most likely) and the distinct sound of flesh hitting metal, and is about to burst in to comfort him when Sakusa steps neatly in front of her to block her way.

‘Sakusa-kun’, she greets him, eyes darting towards the door.

‘Miya-san’, he nods at her, face already hidden behind his usual mask. ‘I don’t think it’s a good idea to disturb him just yet.’

She opens her mouth to object, but Meian Shugo, the team’s broad shouldered, good natured captain, plants a hand on her shoulder to gently steer her away. ‘It’s not a pleasant sight when he’s in a funk’, he tells her quietly. ‘Let us deal with it, we’re used to him. Do you need me to call you a cab?’

‘He’s my husband – I should be the one to deal with him’ , she wants to say – but doesn’t, because Shino jolts awake and starts to wail. ‘It’s fine’, she does say, hushing her little girl. ‘I’ll hitch a ride home with ‘Samu instead’.

She meant to stay up to wait for Atsumu, give him his usual kiss and listen to him talk about his day, but she’s out like a light when her head hits the pillow (it’s been a long day, in her defense) , and she has to leave in the morning for work before he wakes.

‘Everyone has their off days, but you’re an incredible setter, you know?’ she does tell him that night over dinner. Shino squeals and smashes her hand into the bowl of food.

‘Of course I am’, he frowns at her, almost as if he thinks it’s odd for her to even feel the need to say that, and turns away to ruffle Shino’s hair.

She waits by herself in the lobby of her office building for five minutes before she gives in to her impatience and calls him.

‘Tsumu? Weren’t we supposed to meet for lunch today?’

‘Oh shit – I’m sorry, doll, I promised Hinata-kun that I’ll come in for extra practice today. I’ll make it up to you some other day, ok?’

She sighs through her nose. ‘Ok – have fun dear’, she replies reluctantly, and he ends the call before she can say any more.

She can feel the gaze of her colleagues on her back, and plasters a smile on her face before marching off to her favourite dessert place, comforting herself with a box of mochi. She buys an extra box for Osamu (they had a specialty flavour just for the season, and she knows he’s been dying to try that) , and drops it off on the way back home.

Atsumu complains about only getting one piece of mochi when Osamu sends him a picture of her gift – she can imagine him gloating even though the picture is unaccompanied by any text.

‘You don’t even like chestnut!’ she scolds Atsumu, and he sulks.

‘Tsumu! Could you come help zip me into my dress?’ she calls, checking her watch impatiently. The babysitter should arrive in five minutes to take care of Shino for the night while they’re away at the team’s annual gala party.

‘Yknow’, we’d get there a lot faster if you hadn’t sold your old scooter’, he tells her, as he steps into the room, immaculately dressed in his best suit.

‘I told you – it’s not practical to keep a scooter around when we have a young child’, she answers, already weary of a conversation they’ve had multiple times before.

‘I’m just sayin’, he says lightly. ‘Oof – sorry, darlin’, the zip ain’t budgin’.

‘But it fit perfectly fine the last time I wore it’, she frowns.

‘You must’ve put on some weight’, he says absently, the heat of his hand burning on her hip even after he walks away.

‘Tsumu, seriously? I told you yesterday morning that we’re out of milk powder and diapers!’ she growls into her phone, cramming her way onto the subway. ‘Fine – whatever, you go for training, I’ll deal with it myself’, she ends the call, dropping her phone like a hot stone into her pocket.

She runs to the supermarket during her lunch break, cursing herself for wearing heels instead of more comfortable flats, picking up two packs of diapers, a double can of milk powder, and a pack of wipes on discount - all things Atsumu should have picked up last night, but he claimed he was too busy with training and club events to pay attention to a simple errand like this –

She’s so lost in her thoughts she doesn’t notice when her foot misses the curb and lands on her knees in the dust, the contents of her bags spilling onto the road. There are scores of people on the street but no one stops to offer their assistance, so she ignores the searing pain to pick her precious supplies up before they’re lost in the crowd.

The blood from the cuts on her knees drips down her calves, and she limps her way back to the office.

‘Trouble in paradise?’ Yuna-san asks with a curious smirk on her face when she heads back to her seat, eyes red, knees wrapped with white bandages.

‘No, nothing like that’, she answers the office gossip, keeping her voice deliberately light.

Atsumu only grunts when she asks him that night how his day went, kneeling down to greet Shino with a hug.

‘Won’t be stayin’ for dinner, got a team event at night’, Atsumu calls out to her, one foot out of the door.

‘What? You should’ve told me earlier, I’m already halfway through preparing dinner’, she shouts back, hacking at the vegetables on the chopping board with a vengeance.

His only reply is a slam of the door, which startles Shino enough to cry. In her hurry to get to her daughter, her hand on the knife slips, and she cuts open her hand.

The space beside her remains empty throughout the night, and she falls asleep pretending the only pain she feels is from the bleeding gash on her hand. She’s so exhausted she does not wake until her alarm rings, not even when the surge of rain overnight batters her windows and water floods the streets.

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merakiaes · 4 years

Text

The One For Me - Aaron Hotchner

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x reader

Requested: By @nuvoleincielo

Prompts: #16, #30 and #63 from the fluff-list.

Warnings/notes: This is my first time writing for Hotch and Criminal Minds in general so please be patient while I get used to these new characters, might be slight OOC😭 It’s also the first piece I’ve written in a few months now and I’m a bit rusty, so please let me know what you think. Not proofread so I apologize in advance for any possible mistakes. Send in more requests for Hotch, Reid and Morgan and let me know if you want to be added to the Criminal Minds taglist! I hope you like it💕

Wordcount: 4118

Summary: Hotch has doubts about letting your relationship go further and you reassure him that he’s what you want.

After being raised in one of New York’s worst, most crime ridden and low poverty neighborhoods by a family who was constantly targeted by the law enforcement, the last thing you’d expect was that you would become an active worker of said law enforcement.

Your mother died ten minutes after giving birth to you and your father had never been a part of the equation, most likely having ran the second he found out your mother had gotten pregnant. With no other immediate family, you ended up in the system, where you were stuck for the first seven years of your life.

You jumped back and forth between families of all kinds but for reasons unknown, no one wanted to keep you. It wasn’t until a couple adopted you two days before your eight birthday that you finally felt like you belonged.

They had many children of their own as well as more foster children, all between the ages of ten and twenty-five at the time of your adoption. On top of that, the children had children of their own and aunts, uncles, cousins and friends stayed with you more often than not as they struggled to hold on to homes of their own.

It wasn’t the most ideal way to live, a dozen people staying under the same roof of a two bedroom house, but you had dinner on the table every evening and the love for family was strong, so despite the conditions you lived in and the struggles you were forced to face on a daily basis, you guessed you couldn’t complain; you’d had it better than most.

The people who lived in those parts were always getting pinned for various kinds of crimes, just so the police could get it out of their hands and go on about their lives.

The male members of your family and the company they kept were some of the biggest targets even though they rarely did anything wrong, but despite the injustices they faced every day, they remained respectful when staring in the face of a cop.

You, on the other hand, despised them. You were an outspoken little girl, too feisty for your own good and on more occasions than one, you’d ended up pissing off some rich kid in school for which your dad and uncles were forced to pay the price.

You’d always hated the injustice the less fortunate suffered every day, but it wasn’t until you witnessed your first murder at fifteen that your interest of making the world a better place really piqued.

The victim had been one of the boys living in your neighborhood. He was two years older than you and he always gave it his all to make something out of himself. He walked with you and your younger brothers and cousins to school every day to make sure you got there safely, studied hard, kept out of trouble and always remained respectful.

The only reason he died was because his skin was the wrong color in the eyes of the law and because he was born into a less fortunate neighborhood, and it was then your eyes truly opened to the police brutality and misuse of power plaguing your country.

You joined the police force when you were nineteen years old and you stayed there, on top of your game and determined to do it better than the bad ones, until you were twenty-one.

At that point, most of your family had passed away either out of old age, or simply from being in the wrong place at the wrong time, and your determination to help people was stronger than ever.

But even you, the tough little firecracker as your uncles had always called you, could only tolerate so much.

After two years on the force, you got tired of being undermined by your male co-workers and set out to step up your game, taking up studies of criminology and psychology among several other subjects.

You studied your ass off and was just barely able to get by with the money you had saved up over the years, and at twenty-four, you finally had your degrees and clearance to begin working in higher places.

Starting off in New York, you stayed there for six months before you were transferred to Quantico, Virginia, where you were recruited by the one and only Jason Gideon who had heard word of your talent in the field.

You had worked with the team for little over a year now and Jason, who had always acted as a kind of mentor and father figure for you, was gone, having left only a letter for you and Spencer each.

Taking his place was Aaron Hotchner, a fellow agent to which you hadn’t paid much personal attention before the departure of Gideon. But things changed when he left, a lot of things.

Hotch was fresh out of his divorce, moodier than ever and in a really bad mental state. He stayed in his office until the late hours of the night, sometimes even the early hours of the next morning, barely slept and often forgot to eat if he wasn’t reminded by his team members.

Everyone urged him to take some time off, to go home and get some sleep and to take care of himself, and although he always told them that he would, he never followed through.

Up until then, you still hadn’t spoken much with him except for when you were working on a case. You were just an agent and he was just your boss, there was nothing else to it. But you couldn’t just sit by and watch as he neglected himself, so you followed your team-mates’ example and approached him.

He dismissed you at first, like he had done everyone else who had tried to offer him their support. But as time passed by, in some miraculous way, you made him laugh, and as you continued your attempts on offering him your ear to listen, he opened up to you, and you grew to become more than just colleagues.

Your first and only date had been on your initiative. You invited him to dinner at your house during your weekend off, to which he agreed.

You cooked together and although it started off as kind of awkward – more from his side than yours – you ended up kissing later that night after having had a bit too much to drink, and fell asleep together on your couch while you were flicking through your childhood photo albums.

The next morning, he was gone. You had always been an extremely light sleeper so you found it strange that he had managed to slip off without alerting you and also having managed to wrap you up in a blanket before he left.

He didn’t leave without a word though. A note was neatly placed on the coffee table in front of you, on which he explained that he needed to pick up Jack and that he didn’t want to wake you, finishing it off with a thank you for the night before.

That was the first and last time you spent time together, just the two of you, but it wasn’t like it was intentional.

You wanted to do it again, to continue exploring the budding romance between the two of you and to see where you could take it, and although you knew nothing of his feelings, he wanted the same thing.

But work got very stressful; stressful to the point where you could never find a moment to talk to each other if it wasn’t in the presence of the entire team. But the spark between you wasn’t gone.

It was still there in the way he would let his hand hover above the small of your back when you were walking side by side and step in front of you if you were ever in danger, and in the way you would always take a second to ask how he and Jack was doing, if they were eating enough and getting enough sleep, whenever you were heading somewhere; no matter if the team was with you.

It was there in the way he would always encourage you to go on the less dangerous tasks while he took the ones that were more life-threatening and in the way he would always smile, the slightest of smiles, whenever you were exchanging jokes or sarcastic remarks with Morgan, or messing around with poor, clueless Reid.

It was there, but it was unspoken. At least until now.

The case you had been working on for the past two days was that of Gilbert Stratton; a serial killer who had targeted young women, killed them, drained them of their blood, and then proceeded to hang the bodies up by their feet in trees all around the city.

You had caught him just in time to save the last kidnapped girl and you had originally been the one assigned to question him, but Hotch had stepped in last minute after the man had made a crude comment about how ‘girls like you always tasted the best’.

You had attempted to tell him that you could take it, but before you had even been given a chance to state your case, he had shut the door in your face and you had been whisked off by JJ.

You were the one out of the entire team who was the most interested in the psychology of a serial killer so you really wanted to be the one to interview Stratton, but you knew that Hotch had taken over for the sake of your safety and not because he underestimated you, so you couldn’t even bring yourself to be mad.

While he did his job, you settled at your desk with a sigh, getting to work on the heft stack of paperwork that had been building up throughout the week.

The first ten minutes you kept close track of the clock next to you, wondering why it was taking so long, but the more time that passed, the more focused you became.

Soon enough, you only had a few reports left and you had completely lost track of time, when there was a sudden bang behind you, sounding an awful lot like a door slamming shut.

And your suspicions were proven correct, when you looked up to see Hotch march straight the bullpen.

The corners of your lips tugged up at the sight of him, but the arising smile quickly fell again when he walked right past you, without even an acknowledging glance, heading into his office and shutting himself inside without as much of a word to anyone.

Left behind with dumbstruck looks on their faces were the team, glances of bewilderment being exchanged.

“What happened?” Reid asked the question you were all thinking after a moment of silence, just as Emily walked in from the interrogation room.

Rather than answering Reid’s question, she looked right at you, offering you a small, comforting smile. “I think you better go talk to him.” She said simply, and as confusion and anxiety bubbled up inside of you, you slowly drawled.

“Okaaay…”

They all watched you as you stood up from your seat, brushing down your shirt and turning off the lamp at your desk before heading for the stairs.

You could feel their eyes following your every move and you would be lying if you said you weren’t nervous of what you were about to walk into.

Everyone had gotten negatively affected by a case or unsub at some point during their career, most more than once. They were all very good at getting into your head, no matter how little you wanted to admit it. But you had never seen Hotch react this strongly to anything before. The only time you had really seen him snap was during one single case, right after Haley had filed for a divorce.

Still, you kept walking until you reached his closed office door, stopping only then to peek inside the blinded windows to see him sitting at his desk, hands rubbing over his face.

You knocked on the glass gently and in any other case he would have looked up and meet your gaze, but when his head kept hanging this time, you let yourself in, only when closing the door behind you cutting off the curious eyes of the others.

Once you were inside, you wasted no time in approaching Hotch where he sat by his desk, analyzing his every move which led you to only one question.

What the hell had Stratton said to him to make him this distraught?

He didn’t even look up as you reached him, keeping his eyes closed as you came to a stop beside his desk.

Treading carefully, you reached out and gently put your hand on his shoulder.

“What happened?” You asked softly, the sound of your words instantly bringing a long, heavy sigh out of his nose.

“Why are you doing this?” He wasted no time in replying, causing a crease to form between your eyebrows.

“What?” You asked back, confusion lacing your voice.

Finally, he brought his hands down from his face and slowly spun around in his chair, forcing you to drop your hand from his shoulder and to take a step back.

He stared up at you, face wiped free of emotion as always. But the eyes said it all.

“Why are you so adamant on being with me? Why do you try so hard?” He questioned you, taking you by surprise.

Your eyebrows shot up and your eyes grew slightly wider, and you took a moment to regain your composure after the, to say the least, unexpected question.

“What kind of question is that?” You asked once you finally regained your senses. “Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do when you want to be with someone? Try?”

One of your eyebrows sank again, leaving only one raised in question.

Hotch’s face softened slightly and for a moment, he averted his eyes, letting out another, smaller sigh from his nose before looking back up to meet your eyes once again.

“What I mean is, why do you want to be with me?” He asked again, clarifying and slightly shaking his head in what seemed to be disbelief. “The second you walked into this office, both Morgan and Reid had their eyes on you, and they still do. They’re closer to your age, they’re energetic, humorous, full of life, while I’m ten years your senior, and can’t offer you what they can. So why do you want to be with me, when you can have them, or anyone you want?”

“What is it that they can give me that you can’t?” You didn’t waste a second in firing back.

You had no idea what had brought this on, but it was clear that it was bothering him and quite frankly, you found it ridiculous even though you didn’t like making it a habit to judge other people for what they were feeling.

“They can make you smile-“ He started explaining, and you instantly cut him off.

“You make me smile, all the time.” You shook your head, but your affirmation only seemed to fuel his frustrations even more as he was up on his feet within the next second.

“But I’m not- I’m not fun.” He stated, staring you down. “My clock is ticking. I’m ill-tempered, irritable, too serious for my own good. I’m barely capable of taking care of myself at this point much less my son. I’m miserable and I’m a bully, who only cares about this job. Why would you want to be with someone like that?”

“Where is this coming from? I thought we had something good going.” Your face fell slightly, and you carefully reached your hands out to grab a hold of the front of his suit, taking a small step closer.

“Is this because of Stratton? Is he the one putting these doubts into your head?” You asked, keeping your eyes on your hands for a short moment before looking up to meet his heavy gaze staring down at you.

And once your eyes met his, he knew there was no point in lying; you were a profiler after all, and a good one at that.

“He did.” He confessed calmly, his lips pursing into a straight line.

“Aaron…” You began, the softness of your voice matching the one in your eyes.

“But everything he said is true.” He quietly interrupted you. “I’m not fun to be around, I push people away. That’s what I do, what I’ve always done.” His eyebrows rose and he stood still.

You knew about the doubts he had about himself. You know he felt inadequate as a friend, as a colleague, as a father, and more than anything as a partner after the way Haley had left him. You were aware of all of it, and yet the sound of those self-doubts being voiced aloud saddened you nonetheless.

Silence fell over the two of you for a moment as you took another step closer, flattening your palms out on his chest and your eyes never leaving his.

“Those people didn’t deserve you in the first place. They knew what they were getting themselves into when they started building a relationship with you, whether it be a romantical or purely platonic one. They knew how passionate you are about your job, how much you value it. Them leaving… That’s on them, not you.” You said softly, shaking your head. “I’m not about to give up on you, on us, just because you happen to be a few years older than me. Derek, he wants to have fun, to be young. He may be attracted to me but he doesn’t want anything serious. Spencer isn’t ready for a relationship either, for obvious reasons, and either way, they’re not the ones I want.”

He watched you intensely as you spoke, lips still tight and strained. “What is it that you want?” He asked you, and you wasted no time in replying.

“Something serious and stable, someone who’s ready to settle down, and for me, the best chance to get that is through you.” You smiled, breaking your eyes away from his to follow your hand as you moved it up to his face. “Regardless of what other people say, you’re an amazing person. You’re passionate, driven, kind, loyal, gentle, and so much more. Despite what you may think, you do have a sense of humor and you’re the only one who can make me smile until my cheeks hurt. If that’s not a good man, a good person, then I don’t know what is. I wouldn’t change a single thing about you.”

By the time you finished, the remaining doubt was wiped free from his face, a small, gentle smile instead having taken its place.

It was a funny thing, Hotch only ever spared the tiniest of smiles, and yet it was them that brought you the biggest and most intense amount of happiness. It was so rare to see his ever-stoic features reflect joy that you couldn’t help but light up like a kid on Christmas every time it occurred.

And true to what you’d always been told growing up, your smile was just so contagious that he couldn’t help but to smile wider at the sight.

“Thank you.” He whispered, and visibly relaxed where he stood.

Your heart swelled in your chest when you took note of the way he was slowly but surely shuffling closer to you, picking up a significant amount of speed when you then felt his hand brush against the side of your hip.

But he didn’t dare touch you, hesitation still lingering in the air. So you did what your heart told you and grabbed a hold of his hand, and pushed it down into the curve of your waist.

From then on, he moved on his own, raising his other hand to mimic the same position at your other side, and you let your hand drop from his, instead raising them to busy with his crimson red tie.

“I know you’re struggling, with yourself, with Jack, and that you’re still processing the divorce. And if it’s time you want, then I’ll wait.” You spoke quietly, feeling your skin flush hot under his touch as his thumbs began to move over the thin fabric of your shirt. “But if you want to keep going and see where this can go, then I’ll be here every step of the way to support and help you in any way I can. You just need to let me in.”

More shyly then before, you dared loo back up at him through your lashes, hands stilling on his chest.

His smile was gone and his eyes creased together in concentration, but his eyes were soft and his head slowly nodded. “You’re right.” He said, and you allowed yourself to smile again.

“Aren’t I always?” You lightheartedly teased, tilting your head to the side.

In return, a smile spread across his face, his head shaking. “Don’t make me take it back.”

“No, no take-backs. What’s said is said.” You kept joking, your smile only widening.

He kept smiling down at you for a few seconds longer, but then his face fell again, just like that, out of nowhere, completely sudden. The gaze he held on your face grew absent as he got lost in his thoughts, and before you could question him about the sudden change of mood, the words spilled from his lips as if there was no tomorrow.

“I think I love you.”

Your mind instantly broke into a flurry of thoughts, countless emotions battling in your body. Nervosity and excitement ended up coming out on top, the mixture of the two creating an uncomfortable, sickly feeling in your stomach.

Your face fell in disbelief and your eyes searched his as he came back to reality.

“You do?”

Your voice came out so quiet and small, you mentally cursed yourself for sounding so pathetic, but luckily, you didn’t get much time to beat yourself up over the anticlimactic reacting as he continued.

“You don’t have to say it back if you don’t feel the same way, but I needed to say it. Every day, this job puts all of our lives in danger. I couldn’t bear it if one of us died before I got the time to let you know how I feel.”

You sucked in a breath, feeling yourself growing weak at the knees as he absentmindedly rubbed your waist with his thumbs.

“Just a minute ago, you were trying to end… whatever this is, and now your proclaiming your love for me?” You asked.

It was meant to be a joke, an attempt to ease the anxiety you were currently feeling, but you realized quickly that said anxiety made it sound like the exact opposite of a lighthearted, teasing joke.

Luckily, the man standing in front of you was a profiler and knew that you meant no harm, understanding how shock could render your ability to react appropriately.

“I was never trying to end what we have. I just wanted to be sure that you were sure. That I won’t be holding you back.” He explained, and you finally managed to pull yourself out of the state of shock.

“Being with you motivates me. And I love you, too.” You confessed, the smile once again returning to your face as you moved your hands from his chest to wrap around the back of his neck.

“I’m happy to hear that.” He smiled right back. “Can I kiss you?” He quietly added, and your face instantly lit up in a mischievous expression.

“In the office?” You gasped dramatically, bringing your arms down, taking a step back and lightly slapping his chest. “Aren’t you feeling frisky today?”

A large smile stretched across his lips, his chest shaking as he chuckled. “Come here.” He said simply, and before you got the chance to argue, not that you would’ve if given the opportunity, he sat back down in his chair and pulled you down with him.

The chair spun in the process, causing you to let out a squeal of surprise. Your arms wrapped around his neck and your small laughs of glee quickly became muted as he placed his lips on yours, replaced by low hums of contentment.

You clung to him as if your life depended on it, basking in the feeling of his lips moving against yours and his arms tightening around your waist, and as your entire body burned with passion, you realized that he really was the one for you.

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