I Woke Up In A Cold Sweat At 3 AM And Made This. Even The Hair Is Exactly The Same.

I woke up in a cold sweat at 3 AM and made this. Even the hair is exactly the same.

Have We Met Before?

Summary : America Chavez says that you and Bucky are together in every universe.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x Wife! Sorceress! Reader (she/her) (+ brief Reporter!Bucky x spider woman!reader / ravager!Bucky x Nova Corps!Reader / knight!Bucky x princess!reader)

Warnings/tags : multiverse stuff, slight cursing, Injury. Featuring America Chavez, Strange and Wong. Fluff!!!!!!!

Word count : 6.9k

Note : This was inspired by the song of the same name by Tom Rosenthal. I also just think Bucky would be super protective over the MCU’s young heroes, y’know? Like, he knows what it’s like to be young and talented in this field and would try his best to make sure none of the next generation of heroes would get taken advantage of and used like he was. Anyway, enjoy!

Earth-616...

The sun hung low over the terracotta roofs the day you first met America Chavez.

You, a teacher of shielding magic in Kamar-Taj, often sought out to train new recruits in the art of defensive spells, were meditating when she arrived.

She stood near the center of the courtyard, her jacket dusted with ash, boots scuffed and worn from a recent battle. She looked relaxed, but her eyes scanned the space with the paranoia of someone who had seen too many things go wrong too quickly. Strange had brought her in personally.

There was a spark about her—a being of chaos and confidence wrapped in a teenage body. Even the air around her seemed to him with potential. As you walked toward her, preparing the same measured welcome you gave all new students, she looked up, caught your eye, and smiled.

“Hi!” She exclaimed, “I know you!”

You furrowed your eyebrows, puzzled. “I don’t think we’ve met before.”

“Not this you,” she said with a smirk. “Other yous. I can travel to different realities.”

You studied her for a moment, and in that instant, your understanding of the multiverse shifted slightly—not in theory, not in abstract philosophy, but in practice.

She was real, tangible, and standing three feet in front of you, smiling like this sort of thing happened every Tuesday.

And maybe, for her, it did.

—

You quickly became her favourite teacher.

She liked Strange, but you were more sympathetic than him, and less rigid than Wong. You were enough of a challenge to keep her attention— on good days, anyway. America had a habit of brushing off lessons she didn’t think she needed. If a spell didn’t explode or glow or bend reality sideways, she wasn’t that interested. But she also had a habit of punching holes through space and tearing through dimensions like they were paper. She could travel without a Sling Ring, which made her a magnet for trouble.

See, that kind of power doesn’t go unnoticed. That kind of power needed protection.

So you pushed her a little harder. Taught her advanced shielding techniques, the kind that could hold up against dimensional anomalies and the occasional demon. You worked patiently with her, correcting her form, teaching her to stabilise her breathing, to anchor her focus in the midst of chaos.

She rolled her eyes more than once, but she listened. And when it mattered, she applied what she learned.

She wasn’t a quick learner, but she was talented.

You liked her instantly.

By the end of your first month teaching her, you established a rhythm. She’d show up (sometimes late), and you’d teach her something new.

Sometimes she challenged you, sometimes she surprised you, but always, she reminded you why you taught in Kamar-Taj in the first place.

That day, after a particularly solid session—she’d finally nailed an advanced protection spell, the Sigil of the Aegis, and managed to hold it steady under pressure. “You’ve been practicing—good. It shows,” you said with a smile. “But I gotta run. My husband’s waiting for me at home.”

America perked up immediately. “Oh! Tell Bucky I said hi!”

You blinked. “I never told you about Bucky.”

She gave a little shrug, casual as ever. “Didn’t need to. You’re with him in every universe.”

Oh?

You paused, her words lodging deeper than you ever expected. You felt a gentle warmth bloom in your chest— perhaps a sense of inevitability, of cosmic affection. You smiled, more to yourself than to her.

“Well,” you finally said, after processing her words, “That’s good to know.”

—

After the first six months, the classrooms of Kamar-Taj weren’t enough for America anymore. She craved more than theory, more than chants and sigils. She wanted something real. She wanted something to punch.

And being married to a feisty ex-assassin, you understood that hunger better than most. You understood the calling that came from knowing you were built for something bigger than the four walls of a training room.

So… you started bringing her on missions.

At first, it was small stuff— clearing out rogue spirits in the Alps, helping Wong seal a breach in an ancient temple, handling a cursed artifact that had ended up in the hands of an unsuspecting kid in Tokyo.

She was fearless on the field, and just reckless enough to keep you on your toes. And she loved every second of it.

Sometimes it was just the two of you. Other times, when physical force was needed, Bucky joined you.

Where you moved with grace, he moved with force. Where you cast with precision, he fought with instinct. You were opposites in many ways— but you worked like clockwork together.

The first time the three of you teamed up, America gave Bucky one long look and smirked. “So, the Winter Soldier in this universe, huh? Doesn’t look so scary.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “Give me five minutes and a reason.”

“He’s all bark until someone threatens me,” You laughed. “Then it gets messy.”

From then on, the three of you became a strange little unit. America would tease Bucky constantly—calling him grumpy, old man, or “Sergeant Sunshine” on good days. She’d stick close to you when he got too serious. You always laughed.

—

When this all started, America had two legal guardians— Wong and Strange. Recently, you and Bucky were added to the list.

So you started inviting her to yours and Bucky’s home more, especially when Strange or Wong had pressing matters to attend to. Dinner at your apartment became a regular thing. She’d crash on the couch in an old hoodie, eating popcorn and flipping through your spellbooks like they were comic books. Bucky cooked big, hearty meals more often than not, recipes that reminded him of a time before this one. You’d float the dishes clean afterward with a flick of your hand, and America would clap.

Strange and Wong would sometimes be invited too, and they’d bicker about magical ethics. At least they’d brought dessert. One time, Wong showed up with six tubs of ice cream and didn’t explain why. No one asked.

Then came Madripoor.

A Skrull impersonated you during an ambush, but America decked her with a right hook, and she dropped like a sack of bricks.

“My sister doesn’t stand like that,” she said, shaking out her fist.

You didn’t say anything right away, but you beamed with pride.

After that, she started calling you her big sister like it had always been the case.

Bucky didn’t argue. In fact, he was fond of it.

He started teaching her how to throw knives, how to read people’s movements in combat, how to hit where it counted. “Just in case the magic fails.” he’d say with a shrug.

He trained her like she mattered to him, like he’d already decided she was family.

“She reminds me of you, you know,” he said one night, after America had passed out on your favourite armchair in the living room with her mouth open, TV still on.

You were curled up beside him on the couch, your legs over his lap, a cup of tea floating in the air between you.

“She’s louder,” you replied with a smile.

He chuckled. “Yeah, but she’s got that same… fire. She knows she’s meant for more, just waiting for the world to catch up.”

You glanced at her, snoring under your old jacket, curled up like she hadn’t fought a demon with Wong twelve hours ago. “I get it. She doesn’t just want to survive. She wants to matter.”

Bucky tangled his metal arm in your hair, scratching softly at your scalp. “She does. Especially to you.”

You leaned your head against his shoulder. “To us.”

Bucky smiled and nodded, kissing the top of your head.

—

Then, something started… changing. Especially in lessons.

America started showing up late, later than usual—and when she did, her energy was all over the place. Spells fizzled out, sigils came out crooked, and her focus was… somewhere else entirely.

She was still trying, still cracking jokes, but something had… shifted.

After the third lesson in a row where she couldn’t hold a basic containment shield (even though she’d mastered it weeks ago), you finally decided to ask around.

You found Wong and Strange in the library, deep in a debate about magical interference patterns in unstable realities. They paused when you walked in, and Wong raised an eyebrow at the look on your face.

“America is distracted,” you said simply. “I’ve tried scolding her, grounding exercises, even bribing her with snacks. Nothing’s working.”

Wong gave a thoughtful nod. “Food usually does the job. That is serious.”

Strange leaned back in his chair with an annoyingly smug grin. “I think I know what it is.”

You folded your arms. “If it’s dimensional exhaustion, just say so. Don’t be cryptic.”

“Oh, it’s not that.” He smirked. “I think she’s got a crush.”

You blinked. “A what?”

Strange gestured vaguely toward the southern wing of the compound. “On that new teenage sorcerer. The cocky one from London. You know, the one who wears sunglasses indoors and thinks enchantments are a ‘vibe.’”

You stared at him. “Huh?”

Wong groaned. “Dear gods. Leo?”

“Yeah,” Strange said. “I caught her staring at him throw basic sparks into the air. She didn’t blink for, like, five whole minutes.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “She’s letting her shields drop because she has a crush?”

“She’s sixteen,” Wong said with a sigh. “It’s developmentally appropriate.”

“Tell that to the demon who nearly melted my eyebrows off yesterday.”

Strange raised a finger. “To be fair, you were the one who let her take point on that breach.”

You scowled. “She begged to.”

“She wanted to impress Leo,” Strange said with a shrug. “Teenagers do dumb things when they have crushes.”

Wong crossed his arms. “So did you. Still do.”

Strange narrowed his eyes. “Don’t make this about me.”

You sighed and dropped into the nearest chair. “Okay. So. Teen crush. What do I do? Forbid her from seeing him? Set your cloak on surveillance duty?”

“Or,” Wong said gently, “talk to her. Like you always do.”

You groaned dramatically, head in your hands. “I liked it better when the only thing she wanted to punch was interdimensional rifts.”

“She still does,” Wong said with a small smile. “She just also wants to punch them while looking cool in front of Leo.”

“Honestly, you should be proud,” Strange added, “She’s becoming terrifyingly normal.”

You could only chuckle, because they were right. She was growing. And real growth was never clean or controlled.

Especially not when teenage feelings got involved.

But you were still a legal guardian to her. The only female one, too. Neither lunatic wizards in front of you would know how to handle it, and as much as you loved your husband, he would not know how to handle girl talk.

So you stood up, dusted off your robes, and said, “Fine. I’ll talk to her. But if he hurts her, I’m sending him into a mirror dimension for a week.”

Strange grinned. “That’s the spirit.”

—

You found her by the koi pond, skipping stones with the same power she usually reserved for punching demons. Her robe sleeves were pulled down over her hands.

You didn’t approach right away. You stood there for a second, arms crossed, watching the way she groaned every time a stone bounced fewer than three times.

Finally, you said, “You know your shields are garbage lately, right?”

America sighed without looking at you. “Yeah.”

You stepped beside her, picked up a pebble, and skipped it clean across the pond— six hops.

She gave you a side-eye. “Okay, show off.”

You smiled. “You wanna talk about it?”

She hesitated, but then said without looking up, “You ever like someone who’s... dumb hot but also kinda ridiculous?”

You nodded solemnly. “Bucky had an eyeliner phase.”

She turned to you, wide-eyed. “What?”

“Long story,” you shook your head, “Focus. You mean Leo?”

She winced. “You know?”

“Everyone knows. Wong’s pretending he doesn’t, but Strange tells me you stare at him like he’s a walking portal to a candy dimension.”

“I hate it,” America groaned and buried her face in her hands. “I hate it.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s cool and I’m… I dunno. I punch holes in space,” she sighed, “Not exactly first-date material.”

You nudged her shoulder. “You just need a plan, kid.”

She looked up, hopeful. “You’re gonna help me?”

You grinned. “What are big sisters for?”

After some (a lot) of encouragement, she found him in the spellcasting chambers and stammered out something along the lines of, “Hey, do you wanna get noodles and maybe talk about...like...not magical stuff for once?”

Leo blinked behind his ever-present sunglasses and gave her a grin that somehow tied her stomach into a knot and annoyed her all at once.

“Only if you don’t punch open a portal in the middle of dinner,” he said.

She punched his arm lightly. “No promises.”

He smiled. “It’s a date.”

—

Back in your home, America was pacing like a storm in a bottle while you tossed clothes across the guest bed, which has turned more and more into her second bedroom.

“I don’t know what to wear. I can’t look like I’m trying too hard, right?”

You held up a bright red flannel and black jeans. “There. Makes your eyes pop.”

She grabbed them, holding them up in the mirror. “You think so?”

“I know so.”

Then came the shoes decision, and the hair style spell, and a tiny protective charm you discreetly stitched into her jacket pocket— just in case.

And when she was almost ready, Bucky strolled in.

He looked at the pile of clothing chaos, then at America.

“…Where are you going?”

America froze like a deer in headlights. You smiled. “She has a date, sweetheart.”

Bucky’s brow furrowed. “With who?”

America muttered under her breath, “Leo.”

Bucky stared at her. “Sunglasses Indoors Leo?”

She nodded, cheeks burning. “Yep.”

He crossed his arms, metal plating shifting with a whir. “Is he human? Does he have a criminal record? What’s his GPA? Has he ever made a pact with an ancient entity?”

You stepped between them before America combusted from secondhand embarrassment. “He’s fine, Buck. Wong already did the background check.”

Bucky looked unconvinced. “If he hurts her—”

“I’ll punch him into another reality,” America said quickly. “Relax, Bucky.”

Bucky shook his head, but he still handed her a switchblade. “Keep it in your boot. Just in case.”

“I can tear open a hole in space.”

“Still.”

—

That night, America left through a portal with flushed cheeks, perfect eyeliner (Bucky’s doing), and the world’s most awkwardly concealed switchblade in her boot.

You and Bucky watched her go, standing side by side at the window.

“She’ll be fine,” you said.

“She’s still just a kid,” he grumbled.

You leaned into him. “She’s got this.”

Bucky wrapped his arm around your waist and kissed your temple. “Still interrogating the boyfriend when I see him.”

You smiled. “Obviously.”

—

The date went well—really well. America came back that night practically floating.

She walked into your study smiling from ear like she’d just discovered treasure in a new universe, then immediately collapsed face-first onto the couch with a dramatic groan.

“He ordered dumplings for me without asking,” she mumbled into a cushion. “Because I mentioned it one time like two days ago.”

“That’s your bar?” You raised an eyebrow. “Dumpling telepathy?”

She rolled over, eyes bright. “It’s not just that! We talked for hours. Like, real talk. He told me about how his dad was a monk and he hated it. He said I’m like— this walking, talking reminder that the multiverse is bigger than all the rules he grew up with.”

Bucky, sitting nearby cleaning a knife, glanced over. “Sounds like he talks a lot.”

America waved a hand. “Yeah, but it’s good talk.”

For the next few months, it was like a new light had switched on in her. Still reckless, still stubborn—but brighter around the edges.

She practiced spells with more purpose (if not more focus), sometimes scribbling his name in the margins of her notes with tiny hearts, like magic school had turned into high school overnight.

And she gushed. Oh god, she gushed.

Leo said this. Leo did that. Leo levitated an entire tray of fries because he didn’t want to stop holding her hand. Leo cast a musical glamour to make her laugh. Leo kissed her in the rain and she swears it was like being in a movie.

You smiled through most of it. You’d tease her sometimes. You offered advice when she asked. And when she didn’t, you still made sure she knew you were there.

Bucky, of course, took longer to warm up. He never threatened Leo outright, but every time the boy showed up at your door, Bucky just happened to be cleaning a rifle.

“Be safe,” he’d always say as America ran out the door. “No unsupervised pocket dimension hopping.”

But then the stories… changed.

Not in tone— she was still breathless, still had rose tinted glasses on—but in content. She started mentioning how he didn’t like sparring with her anymore because he said she “came on too strong.” How he’d get quiet when she talked about going on missions.

“He says I make everything too big,” she said once, curling deeper into a blanket while your tea kettle whispered in the background. “That I treat magic like it’s a fight instead of a philosophy.”

You didn’t say anything then.

You just handed her a cup and listened.

Because it wasn’t your place to step in— not yet. Not when she was still so hopeful, still so sure she could bend the edges of her world to match his if she just tried hard enough.

But you noticed the red flags.

You noticed how, after a couple of months, her posture shrank when she talked about him. She laughed less when he was around. How her magic sparked in unpredictable, frustrating bursts when she thought no one was looking. How she said “sorry” too often. For being late, training too hard, for simply… taking up space.

Once, during a lesson, she flubbed a shield charm she could’ve done in her sleep, and when you offered to go over it again, she waved it off with a tired smile. “Leo says I overthink everything. Maybe I should just... stop trying so hard.”

That one hurt.

But still, you didn’t say anything. You just adjusted the angle of her stance, guiding her through the sigil again.

You’d built a relationship on trust and choice, so you needed to let her figure things out for herself while still making sure she held her head up high.

Now, even Bucky’s muscles tensed every time she brought Leo up. But even he couldn’t bear to tell her the truth he were starting to see:

That sometimes people can love you and still not understand the way you’re built.

That sometimes, someone wonderful just isn’t right.

That he wasn’t bad— but he was small, and she was infinite.

So you just waited and watched.

—

One day, Strange poked his head into the training hall after a novice lesson, looking uncharacteristically unsure of himself, like a man who had been asked to do brain surgery with chopsticks.

“America in Wong’s study,” he said, voice quieter than usual. “She asked for you.”

You raised an eyebrow, lowering your spellcasting hand. “Everything okay?”

“Leo… well...” Strange scratched the back of his neck. “I... tried. I made tea. I offered her a lecture on heartbreak through a metaphysical lens.”

You snorted. “You two tried to girl talk, didn’t you?”

He gave a dramatic sigh. “I thought I was doing well. Wong even mentioned Beyoncé.”

“… dear god.”

“She’s waiting,” he said, already walking away.

—

Wong’s study was unusually quiet when you stepped inside. The Sorcerer Supreme himself was nowhere in sight.

America probably told him to go because he just didn’t have anything worthwhile to say to get over a boy.

She sat curled up in one of the high-backed chairs by the fire, legs tucked beneath her, oversized robe sleeves hanging past her hands. She stared at the floor.

You didn’t say anything, but you walked in slowly, careful not to startle her, and took the chair opposite her. You waited.

Eventually, her voice came flat, like it had been sanded down. “I told Leo it’s over.”

You nodded once. “Want to tell me what happened?”

She took a deep breath. “He said I’m becoming… too much.”

There it was, the dealbreaker.

You could almost hear it, the way she'd been turning that phrase over and over in her mind.

“He said he loves how strong I am, but he also said I have too much of a temper. That I make everything a fight. That he doesn't like being around someone who’s always ready to run headfirst into danger.”

You let her keep going.

“He said I never sit still. That I always want more. And I tried, you know? I really tried. I stopped portaling. Skipped training. Just to show him I could be… less.” She swallowed hard. “It didn’t help. He wasn’t happier. I just felt like a stranger to myself.”

“You’re never too much,” You leaned forward slightly, “He was just too little.”

“You knew, didn’t you?” She blinked, tears threatening to spill but not quite falling. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

“Would you have listened?”

She froze, before giving you a rueful shake of her head.

“I was a teenage girl once, too, y’know.” You smiled gently. “Sometimes you have to feel it for yourself. Sometimes love has to fall apart before you see it was never really whole. But I need you to know— I’m here. No matter what.”

Her fingers trembled, just slightly. “It sucks.”

“It does.”

“He was almost enough,” she whispered. “But I can’t do almost.”

You studied her, eyes red-rimmed and glassy, wide with the kind of grief that makes a person seem older than they are.

You reached over and took her hand in both of yours, “America, your standards are already higher than most people twice your age. That’s not something to be ashamed of. That’s something to be proud of.”

She gave a choked laugh. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You gave her hand a squeeze. “You knew it didn’t feel right, and you walked away. That takes guts.”

She sat quietly for a moment. Then, she hiccuped. “You know… there’s a reason for that.” She looked up at you now. “It’s you. You and Bucky. You’re always together.”

Your breath hitched. She hadn’t said it like a compliment. She said it like it was an undeniable truth.

“In every version of you I’ve seen,” she continued, “you two are always in love.”

You tilted your head. She had mentioned this before, but never quite expanded on it. “What do you mean?”

America sniffled, shifting slightly in her seat. “There’s a universe where you’re Spider-Woman. Bucky’s this sarcastic, reckless reporter who keeps getting himself kidnapped. You save him from actual robot ninjas and kiss him upside down in an alley.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Sounds dramatic.”

“Oh, it was.” She smiled faintly. “There’s another one where you’re a Nova Corps commander and he’s a Ravager. You risk everything to protect him. Your rank, your life. You betrayed your division to be with him.”

You hadn’t asked for these glimpses before—never wanted to pry into how the multiverse folded versions of you into different shapes. But now… now you realise how much more she actually knew you and Bucky.

“And this one—this medieval one—where you’re a princess, and he’s your knight. He loses an eye protecting you during a siege.” Her voice cracked. “I cried in that one.”

You swallowed hard, the weight of it all settling in your soul.

“In every universe,” she said softly, “you choose each other. No matter how different the world is. Even when it doesn’t make sense. You always find your way back.”

You reached out, brushing your fingers gently along her skin. “That’s… a lot.”

“Well…” She shrugged, cheeks flushed, but didn’t look away. “You’re why I have high standards. Every time I see you, I think—that’s what love is supposed to look like. That’s why I couldn’t take ‘almost.’”

You hadn’t realised she'd been watching. That across every world she slipped through, she’d been collecting pieces of your love story like broken glass, trying to piece together something whole for herself in the process. Perhaps, it explained why she got attached to you both so quickly.

You tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, your voice soft. “You just haven’t met your Bucky yet.”

“Yeah. Okay.” A tear rolled down her cheek, but she smiled through it. “That makes sense.”

You opened your arms, and she folded into them like she’d been waiting for permission. You held her close, her forehead against your shoulder, breathing finally evening out.

Because maybe that was the secret the multiverse had been trying to whisper to her all along—that some loves echo. That some hearts are meant to find each other, no matter how many versions of the world exist. No matter how far apart they start.

And maybe one day, she would find that kind of love. A love that wasn’t almost. A love that chose her back, again and again, across time and space.

But until then—she had you.

She had Strange.

She had Wong.

She had Bucky.

And for now, that was more than enough.

—

Meanwhile, on Earth 363…

You crept in through the second-story window like you always did, the faintest thwip of your web the only sound betraying your arrival. The apartment was dark, save for the soft glow from the living room

Still in your Spider-Woman suit, you moved stealthily through the hall, peeking around the corner just as Bucky stepped into view, holding a mug in one hand and a half-eaten cookie in the other.

“You’re late,” he said, amused and entirely unsurprised. He was still in his work clothes, the name tag from the Daily Bugle still clipped to his pocket.

You groaned and flopped dramatically over the back of the couch. “How do you know I’m here? I didn’t even make a sound.”

Bucky grinned, setting his mug down as he walked over to you. “You smell like roof tar and adrenaline.”

“…well, shit.”

He leaned down and gently tugged at your mask. “C’mere.”

You let him peel it off, your hair a messy halo from hours of swinging across rooftops. He cupped your face with both hands, thumbs brushing lightly against your cheeks, then kissed you. You felt loved and warm and so very home.

“I missed you,” he murmured against your lips.

“I saw you this morning.”

“Still.”

You grinned and kissed him again, slower this time, one arm snaking around his back, the other cradling the back of his neck. The cookie he had was now abandoned for good.

Eventually, you both sank onto the couch, limbs tangled and a blanket pulled over you.

“I wonder how America Chavez is doing,” Bucky said suddenly, as if the universe had given him a sudden urge to ask, his voice muffled as he buried it in your shoulder. “Haven’t seen her in a while.”

You blinked, then smiled. “Me neither… wonder where she’s gone off to.”

You stared at the ceiling for a moment, feeling the slight thump of Bucky’s heartbeat against your ribs.

Wherever she was, you hoped she was safe.

You hoped she found good people.

—

Meanwhile, in Universe-8990…

The engine hum of Bucky’s ravager ship was a familiar purr beneath your boots, the kind of sound that settled in your bones’ memory after enough time spent in deep space. You sat cross-legged on the floor of the weapons bay, your busted blaster disassembled on a crate in front of you, hands smeared with grease and face in frustration.

“I swear,” you muttered, yanking at a stubborn coil, “I could field-strip this thing in my sleep during basic training, and now I can’t even hold it right.”

“You’re probably just mad because it reminds you of the Nova Corps, babe,” Bucky said, waltzing over with a crooked grin and a Nanobot Welder in hand.

You narrowed your eyes at him, but couldn’t quite stop the smile tugging at your lips. “You’re not wrong.”

“Of course I’m not. I'm devastatingly handsome and occasionally insightful.”

He dropped to his knees beside you, his shoulder bumping yours. Without a word, he took the blaster from your hands, flipped it over, and adjusted the coil with a flick of his wrist. The click of realignment was so smooth, you almost didn’t hear it.

You gasped. “You’re kidding.”

“Ravager skills,” He winked. “We get creative out here without a billion credits in R&D.”

You rolled your eyes. He always looked and sounded so cocky, but underneath was the man who risked a death sentence by harboring a former Nova Commander like you. The man who never once asked if you regretted choosing him over the Corps.

“Thanks,” you said, gentler now.

“For fixing your weapon, or for stealing you away from a galactic space militia?”

You tilted your head. “Both.”

Bucky smiled, then leaned in slowly and kissed you. As always, the kiss was gentle. His fingers brushed under your chin, thumb ghosting over your cheekbones.

When you pulled back, you let your forehead rest against his.

“I wonder how America Chavez is doing,” Bucky said suddenly, as if the universe suddenly told him to say it. “Haven’t seen her in a while.”

Your eyes flicked up to his. “Yeah... me neither.”

She had helped you once—ripped open the stars and gave you a door when you thought there wasn’t one. And now, with the Corps calling you a traitor and half the galaxy after your head, you hoped she was somewhere out there, safe and happy.

–

Meanwhile, on Earth-223…

The castle halls had been quiet for hours, the usual echoing bustle replaced with the rustle of wind through ancient stone and the occasional hoot of an owl beyond the nursery window. You rocked gently in the gilded chair beside the cradle, your newborn swaddled in your arms, his tiny fists curled against your chest as he breathed in adorable hiccupping sighs.

The fire crackled low in the hearth. Everything felt… right.

From across the room, you heard the familiar clink of armour being put down. James stood by the wardrobe, his tunic slung over one shoulder, hair damp from a quick wash. The eyepatch over his left eye caught the firelight like polished obsidian— your knight, and now your husband.

“You’re still awake,” he said as he padded over barefoot.

“He wouldn’t settle,” you whispered, glancing down at the bundle of joy in your arms. “Too curious, I think. Like his father.”

James chuckled softly, lowering himself to one knee beside you. He reached out and ran a calloused finger down the curve of your son’s cheek— the heir to the throne.

“He’s perfect,” he said.

“You say that every night.”

“And I’ll say it every night after this.” He leaned in and pressed a kiss to the baby’s forehead. “He’s going to be strong, like his mother. Brave, too.”

You looked at James, heart swelling until it threatened to spill over. “You’re not too bad in those departments yourself, my love.”

He could only give you a tired grin.

You reached out, brushing your fingers through the hair above his ear— careful not to disturb the scar that ran beneath his eyepatch— a souvenir from the siege. The day he nearly gave his life for you. The day he threw himself in front of you, sword drawn, as the enemy breached the gate.

“I still think about that night,” you whispered.

“I don’t,” he replied just as quietly. “I only think about this one.”

You smiled down at your child, who had finally drifted into a peaceful sleep.

James leaned his head against your knee for a moment, before sighing, as if the universe had told him to ask this question. “I wonder how America Chavez is doing,” he said, almost absently. “I haven’t seen her in a while.”

Your smile faltered just slightly, but fondness curled in your chest. “Me neither, my love.”

She had disappeared like a star falling sideways through the sky, always moving, always needed somewhere else. But there had been a time, not so long ago, when she stood at your side—young and fierce and loyal beyond reason.

Wherever she was, you hoped she found a kingdom to settle in.

—

Back in Earth-616…

You had just gotten back from Kamar-Taj.

The buzz of a sling ring portal hummed behind you, your muscles sore from the emotional more than the physical toll. The second you stepped into your home and shut the door behind you, you let out a deep breath.

And there he was, your husband, half-reclined on the couch, sleeves pushed to his elbows, a book resting on his lap. He looked up the second he sensed you, and the lines on his forehead relaxing instantly.

“Hey,” he said, already setting the book aside as he stood.

You let your bag drop to the floor and walked straight into his arms.

He pulled you in without a word, hugging you, metal hand pressing gently against the small of your back while the human combed into your hair. You melted into his chest, burying your face in the cotton of his Henley.

“The kid okay?” he asked after a moment, “Wong called. Told me everything.”

You pulled back just enough to look at him, and nodded with a sad smile. “She will be.”

He watched you for a second, like he was trying to gauge how okay you were. Then he led you to the couch, letting you curl into his side with your legs thrown over his lap and his arm around your waist.

“America was the one who broke it off,” you said, head resting against his shoulder.

Bucky’s arms twitched just a little. “Good.”

You blinked, tilting your head up at him. “Good?”

He gave you that wicked smirk—the one that said he was already plotting something. “Where’s this Leo kid live again? Is it the left wing of the eastern temple?”

You groaned. “Bucky—”

“I’m not gonna do anything,” he said, which was exactly what he would say before doing something. “I’m just saying. You care about her. So I care about her. That’s the rule.”

You bit back a smile. “Since when is that the rule?”

“Since I fell in love with you,” he said without missing a beat.

Even after all these years, your heart still did a stupid little backflip.

“Well…” You hesitated, tracing patterns on his vibranium arm with your fingertip. “She said we are the reason she has high standards. She’s seen us together enough times to believe that kind of love is real. That she… wouldn’t settle for anything less.”

Bucky was quiet for a beat, processing that. Then he exhaled, brushing his fingers gently through your hair.

“Huh,” he said, “I’m proud of her.”

You smiled. “Yeah?”

Bucky nodded, “Took me long enough to learn that lesson. She’s ahead of the curve.” He leaned in, his nose brushing yours.

You kissed him then. Slowly. Sweetly. His hand came up to cradle your cheek, his thumb brushing gently beneath your eye as he pulled you closer, if that was even physically possible.

“Have I mentioned lately,” you whispered, “how much I love you?”

“Not since this morning,” he let out a small laugh, kissing you again and smiling into it. “I was starting to worry.”

You chuckled.

One day, you’d tell him the rest of the conversation. You’d sit him down and let America tell him about all the other versions of the two of you she’d seen—the princess and the knight, the runaway and the Ravager, the dramatic spider-kiss.

But not tonight.

Tonight belonged to just this version of you and him. The one where his hand fit perfectly in yours, and your hearts beat in sync on a worn down couch that felt like the center of the universe.

And honestly… it kind of was.

-end.

yes it’s 616 for all intents and purposes even though I am well aware it is also the designation for the main comic universe. Edit: a lovely comment pointed out that America is a lesbian and dw, I am aware and I didn’t mean to undermine her sexuality! I should’ve mentioned that I am currently working on a part 2 where America starts questioning her sexuality ft. Bi!reader that centers around setting apart aesthetic attraction vs romantic attraction 🫶

General Bucky taglist:

@hotlinepanda @snflwr-vol6 @ruexj283 @2honeybees @read-just-cant

@shanksstrawhat @mystictf @globetrotter28 @thebuckybarnesvault@average-vibe

@winchestert101 @mystictf @globetrotter28 @shanksstrawhat @scariusaquarius

@reckless007 @hextech-bros @daydreamgoddess14 @96jnie @pono-pura-vida

@buckyslove1917 @notsostrangerthing @flow33didontsmoke @qvynrand @blackbirdwitch22

@torntaltos @seventeen-x @ren-ni @iilsenewman @slayerofthevampire

@hiphip-horray @jbbucketlist @melotyy @ethereal-witch24 @samfunko

@lilteef @hi172826 @pklol @average-vibe @shanksstrawhat

@shower-me-with-roses @athenabarnes @scarwidow @thriving-n-jiving @dilfsaresohot

@helloxgoodbi @undf-stuff @sapphirebarnes @hzdhrtss @softhornymess

@samfunko @wh1sp @anonymousreader4d7 @mathcat345 @escapefromrealitylol

@imjusthere1161 @sleepysongbirdsings @fuckybarnes @yn-stories-are-my-life

@cjand10 @nerdreader @am-3-thyst

1K notes View Post

that-jax

4 years ago

navigation ♡

by members: namjoon seokjin yoongi hoseok jimin taehyung jungkook maknae line bts

by theme: poly hybrid vampire soulmate college mafia exes yandere (soft) royal abo sports general (doesn’t have a particular theme)

masterlists

576 notes View Post

that-jax

1 year ago

Lando Norris x Reader x Oscar Piastri, roommates!au

Masterlist

Summary: You, Lando, and Oscar are roommates. The three of you promise to take care of each other. It takes you all far too long to admit just how much you mean it. featuring dj!Lando for cece :) based on a blurb I wrote for my 1k celebration so if the first bit feels familiar that’s why! 7.4k words

Warnings: alcohol, mentions of vomiting (non graphic), illness, a breakup, and they were roommates (oh my god they were roommates)

Lando’s not expecting the phone call he gets from you. It’s late, too late, really, for him to even be awake, let alone for you to be calling. Oscar’s sitting on the couch next to him, gaming controller in hand, and when Lando swipes to answer the call, he mouths the words who is it? Lando mouths your name in reply, and Oscar’s half asleep flat expression turns into a look of concern. The three of you are roommates, but you’re gone for the night. Lando didn’t ask where you were going when you left.

“Hello?” He asks, waiting for your response.

There’s a sniffle, then a hiccupy gasp for air that has Lando sitting up straight in his seat. “Lan. Could you- fuck, m’sorry, just- d’you think you could pick me up?”

Lando stares widely at Oscar for a moment, heart clenching in his chest. You sound upset- more than upset, really. He stands up, already searching frantically for his keys.

“Yeah, love, of course,” he says as Oscar follows suit and stands up. “Should I bring Oscar?”

You sniffle again. “Yeah, please, just…”

“It’s okay. Send me your location, yeah? Take a deep breath, we’ll be there soon.”

You mumble something, and then you hang up on him. Lando shoves his phone in his pocket and looks up at Oscar, who’s holding the keys to his car. That works. Oscar heads for the door, while Lando makes a pit stop in the kitchen. When he meets his friend in the entryway, Oscar’s staring at him with confusion.

“She’s crying,” Lando says in explanation, holding a paper bag close to his chest.

They make it across town in record time. Oscar groans when they pull into the apartment complex you’d sent the location of.

“Isn’t this her boyfriend’s place?” He asks, brows furrowed.

Lando doesn’t get a chance to answer, because you step out of the front door, and they’re both distracted. Oscar swears under his breath, and Lando follows suit at the sight of you- you’re in a t-shirt and shorts. There’s snow on the ground. Oscar pulls his hoodie over his head just before you make it to the car door.

You climb into the backseat and collapse in on yourself. Both Lando and Oscar are turned towards you, and Lando’s sure their facial expressions are matching looks of concern. They both hand over their items without a word- Oscar’s hoodie, and Lando’s carton of ice cream and a spoon. You pull the hoodie over your head and open the ice cream.

“We don’t have to talk if you don’t want to,” Oscar says, voice low.

Lando nods. “Yeah. We can just sit here together until you feel up to anything else.”

You nod and chew on your lower lip, and the light from the street lamp outside catches on the tear tracks on your cheeks. “He dumped me. Can we just go home?”

Lando reaches his hand back to squeeze yours. Your fingers are ice cold. “Of course,” he says softly.

As Oscar pulls away, he and Lando exchange a look of worry and anger. They’ve never liked your boyfriend, but they hate to see you hurting, too.

“Thanks,” you add, voice small in the backseat. You hold onto Lando’s hand tightly. “I knew I could count on you guys.”

Lando squeezes your hand again. You’re quiet most of the way back, and he lets it go. Oscar’s right to not push you to talk about it. That’ll come in its own time.

Oscar drives back to your shared apartment, pulling into a parking space in the garage. He gets out before Lando and slips around to the backseat, opening the door for you. The Aussie wraps his arm around your shoulders and pulls you into his side.

When you all get upstairs, you collapse onto the couch. Lando follows suit, not wanting to leave your side. Oscar isn’t far behind. He grabs the remote and turns on the TV, something quiet that Lando doesn’t pay attention to. He just watches you for signs of distress. You stare at the tv blankly and chip away at the ice cream with your spoon, leaning on Oscar as Lando leans on you. Slowly, the three of you melt into the couch, none of you wanting to break the silence and suggest going to bed.

…..

Oscar wakes up on the couch at 3 in the morning, and when he looks around, this awful feeling hits him. It’s like someone’s reached into his chest and clawed his heart out. You’re laying there, your head on his stomach, one of your arms over his thigh. Lando’s laying nearly on top of you- together, the three of you are like a stack of toppled dominoes. There are blankets strewn over all of you. Oscar can vaguely remember Lando’s attempt to cover all three of you up as you all began to drift off.

You’re fast asleep, and when Oscar peers down at you he can still see the tear tracks on your cheeks. He’s never liked your boyfriend- ex boyfriend, now, thank god- but breakups are awful no matter what. He’s got half a mind to go over and confront the guy, because who leaves their girlfriend- ex girlfriend- to walk out of their apartment in the dead of winter in a t-shirt and shorts? Even if you had broken up, he seemingly hadn’t given you the chance to put on sweatpants and a hoodie. Or maybe you hadn’t wanted to stay long enough.

Lando shifts in his sleep, pressing closer to you. It’s only now that Oscar notices Lando’s hand linked with yours, fingers knitted together on your stomach. A pang of something flares up in him at the sight, at how right it feels to have you both right here like this. He does his best to tamp it down. He brushes his fingers against your cheek tentatively, relaxing just a bit at the feeling of your soft skin under his fingertips.

You nudge into the touch, eyelids just barely fluttering. Oscar wonders to himself how anyone could ever let you go. The sight of you in the backseat, teary eyed in his hoodie, is burned into the back of his brain. He’d do anything to keep you from ever crying again.

When he wakes up again, it’s much later in the morning. You and Lando are both gone, and something about that makes his heart clench. But he hears noise in the kitchen- Lando, talking to someone, the sound of food sizzling on the stove. He sits up and rubs the sleep from his eyes before trudging his way over there.

Lando’s at the stove, cooking something that smells awfully delicious and makes Oscar’s stomach growl. You’re sitting on the counter nearby the way you always do, still in Oscar’s hoodie, hands folded in your lap. You’re the first one to spot him- you smile, but it’s subdued. There’s a tinge of sadness to it. Something aching behind your eyes.

“Morning,” he finally says.

Lando turns over his shoulder with a smile. “I was just about to send her to wake you,” he says. “I made breakfast.”

Oscar nods. “Thanks. Smells really good.”

He takes his normal spot on a stool at the kitchen island. He passes by both of you on the way there, and you reach out to squeeze his upper arm. He brushes a hand over your knee and smiles at you.

You’re quiet. Usually, you’d be chatting their ears off. But Lando plates up the food and distributes it without a word from you, and it has Oscar feeling sick to his stomach. You stay sitting on the counter, and you push the food around on your plate with one hand. Lando sits next to Oscar and exchanges a look with him.

Both boys clear their plates without a word from you. You’ve only taken a few bites. Oscar clears his throat as he clears his and Lando’s plates. Your eyes flicker up to meet his.

“I stand by what I said last night. We don’t have to talk,” he says. “But if you want to talk, we’re here.”

You shift and smile just a little. “Not much to talk about, really. The breakup has been coming for a long time, I think. So. It’s fine, really. Just weird, you know? We’d been dating for a year- that’s a year of my life… not wasted, but. Weird to lose someone like that so quickly.”

Both Oscar and Lando nod in understanding. You nod back. That’s that. If you don’t want to talk about it more, they won’t force you. It’s enough to know you’re safe at home, really.

…..

When Lando has his first DJ set after your break up, he begs you to come and watch. Much to his and Oscar’s surprise, you agree eagerly. They’d both thought it would be a harder fight. Lando’s been getting bigger and bigger DJ gigs- not enough to quit his day job yet, but enough to get excited about. You haven’t been to them recently, which had been a bit of a sore spot for Lando, though he’d tried not to let it on to you. So. If you want to go, he’s not going to question you on it.

On the way there, you size him up in the back of the Uber. You tug at the collar of his shirt.

“You’re too buttoned up,” you say, nose wrinkled.

Oscar laughs and nods. “Yeah, lose a button,” he adds.

He reaches over and undoes the top button of Lando’s shirt with nimble fingers, and great, now Lando’s sweating.

“Or two,” you chime in.

When you reach up and undo another button, Lando thinks the blush must be obvious on his cheeks now. It’s probably running down his neck, washing over his chest, just like the soft touch of your fingers against his skin.

“Why not three?” Oscar says, smirking.

Before he can undo the third one, Lando bats Oscar’s hand away and glares at him. Oscar’s had a shot before they left the apartment, pregaming because he hates crowds and loud places and social environments. He’s definitely a little tipsy, and because of that, he’s a bit more daring. It’s going to be the death of Lando.

By the time he’s halfway through the set, Lando’s gone and lost both of you in the crowd. He won’t lie, it makes him a bit nervous. He knows you were there one second, and then the next time he looked, you were both gone. He knows in his head Oscar won’t have let you out of his sight, but it doesn’t stop his heart from clenching. He thinks of his phone, down under the stage, itches to have it in his hand so he can text or call or find you, somehow.

When he finally climbs down and grabs his phone, it’s lit up with a bunch of notifications. He swipes past the ones from Max asking how late his set goes, past the ones from friends who stopped by, telling him how good he did. In the middle, there’s a text from Oscar.

Call when you’re done.

He calls. When Oscar answers, he gives him directions to meet the two of you in a bathroom and then promptly hangs up. Lando would be more concerned with the two of you apparently hiding out together in a bathroom if Oscar hadn’t told him about it. He doesn’t have the energy to let himself get jealous. He just heads towards the two of you. He knocks on the single bathroom door, calls out to Oscar, and it swings open.

“She had a little too much,” Oscar says.

Behind him, you’re kneeling next to the toilet, Oscar’s jacket underneath your knees. It’s such a sweet touch that it makes Lando’s heart ache- there’s just something about seeing Oscar taking care of you. But he does his best to focus and steps into the bathroom. Your hair is pulled back in a messy ponytail. Your skin is pale, and when you turn to look at Lando, your eyes are bloodshot. He hisses and turns to Oscar.

“I know, I know, I said I’d watch her-“ Oscar says, raising his hands defensively. “She’s good at pretending to be sober. Until she’s way too far gone, and then…”

“Lan!” you call out, high pitched and wobbly. “I love you.”

Lando widens his eyes at Oscar, who nods.

“There’s been a lot of that. About both of us. She was not happy when I pulled her out of sight of you.” Oscar sighs. “I can’t figure out if it’s just- you know, she loves her friends, or-“

Oscar trails off. Lando furrows his brows.

“Lan,” you repeat again, and he turns over his shoulder to look at you, then tries not to visibly wince. “Can we go home now?”

“Yeah, love,” he says, softly. “You done throwing up, you okay to move?”

You shrug, then nod. Great. Not super convincing. When he turns to Oscar, he winces. Lando drags a hand down his own face. Interrogating Oscar will have to wait- the first priority is to get the three of you out of there, hopefully without you throwing up on them. He sighs heavily and makes a plan in his head.

Lando’s not sure what god he pleased, what good karma he’s earned, but the three of you make it outside without you throwing up again. He breathes a sigh of relief. Then he and Oscar spend 5 minutes debating on whether walking or getting a ride would be better- you’re drunk and wobbly, but at least if you threw up, it’d be on the sidewalk. Oscar hates that idea, is worried about you tripping and falling on the way, about how they’ll manage to get you all the way back. You stand there and watch them argue, Oscar’s hand on your shoulder to keep you from falling over.

“Boys, stop fighting,” you say hazily. “You’re both so pretty.”

Lando’s eyes go wide at that. He stares at Oscar, who seems to make a face that says I know. Lando turns to you. You’re smiling widely up at him, blinking glassy eyes and tilting your head. You reach out and tap your fingertip against his nose, then laugh. Lando swallows tightly.

Oscar uses his distraction to flag down a cab. Lando can’t find the energy to argue anymore. They’d normally put you in the middle, but this time they sit you next to the door, just in case you do need to throw up. You spend the entire ride with your head on Lando’s shoulder, and he can tell you’re starting to get drowsy just from the way you sag against him. When they climb out of the car, Oscar puts one of your arms over his shoulder, and Lando does the same on the other side.

By the time they get you up to the apartment and into the bathroom, you’re half asleep, leaning heavily on both of them. When your hand slips against the bare skin of his chest, he swallows tightly. Oscar puts toothpaste on the toothbrush for you, and Lando helps you brush your teeth, his hand wrapped around yours gently.

Then they head for your bedroom. Lando grabs you a pair of shorts and a t-shirt from your dresser. He sets them on the bed and gets ready to leave the room so you can change, and then slaps his hand over his eyes when you start to take off your dress before he even gets the chance. He hears Oscar’s hand hit his own face, too.

“We live together,” you say, and Lando can practically hear your eye roll. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

Lando sighs. “It is, and you’re drunk, so.”

You laugh. “I guess. I’m dressed now.”

Lando groans when he uncovers his eyes and spots the pair of shorts still on the bed. He puts one hand over Oscar’s eyes, one back over his own, and says, “Shorts. Now.”

You grumble something about taking them off later anyways, which has Lando melting into a puddle over the thought. He hears you shuffling around, and then you grab both of his wrists and tug them away from his and Oscar’s faces. You’re fully dressed this time, and you collapse backwards onto the bed.

“Will you guys stay till I fall asleep?” you ask, softly.

Both of them nod and sit down on the edge of the bed. You curl up in the middle, each of them on either side. Oscar lays a tentative hand on your shoulder, while Lando brushes hair from your face. It doesn’t take long for you to fall asleep, melting into the bed.

When you do, Lando nods silently towards the door. Oscar nods in agreement, and they both slip out of the bedroom. Lando looks back to check on you as he shuts the door. You look peaceful, finally.

Oscar heads for the kitchen, and Lando follows. He reaches into the fridge and comes back with two cans of sparkling water, which Lando accepts eagerly. He’d been unaware of just how thirsty he was until that moment. He drinks half the can in one go and then looks at Oscar expectantly.

“I don’t know,” Oscar prefaces. “I’m not sure about anything. But. She couldn’t stop staring at you up on the stage, and she told me about ten times how pretty you were. And then she said it about me, too. To my face. And like, right after that she threw up, but.”

“But,” Lando repeats. “You saw something. Different than her just being a drunk mess.”

“It felt different,” Oscar says, softly. “Just. I can’t explain it.”

Lando nods. He presses his lips into a thin line. Oscar follows suit, rubbing his hand against the smooth surface of the countertop.

“What do we do?” Lando asks quietly. He feels wildly out of his depth here. “I mean. D’you think she has feelings for…”

Me? You? Lando’s not sure what to say. He’s not sure what he wants the answer to be either. Suddenly, he feels sick to his stomach. In an ideal world, he knows what he’d like to happen here, but that’s a pipe dream. Unrealistic.

“She’s really vulnerable,” he says, before Oscar can even answer. “And like. That would really make a good roommate situation weird, right?”

Oscar laughs, but it sounds forced. “Yeah.”

“Okay,” Lando says. “Okay. So. We just let it go.”

Oscar nods. There’s something in the look on his face that makes Lando think maybe there’s more to this. That they shouldn’t brush it off so easily. But it’s late, and he’s exhausted, and this topic feels so, so difficult to broach right now. So he claps Oscar on the shoulder with an open palm, and then disappears into his bedroom.

Lando’s avoidance of the subject doesn’t last long, because the next morning, before you wake up, Oscar corners him in the kitchen.

“We need to talk,” Oscar says, which is never a good sentence to hear at any hour, let alone before the sun has even risen.

Realistically, he should’ve known this was coming, because Oscar never willingly wakes up this early on a weekend. It’s still dark outside. Lando can barely make out Oscar’s facial expressions in the dim light. He flicks a light switch and watches the other man wince.

“Rude,” Oscar grumbles.

“Yeah, that’s what you get for starting off my morning with that sentence,” Lando defends. When Oscar frowns, he softens. “What’s up?”

As if he hadn’t expected to actually get to this point, Oscar shrinks in on himself. Lando leans against the counter and tilts his head. Oscar’s younger, but he’s usually the more mature one. It’s odd to see him so lost for what to say.

“Last night,” Oscar starts, chewing on his lip when he pauses. “She- I- I can’t stop thinking about…”

Lando’s gut wobbles. “About her. You like her. And you think she feels the same.”

There’s this weird jealousy in his chest. He’s jealous of both of you, he realizes, and he grips the counter behind him with his hand. He wants to be the one you like, and he wants to be the one Oscar’s into, too. He’s known it for a while, really, but this is the first time he’s had to confront it head on. And it’s - it’s a problem, probably. His best friends and his roommates. He can’t have both. Can’t have it all.

Oscar frowns and shakes his head. “No. Well. Yeah, but- it’s more than that. It’s.”

Lando tamps down the ache in his chest, plasters on a smile. “Oscar. It’s okay.”

“No,” Oscar says, dragging out the sound. “You don’t- you don’t get it.”

“You guys would make a cute couple,” Lando says quietly. “Like. Really, Osc, you’d be good together-“

“I don’t just want her,” Oscar interrupts, and Lando's heart skips a beat. “I don’t- fuck, it sounds crazy, but. I woke up that morning, after we picked her up, and you were both on the couch with me, and I just thought, yeah, this is how I want to wake up every day. And if that’s crazy then- forget I said anything, but-“

Lando clears his throat. “It’s not crazy.”

Oscar freezes, one hand halfway through his hair. “It’s not?”

Lando shakes his head and bites his lip. “No. I think I’ve been feeling the same. Just… I felt crazy, you know?”

Oscar nods. Lando can’t stop staring at him, at the red flush on his cheeks, the wide eyes. He reaches his foot out and nudges it against Oscar’s shin.

“I meant what I said last night, about her being vulnerable,” he says, and Oscar sighs heavily. “She needs friends right now. And she doesn’t need friends who are caught up in figuring out their feelings for each other and maybe her, too.”

Oscar huffs. “So we just…”

“Wait and see?” Lando asks sheepishly. “Feels shitty, I know, but our first priority is making sure she’s okay.”

Oscar nods. Lando nods back. And that’s that, for a while. And maybe for a while, it’s enough to know that Oscar feels it, too. To know he’s not alone.

…..

You know Lando well enough to know he’s not one to admit when he’s sick. You’d think he’d be the exact opposite, but he tends to try and tough it out until the very last minute. He hides it well, except when it comes to you and Oscar.

He’s getting ready for a DJ set nearly a month after the one where you’d gotten far too drunk. There’s loud music playing through the apartment as he eats dinner, dancing along to the beat. You sit on the kitchen counter in your usual spot, and Oscar stands next to you. You’re both watching Lando bounce around the room. He’s trying to convince you he’s fine without actually saying it. It’s not working.

He leaves the room for a moment, looking for his phone. Oscar looks up at you.

“He’s sick, isn’t he?” He asks.

You nod and worry your bottom lip between your teeth. “Definitely.”

But Lando says nothing about not feeling well, so you do your hair and makeup and get into an Uber with him and Oscar to head for a club. You and Oscar exchange a glance when Lando presses his forehead to the window of the car. He’s mumbling along to the song that’s playing over the speakers. There’s sweat on his temple. You’re starting to worry.

He tumbles out of the car and into the club with you and Oscar in tow. Once the bright lights and loud music hit him, he perks up a bit. If you know him, you know it won’t last. He’s going to wear himself out during his set and then fall apart right after. He sends the two of you to the bar, tells you to put it on his tab. Oscar loops his hand in your arm to keep you close- you’re not complaining. Without saying anything to each other, you each order plain Cokes. Lando won’t question if there’s alcohol in it. You order him his go to drink- a gin & tonic, but ask the bartender to go light on the gin. You hand it off to him before he heads up for his set, and when he hesitates to kiss your cheek like he normally would, you eye him carefully.

“I’m fine,” he says, which tells you more than anything that he’s definitely not fine.

Next to you, Oscar scoffs. You press the back of your hand to Lando’s forehead and sigh. He leans into the touch, eyes fluttering shut. He’s burning up.

“It’s a short set,” he says, slurred but loud enough to be heard over the thud of the bass. “I’ll be fine.”

You watch as he walks away. Oscar takes your arm in his hand again, pulls you away to a nearby booth. Normally, you love watching Lando’s sets, love listening to the music he’s chosen, and watching his face light up at the crowd’s reaction. But now, as he takes his place, you just feel worried. You can tell Oscar’s worried too, just from the way he drums his fingers against the table in an unsteady pattern. Normally the two of you would find yourselves out on the dance floor, especially when Lando plays the songs he knows you both love, but you can’t find it in you tonight.

When he stumbles off stage from his set, he’s grinning ear to ear, but his eyes are half closed and there’s a thin sheen of sweat on his skin that you know isn’t from the dj-ing. You and Oscar stand to meet him, and you brush damp curls from his forehead to check his temperature again. He feels even worse. Oscar winces as Lando sways in front of the two of you.

“Let's get you home,” you suggest, and he just nods.

When you get back to the apartment, you deposit Lando on the couch. Oscar stays with him, pulling a blanket over Lando and propping him up with pillows. You head for the bathroom first and open the medicine cabinet.

“Lan, what’s wrong?” You call out.

You hear his disoriented grumbling. Oscar translates. “He says he’s fine.”

You lean out into the living room and fix Lando with a glare. “Shut up. You need medicine. What’s wrong?”

He sighs and sinks into the couch. “Sore throat. Headache. Little bit of a cough.”

You nod and return to the surprisingly well stocked medicine cabinet. You grab the cold medicine that describes his symptoms the best and head back to the living room. Lando has the blanket wrapped tightly around him like a cocoon, and he has his head resting on Oscar’s shoulder. Oscar’s running his hand up and down Lando’s upper arm, a look of concern on his face.

You hand Oscar the medicine. “Here. Give him a dose, will you? I’m gonna heat up some soup or something.”

“M’not a baby,” Lando mutters.

“Could’ve fooled me,” Oscar teases gently.

Though the medicine cabinet was well stocked, the kitchen is less so. None of you like grocery shopping. You manage to find a can of chicken soup in the back of a cupboard, and it’s not expired, so you heat it up quickly. You return to the living room with the soup and a large glass of water.

Lando is fully tucked into Oscar’s side now, draped messily across the other boy. You sigh at the sight, at the way Oscar runs his hand through Lando’s hair, at the content little smile on Lando’s lips. Even when he’s sick, this is enough to bring him comfort. You wonder, then, if you could be enough, too. The memories pass through your brain- the way they’ve both taken care of you after your break up. Now it’s your chance to return the favor.

You sit down on the couch on Lando’s other side. Oscar takes the bowl of soup from you carefully, and then you hold the glass of water up to Lando’s lips. He sips carefully, then pulls away with a soft sigh. His cheeks are rosy red, and he shivers. You and Oscar both wince in sympathy.

“You should’ve told us,” Oscar says, quietly. “Should’ve canceled the set.”

Lando shrugs and elbows him lightly. “Got through it, didn’t I? Can’t go around canceling sets if I’m gonna make it big, can I?”

You roll your eyes and nudge the Brit slightly. “Your health is more important than you making it big,” you chide.

He turns to look at you, gaze hazy but still amused. “Mm. You won’t be saying that when I’ve got enough money to take care of the two of you for the rest of your lives.”

“Is that your plan?” Oscar asks, a teasing tone in his voice.

Lando closes his eyes and nods. “You two can be my sugar babies,” he asserts. “Never work another day in your life.”

“Okay, Norris,” you say, biting back a laugh. “Eat your soup.”

He does as he’s told, melting back into the couch as he holds the bowl and spoon in shaky hands. Oscar keeps his hands on the bowl, too, just to be safe. To show your support, you lean against Lando’s shoulder to help prop him up. As much as you hate to see him not feeling well, you think that maybe you could get used to this.

You tuck him into his bed later that night. Oscar’s next to you, having carried him into the bedroom from the living room. Lando was pretty much dead weight, high on cold medicine and his fever and so, so out of it. You pull the covers up to his chin and smooth sweaty hair from his forehead. You cringe at the clammy feeling, and Oscar laughs.

Lando blinks up at both of you with heavy eyes. “Meant it, you know.”

“Meant what?” You ask.

He lets his eyelids fall closed. “Gonna take care of you two. The same way you take care of me. I think abou’ it all the time.”

He yawns, turns his head, and falls asleep nearly immediately after that, lips barely parted, chest rising and falling smoothly. You feel frozen for a moment. He looks so peaceful. He wants to take care of you. Your heart is pounding.

Oscar wraps his hand around your elbow and squeezes softly. “He’ll be okay.”

He thinks you’re worried. You don’t know how to tell him that Lando being sick isn’t the problem. The what’s got you all mixed up inside is the way Lando says it so easily. Never work another day in your life. I think about it all the time.

You swallow and back away from the bed, because you have the strongest urge to crawl right in next to him and drag Oscar right with you, until you’re all curled up in a pile together. You can’t do that. Oscar leads you out to the living room. You think he knows something’s up, because he doesn’t let go of you the whole time, but he doesn’t say anything either. You need to shake this feeling. You can’t think about them like this. It won’t end well.

“I’ll make us some popcorn, yeah?” Oscar suggests. “We can watch Bake Off.”

You nod as you make your way over to the couch. You try to tell yourself you should keep your distance, should sit far away from him. But when he sits down and pulls you into his chest, you can’t help but sigh happily.

“When we inevitably catch whatever he has,” you say, “we’re gonna need more chicken noodle soup.”

…..

Oscar comes home from work one day a few weeks later, and finds the two of you in the living room- a pretty normal occurrence lately. You’re laid out on the couch, your ankles in Lando’s lap. You smile up at him happily, and he laughs. He’s glad to see you, honestly, both of you. He’s had a rough day. This is exactly what he needed to come home to.

“Comfy?” He asks.

You nod eagerly. “We saved some pizza for you. It’s in the kitchen.”

He snorts. “Gee. Thanks. Couldn’t wait till I got home?”

You pout up at him. “I was hungry.”

Lando nods in agreement. “She was being whiny, Osc, had to feed her.”

“I’m gonna shower,” he says, leaning over to ruffle your hair. You press into the touch, like a cat. “And then I’ll have dinner.”

“Ooh, take a shower beer,” you suggest.

Lando laughs. “I was gonna say the exact same thing.”

Without even thinking, Oscar leans over the couch and kisses both of your foreheads. “Geniuses, the both of you.”

Neither you or Lando seem to question it, or the blush on his cheeks, so he doesn’t even try to explain.

By the time he finishes showering, and finishes his shower beer, a bit of the stress has melted away. He sighs heavily when he steps out, towel dries his hair, and pulls on a pair of shorts and a hoodie. He eats a slice of pizza, cold, in the kitchen.

When he makes it back to the living room, you’re curled up in Lando’s arms, halfway in his lap. He grumbles, not even realizing he’s making the noise until you look up at him. You throw one arm out wide, beckoning him close. Lando looks up with a happy, soft smile and pats the open space on his chest. And really, Oscar’s had a shit day, and the spot between Lando’s jaw and chest looks quite cozy, and if he’s being invited, then-

He collapses into the two of you, slips his arm around you and presses the side of his face to Lando’s chest. Oscar takes a deep breath, smells Lando’s cologne and your perfume, the intoxicating mix of both of you, and closes his eyes. He feels someone’s finger drag down the slope of his nose, and another hand brushes his hair from his forehead.

“Bad day?” You ask.

He’s exhausted, and everything is a bit hazy feeling. Syrupy and slow. He could fall asleep like this, probably. You sound a million miles away, and also like you’re tucked away in his chest, like he’d like for you to always be. Close and protected.

“Yeah,” he says softly. “Really bad day.”

A thumb brushes over his cheek. There’s a hand in his damp hair, scratching lightly at his scalp. He lets out a fluttering sigh.

“Poor baby,” you say. He thinks the hand on his face is yours, the hand in his hair, Lando’s. “We just gotta wait for Lan to make it big, yeah? ‘nd then me and you can be his sugar babies, let him pay for everything. Just like he promised.”

Oscar laughs and rubs his cheek against Lando’s chest in some sort of nod. He can feel Lando laughing, too, high pitched and breathless. His hand squeezes at your hip, where it landed when he sat down.

“I’d take such good care of the two of you,” Lando says, quietly.

Oscar knows how much truth the words hold, and suddenly his stomach aches with want. Because Lando already takes care of both of you and him any way he can, and Oscar does it for you and Lando, too, and they both wish they could do it even more so. Could kiss away your tears, could hold your hand when you cross the street. He wants it. So does Lando.

“You already do,” you say, even quieter.

Oscar feels Lando’s breath hitch in his chest. He opens one eye and finds your eyes closed, your hand pressed to his cheek. Lando’s hand, banded around Oscar’s back, squeezes softly. Oscar holds his breath.

You shrug, like you know they’re watching without even opening your eyes.

“You both do,” you add. “Picked me up when I called, checked on me ever since…” you sigh and bury your face deeper into Lando’s chest. Oscar reaches up and cups your cheek in his hand tentatively. “Couldn’t ask for more.”

Even on the worst of days, Oscar thinks that maybe you’re right. He couldn’t ask for more. He’s got everything right here.

…..

A few nights later, Lando wakes up to the creak of the door, and his eyes fly open. He turns to look and finds you standing in the doorway, a blanket wrapped around your shoulders.

“Love?” Lando asks, quietly. It’s the dead of night. “You alright?”

You shrug and sigh. “Can we cuddle?”

He blinks and nods, wonder fleetingly if he should go and get Oscar, because this feels unfair, but- then you step backwards, walking away. You must want to go to your bed, must feel more comfortable there. Lando slips out of his bed, takes his phone with him, and follows after you. His confusion grows when you don’t stop at the door to your bedroom. You walk right past and head for Oscar’s room. You open the door, and Lando looks past you to the warm glow of the lamp Oscar always forgets to turn off, to his sleeping form.

“You’re easier to wake up,” you say, softly.

Lando blinks wildly as you trudge your way over to the bed. “Love?”

“Want cuddles,” you state as you climb into the bed next to Oscar, who’s snoring softly. “From both of you. Come on.”

And, well. You should probably all talk about this, really. But you’re already tucking yourself under the blankets, and Oscar looks cute, and Lando’s so, so tired, and he wants cuddles, too, so. He sighs and makes his way over to the bed. You grin and roll towards Oscar, who finally shifts awake at the motion.

“Hi?” He says, confused, sleep coating his voice.

You don’t bother to explain, just slip an arm around him and curl close. Lando sits down on the edge of the bed and makes eye contact with Oscar, who seems frozen between confusion and happiness.

“She wanted cuddles,” Lando explains. “From both of us. I’m easier to wake up, apparently.”

Oscar shrugs and nods. He rolls towards you and throws his arm over your middle. His fingers motion towards Lando, who breathes a sigh of relief. Sure, they’ve talked, but there was always a chance Oscar changed his mind, or that this would be weird. But, if he’s offering…

Lando crawls into bed next to you. You let out a soft sigh when he lays down next to you, and he can’t fight the smile that crosses his lips. He slips his arm around you, his skin brushing against Oscar’s, too. Oscar presses a kiss to your forehead. Lando bites back a flare of jealousy, and he’s not even sure which one of you he’s jealous of. Then Oscar brushes his fingertips against his bicep, a soft, gentle touch that reminds him he’s part of this, too. Lando kisses the back of your neck and closes his eyes, already sleepy again.

…..

When Oscar wakes up the next morning, you and Lando are still in his bed. He breathes a sigh of relief at that, having been worried one of you would wake up and panic and leave. He watches the two of you for a few moments before he lets his eyes slip closed again. The weight of your head on his chest is comforting, and the soft rise and fall of Lando’s ribs under his hand is even more so. It’s rare that he’s awake before either of you unless he has to be up early.

He opens one eye again, just to look, just to take it in. Lando’s head is pressed against your shoulder, the top of his forehead and his mass of curly hair just visible to Oscar. He could get used to this. He’d like to wake up like this all the time, the three of you all wrapped up together. And maybe that’s wishful thinking, but for at least one morning, he gets to have it.

If he wasn’t so worried he’d wake you up and spoil the moment, he’d trace the lines of your face with his fingertips and draw patterns on your shoulders. He’d do it to Lando, too- shove his tank top up until he could touch the bare skin of his ribs, run his fingers over the bumps. But he wants this to last as long as possible, so he just lays there and stares.

Eventually, you start to stir, and with you, so does Lando. It’s strange, the way it makes Oscar’s heart clench in his chest. He wants so badly for both of you to just stay right here, with him. If he could hold you both in his arms like this forever he would.

When you open your eyes, you smile softly at him. Lando shifts behind you and opens one eye, and the same soft smile slips across his lips. You press yourself farther into Oscar, and reach a hand behind you to pull Lando close.

“My boys,” you say, quietly. “My favorite boys.”

And. That’s when it hits Oscar, like a punch to the chest. There’s something in the way you say it, something about the look on your face. He just knows. He knows because he sees it in himself, in Lando. He doesn’t need to talk about it right this second, doesn’t need to ask. He just knows you feel it too. So he leans up and over, hears the way Lando’s holding his breath. He moves his hand and presses his lips to your cheek, to your warm, soft skin. Then he does the same to Lando. You smile even wider. Lando, not one to be left out, does the same to you, then Oscar, leaving his skin burning. You follow suit, and your lips are warm against Oscar’s jaw. He thinks maybe he’s in heaven.

The three of you fall back asleep in a tighter pile, wrapped up in each other’s limbs. There’ll be time to talk later. For now, it’s enough to just know.

…..

A month later, you’re in the front of the crowd at Lando’s DJ set, watching with wide, bright eyes. He has three buttons undone, the work of you and Oscar during the car ride over to the club. He’s grinning down at you as someone hands him a shot, and then he tosses it back with a grimace. You wonder if he sees the stars in his eyes as you look up at him.

Oscar’s behind you, one arm wrapped around your waist. He has a drink in his other hand- your drink, taken from your own grip when you started moving your hands to the music. His nose is pressed behind your ear, and when he speaks, his breath tickles against your skin and makes you shiver.

“Y’know, he said he’d take care of us,” Oscar says, loud enough to be heard over the music, but just barely. “But all I can think of right now are all the ways I wanna take care of him.”

You laugh, leaning your head back against his shoulder. “It’s the unbuttoned shirt,” you tell him, gesturing at your other boyfriend. “S’like kryptonite.”

Never mind the fact that the shirt’s only unbuttoned because of the two of you. Oscar laughs and squeezes his arm around your middle. Lando tilts his head at the two of you, like he knows exactly what you’re up to.

“Yeah,” Oscar agrees. “But that’s less buttons for us to deal with later.”

You nod in agreement. “Good point.”

When Lando’s shirt is laying on the floor later, next to Oscar’s shirt and your dress, and you’re all slumped together on the bed in a pile, you remember what Oscar said earlier and laugh. Neither of them bother to ask what you’re laughing about. They just kiss your cheeks and join in with laughter of their own.

taglist: @4-mula1 @celestialams @struggling-with-delia @lovekt @i-wish-this-was-me @forzalando @iloveyou3000morgan @callsign-scully @ggaslyp1 (if your blog is crossed out, it won’t let me tag you!)

2K notes View Post

that-jax

3 years ago

bonsai | oneshot

excerpt | where a bonsai plant brings you and your husband closer together.

pairing | mafia!namjoon x reader, arranged marriage!au

genre | fluff, extremely minor angst

warning/s | usage of guns and brief mentions of blood

lee’s notes | there weren’t much specifics on this request so i just assumed it’s the same arranged marriage trope as my other mafia aus! hopefully you guys aren't too tired of it yet T_T

word count | 4.6k words

go to | home / navi / m. list

NAMJOON WATCHES AS THE DOOR to his office slowly closes, the last of his meetings for the day finally over.

He lets out a sigh in relief and leans back in his chair, turning it towards the window directly to his right. The glass of the window took up practically the entire wall, giving him a perfect view of the garden outside.

As he scans through the lot, his eyebrows begin to furrow when he spots you crouched down nearby a pot of flowers. While you were free to roam anywhere you'd like, he never expected you to settle around the garden when there was also a library and a music room in the home as well.

He reels his chair back to reach for the telephone on his desk, swiftly dialing the number of the housekeeper.

"Hello?" A familiar voice answers.

"Hi Mrs. Jung, this is Namjoon."

A little bit of rustling is heard from the other end before the lady responds. "Ah, Mr. Kim. Would you be requiring my assistance anywhere?"

Namjoon slowly reels his chair towards the window, gazing at you while you watered the plants. "No, I just wanted to ask you about something. I'm staring outside my window and it seems as though (Y/N) is tending to some flowers in the garden." He explains, "Do I need to hire another housemaid assist you?"

Mrs. Jung lets out a soft chuckle before responding, "Ah, there's no need for that Mr. Kim. I've been doing fine tending to them on my own but Mrs. Kim insists on helping. It seems as though she has quite an interest in helping the plants grow."

Namjoon raises his eyebrows in surprise, "Is that so?" He asks, more to himself.

But, Mrs. Jung, thinking it was addressed to her, chooses to respond. "Yes, Mr. Kim. I have informed her on multiple occasions that I do not require any assistance, but the young lady always tells me she wants to help."

Namjoon simply hums, noticing the small smile on your face as you watered the plants with care. His eyes unconsciously soften at the sight before he quickly snaps out of it, clearing his throat.

"Well, if it is what (Y/N) wants, then feel free to let her be." He says, taking his eyes off of you.

"Alright, Mr. Kim."

Namjoon makes sure to thank Mrs. Jung before he hangs up, diverting his attention back to the papers on his table.

The two of you had been married for over 5 days at this point, yet he couldn't find the time to talk to you after the wedding because of his numerous responsibilities as the leader.

He sighs and takes another glance at you through the window before looking back to his papers, shaking his head.

...

A few days past and you were back in the garden, happily spritzing the plants with as much water as they needed. It was quite a relaxing hobby, especially considering the rather violent nature of your family's business.

You grin when you feel Monnie, the house pet, snuggle into your side. The dog kept you company most of the time ever since you moved in, especially when you realized how fond he was of you.

"Hi Monnie," You coo, swooning at the way he leans onto your hand while you pet him.

He barks towards you, causing you to glance towards your hand. You chuckle when you realize he's referring to the water bottle you were holding. "Aigoo, do you want to get sprayed?"

Slowly, you bring your hand closer to the dog, swiftly spraying him with water. He barks happily, making you let out another laugh. He jumps before running away, a smile on your face as you shake your head.

You divert your attention back to the leaves of the plants, suddenly hearing someone clear their throat from behind you. Assuming it was just Mrs. Jung, you let out a chuckle, knowing she was probably just going to nag at you again.

"Mrs. Jung, I'm telling you, I used to tend to a garden in my former household. You don't need to—"

You pause when you turn around, meeting your Namjoon's slightly intimidating gaze. Your smile falters for a moment before you replace it with a more subtle one as you guide yourself up to your feet.

"Namjoon," You say, licking your lips in nervousness. "What brings you here?"

His gaze slowly eases as he simply gestures behind you, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. "I uh—I just saw you from my office and I thought I'd drop by."

Your mouth makes an 'o' shape as you nod, "Oh, okay."

The two of you stand in awkward silence for a few moments before Namjoon clears his head, pointing towards the bottle of water in your hand.

"So, do you need any help?" He asks, causing your eyes to slightly widen.

You blink twice before finally replying, "Y-You want to help me?" You ask, somewhat taken aback.

Namjoon softly chuckles at this before nodding, a small amused smile on his lips. "I have the hour off and there isn't really anything better to do in the house." He explains, "Besides, you seemed to be having a lot of fun."

You slightly blush at his remark, a smile creeping onto your lips as well. "Well, I do need some help plucking out the dead leaves on this plant." You say with a chuckle, pointing towards the pot on the ground.

Namjoon smiles and nods, "Lead the way, then."

You bite back a grin and motion for him to take a seat next to you before you begin to teach him how to carefully pluck off the dead leaves. He simply listens with a small smile, nodding to let you know he understood.

Once you two got into the groove of things, the plants became the main focus of both your attention. You both worked in silence, the sounds of leaves crunching filling the atmosphere.

Namjoon breaks the silence after a few moments, slyly glances your way. "So," He starts, "You said you had a garden in your former household?"

You shyly chuckle before nodding, keeping your gaze on the plants in front of you. "Yeah, it was just a nice way to take my mind off of all the—well, I think you know what I mean." You respond, Namjoon nodding.

"I kind of get it, to be honest." He says, "After awhile, it really just gets suffocating to be in the environment we're in. So, it's nice to have a little escape from it all."

You smile at this, happy to see that you two have a mutual understanding on the topic. "How about you?" You ask, briefly looking at him. "What's your escape?"

You two continue to engage in light conversation, occasionally letting out laughs at each other's remarks. As you both talked, you don't notice Yoongi and Seokjin walk up to the garden entrance, disbelief on both their faces.

"Is that Namjoon? In the garden?" Seokjin asks, blinking.

Yoongi tilts his head to the side before squinting and letting out a chuckle. "It is." He says, amused.

The older member lets out a scoff, a smile forming on his face. "Never in my life did I ever think I'd see Kim Namjoon watering plants in the garden." He mumbles, shaking his head.

As they both begin to approach you two, a pair of hands suddenly stops them, causing the two to turn around.

"Mrs. Jung? Is something wrong?" Yoongi asks, slightly confused when he makes eye contact with her.

The housemaid simply sighs before glancing behind them, watching as you and Namjoon continued tending to the plants. "Unless it is urgent, I think we should leave the newlyweds alone. They haven't spent much time together since the ceremony." She says, a solemn expression on her face.

The two men slowly nod, looking at one another for a few seconds before coming to an agreement. "Well, I guess we can wait awhile." Seokjin says, patting Yoongi's shoulder.

The latter voices out his agreement, making Mrs. Jung let out a small grateful smile. "Thank you two very much. I'm sure Mr. Kim will appreciate your patience later on." She says, making the two others smile.

They bid their goodbyes to Mrs. Jung before they all go their separate ways, the entire interaction complete unbeknownst by the couple.

Meanwhile, you watched Namjoon chop off some stems with a pair of scissors, letting out a soft chuckle at the focused expression on his face. "Here, it's easier this way." You say, moving closer to him to demonstrate.

As you place your hands on the stem, Namjoon slyly gazes towards you, unable to stop himself from admiring how happy you looked as you dealt with the plants. He made a mental note to visit you here more often, seeing as you looked much brighter under the sunlight than under the rather gloomy lights of your home's dining hall.

"—then, you just gently pull it apart." You say, causing Namjoon to snap out of his gaze.

He nods and smiles at you gratefully, "Thank you, (Y/N)." He says, watching as you smiled back before moving back to the plant you were working on.

While you worked, Namjoon glances towards you, thinking of how to start another conversation.

"Does it get lonely?" He asks, glancing towards you after a few moments. "You know, spending time here in the garden by yourself."

You let out a small sigh before glancing towards him, a small smile on your face. "Well, it was when I first moved here," You respond, looking down towards the plant you were tending to. "But, after awhile, I guess I found comfort in it. Besides, I have Monnie to keep me company anyways."

Namjoon lets out a chuckle at this, nodding his head. But before he could reply, his eyes quickly widen when he sees your peaceful expression contort into one of shock.

"Woah, are you alright?" He asks, eyeing you worriedly.

You bite your lip and nod, looking down towards the knife you were using to cut the stems of the plant. "Yeah, I think I just accidentally cut myself."

His eyes travel towards the open wound on your finger, anxiously watching the blood drip out of the wound and onto the ground.

Namjoon sighs and stands up, motioning for you to do the same. "Come on, let's come inside so we can treat it."

You nod and stand up, following him out of the garden and into the house. But, instead of leading you to Mrs. Jung like you expect him to, you're confused to see him lead you towards another direction.

"Oh—aren't we heading to Mrs. Jung?" You ask, blinking.

Namjoon shakes his head at you, putting a hand on the small of your back. "There's no need to, I have some medical supplies in my office." He responds, causing your eyes to slightly widen.

You halt in your steps, making him do the same. "I-I would hate to hassle you over a simple cut, though. I can treat it myself when I finish up downstairs." You reply, a small frown on your face.

Namjoon sighs, "(Y/N)-ah, we're married. Helping you should be on the top of my priorities." He says, motioning for you to continue walking.

You look at him hesitantly, not knowing how to respond. Then, you slowly nod and continue walking, making Namjoon inwardly sigh in relief.

He leads you to his office and walks you inside, closing the door open behind him. "Take a seat on my chair, I'll just get the supplies from the cabinet." He says, giving you a small smile.

"Okay." You mumble before moving towards his chair and sitting down.

You take in your surroundings as you wait, this being your first time in his office since you moved in. The interior was relatively dark, with most of the structures in the room being tall. You subconsciously shrink into Namjoon's leather chair, watching as he stood up from one corner of the room.

He walks toward you and places a bottle of antiseptic on the table together with a cotton swab and a band-aid. When he sees you staring at the objects, he sheepishly smiles. "I've had a fair share of injuries in the past, so I like to just have them here in case something happens." He explains, making you nod.

He leans against the table and grabs the antiseptic before opening the bottle. "You have a nice office." You blurt out, Namjoon letting out a small smile.

"Thanks. I spend most of my time here so I did my best to make sure it was somewhat neat." He replies, eyes trained onto the bottle of antiseptic as he places some onto the cotton swab.

You bite your lip nervously when he puts the bottle on the table and turns towards you expectantly. "Ready?" He asks, looking towards you.

"I guess so," You mumble in response, giving him your hand.

He smiles at you encouragingly, gently placing your hand on top of his which, happened to be slightly larger. The two of you notice the detail, letting out soft chuckles. "You have very cute hands." He teases.

You blush slightly, "Maybe yours are just big." You mumble in response, biting back a smile as Namjoon looks at you amusedly.

"Okay, uh—I think you can put the medicine now." You say after a few moments, eyes trained onto the wound.

Namjoon glances towards you, quickly noticing the nervous expression on your face. "It might hurt a bit but I'll try my best to make it quick."

You nod, taking a deep breath before the cotton swab comes into contact with your wound. You slightly wince, immediately feeling a sting on your hand.

"There you go," Namjoon mumbles, placing the swab on his table.

He fans the wound, letting the medicine dry a bit before wrapping it up with the band-aid. "All done." He says, looking at you with a smile.

You smile back, slowly taking your hand out of his. "Thank you, Namjoon."

...

After your last encounter with Namjoon, the two of you began to spend more time together. From simply greeting one another when you'd see him around the house, you two would now actively converse with one another. He would ask you about your day as he told you about his, sometimes even going as far as inviting you to his office for a quick coffee.

As you two slowly got closer, you thought it would be a good chance to return the favor for the time that he helped you treat one of your wounds. He had been cooped up in his office, clearly stressed about something that was happening in the business. So, to give him a little boost, you decided to bring him one of your favorite bonsai trees from the garden to display inside.

You nervously bit your lip before opening the door and peeking inside, smiling when you met Namjoon's gaze. He smiled back, eyebrows easing when he sees that it's just you outside the door.

"Come in." He says, nodding towards you.

You walk inside, about to close the door behind you when you feel something blocking it. You glance behind the door, chuckling as you see Monnie trying to come in as well.

When you open the door wider, the dog comes running in, quickly jumping into Namjoon's lap. The sight makes you laugh as you close the door behind you.

"So, what brings you here?" Namjoon asks, lightly petting Monnie.

You grin and raise up the small pot in your hands, causing him to raise his eyebrows in surprise. "I got you a little gift." You say sheepishly, watching as his gaze moved from you to the plant in your hands.

"Is that a tree?" He asks, making you let out a chuckle.

"Yes, it's a bonsai tree. I noticed the last time I was here that you didn't really have any plants, so I thought you might appreciate a little friend." You explain, gauging his expression.

Namjoon blinks for a few moments before slowly smiling. "That's very nice of you, (Y/N)." He says, making you smile back.

You place the potted plant on top of one of Namjoon's many cabinets, glancing towards him. "Where do you want to put it?"

Namjoon hums and stands up, letting Monnie run free within the office as he walks towards you. "I think it would be nice to place by the window." He replies, motioning to a specific side of the room.

You nod before lifting it up, smiling thankfully at Namjoon when he helps you move it towards the glass window. The two of you place it in the corner of the room, where the bright greenness of the leaves perfectly contrasted the black wall behind it.

"It looks nice."

Namjoon nods his head in approval, glancing towards you. "The room feels a lot brighter now." He says, "Thank you again."

You sigh in relief, smiling back at him. "No problem."

He opens his mouth, as though to say something else, when suddenly, the phone on his table rings. He glances towards it before looking at you apologetically. "Sorry, just give me a minute."

You nod at him to answer it before crouching down to pet Monnie. Namjoon sighs and walks up to the phone, "Hello?" He asks.

As he hears what the other person has to say, his eyes suddenly narrow. "What do you mean?" He asks, slightly louder than he realized.

This makes you glance towards him, concern beginning to fill your system. You watch as he tightens his grip around the telephone, almost glaring at the ground beneath him.

"Okay, I'll go there now. Just—hello? Hyunsuk-ah?"

When Namjoon realizes the line was cut-off, he curses and hangs up, immediately glancing towards you. "Is everything okay?" You ask, standing up.

He simply sighs and runs his hand through his hair, looking at you with a slightly worried expression. "I have to go, I think someone's trying to trespass the gate." He says, making your eyes widen.

"Wait—trespass, like, someone's trying to come into the house?" You ask, clearly taken aback.

Namjoon looks at you uneasily and nods, walking up to the safe by the couch. "Listen, I'll be right back, okay? I need you to stay here and keep the door locked." He says, grabbing a gun.

You hold in a gasp upon seeing it, hearing Monnie whimper from beside you. You sigh and carry the dog up, hugging him close to your chest as your heart rate begins to speed up.

"I'll try sending one of the members here to guard your door. Let them in when you hear their voice. But if it's someone else, just keep the door locked and call my number, alright?" Namjoon says, his voice a mix between serious and distraught.

You simply nod, "Okay."

Namjoon sees the nervous expression on your face and approaches you, gently placing his hands on either of your shoulders. "Hey, hey, look at me." He says, tone much gentler.

You hesitantly look towards him, feeling the slight warmth of his gaze. "Everything's gonna be alright, I promise. Just stay here and I'll be back before you know it." He says, caressing your shoulders.

You can only nod, Namjoon nodding back before letting go of you. He begins to walk away, pausing at the door when you call for him.

"Namjoon," You say, watching as he turned towards you. "Please be safe."

He lets out a small smile at this, nodding at you before he rushes out the door. You nervously sigh and walk towards it, quickly locking the door. Once you're sure it's locked, you walk back to the couch and take a seat, anxiously waiting.

Monnie senses your nervousness and softly nudges you with his head, making you glance towards him. You let out a smile when you see him gazing up towards you, paw on your stomach.

"We're going to be just fine," You mumble to him, the words directed more to yourself. "I trust him." You say, hugging the pet close to your chest.

You continue to wait on the couch, unable to let your guard down when you have no clue what may happen next. Suddenly, someone knocks on the door, causing your heart to stop.

Monnie barks, jumping off of your lap to defend you from the person outside. You smile at this, petting him on the head before you anxiously glance towards the door.

"(Y/N)-ah?" A familiar voice asks, causing you to sigh in relief.

You walked up to the door and slowly opened it, relaxing when you see Yoongi standing outside the door. He gives you a warm smile before coming inside and locking the door behind him.

"You okay?" He asks, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder.

You nod, letting out a sigh. "Yeah, just a bit shocked," You respond, "Everything just happened so quickly—I didn't have much time to process any of it."

Yoongi nods, patting your shoulder before placing it in his pocket. "Don't worry, we have the man in captive already. They're just bringing him downstairs to the basement." He explains, reassuring you.

You inwardly shudder at his remark, knowing fully well what the basement was for. For obvious reasons, you had never been there yourself. But, that didn't stop you from hearing multiple stories about it—even before you moved in with Bangtan.

"Is Namjoon okay?" You ask, recalling he went down to check on everyone.

"He's fine," Yoongi responds, "In fact, the only reason why he didn't come upstairs himself was because he still needed to speak to the guards downstairs with Jungkook."

When he hears you sigh in relief, a teasing smile creeps onto Yoongi's face. You see his expression and tilt your head, looking at him questionably.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" You ask, slightly confused.

He simply chuckles, "You were worried about him, weren't you?" He asks, making you furrow your eyebrows.

"Of course I was worried, he's my husband, Yoongi." You respond in disbelief.

But Yoongi shakes his head, squinting his eyes at you. "It's more than that though," He says, "Don't think for a second that we haven't noticed how much time you've been spending with our leader lately. Not to mention, the fact that he's always with you in the garden now when he used to shudder at the mere idea of even touching grass."

You blink at this, not knowing what to say. Yoongi sees this and lets out a laugh, shrugging his shoulders. "I'm just saying, it's nice to see that you two seem to finally be getting to know one another. Namjoon needs someone like you to keep him steady." He says, giving you a pat on the head.

You simply smile at his remark when suddenly, before either of you could react, a loud bang is heard from a few rooms away. Yoongi quickly furrows his eyebrows, motioning for you to move away from the door.

"Don't say anything." He mouths to you before pointing to Namjoon's desk.

You swallow nervously and nod, picking Monnie up before quickly taking a seat on Namjoon's leather chair, the table being a considerable distance away from the door. Once Yoongi sees you're seated, he grabs his phone and types a text message before bringing out his gun.

He leans towards the door, trying to listen in for any sounds in the hallway. Then, his phone buzzes. You hold your breath when you see his eyes widen as he accepts the call.

"How did that even happen—no, I'm in Joon's office with (Y/N) right now. Yes, I know, we heard the gun." He says softly before pausing as he listens to the man on the other line.

After hearing what he has to say, Yoongi glances towards you hesitantly and lets out a sigh. "(Y/N)-ah, I'm sorry but they need me in the other room." He says, frowning at you. "I'll be right back, okay? Keep the door locked and don't let anyone in."

"I—" You say before pausing as you noticed the urgency in his expression. "Okay, be careful."

He smiles at your remark and nods before walking out of the room, shutting the door behind him. As much as you walk up to the door and lock it, you can't help but sit still in Namjoon's chair, the nervousness taking over your system.

Oh my god—Namjoon. You think to yourself, wondering if he was okay. What if he was hurt?

While you daze out and begin to assume the worst-case scenarios, your hands begin to quiver as the anxiety settles in your stomach.

Unexpectedly, the door in front of you slams open, causing you to shoot up from your seat. Monie whimpers, hiding behind your legs as you both wait for the person to come in.

"(Y/N)? Where are you?" Namjoon asks, making you let out a sigh.

You almost cry from relief when you see him come into the room, watching as his hardened expression softens once he sees you. "Are you alright?" He asks, concern in his tone.

Before you realize it, you run towards Namjoon and tackle him into a hug, burying your face into his chest. He frowns at this, wrapping his arms around your shoulder as he rubs your back.

"I thought something had happened to you." You mumble, causing Namjoon to sigh. "When I heard the gunshot, I just assumed the worst and—"

He cuts you off with a shush, "I'm here now, (Y/N)," He mumbles, "I'm so sorry I had to leave you alone."

You sigh and close your eyes, leaning into his chest while he continues comforting you. After a few moments, once you're more calmed down, you slowly pull away from him, feeling his hands remain on your lower back.

"You're sure you aren't hurt anywhere?" You ask, gazing up at him.

Namjoon gives you a small smile and nods, "Yes," He responds, gazing at you comfortingly. "I'm sure."

You let out another sigh at this, hands dropping to his chest as you shake your head. He sees your expression and gently brings your chin up to face him again.

"The gun didn't hit anyone, don't worry. There was an attempt, but—thank god no one got hurt." He explains, "The moment I heard the gun from downstairs, shit—I just ran up immediately. I thought something might have happened to you."

Upon hearing Namjoon's exasperated words, your heart warms as you as realize he cared about you just as much as you did for him. You slowly wrap your arms around his neck and bring him in for another hug, making him smile.

"Thank you for being here," You mumble, "for checking up on me right away."

Namjoon places his chin onto your shoulder and wraps his arms around your waist, "No problem, (Y/N)," He says, "I'm always going to be here to protect you."

As the two of you enjoy one another's embrace, you're cut short from your trance as you hear a familiar dog bark from beneath you two. You and Namjoon both pull away from one another, smiling at Monnie who was looking at you two from the ground.

"Ah, and how could we forget about Monnie?" Namjoon teasingly says, causing you both to let out laughs.

1K notes View Post

that-jax

3 years ago

Not Your Wife [Aaron Hotchner]

Pairings: Aaron Hotchner x fem!Reader

Characters: Aaron Hotchner, Derek Morgan, Penelope Garcia, Jennifer "JJ" Jareau, Jason Gideon, Spencer Reid

Words: 11.6K

Summary: They say in college you can find many things, but the most important thing you found was your best friend

Warnings: Typical Criminal Minds violence, vague descriptions of murder scenes, swearing, some allusions to sex, non-sexual nudity, alcohol consumption, nightmares

A/N: Oh my God! I am so excited to finally post my first technically second Criminal Minds fic and honestly, I'm planning for it to be the first of many. Please let me know what you think in the comments! I'm always looking for feedback and I can't wait to give you guys more Hotch content :)

First day of class, freshman year. A new start at a new school with new people and new classes. It was just the kind of revamp you needed to start your adult life. No more taking math because it was required, no more stupid group projects (you hoped at least those seemed to follow you wherever you went) and most importantly you wouldn’t have to see even one person in your graduating class.

With much excitement you entered your first class, taking a seat upfront, there was no way you would risk not being able to see the notes on day one.

Seemed as though someone else was of a similar mind to you, picking the seat right next to yours and pulling out a notebook and pens.

From first glance you could tell he was organized, dressed casually but nicely, his raven-coloured hair combed and styled. Yet he didn’t say one word to you even after getting his things set up.

“Not good at starting conversations?” you asked and his head shot up.

“Hmm, oh sorry,” he apologized. “Guess my mind was wandering a bit,”

“First day jitters, count me in on that one,” you nodded. “You're not from around here?”

“No, but I’d venture a guess and say neither are you,”

“That would be correct,” you said, taking a sharp inhale, but stretched your hand out towards him. “I’m (Y/N),”

He took it and his lips quirked up slightly, “Aaron,”

“Aaron, sounds like a debate team name, were you on the debate team?”

The boy scrunched up his nose like he didn’t want to admit you were right and you smiled triumphantly, pointing a victorious finger at him.

“I knew it! You totally were,”

“Am I really that easy to read?” he asked.

You leaned back in your seat, looking over into his soft brown eyes,

“I mean isn't that why we’re taking the class? To learn to read people? Understand how their minds work?”

“Okay now this is just a shot in the dark but are you a psych major?” he asked sarcastically and you rolled your eyes.

“And you’re not?”

“Haven’t declared yet, we’ll see,” he shrugged. “Might drop the class cause I have a really annoying seatmate,”

“Wow, real smooth Aaron, first day and you’re already picking on people,” you rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help but let out a chuckle, he followed your lead.

The class slowly filled up with more students and when the short arm of the clock hit 11 the teacher didn’t waste a second to start his lecture.

Aaron may have been organized, but behind that exterior was someone with a cheeky and mischievous spirit. In the middle of the lecture, not really a portion that one would need to pay attention to, the teacher had gone off on a tangent, he scribbled something on a piece of paper in his notebook and passed it off to you.

You looked at him curiously, taking the paper from between his fingers and unfolding it to read what it said.

Pick a person and make them a backstory if this guy talks about his racist aunt in Italy for one more second I might die

You tried to hold back a chuckle, turning over the paper and writing

Guy in the red shirt, middle row, got here on a football scholarship and is only taking the class so it can keep his GPA high

You tried to furtively slip the paper back to Aaron and he took it, giving it a read and glanced in the direction you discreetly pointed to with your finger before doing the same thing he had instructed you to do.

By the end of class that seemed to be all you were doing and you missed half the notes as a result. The teacher dismissed you all and you were packing up your bag with your textbook and notes.

“Well, I missed half the class thanks to you Aaron, that might be worse than a group project,”

“You have no regrets, I see it in your eyes,” he retorted.

“Fine, but you owe me,” you said, taking his pen from behind his ear and grabbing his notebook, opening to the first page and scribbling down your name, phone number, and apartment building. “Be there at eight o’clock, I can order pizza and we can go over what we missed together. Deal?”

Aaron smiled and nodded.

“You got a deal (Y/N),”

—

“Aaron Hotchner this is all your fault!” you exclaimed, walking straight into the apartment and tossing down a transcript on the table.

Aaron peeked his head out from the washroom and came into the living room wearing a pair of pants, no shirt and a towel in his hands to dry his dripping wet hair.

“Let me see that,” he reached his hand out and you picked up the transcript, putting it in his hand. “(Y/N),” his eyes looked up at you, head still tilted down towards the paper. “These are A’s,” he noted. “Most people would say that a good thing,”

“Yeah not me,” you grumbled.

“I don’t think I’ll ever understand you,” he shook his head, then proceeded to continue to dry his hair with the towel, its normal neat appearance nowhere to be seen.

“It’s my parents,” you said finally. “They’re going to want me to move back now that my grades are good… because it’ll be ‘easier’ to transfer into the big shot university,”

“Do you want to go back home?” he asked, his face trying to block out any emotions of disdain, but it was still obvious enough for you.

“Not in the slightest,” you shook your head. “Can't leave you here alone can I?” you pressed your lips in a thin line and nodded.

“Just um...can you give me one second?”

You nodded and Aaron jogged over to his room, grabbing a t-shirt and slipping it on and then going into his closet and pulling off his high school grad sweater from the hanger. It had only been two years since he graduated but the sweater was already well-loved because it seemed to have passed hands frequently, it was just as much yours as it was his.

He came back out of the room, the sweater in his hands. He glanced down at the embroidery and the school logo before reaching out and handing it to you.

“If you leave you’re probably gonna need something to keep you warm on the plane,” he said. “Go on (Y/N) I know you want it,”

You ignored the sweater in his hands, instead, rushed into his arms and allowed him to pull you into a tight hug.

“You’re gonna help me find a way to say right?” you whispered.

“Of course,” he nodded. “How else am I supposed to get through studying for McClerick’s midterm next year?”

“I’m sure you would do fine without me Mr. I’m gonna be a lawyer,” you poked. “I’m pretty sure your grades are good enough that they’d just let you into law school now,”

“Still got a little ways to go,” he chuckled. He was about to pull away but you squeezed him a little tighter.

“Not yet,” you shook your head. “Just a little longer,”

He nodded and tightened his grip around you again, pressing a kiss to the side of your head.

“Alright, come one, we had plans tonight, the semester’s over we need a break,”

“Aaron Hotchner needs a break? Sounds like bullshit,” you shook your head. “More like I need a break and you’re humouring me,”

“That would be correct, I have an evaluation for some higher-level courses in a few weeks, but that can wait for a night,”

“You see this,” you poked him in the shoulder, “This is why we’re best friends,”

“Because I forsake my studying for you?”

You nodded, linking your arm with his and dragging him out the door, “Yeah for you that’s the highest honour,”

He let out a small chuckle and nodded his head.

“And for that, I’ll let you chose the movie,”

Aaron grinned triumphantly, already knowing what he was going to pick, you missed his little smile and were instead paying attention to the directions to get to the nearest Blockbuster.

When you entered the store he broke away from you, heading straight for the action/adventure aisle and scanning around for his favourite movie.

“You know if you pick that one you’re gonna have to wear the hat,” you pointed to him while looking for some snacks and treats to buy.

“Hat or no hat, we’re watching it,” he came back, with two movies in hand, “And the second one if we have time,”

“We just got the third one too kid, haven’t brought it out from the back yet,”

“Really?” Aaron’s eyes lit up. He turned over to you, as if to ask permission to get the third installment in the series.

“Oh go on,” you rolled your eyes and he did a small victory dance in his spot while the cashier went to the back to go grab the movie. “What is it with you and Indiana Jones, I mean they’re no Star Wars…”

“Don’t even start (N/N),” he pointed warningly at you. “You’re telling me you never wanted to go off to different countries and look for buried treasure?”

“Nah I’d rather fight my dad in space with a lightsaber,” you retorted and he let a snort slip past before you both burst out laughing.

“Alright, Raiders of the Lost Ark, Temple of Doom, and The Last Crusade,” the man rang the three through the till along with your snacks. “And you guys college students?’ he asked.

You and Aaron both nodded.

“We’ve got a discount going on, if you can show me your student card I can give you 25% off,”

“And that’s why I carry this bad boy around,” Aaron looked at you knowingly while pulling the card out of his wallet.

“Oh this bad boy,” you picked up the card before the cashier could, pointing to the image on the card.

He had decided when it was time to go in for photos that it would be best to wear a white collared shirt with a red tie, his glasses that he rarely even wore to class and that wasn’t the half of it. The photographer had snapped the photo before he even gave him the chance to do a proper smile and his hair, well that was another story. It was at that awkward point where it was longer than he normally wore it, but not long enough to merit a cut. Maybe that time it did though because now that look was completely immortalized in that photo.

“What! The outfit is smart,” he huffed, and snatched the card back from you and gave it to the cashier who tried his best not to snort at the image.

“See, even Mark can’t keep it together, you look ridiculous, honey,”

Aaron sighed and you wrapped an arm around his shoulder, taking the bag from Mark and paying for your stuff before going back to the apartment.

Aaron set up the TV while you went in search of the hat.

“Aaron where did you put it?” you asked, scouring his room for some sign of the hat.

“Check the back of the closet under my hopes and dreams,”

“Oh stop being so dramati-found it!” you exclaimed excitedly, running back out to the small living room and placing the hat delicately on his head. “There we go, now you’re really Indiana Jones,”

He looked at you from underneath the rim of the hat and you tried to hide the grin that was coming across your face, but it was proving to be quite the challenge. And for a short moment, you forgot that all this might be over soon. You would be back home, studying at the humongous university your parents wanted you to go to. Right now it was just you and Aaron, two best friends doing stupid things and you never wanted that to change.

—

“Oh my God! Oh my God!”

“Aaron did you-?”

“I got them!” he put down the phone on the table. “I won the tickets!”

“No way,” your face lit up with excitement.

After five hours on the phone and a lucky answer to a radio host's question, you were both the very happy owners of tickets to see Dire Straits, in concert, live. It was going to be your last big blowout before the school year started. A celebration of you being able to stay, finish your junior and senior year together. All in all, it was going to be a blast.

The night was filled with loud amazing music and you didn’t think you had ever seen Aaron smile that wide. You had the unfortunate affliction of being shorter than the people in front of you and it was quite tricky to see the stage, but as usual, Aaron came to your aid, somehow, despite the lack of room, getting you on his shoulders so you could clearly see the band as they performed on stage.

“Have you been lifting?” you asked with a laugh as he rolled his eyes.

“Maybe,” he shrugged and slapped his arm lightly.

The song ended and they started to transition to the next one and you both recognized it immediately.

“This is our song!” you exclaimed.

The smooth guitar, bass, and keyboard filled the stadium and you carefully rested your hands on Aaron’s head, your chin placed on top of them. He squeezed your legs gently where he held them and if you closed your eyes and concentrated enough you could hear him singing along softly, a couple of beers he had probably aiding his confidence to let the song slip past his lips.

You had never seen him sing sober, mainly because he refused to, but every time you got the chance to see him let loose you savoured it. He was strung up too tight for his own good.

It was a wonderful close to the evening, almost too quiet and calm for a concert, but you were both still on that high as you drove to the motel.

“That. Was. Awesome!” you grinned as you stumbled into the room.

“I didn’t think it would ever happen but it did,” Aaron shook his head in disbelief. “I want to keep listening to their music like it’s playing over and over in my head,”

“Lucky for you I brought this,” you grabbed your stereo from your bag with some CDs.

“Oh you’re the best (N/N),” he hugged you and kissed your forehead.

“Ew you’re all sweaty,” you laughed.

“So are you!”

“Which is why I’m taking a shower,” you noted. “Don't break my stereo or scratch my CDs,” you warned.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,”

Aaron set up some music while you grabbed some pyjamas and went into the washroom to rinse off. For a moment you were a little concerned as the volume got louder thinking he had turned it up (it was already late you didn’t need to get yelled at) but when you saw the shadow on the other side of the curtain you peeked past and saw the door was open and Aaron was looking for something by the sink.

“Aaron! I’m trying to take a shower! A little privacy maybe?”

“Eh nothing I haven’t seen before,” he waved you off dismissively and you reached out to slap him while calling him an asshole. He chuckled, knowing he was right and you huffed under the water and turned it off reaching out to him.

“Towel please,”

He passed you the towel and you wrapped it around yourself, hopping out of the shower and joining him in brushing your teeth so you could get ready for bed.

It was cheaper to get a room with one bed and on a college student’s budget, it worked best for the both of you to split the cost of one room rather than two (or one with two beds for that matter, textbooks were expensive).

So a good fifteen minutes later, the music was turned off, Aaron was out of the shower and you were both under the covers of the bed, squirming around and trying to find a comfortable position.

“(Y/N) stop kicking me,” he whined while you pushed away from him.

“You’re like five hundred degrees, seriously I’m gonna burn up if I touch you,” you fired back.

“Stop taking all the blankets!”

You groaned and gave up, lay off on your back and stopped pulling the blankets, having Aaron tug a little too hard and fall off the side of the bed.

“This is what we get for being on a college student’s budget,” he groaned.

You sat up on the bed and gave him a hand that he used to pull himself back up, sneaking under the covers and wrapping an arm around your waist, pulling your back to his chest.

“I know you get cold at night, maybe being five hundred degrees isn’t so bad then,” he mumbled and you smiled softly to yourself, not wanting to admit it, but the nights you slept best were the nights where he was by your side, there was no doubt about it.

—

You chewed the inside of your cheek, sitting across from Aaron on the couch,

“Okay I didn’t want to tell you because I thought you might get mad,” you explained.

“Mad about what?”

“You know how you’re moving back to Virginia. To go to law school?”

He nodded his head, “I wasn’t really sure what I wanted to do, but then I figured teaching might be a good run for me, so I applied to do my joint graduate and Ph.D. studies at the University of Virginia, and I was looking for work so I could make myself of some use… I didn’t really think anything would come up from it, but,” you handed him the envelope, a job offer as a consultant with the BAU. “I’d work with the FBI so I guess that might mean we could work together, who knows maybe I’ll bring you over to the dark side,” you joked nervously.

“Why would I be mad?” he smiled. “(Y/N) we could work together, be on the same campus, but wait-I thought you didn’t like profiling?”

“No see that’s where you were mistaken,” you chuckled. “But you sure you’re okay with this I don’t want it to feel like I’m pushing on your school or-,”

“(Y/N) are you even listening to yourself, we’ve been trying to find a way to stay in contact after graduation, you don’t think living in the same city might do the trick?”

“So you think I should accept it then?”

“For completely selfish reason yes,” he nodded, “Please accept it,”

You laughed softly to yourself, you hoped he would never change.

“I will,” you said but raised your brows. “On one condition,”

“(Y/N) I swear to-,”

“You have to take the night off to celebrate with me. It’s been four years Aaron come on you deserve a night to yourself,”

“A night to myself would be going to bed early, a night with you is a very different story,”

You rolled your eyes and stood up, headed for the kitchen and grabbing two beers from the fridge.

“Come on, do you want me to take the job or not?”

He pressed his lips together and reached out a hand for the drink, silently agreed to the deal you practically forced him to take.

Aaron was rarely a heavy drinker, tonight not being one of the nights that he indulged himself, instead, watching you down drink after drink with amazement just as to how much your personality seemed to be accentuated by the alcohol.

He was slightly buzzed, just at that point where the night might feel a bit like a hallucination, but still lucid enough.

You on the other hand were a sight to see.

“I cannot be-lieve I dropped my parents for you, how goddamn baller is that?!” you exclaimed, stumbling over to the couch and pointing at him with your beer bottle in hand. “See that’s friendship Hotchner,”

“Sure is,” he chuckled with a nod, sipping some more of the alcoholic beverage.

“I bet when ya go to lawyer school everyone’s gonna call ya Hotch,” you said. “Watch me, I’ll be right,”

“Hotch,” he hummed. “That’s not bad, I don’t mind that,”

“But I’ll still call you Aaron,” you poked his nose with a giggle, that made him smile.

“And I wouldn’t want you to call me anything else (N/N), you hear?”

“Mhmm,” you sighed loudly, “Aaron I wanna do something,” you whined.

“What do you wanna do (Y/N)? You’re drunk off your ass, I’m too buzzed to drive,” he listed the facts.

“Wait a sec,” you grinned wildly, standing up and running to his room, stumbling all the way there and coming out with a familiar hat. “You wanna know what I can do now cause of you?”

“What?” he asked, leaning forward.

“I could probably recite half of Indiana Jones by heart, I think I know all of Marion’s lines,”

“Well I know almost all of Indiana’s, prove it,” he dared.

“Okay, my scene though,” you said, tossing him the hat. “They’re in the boat, right before the Nazis get there. All alone in the room,”

Aaron put on the hat sitting on the couch, watching as you walked over to him, coming to his side.

“Wait...I don’t need any help,” he quoted from the movie, wanting to see how well you delivered the lines.

“You know you do,” you insisted, leaning forward slightly. “You’re not the man I knew ten years ago,”

“It’s not the years honey, it’s the mileage,” he watched as she reached out to lay him back on the couch so she could pretend to take care of his wounds.

“You are-,”

“Please I don’t need a nurse,” he was practically smirking, watching the look in your eyes, so determined to deliver the scene exactly as it was shown. “I just want to sleep,”

“Don’t be such a baby,” you pressed, a hand on his chest.

“(Y/N) leave me alone,” he slipped up, using your name instead of that of the character.

“What’s this here,” you pointed to a spot on his collarbone. In the movie, Indiana sported a cut and bruise there.

“Go away, ah! Yes, it hurts,” Aaron hissed, the inflections practically ingrained into his mind. “Ow!”

“Well, goddamn it Indy! Where doesn’t it hurt!?”

Aaron’s voice was caught in his throat, he knew what came next, were you...were you really going to do it?

“Here,” he pointed to his temple, you leaned in and pressed a soft kiss there. “Here,” he pointed again to another spot. “Here’s not too bad,” his voice stretched into a whisper, your lips against his jaw.

You moved away, waiting for him to give the last sign, and he did, pointing to his lips and mouthing ‘here’.

You leaned in, and unlike the movie your lips only ghosted his, leaving him with the faint taste of beer and an imprint. The faintest imprint of you.

He would close his eyes, almost squeezing them so tight hoping that maybe it would help him feel them more, but they remained the ghost of a touch that pulled away.

“See I told you,” you grinned, pulling away from him. “And that’s all thanks to you. I’ve probably watched that movie thirty times in the past four years. Hell Mark even gave us a copy after we rented it for like the fifteenth time,”

Aaron gave you a smile, it was small but a smile no less.

“I-I’m a bit tired,” he noted. “I think I might head to sleep. You should stay the night though I don’t want you walking home like this okay?”

You nodded. “I’ll take the guest bedroom. Probably about time I hit the hay too,”

You wrapped your arms around him one more time before making your exit to the room, leaving Aaron alone with a memory that would turn into a faint fever dream. Something he never realized actually happened.

—

“Okay we’re gonna need all hands on deck for this case,” Aaron noted, placing the files on the table.

“Does that mean-,”

“That Dr. (L/N) is in the house? I think yes,” you grinned, walking into the conference room through the door, high-fiving Morgan underneath the table before making your way to your best friend and pressing a kiss hello to his cheek.

“(Y/N) come on we’re at work,” he nudged you.

“Then call me Doctor, Agent,” you raised your brows and the group let out some chuckles and a few eye rolls.

“What’s it gonna take for you guys to just get over yourself and bang it out? You’re practically an old married couple already,” Garcia wiggled her eyebrows and twiddled her pen between her fingers.

“Guys,” Aaron said warningly. “We need to focus,”

While he turned around to face the board you motioned at them to play nice pointing to your bag to say that you had something to show them later.

That was probably half the reason they loved you so much, every single time you came to help with a case, without fail, you would bring along either an embarrassing story or memento from your college days, making SSA Hotchner just a little less serious.

The case was big, that was for sure. A lot of victims which is probably why they needed more help, if things were disorganized it was harder to find a connection, a link in the victimology.

In the beginning, everyone was motivated, ready to get some new information, brains buzzing with thoughts, but by the evening when it seemed things were getting nowhere was when it hit hard. They needed a little boost in morale and you knew just how to give it to them.

Since the case was out of D.C. you stayed at the BAU office in Virginia. Everyone, besides Aaron and Gideon, was gathered in the conference room, tiredly flipping through numerous files and making notes.

“Hey guys,” you said quietly, passing around some coffee and tea.

“Why are we whispering?” Morgan queried in a soft voice.

“Glad you asked Derek,” you grinned, pulling out a card from your purse and placing it on the table. “Pretty sure this was during sophomore year student card, poor Aaron thought he was looking good,” you chuckled.

“Hotch wore glasses?!” Garcia gasped, grabbing the card while the others also fought for a look.

There were soft chuckled and giggles pointing to the image until there were shushes and you sighed,

“He’s right behind me isn’t he,”

They nodded and before anyone could act he came up to them and grabbed the card out of Morgan’s hand giving you a pointed look, his eyebrows in that signature furrowed expression on his face.

“This, seriously (Y/N),”

You couldn’t hide your smile, simply shrugging,

“They needed a bit of a pick me up,” you said simply.

“I didn’t know you wore glasses,” Reid piped up.

You could tell Aaron was biting back a smile, trying not to show how stupid he thought he looked, but then again you always did have a knack for profiling him.

“I did, got contacts the year after,” he explained. Looking quickly at the group then at you he sighed, knowing what he had to do, “You guys promise it’s gonna motivate you and you won’t get sidetracked?”

Everyone seemed to nod their heads vigorously while his hold lingered a while longer, tracing the edges of the ID.

He placed the card back on the table, sliding it over to the group before walking towards the door with a faint smile on his lips.

You stopped him quickly, giving him a look before he simply turned his head to the group of smiling profilers. It was a hard job, they would take a moment of laughter where they could get it and he wasn’t about to take that away from them.

The years working had changed you both, some for the better and maybe others for worse. For one Aaron’s strings seemed to be strung up even tighter than before. He found it hard to relax almost always on edge, thinking about what was to come next, the next case, his next steps. But every once in a while the kid you knew back in college would come out to say hello and you felt lucky that it was always when you were around. You brought out his young side, reminding him of where he came from, the intro psych class that started it all.

While everyone had their focus drawn back to the files, his card sitting on the centre of the table you quickly pushed yourself up on the top of your toes and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek.

“Don’t work too hard. Okay, Aaron?”

“No promises (N/N),” he placed a hand on your shoulder and squeezed it before leaving the room and going back to his office to make some calls.

You let out an exhale before joining in on reading the files. It was going to be a long night.

—

“Are you sure this is how you want to spend your time off? Didn’t your sister invite you to go to Barbados with her?” Aaron asked while carrying a few boxes from the garage to the living room.

“Nah we both know when she says that my parents will be there and then that’ll just ruin my vacation,” you shook your head. “Plus we both know you are not getting any of this done without my help,” you motioned to the boxes of old things littered across the living room. You might say he was a borderline organized hoarder but you knew better than that. He was just more sentimental than he let on and each little trinket had some special meaning.

Music was playing softly in the background while you practically forced Aaron to get rid of some piece of trash from high school that he insisted was important for some reason or another.

“Oh Aaron we’re keeping this,” you grinned, pulling out a very familiar hat that had not surfaced in a while.

“What do you mean we (Y/N) this is all my-Nooo,” his jaw dropped as he caught sight of the cowboy hat, his protest elongated in surprise making you almost fall over in a fit of laughter.

“Come on SSA Hotchner I know the kid in you loves it,”

You spun the hat on your finger before jumping onto and over the couch to put it on his head before he could protest. He gave you the face he gave the team when he was unimpressed with their shenanigans and you scrunched up your nose in delight, he almost looked like the kid who became your best friend, sending you back ages.

“Oh look at you,” you grinned, holding his face in your hands as you stood taller than him on the couch.

“Not impressed,” he said simply and you just waved him off with a roll of your eyes.

“Aaron you’re so serious! Loosen up a bit!”

“I am not!” he retorted as you stepped away.

“Are too,” you stuck your tongue out childishly at him.

“I can be loose, I’m not uptight,” he muttered to himself, taking off the hat and placing it on the couch.

“Then prove it,” you raised your brows, making your way over to the stereo and flipping the track until it reached the song you were looking for, your song. “Sing it Hotch,”

The man shook his head and you nodded yours as if you knew that’s what was coming. You turned around to pick up another box but stopped when the music transitioned into the lyrics and you could hear Aaron’s voice, clear as day along with the lead singer of his favourite band.

“I wonder where you are tonight, you’re probably on the rampage somewhere. You have been known to take delight, getting in somebody’s hair. You always had the knack… Fade to black,”

You spun around, a bright smile on your face as you saw him with a duster in his hand, being used as some sort of mock microphone. He tossed it aside and motioned for you to come closer, taking your hand in his, spinning you around so your back was pressed against his chest, arms crossed as he held your hands to your waist, swaying side to side as he continued to sing.

The amount of surprise in your expression probably couldn’t be put into words, it was rare to hear him sing even with a few shots of tequila in him first. He must have really wanted to prove you wrong.

You had danced with him before, you were friends, it was something you had done on many occasions, but for some reason, this time around it felt more personal. He was holding you the way you had seen him hold his girlfriends, singing your song quietly in your ear, doing all this for you.

And maybe you felt a twinge of jealousy, all those girls who got to be near him, hold him, kiss him. They got to experience that other side and a part of you wanted that badly because deep down you knew Garcia was right, you were like an old married couple. All those girls got a piece of him while you were just his best friend. Just the person that took care of him, just the person that loved him unconditionally. At least for now (as in the past seven to ten years), Aaron wasn’t focused on dating, not when work took over his life.

You leaned into him, only a little bit more, wanting to savour the feeling of being close to him.

His voice faded away but the music kept going for a while longer and you couldn’t help but let out a half-hearted chuckle.

“What? Was I off-key?”

“Nope, just think maybe you should have been in musical theatre, I would pay to see you on Broadway,” you teased and he didn’t even wait a moment to squeeze the sensitive part of your waist making you squirm. “Aaron! Don’t taser me!”

“You asked for it,” he said in a sing-song voice and you managed to twirl yourself back around, accidentally pushing yourself into his chest and sending you both down on the couch, laughter echoing around you.

You laid your forehead down on his chest and sighed while he gently rubbed your back, moments like these being those things that kept you both going when work got tough when it seemed like there was no more good in the world.

Because even when the world got you down you still had your Indiana Jones.

—

You woke up abruptly, a scream caught in your throat as you pushed yourself up on the bed, clutching the duvet covers until your knuckles went pale.

Your mind was racing, not wanting to come down from the nightmare, images, words still flashing through your mind, voices in your head that would only get louder, and louder, and louder.

With a shaky breath you grabbed your phone and keys, and a hoodie, you didn’t even realize it but it was the one Aaron had given you, his high school grad hoodie.

Your body seemed to be on autopilot, driving a few blocks away from your townhouse and parking your car in front of another set of doors.

Climbing out you knocked lightly, as if you were hesitant about what you were doing, your hands gripping onto your arms as you shook, a little too violently for the warm summer night.

You didn’t hear a sound coming from inside so you raised your hand again to knock, more assured, but the door swung open, revealing a confused and tired Aaron wearing only a concert t-shirt and a pair of boxer shorts whose face immediately softened when he saw the state you were in.

“I-I-,”

“Shh it’s okay,” he assured you. “Come here sweetheart,”

You walked into his open arms, letting him tuck you under one shoulder as he closed the door before wrapping the other around you and letting your tears soak his shirt.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked and you shook your head desperately.

You all wanted to say the job didn’t get to you, it didn’t upset you, but there were always those triggers, those things that would set you off, eat at your very core. And no matter how close you and Aaron were sometimes you needed to keep that to yourself. He understood that.

But after a few minutes of just standing there and letting you hold him, he decided you needed to get back to bed, there was no point in fighting the exhaustion. So he took your arms from around his waist and wrapped them around his neck, taking hold of your thighs afterwards and picking you up so you were pressed flush against him.

Your legs found a comfortable spot wrapped around him and resting on top of his hips while he walked up the stairs, holding you like a child.

You thought he might take you to the guest room you normally stayed in when it was late, but he headed straight for his room, the covers already pulled back on his bed when he laid you down and climbed over you to the other side, turning off the bedside lamp.

Even though it was especially warm for a night outside, Aaron’s home was freezing (probably because he was always overheating), so he came close and wrapped his arms around you, your legs tangled together in a mess like things on the forest floor. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, squeezing you tightly as he whispered,

“You’re gonna be alright. I’m here. I’ve got you,”

Over and over again until the words were stuck in your mind and all you could say to yourself.

You were gonna be alright. Aaron was there. He had you.

And you said it to yourself over and over until you believed it, or believed it enough to fall back asleep.

—

“Hey Aaron, what’s up?” you asked, pressing your cell phone to your ear the next day. Your students had just left your classroom and you were done for the week, but if Aaron was calling that probably wouldn’t be the case.

“Are you feeling better?” he asked and you took a deep breath and nodded,

“Yeah, I’m alright,”

“Good, good…” he trailed off. “Um we have a case, it’s in Denver. The higher-ups are wondering if you might come with,”

“Yeah sure, I’ll grab my bag and meet you guys at the airport,” you confirmed. “Aaron,” you started.

“Yes (N/N)?”

“Have you eaten anything today?”

You swore you heard a snort on the other end of the line, and you knew that was only because you were definitely 100% right.

“Aaron you’ve got to stop skipping breakfast, coffee on an empty stomach isn’t good,” you mumbled practically to yourself, grabbing your bag and slinging it over your shoulder. “I’m picking you something up on the way there okay?”

“Okay,” he nodded.

“And no more coffee until the plane,”

He sighed loudly and you mocked him by repeating the sound, “I’ll see you, Aaron, don’t take too long,”

Hanging up the phone you made your way to your car, stopping by a Dunkin Donuts and grabbing some iced coffees for everyone plus breakfast for Aaron.

You were first to the airport (as usual the university was closer to it than the office), and made yourself comfortable on the jet. Around ten minutes later the rest of the team came up and hellos and case files were passed around.

You motioned for Aaron to sit in the seat next to you, grabbing the bag of food and placing it in front of him.

“Eat Hotchner,” you instructed and he peeked into the bag with a slight frown and you held up another bag and showed him. “Eat the food first then you can have a donut and coffee,”

“Oh my God Mrs. Hotchner much,” Morgan chuckled.

“What? He doesn’t take care of himself, someone has to,” you rolled your eyes. “But come on, fill me in what’s the case about,”

“Killer’s targeting married couples,” Aaron said before taking a bite of his bagel. “Oh is this herb and garlic cream cheese?” he asked you quietly and you just patted his back.

“Anything specific that the police have found yet? Like connections between the couples?”

“They’ve all been together since college, but that seems to be the only thing we’ve seen so far,” Morgan explained.

“Did you know that 28% of married couples actually meet in college?” Reid added a small anecdote. “But although the percentage is interestingly high the rate of divorce is also higher between couples who have gotten together in college or high school,”

“But these couples were still together, the ones that managed to stand the test of time,” you noted. “Maybe the unsub’s stressor was a failed relationship, something personal that hit a nerve. If he can’t have it neither can anyone else. I would say it’s safe to rule out a sexual sadist for the time being, especially if there’s no sign of assault on the victims,”

“There’s been very little evidence left at the scene,” Gideon added. “We’ll get a better sense of things when we get there,”

“I’ll take (Y/N) and Morgan to the crime scene. Gideon, you take Reid and JJ to the FBI office and we’ll meet you there,” Aaron instructed and you all nodded.

“Derek, be sure to have Garcia on the line, we might need her to dig up records while we’re there,” you instructed and he gave you a nod.

Aaron nudged your side and you looked over to him, his eyes pointing to the empty paper bag that held the bagel and the muffin.

“You’re such a baby,” you chuckled with a sigh, reaching over to your side and pulling out the, thankfully, still warm coffee along with a donut. “But I got your favourite,”

Aaron opened up the box but glared at you when he saw what was inside.

“Your favourite donut is vanilla glaze with rainbow sprinkles?” Reid asked while the rest of the group tried to stifle chuckles.

“Alright, time for a Hotch story,” you clapped the table and leaned back in your seat while Aaron groaned, it was too early for this. “When Aaron and I were in college he was a perfectionist, still is, I mean look at this little overachiever,” you jokingly pinched his cheek between your finger and he continued to give that look with his furrowed brows. “Anyways, we had this shitty teacher, God I hated her,” you sighed.

“McClerick,” Aaron sighed and you nodded.

“She gave him a C+ on his midterm and he almost lost it. But there was nothing he could do about it so he got piss drunk and ate only,” you grabbed the donut right out of his hand. “You guessed it, donuts with vanilla glaze and rainbow sprinkles,”

“Oh Hotch,” you heard Garcia’s voice over the monitor and you all turned to look at her, sitting in her office. “Honey that can’t be healthy,”

“It wasn’t,” you shook your head. “He got sick and I had to nurse him back to health. Anyways, any important news for us Garcia?”

“Only that I did some more background checks on the victims and it came up that they all went to college in and around Denver,”

“So maybe our unsub has or had connections at the colleges,” Reid commented and you nodded in agreement.

“We’re making our descent so we should be able to get a better sense of things once we hit the crime scene,”

As promised, not before long you were all packed in cars, headed to your respective areas of the city.

The last murder happened in Aurora so straight from the large, albeit, oddly shaped airport you drove into the city and directly to the crime scene. That’s always how it was with the job, no time to get adjusted, just go, go, go.

When you entered the crime scene there was a minimal mess, not a lot of blood spatter, very controlled.

“Unsub used a gun and not a knife, that’s another tick away from a sexual sadist,” Morgan noted. “Most commonly used weapon for them is a knife, blunt force trauma, some way to get their hands dirty, it’s what gives them the release,”

The room was neat, tidy actually, the only spot of displacement being the two dead bodies, one on the bed, the other on the ground, both fully clothed in pyjamas.

You looked through the bookshelves, noticing the many volumes of encyclopedias, books on by-laws, mainly a lot of stuff to do with law, to be honest.

“Hey Morgan, call Garcia and put her on speaker,” you asked and the man obeyed your instructions, holding up the phone for you to hear.

“You’ve reached the goddess of infinite wisdom, how can I assist you mere mortals?” you smiled softly to yourself at Garcia’s classic antics.

“Hey darlin’,” you called over the line. “Can you ring up Josh and Lindsay Hardman for me, I want to see what these guy’s jobs for, hobbies, get a better sense of what we’re looking at,”

“Alright, umm, says here the husband was a lawyer, a prosecutor, and the wife was a professor at the college they graduated from” she started. “Husband liked concerts, classic rock by the looks of it, that's all that’s on his social media. He and his wife seemed close, all of their pictures are together too,”

“Tell me more about the wife,” you asked and you could hear faint clicking on the line before,

“Aha, she was a psych major, teaching master’s classes on abnormal psych,”

You tensed, this felt a little too familiar. A little too close for comfort.

You looked up at Aaron who seemed to have the same feelings as you, then Morgan who was the only person brave enough to say something on the topic.

“Well no one’s saying it so I’m just gonna get it out there… but this sounds like you guys,”

You nodded, taking a deep breath, “I think I need a minute, thanks, Penny,”

“Anytime my love,” she responded and Morgan hung up the phone while you left the room. You could hear Aaron say something to Morgan and soon his footsteps followed you until you reached the car, leaning against it.

“Are you alright?”

“Fine, just needed some air. To clear my head,” you nodded.

There was a moment of silence before he piped up, “You know we’re not really at risk here (Y/N) because we’re-,”

“Not together I know,” you nodded. “Doesn’t mean it isn’t scary as shit when you see a victim that’s just like you,” you admitted. “He’s a lawyer Aaron, a prosecutor who likes classic rock,”

“There are a lot of prosecutors who like classic rock,” he tried to counter, but you shook your head, that wasn’t the point.

“Feel however you want Aaron, but there’s no escaping the truth that either this,” you pointed to the crime scene “this is either a coincidence or we should be legitimately concerned,”

Aaron nodded with a sigh, “You’re sticking with me this case,” he said. “You don’t have the clearance to carry a firearm so I don’t want you out of my sight, understand?”

“Aaron,” you turned to him, “Look at me Aaron, look at me,” you whispered and his eyes finally met yours.

“Don’t keep it in here,” you pointed to his chest. “Do you understand?”

He nodded and quickly turned his head to make sure no one had their eyes on you before gently holding the back of your head and pulling you in so he could press a quick kiss on your forehead. A very minor comfort given the situation, but you were at work, you realized the significance of his actions and you took that to heart.

Morgan came out of the house giving you both a nod saying he’d gotten what he needed and huh could reconvene at the FBI office.

The rest of them were already set up in a conference room, a board with all the details of the victims and what they could currently gather from the unsub.

“This one’s creepy,” Morgan said as you entered the room. “Very very creepy,”

“What do you mean?” Reid asked.

“The victims just have a similar story to Hotch and me that’s all,” you waved them off, not wanting to cause unnecessary worry among team members.

“Maybe that comes to our advantage,” Aaron suggested. “You take the two of us and create some sort of victimology from that,”

“I thought we had a rule,” you whispered to him. “No profiling each other,”

“They’re not profiling us,” he said. “Just trying to get into the unsub’s mind through looking at us,”

“Is that not weird to you?” you asked. “Cause it seems a little weird,”

“We can use it if we have to,” Gideon said, not wanting the conversation to have to go much further. “For now I think our victims will give us plenty of insight into the unsub,”

And so the discussions continued, but you decided to take a step back from the psychology and went to go find JJ, maybe you could be of some assistance to her. You could feel Aaron’s eyes burning into your back as you turned to leave and with a few strides he was blocking you.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“To find JJ, don’t worry I’ll be inside the bureau,” you swallowed thickly. “Drink some water, okay?” you said noticing his dry lips.

“Alright, just check in with me when you’re done,”

You nodded and left the room, seeing JJ in front of a computer speaking with Garcia on the phone no doubt.

“Hey JJ,” you tapped her shoulder and she turned around nodding and putting Garcia on speakerphone.

“Garcia I’ve got (Y/N) here with me,” she said.

“Oh hey sweetheart, you doin' alright?” she asked and you coughed,

“Could be better,”

“Yeah, she was just telling me about the victims, must have been a bit of a spook,” JJ noted.

“It’s definitely uncomfortable,” you nodded. “But I’ve been reminded I am of ‘no real risk’ and you know how I cope with this,”

“You take care of everyone else,” JJ nudged you. “Especially Hotch,”

“You can’t tell me he doesn’t need it though,” you poked.

“Yeah that man can be hopeless sometimes,” Garcia added.

“A little oblivious too,” you chuckled. “For a profiler, that’s a special combination,”

JJ wrapped an arm around your shoulders and gave you a squeeze and you didn’t hesitate to lean into her side. Even though you were older than most in the group you still found a lot of comfort in their company. They were like your younger siblings.

“Do you want me to fight him?” Garcia asked. “Cause I think I could take him,”

“You wish,” you snorted. “He can carry me up a flight of stairs without batting an eyelash,” you said thinking back to last night. “I think you might have a bit more trouble than you think. And it’s alright. I’ll be okay,” you tried to assure them. “I’ll just be Mrs. Hotchner without the tax benefits,”

You figured there wasn’t much use in trying to hide your growing feelings for your best friend, after all, they had been present for some time now and in a room surrounded by some of the best profilers in the world, you wondered if the rest of them caught on, but chose to stay silent. And Aaron, he was another story altogether. For the life of you that was the one part of him, you couldn’t read, so you would just mull over your own love hoping that knowing he loved you as a best friend was enough, even though you had never said it, and neither had he.

“(Y/N),” you could hear Aaron’s voice pulling you out of your thoughts. “I’m going to speak to the victim's parents, are you up to join me?” he asked.

“Yeah, I can come,” you nodded, pushing yourself up. “Bye you two, don’t work too hard,”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, sugar,” Garcia’s voice rang through JJ’s cellphone and you chuckled lightly, taking your place by Aaron’s side and exiting the building and heading for one of the standard-issue SUVs.

You didn’t talk much during the ride, opting for silence with the radio playing in the background. You could sense his eyes flicking to your side often, maybe he wanted to say something, reassure you, but it was possible that part of the reason you were on edge was from your nightmare.

Before you knew it your hand was reaching out to his that was resting on the gear shift. He looked down when he felt the soft touch and carefully lifted his hand and entwined his fingers with yours, placing it on his thigh, his thumb tracing the veins along the back of your hand.

“Aaron, stop frowning,” you said gently. “You’ll get wrinkles,”

“I think it’s a little too late for that,” he joked and you pressed your lips together in a small smile. “You still think I’m handsome though,”

“Very,” you nodded, but you weren’t sure how much of a joke it was. Whether it was the nerdy overprepared college student or the serious Unit Chief, Aaron Hotchner knew how to pull off a look.

“Alright, I can do most of the talking this time around, jump in when you feel comfortable. They’ve already been informed of the murder so at least we won’t be breaking the news,” he instructed and you nodded, finally loosening your grip on his hand and slipping it back into your lap, missing its softness and warmth.

You both left the car and knocked on the door, waiting for the answer. When it came there was a sweet older lady with puffy red eyes. You assumed she had probably been grieving her son and daughter-in-law up until that moment.

“Hello ma’am, I’m SSA Aaron Hotchner and this is Dr. (Y/N) (L/N),” he introduced. “We’re with the FBI, we’ve come to ask you a few questions about your son and daughter-in-law, is that alright?”

“Yes of course,” she sniffed, opening up the door and allowing the two of you to enter the household.

Her husband sat on the couch a box of tissues placed close by and you and Aaron took your seats across from him.

“Can I get you two anything?” she asked.

“Oh no that’s quite alright,” you spoke up. “Your help is more than enough,”

She nodded and took a seat next to her husband, taking a deep breath and nodding her head for you to begin your questions.

“Do you think you could tell us a bit more about Josh and Lindsay?” Aaron asked. “What were they like as people, how did they interact with others,”

“J-Josh was determined,” his father started. “He was a top student through all his studies, that’s how he met Lindsay,”

“Psychology wasn’t his forte but he wanted the class...thought it would help him get into law school,” his mother said. “She tutored him and they became friends. Did everything together,”

“Did they-um did they have many friends? People they interacted with?” you asked.

“Just people from work on both ends, but they enjoyed going out and doing things together, concerts, movies, the likes,”

“And is there anyone you can think that for any reason might wish them harm?” Aaron added.

“No...everyone-everyone loved them,” she choked on her words and it made your heart break.

“I’m sorry,” the husband said. “but I don’t think there’s any other way we can help,”

You nodded and pulled out your card from your pocket.

“If you can think of anything don’t hesitate to call,”

The rest of the day seemed to move by in a blur, and before you knew it you were sitting in your hotel room, a bathrobe wrapped around your body as you relaxed in your chair with a cup of tea.

You could hear the shuffling in the room next to yours along with the sound of papers shuffling, right near the desk. Those walls must have been thin.

You slapped the wall,

“Aaron you better go to sleep right now!” you called and you could almost hear his heavy sigh from the other side.

Grumbling, you pulled out your phone and messaged JJ.

Come to my room I need a drinking buddy.

A few minutes later, there was a knock at your door and expected JJ, but when you opened it you saw Aaron on the other side. Frowning, you looked up at him, then down at your phone.

It seemed like you had texted the wrong number, and instead of a girl's night, you had just cornered yourself in with the person you were trying to get away from.

Well maybe getting away was a little strong.

“So you tell me to go to bed then you text me to come and drink with you. Sending some mixed messages Dr. (L/N),” he raised his brows.

“Just get in here,” you rolled your eyes, and opened the door wider for him to enter.

He came inside, not even hesitating to make himself comfortable on the bed, his back pressed to the headboard and arms crossed over his chest.

His tie and jacket must have been discarded in his room because he only wore his white button-down, the top few undone, and dress pants.

“Alright, pick your poison, it’s on me,” you said, opening the mini-fridge and displaying the alcohol inside.

“Forget the booze (N/N), come here,” he even reached out for you with his hand.

“Why Aaron?” you asked, stepping only to the edge of the bed. He came to meet you, on his knees up to the corner of the mattress. He was still a great deal taller than you,

“Because, you told me not to keep it in here,” he pointed to your chest. “This case...it’s unsettling,” he offered. “And I just want to hold my best friend for a little bit to forget about it,”

Best friend.

There it was again those two words that stung so badly, but the two words you kept clinging onto for dear life because it’s what was holding you to reality.

“Alright,” you caved immediately, “But-,” you said stepping away before he could get you firmly in his hold. You went over to your bag and pulled out the sweater, handing it to him. “Get comfortable first, you’ve been wearing this all day,” you tugged at his shirt.

He untucked his shirt from his pants and undid the buttons, sliding off the material from his arms while you held out the hoodie for him to slip his head into. After all those years it still fit you both surprisingly well.

You took his shirt to put on a hanger and bent down to check and see what pyjamas you had packed when you remembered that they were still in your dryer in the laundry at home.

“Shit,” you muttered.

“What is it?” Aaron asked, coming up to your side.

“I don’t have any clothes to sleep in,” but your eyes flicked to the collared shirt, it would be big and comfortable on you, at least you hoped it would be.

“I saw your eyes (Y/N), do you want to use the shirt?” he asked.

“Well it’s all I’ve got right now isn’t it,” you shrugged. “Go on Hotchner, turn around, nothing to see here,” you added while untying the belt of your robe.

“Nothing I haven’t seen before,” he teased as he obeyed your wishes and you rolled your eyes at his antics. It felt like coming back from the night of the concert all over again.

You slipped off the robe from your shoulders allowing it to drop on the ground while you quickly put on his shirt and buttoned it up, missing the top few just like he had earlier.

Before you could say a word his arms were wrapped around you and you quickly spun around to hold him face to face.

“You always looked nice in my clothes,” he gave you a low chuckle and you savoured the sound. Something you rarely heard anymore.

He pulled you towards the bed, sitting again with his back to the headboard, only this time, he placed you in between his legs while you leaned your back into his chest. Breathing in you could faintly smell his cologne on the shirt of his you wore and before you could even recover from the immensely satisfying feeling it brought you could feel his nose and lips on the top of your head.

You steadied your breathing, mind drifting back to the case for a moment. They said you were safe because you weren’t together, but every single day it felt like you were his wife in every sense but the word.

—

“(Y/N) you’re staying here I don’t have time to argue with you on this!” Aaron was frustrated, no even angry, but you weren’t going to let that stop you from trying one more time.

The unsub had been located, he was holding another couple hostage at the university, he devolved fast, just like you had predicted he would. Despite everything, you thought you could still talk him down. Maybe get him to come in peacefully where no one would have to die.

But Aaron was determined not to let that happen, especially after the letter.

“Aaron listen to me please! I’ve taken so many hostage negotiations courses it would make your law degree look easy, just let me come with you! I’ll wear a vest!”

“(Y/N) he knows who you are,” he said firmly. “Even though whatever is going on in his mind is clearly fractured he was of sound enough mind to target you,” he pointed to your chest, but not in the soft manner he had done only mere nights before. “You’re staying here. That’s it, end of discussion,”

“Aaron-,”

“End of discussion,” he repeated. “In the field, I am your boss, and it’s my job to look out for your safety. I’m not taking this chance (Y/N), do you understand,”

“Yes,” you muttered.

“I said, do you understand?”

“Yes sir,” you spoke up, your mouth going dry and he nodded, walking away from you to get into the car. “Fuck my life,” you said the minute you entered the conference room where JJ was sitting, listening to the chatter going on over the communications.

“That bad huh?”

“I really need to get licensed to carry a gun then maybe he’ll let me fucking do something for once,” you rested your elbows on the table. “I just wanna go home JJ, I’m so tired,” you sighed, resting your head on the wood in defeat.

She placed a comforting hand on your back while you continued to listen in, waiting for more details, listening to what was going on.

But after a certain point, things became fuzzy until the radio clicked and things went silent.

“Did they-?” you asked.

“Everyone’s safe,” she assured you and your heart felt relieved, but that’s when the exhaustion kicked in.

From then until you got onto the jet was muddled. JJ was by your side the entire time making sure you were getting to where you needed to be and the minute you entered the plane and your head hit the couch you were knocked out cold.

“You think I was too hard on her?” Hotch said softly to Morgan who sat next to him, playing a game of solitaire.

“On (Y/N)?” the man bit the inside of his cheek and sighed. “Maybe a little, but I think she understands where it’s coming from,”

“What do you mean where it’s coming from, Morgan I’m her boss-,”

“But you’re also someone who cares for her deeply. You don’t need a profile to see that,” he said firmly. “And she cares for you too, in so many ways Hotch,”

“I know,” Aaron nodded, glancing towards his folded hands in front of him before his eyes flicked to your sleeping frame on the chair. “I know,”

—

When you entered the BAU’s office in Quantico late that night you thought you might see at least a few team members lingering but the only lights that were on were those in Aaron’s office.

You were just there to drop off the files, if you didn’t do it now you would forget later. Entering Aaron’s office, he stood leaning against the front of his desk, glancing down at some papers and scanning them, his eyes running back and forth furiously.

You coughed and he looked up, noticing you were there and immediately put his files down.

“I came to bring these back,” you said. “Before I headed home,”

“Thanks,” he said, taking them from your hands. “You know...about earlier...” he trailed off.

“Yes,” you nodded motioning for him to continue.

“I just,” he chewed on the inside of his bottom lip. “Out there, when we’re out in situations like that, your safety is my top priority,”

Your safety.

Not the teams.

Not his.

Yours.

It sounded like something a spouse would say and before you could even filter what you were saying it came out.

“I’m not your wife Aaron,”

That made him frown. He looked at you curiously, his features softening when he saw the way you looked, almost hurt having to say that.

“W-What prompted you to say that?” he asked, genuinely curious.

You took a deep breath, throwing your hands up in the air and letting them drop to your sides with a shake of your head.

“I don’t know Aaron, you tell me,” you said. “I come and bring you food when you forget to eat, you’re on the other end of the line when I have a nightmare. I make sure you go to sleep early, you try to make sure I don’t die when we’re out there,” you listed. “Doesn’t this all sound to you like something people who are more than best friends would do for each other?”

Aaron listened avidly, hanging on to your every word.

“A-And I don’t know whether you’re trying to make me confused but I don’t understand why you hold me the way you do, why you make me smile, why do you look at me with your eyes shining like that Aaron? Because I keep doing all these things for you, I keep dragging you away from your job every once in a while so you can remember there’s a world out there that’s not filled with murder, and rape and the worst humanity has to offer, but I do all that...I take care of you...I’m your wife in every single way except one,” your lips were trembling at this point and you could see that look in his eyes, the one he got when he wanted to hold you, help you, protect you and say everything would be okay. “Wifes get love, Aaron. And I love you, but do you… do you love me?”

“Of course,” he whispered, without so much as a thought, finally pushing away from the desk, coming to stand in front of you, centimetres away.

You were no stranger to closeness with Aaron Hotchner, but this felt different. Again, it felt more personal. It felt like everything you ever wanted.

His hand came to cradle the side of your face, thumb wiping a tear away from your cheek.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you, that you didn’t know,”

You sniffed, nodding your head, your hands now pressed between your chest and his.

He brought your face closer to his until your foreheads were pressed together before he said,

“I want to say it for you, out loud so you know it,” he started. “And I want to kiss you so I can show it,”

You nodded your head again, feeling his lips brush gently against yours, a faint distant memory coming back from years ago, the taste of beer somehow still present on his tongue, but before he fully pressed his lips to your he whispered,

“I love you,”

And his lips were finally on yours. When they parted you almost whined, but he took your face, cradled in his hands and said it again,

“I love you,”

This time his lips met the corner of your mouth.

“I love you,”

Your cheekbones, two on each side.

“I love you,”

The tip of your nose, making you tilt your head up once more to align his lips with yours.

“I love you,” he said one more time, pressing his lips to yours so firmly it made your knees wobble and go weak.

You and Aaron had always made a good team, this was no exception. His lips moved with yours in such a rhythm, in such synchronicity one would almost think it was rehearsed, but you just knew each other that well. That was part of who you were.

In the end, there were plenty of things you had done and would come to do for Aaron Hotchner, the same from him to you, but by far your most favourite was getting to say I love you.

if you enjoyed this fic please consider reblogging! it's the best way to help creators get exposure!

special thanks to @itsalonglongwaytobasingse and @writingtoforgetreality for helping me with this one and letting me ramble about it 24/7

1K notes View Post

that-jax

2 years ago

— A Short And Casual Genshin Impact Otome Game.

— a short and casual genshin impact otome game.

⟣ 𝕕𝕠𝕨𝕟𝕝𝕠𝕒𝕕 𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖 ⟢

┊ (Windows 🪟, Linux 🐧, or Mac 🍎 only!)

◇ 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬? ◇

Just a simple something I had in mind for a Genshin otome game... I have 0 attention span, 0 time, and 0 knowledge to write and build a full-fledged 3D game with intricate stories, plot, and mechanics. This is just a simple visual novel with a streamlined plot and partial voices. You should be able to complete everything in like... 30 minutes long in total. Might be less, even.

◇ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 ◇

The game will contain the following: established relationship, FLUFF, comfort, lots of pet names, suggestive themes, lots of kissy sounds on some routes, implications of violence (not towards player), a sprinkle of protective behavior

◇ 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 ◇

Zhongli, Xiao, Childe, Diluc, Kaeya, Itto, Kazuha (Zhongli is selected by default because who doesn’t love geo daddy???)

◇ 𝐰𝐡𝐨'𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫? ◇

This is a very self-indulgent project, hence the dialogues were written with fem!player in mind. It will contain suggestive themes, so please be aware of that before downloading / playing!

◇ 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲? ◇

Yes, it's totally free - in fact, I do not accept payment.

◇ 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲? ◇

Click the link to download the appropriate file based on your OS. Only Windows, Linux, and Mac are supported. No, I won't release it on other platforms.

Open the game, and you’ll find that it’s pretty straightforward. Customize your profile, select your love interest, then start the game.

There are no wrong answers and the love interest can be changed anytime (just go back to main menu and select the character’s picture on the right side).

◇ 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐢 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬? ◇

You can personally send links to this post / the game’s itch.io page to your friends via DMs, but outside of that (reposting), NO. For example, posting about this on Reddit is prohibited.

◇ 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞? ◇

This is a super casual project.

Scripts are not proofread. Probably lots of grammar mistakes.

Novel format without narration (full dialogs).

There are no actual sprites, just official art and something akin to a speech bubble to cater to the characters’ changes in ‘expression’.

There are voices, but only partial - mostly just grunts, chuckles, kisses, and stuff. I’m using JP voices EXCEPT for Itto because Max Mittelman is a gem. No, I will not add other languages' voice versions.

Sound cues and voices are quite important for this game so I recommend using headphones.

Depending on when you open the game (morning, afternoon, nighttime, midnight), your currently selected love interest might greet you differently.

To reiterate, there are no wrong answers.

Selecting all talk/act options for a character will unlock a small event where they'll give you unique gifts.

I lowkey have so many ideas on how to expand on this in terms of gameplay and options but let’s be real here it probably won’t happen lol why can’t my brain be this creative when it comes to work

◇ 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐯𝐢𝐫𝐮𝐬??? ◇

No... That said, anyone can literally say that. Please be responsible for your own actions.

I have also released other games on the same itch.io profile, so this isn't my first rodeo. Feel free to check the reviews on those before making your decision if you're wary about downloading!

◇ 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 ◇

hyv please don't sue me i gain 0 dollars for this and i just wanna simp in peace

⟐ 𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚝𝚜 🄸 𝚒𝚝𝚌𝚑.𝚒𝚘 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚎 🄸 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 ⟐

16K notes View Post

that-jax

4 years ago

boys like you (m)

series masterlist!

1.0 | 2.0 |

246 notes View Post

tellluzaboutit liked this · 11 months ago
ourflowersandroses liked this · 2 years ago
iheartyorkshireterriers liked this · 2 years ago
d-e--a-d liked this · 3 years ago
iamcinnamonbun reblogged this · 3 years ago
teenagecollectorarbiter liked this · 3 years ago
what-is-my-life-lmao liked this · 3 years ago
clmbina liked this · 3 years ago

that-jax

Give up on your dreams and die - Levi

283 posts

Explore Tumblr Blog

Search Through Tumblr Tags

I Woke Up In A Cold Sweat At 3 AM And Made This. Even The Hair Is Exactly The Same.

More Posts from That-jax and Others

Imagine a world where, after Tim lost his brother, he went to the Cult of the Lightless Flame for help

Imagine Desolation Avatar Tim, with fire that springs to his fingertips on command, and a disconcertingly amiable personality, kind and charming and so, so similar to our Tim, right up until he sets your house on fire with your children inside

Imagine an Eye avatar Jon who got his powers organically, without meddling from Elias.

Imagine a man conflicted and torn about his actions, orchestrating events where technically, he never directly hurt anyone - think feeding on social anxiety, exposing people’s secrets and feeding on their despair.

After all, if they didn’t want to be his dinner, they shouldn’t have kept secrets, right ? He’s not a bad guy. He’s just…doing all he can

Now imagine a Tim who feeds off of Desolation by following closely behind Jon’s actions.

Oh, Jon revealed that so-and-so was cheating on his wife ? Well, that sounds like a mighty painful experience for the wife. Seems a shame to let all that good fear go to waste, right ? Might as well feed !!

Now imagine Web Avatar Annabelle Cane , watching from the shadows as all this happens.

Perfect deal. Why would Jon go along with it, you ask ? Why would Tim ? Well, if Annabelle conveniently made them forget the meaning of the terms “strip search”, then they have no reason to turn her down, right ?

Seeing how well this turned out, the three decide to make their dynamic a daily thing, each one orchestrating events that let all three feed. True symbiosis

Maybe they find that even more useful and now he’s part of the team too !! Woo gang !! Friends forever !!

Maybe they try to get Flesh Avatar Jared Hopworth in as well, only to realize he’s already made a deal with Hunt Avatar Daisy Tonner - she hunts and kills one out of a pair of travellers, and Jared convinces the survivor to feed on the corpse

Maybe they decide - hey, fuck it - and form an alliance with Slaughter Avatar Melanie King. She kills, and the others feed on the chaos that ensues. Maybe Jared and Daisy get in on it too sometimes - one big happy Avatar family, each one feeding everyone with their actions

And maybe one day Jon has an epiphany - maybe he accidentally hurts someone he cares about or sees the consequences of his actions. Maybe he decides he doesn’t want to be an Avatar anymore

Maybe he runs away from the group. Maybe he goes to the Magnus Institute, using his position as a fellow Eye Avatar to get Elias to help him out

Maybe Elias agrees and sets him up in a small house by the countryside. But wait - unfortunately, he’s going to have to share the space. You see, the Institute recently helped a prized pupil of Peter Lukas escape his grasp

Oh, who ? Why, Lonely Avatar Martin Blackwood of course !!

Sorry, just having thoughts about my Avatar Crew AU. Do y’all want me to write it ? I might

Have We Met Before?

navigation ♡

bonsai | oneshot

Not Your Wife [Aaron Hotchner]

⟣ 𝕕𝕠𝕨𝕟𝕝𝕠𝕒𝕕 𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖 ⟢

boys like you (m)