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nereidprinc3ss · 6 months

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do you believe me now? | 2

in which fem!reader is feeling insecure about how inexperienced she is around spencer's friends and seeks his expertise to amend the problem

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18+ (smut) warnings/tags: inexperienced reader, oral f receiving, (MUNCH!SPENCE RETURNS), fingering, (very) insecure reader, softdom!spencer, sub reader, nipple stuff, kinda sorta implied age gap, god i'm probably forgetting things pls lmk if i missed something important a/n: i've been laboring at this bad boy every day for so long i had to immediately post once it was completed lol. there will be a part three ... maybe i already started it ..... anyway i love u guys and i hope this is a satisfactory part two!! PLS lmk if you liked it!! hearing from u makes my day :')

When Spencer dropped you off at Penelope’s apartment for your first girl’s night—the hostess had promised you, JJ, and Emily lots of gossip sans 'icky men'—you had been ecstatic. You wouldn’t stop rambling to him about how excited you were.

When he picks you up two and a half hours later, he can hardly get a word out of you.

It’s not his fault, of course—well, not really, anyway. It’s just that all the girls had wanted to talk about was sex. A topic on which you held very little expertise and had essentially nothing to contribute. Out of the four, you were the only non-FBI agent, the youngest, and undoubtedly the least experienced. It was like high school all over again, except you actually desperately wanted to impress Spencer’s friends. All in all, you weaseled your way out of sharing without giving away that you were still very much a virgin. Sure, you could have said ‘we did hand stuff two weeks ago’, but you had a feeling these women wouldn’t consider that very impressive.

But you can’t easily relay that information to Spencer—even when he immediately picks up on your sullen mood. He asks you what’s wrong as you make your way down the echoey staircase, but you hold back, muttering something along the lines of we’ll talk about it later.

Later doesn’t come on the sidewalk outside. It doesn’t come in the car, or at any point during the twenty minute drive, but you feel it rapidly approaching as you climb the stairs to Spencer’s apartment. He unlocks the door and holds it open for you, doesn’t speak as you kick off your shoes and wander aimlessly into the living room.

“Did you eat?” He finally asks, hanging his keys on a hook by the door and glancing over to where you linger in the center of the room like a ghost.

“Not hungry.”

You both know that wasn’t the question, but he lets it go.

“Alright... well, I was thinking—“

“Why haven’t we had sex?”

The question flies from your mouth before you can stop it. It tastes like metal and you wish you could take it back as you stand there, cheeks hot and awaiting a reply. It seems you’ve thoroughly astonished Spencer as he gapes at you like a fish out of water for several silent moments, eventually opting to shove his hands in his pockets and shake his head at the wall as he processes the question.

“I… I don’t know. We just haven’t. Does that bother you?”

Suddenly your whole body feels intolerably warm. Your fingers twitch against your thighs. Of course it bothers you.

“Do you just not want to? You aren’t attracted to me like that?”

God, you despise how fragile your voice sounds—how much you obviously care, how insecure you clearly are. Spencer picks up on it, despite your most fervent wishing that he wouldn’t, and approaches, stopping a few feet away. You stare at the span of oriental design on the floor between your feet.

“That’s not at all what I said, angel. I wish you wouldn’t put words in my mouth.”

“Well, then… say something else,” you plead quietly, childishly, still unable to meet his eyes. Prove me wrong.

He sighs, which does not bode well for you. You wonder if you accidentally triggered the early demise of your relationship and christ do you wish you could rewind. When he steps closer, when his hands find your arms, you’re not sure where to look. But the low, sweet tone of his voice entices you to finally meet his gaze, charmed like a snake as his eyes dart between yours.

“You know that’s not how I feel.”

You shake your head earnestly, looking up at him with wide eyes as he slowly rubs your arms.

“No. No, I don’t know that.”

Spencer frowns, glancing at your lips as he speaks. It’s impossible to not do the same when he’s standing so close.

“But I’ve told you. I don’t understand how you couldn’t know how far from the truth that is.”

You think back to two weeks ago—the first and only time he’d ever done anything more than kiss you. A different kind of flush replaces the shameful one in your cheeks as you try to make your case and not get distracted by the memories of his hands all over you.

“So why won’t you prove it?”

It’d been intended to come out cool, but instead you sound a little desperate, a little out of breath as you realize you and Spencer somehow ended up so close to each other you can feel the warmth radiating from his body.

“Is that what you need from me? More proof?”

He speaks so lowly, his fingers press into the flesh of your arms portentously, and you think maybe you’ve poked the bear one too many times. But you won’t back down now—not when you think you might actually get what you want.

So you look up at him and nod, throat too dry to speak. His eyes are deceptively soft, but you don’t miss the big bad something lurking just beneath the surface of the placid hazel.

“And how do you think I should prove it?”

“I told you what I want,” you whisper, speaking above your pounding heart.

“Not tonight, honey. Choose something else.”

“Well—that’s not fair,” you stammer, “the whole point is for you to want to have sex with me.”

Spencer smiles a little, tucking hair behind your ear. “I do want that. I promise you I do. But there are other things I want us to do first.”

“Then I want to do that, too! I just—I don’t know what I’m doing, and you do, and I’m already out on a limb by asking for this much. I know this is what I want but I need you to take the lead here. I trust you, Spencer.” You top off the monologue with an imploring gaze—hoping it delivers even a fraction of the impact that his puppy-dog eyes always have on you.

He seems to study every square inch of your face as you wait in suspense for him to say something. At long last, his lips part—to no avail for several more seconds as he regards you.

When the words finally do come, they’re an immense relief of pressure.

“You’re going to promise me that you’ll communicate honestly. That means telling me if we need to slow down or stop, or if you don’t like something—”

“I promise,” you say, perhaps over-eagerly, offering him your extended little finger.

An incredulous smile narrows his eyes.

“Is this a pinky-promise?”

“It is.” You wiggle the finger in emphasis, and he shakes his head, smiling wider as you link pinkies.

“I left you with Garcia for far too long.”

You shush him, disentangling your hands to cup his jaw and press your lips to his. It’s sweet and smiley until it isn’t—until everything slows down like sticky molasses and his hand is ghosting over your cheek, your neck, the curve of your waist, finally substantiating itself on your hip—the other encouraging you to tilt your head back as he deepens the kiss and you feel yourself melting under the heat of his touch.

The pressure of his body against yours builds until you’re forced to take a step back, and then another, and another. Without question you allow yourself to be herded toward the bedroom, walked slowly backward as he keeps kissing you and blindly trusting he’ll make sure you don’t run in to anything. The bedroom door clicks shut behind him, and it is in all practicality a pointless gesture—but you find it incredibly comforting nonetheless.

It’s too warm beneath your sweater and his hands are cool as they slip under the hem, sliding against the curve of your hip. Spencer’s never seen you without a shirt, you realize, as he pulls away from the kiss by only centimeters.

“Off?” he mutters, thumbing at the knit fabric. And while you’re far from confident, you’ve certainly been making progress in this area. You help him tug it over your head without a word, noting a distinct and surprising lack of terror within yourself as you watch for his reaction to you. Hands glide slowly up your waist and you find yourself enchanted by the slight furrow of his brow, the parting of his lips. He traces down the lacy edge of your bra, skimming sensitive skin as he goes.

“Pretty,” he murmurs. “You’re… so pretty.”

It seems you’ve rendered him uncharacteristically prosaic. The reaction might be underwhelming if it were anyone else—but Spencer Reid is a man who probably knows every synonym for pretty in the English language. Looking at you, he can’t think of a single one. In an odd way, it’s the highest compliment he could pay you. Your cheeks heat and your stomach flips as he drags a knuckle up the center of the cup, and you can feel it through the layers of lace and fabric. He leans forward, ghosting his lips over yours and continuing to run his fingers over the sensitive spot. “Do you know how pretty you are?”

This is one argument you will not be winning—one he’ll keep bringing up at the most inopportune times until he gets his way.

“Spencer…”

“Don’t Spencer me. I’m asking you a question.”

The words don’t seem nearly as harsh as they really are when they’re delivered velvet-soft, with his lips and hands on you—when he’s so deftly popping the button on your jeans and dragging the zipper down with all the quickness of a slight-of-hand. It makes it hard to focus, even harder to speak.

“We have… we have differing views on this matter.”

Generous handfuls of your hips and ass are taken as he helps you tug down your jeans before you kick them off, now left just in your underwear.

“I thought I argued my point fairly well last time you were here. You didn’t learn anything from that?”

“Mm… maybe you just need to remind me.”

“Oh, I think I have to,” he agrees through a smile you can only hear. Gentle fingers skim up your back and tap the clasp of your bra. “How about this? Can we take this off?”

Any confidence from earlier crumbles and you loose a nervous hum—which is not the enthusiastic yes you’re sure Spencer will be seeking all evening. He pulls away, features etched with the beginnings of concern and a searching gaze. Asking would be unnecessary; the words simply come tumbling out of you.

“What if you don’t like how I look?”

Spencer doesn’t even blink.

“That’s not going to happen.”

How you wish you could have the same assuredness in yourself that he seems to.

“But what if… what if you’ve been with other girls who are more, like—I don’t know, just—better? Prettier?”

“Honey, you’re—” a sigh, a pause as he searches for the words—his eyes dart up and down your form, assessing, and when he looks back up at you, they’ve cleared and softened. He pulls you a little closer, rubbing circles into your back with his thumb. “I’m not thinking about anyone else right now. I’m not interested in anyone else right now. I already think you’re perfect, and I’m going to keep thinking that regardless of how you look. When I look at you, I’m not looking for things to critique. Do you understand me?”

As far as sentiments go, it’s a nice one. But the pressure of being seen still feels like an impossible burden. You whine, leaning your head against Spencer’s chest. He accepts your weight and runs his hand over your back as you look up at him.

“But what if I’m hideously deformed?”

His eyebrows raise.

“You’re not.”

“But what if I am?”

“Okay. It seems like you don’t feel ready yet, which is completely fine, we just won’t—”

“No!” you protest. “I am ready. I am. But… you have to promise to be nice to me no matter what. Or break up with me if you don’t like what you see so I don't have to wonder.”

“You’re ridiculous,” he says, kissing you, “and the only thing I’m willing to promise is that I’ll think you’re perfect. Me being nice will come as a natural byproduct of that which is very different than being nice by artifice. Take it or leave it.”

A moment of hesitance—but it’s short-lived. This is more important than your insecurities. Spencer is more important.

“Take it,” you mumble against his lips. His fingers trace up the smooth skin of your back, all the way to the fabric and metal hooks on your bra.

“Thank you.”

You wouldn’t have thought Spencer’s genius would manifest in being really good at undoing the clasp of a bra, but you can truly say you’re impressed by the ease with which he does it. It falls to the floor, leaving you completely shirtless for the first time in front of him.

“Well?” you murmur, arms crossed defensively underneath your chest, because you understand overtop would sort of ruin the whole thing. “What’s the verdict?”

“You,” Spencer manages after a moment—you literally watch him memorizing every square inch of your body— “are ridiculously beautiful.”

The way his voice gets quieter makes your stomach flip. It sounds genuine. Too genuine to be faked.

“So… no breakup?”

It seems that the more vulnerable you feel, the less likely you are to take a compliment. Spencer, who is always seeking patterns, probably recognizes this one, and doesn’t push you so hard this time. After a silent moment, he sighs and cradles your face in his hands.

“You’re gorgeous. I hate how incapable you are of seeing that. We’re going to talk about this.”

“Yeah, but not right now, right?” you murmur, standing up on your tiptoes to kiss him.

“Not right now,” he agrees.

His lips are so soft and gentle against your own it feels like love, it feels like being talked down from the ledge of your own insanity. Somehow the way he strokes your hip feels more nurturing than sexual. It’s like he has sex and chaste affection on tap, able to turn them on and off at will. You’re happy to drown in either. Ideally, both.

After a while, his hands begin roaming farther, become bolder in their excursions over your flesh. Up, down, over your waist and ribs. Clearly Spencer had been trying to ease you into it, but you still can’t hide your sharp inhalation when his thumbs graze the sensitive skin of your breasts. He pulls his lips from yours, hands splayed over your sides.

“Sit down.”

It’s much too gentle to be a command, but you frown.

“Without you?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he chuckles, lightly squeezing your waist. “Just sit. Utilize patience.”

You sit on the edge of the bed with an atypical reticence—you’re just a little too nervous for a snippy comeback. Spencer picks up on this, features softening sympathetically as he undoes his tie with nimble fingers. It lands somewhere on the bed and he leans over you, resting his weight on his fists and offering you a quick kiss. His voice is soft and designed to soothe as he speaks, mere inches away from your face, and so quiet it could only be heard at this range.

“Are you nervous?” Cloth from the duvet pinches between your fingers. For a moment you don’t reply, dropping your head to watch when Spencer runs his hand over your thigh. “It’s okay if you’re feeling anxious, baby. We don’t have to do anything tonight.”

You expel a frustrated huff.

“I want to. Just because I’m nervous doesn’t mean I don’t want this. I can handle a little bit of anxiety.”

He hums, dropping to a crouch and inserting himself directly in your line of sight.

“I know you can. But you don’t always have to push yourself so hard.”

“I’m fine pushing myself a little. I pinky-promised I would tell you if I wanted to stop, remember?”

“Oh, how could I forget a pinky-promise?” he smiles.

How could you forget anything, you think, becoming flushed and silently insolent at his dulcet teasing.

“Please, do something.” It’s a whisper, brushing his lips as you lean down until you’re nose to nose. His hands are on the back of your legs.

“I’m working on it.”

“It doesn’t look like it.”

“You’re smart, angel. Tell me why I've got you naked on my bed and I’m kneeling in front of you. Where could I possibly be taking this?”

Oh, you have a pretty strong inkling—but you’re scared to voice it and be wrong. Instead of risking it you shake your head slowly, shyly. What you’re not expecting is for Spencer to duck his head down, slide his hands up the side of your thighs and press kisses to the delicate skin there. It feels good—better than you’d have thought.

“You don’t know?” he asks, looking up at you through burnished gold-rimmed pupils. “No guesses?”

“No guesses,” you agree breathlessly, hotter than you were when you had your clothes on and all the energy in your body condensed into one point between your legs. Spencer hums like he’s considering your answer, smoothing his thumbs over the soft skin of your thighs so gently it feels like burning.

“I don’t think you’re being entirely truthful. Lie back, sweetheart.”

You do as you’re told, scooting up on the mattress and falling back on your elbows. Spencer wastes no time in climbing over you, leaving you in much the same position as the last time you’d been in his bed. The sheets feel cool against your bare skin, but he is exceptionally warm and solid over you.

“I’m being honest.” Lie. “I don’t know what you’re going to do.”

Lips find the most sensitive spot of your neck, dancing over it torturously. The front of his shirt brushes your chest. Your thighs clamp together.

“I don't like being lied to. Just say it, baby. I know you know.”

“Spencer,” you whine, fists bunching the excess fabric around his waist. Warm breath condensates on the skin of your neck as he chuckles.

“You don’t like being teased, huh?”

“Please, Spence,” you whisper. You notice the pattern of his breathing pause momentarily before it all comes rushing out at once—and you catalogue that particular plea for later usage.

“I can’t say no when you ask me like that.”

You push your fingers into his soft hair.

“I know.”

It was a lucky guess.

He’s still for a moment, relishing the feeling of your hands in his hair, before darting up to kiss you.

“I’m going to use my mouth this time,” he murmurs against your lips. Though you knew that was what he intended, your heart stumbles in its perpetual march. “Is that okay?”

“What if I…”

You trail off. This is a very intimate situation which you’re not quite sure you have delicate enough language for. Or maybe you’re just stalling. Either way, Spencer is eternally patient with you.

“You need to stop worrying so much, pretty girl. I’d love to do this for you. But it’s your call.”

“Love is a pretty strong word.”

“Sometimes I think not strong enough.”

The way he’s looking down at you so tenderly, brushing hair from your face, makes you think maybe he’s not just talking about how much he would love to go down on you. Regardless, it fortifies your trust in him. Spencer is the kindest person you know. He’s so clearly an enthusiastic giver. Why not allow him to give you this?

“Okay,” you breathe. “You can—yeah.”

As usual, you’re impressively awkward, but he doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, you think he not-so-secretly delights in being the one to fluster instead of the other way around. Rarely has he mentioned his past romantic and sexual exploits, but gathering bits and pieces, you assume he was a fairly late bloomer. He probably knows what it’s like to be nervous and so deeply unsure of yourself.

“Do you remember what you promised me?” he whispers, pressing butterfly-light kisses to your jaw. Your eyes flutter shut as his lips traverse down your neck, teeth skimming over the delicate skin while your breath catches.

“Mhm.”

“You’re not gonna break that promise, are you?”

His voice, soft and muffled by your skin, is the most exhilarating and disorienting high. Your entire body buzzes with anticipation, satisfied only where his lips soothe and his body presses against yours. It takes a moment for you to remember to reply.

“No.”

Reward comes in the form of his thumb brushing over the peak of your breast at the same time as he murmurs, “good girl.”

Your stomach flips at the endearment—you squeak and arch into him slightly. Spencer’s hand slides down your ribs as he chuckles, lips pressed just above your collarbone.

“You’ve never called me that before,” you shudder as he continues kissing over your neck.

“It’s not appropriate in most conversational contexts. But I can tell you’ve always been good.”

“Really? How?”

Spencer pauses, pushing himself up to regard you with searching eyes. The places he’d kissed feel cold without him.

“I just can. You’re thinking too much, baby. I need your focus on me.”

“It is on you,” you huff.

You watch his expression shift minutely. He loves games. Of course he’d love playing with you. That knowledge is why you’re only partially surprised when his thumb catches on your nipple again.

“Is it? You’re only thinking about how it feels when I touch you here?”

A stammering nod.

He toys with the sensitive flesh only a second more, amusement lighting his eyes, before dragging his hand down, down, down until it’s between your legs. Fingers trail over your clothed core, skimming the most sensitive part of you while your breath hitches.

“Tell me how it feels when I touch you here.”

“Really good,” you admit, a heavy exhale escaping parted lips as he pins you with his gaze.

“Really good, right. I can make it feel even better. Do you want me to make it feel better?”

Your thighs drop fully open and he adds just a bit more pressure until you’re pushing against his hand in search of more friction.

“Yes please.”

“Then no more questions. I need you to trust me.”

Your answer is a breathy, dreamy sigh—you’d do anything, say anything for him.

“Okay.”

Spencer kisses you, absorbing your noises of protest as his hand ceases between your legs and settles on your hip. But you’re trusting him. No whiny complaining. No unnecessary questions.

Things go much quicker once you’re not interrupting him every twenty seconds to say something. His lips reattach to your neck, retracing their path (albeit quicker) until he’s below your collarbone. You watch in rapt fascination, twisted brows and parted lips as he peppers kisses down over your breast before dragging his tongue over your nipple. A jolted little moan spills out because you hadn’t been prepared to hold one in. Waves of hair fall over Spencer’s face, obscuring him from your vision, but you don’t think to push it away—your body is too busy processing the sensation to be much use on any other front. He darts his tongue over the peaked flesh, eliciting more little open-mouthed exhalations of pleasure from you. Earlier you hadn’t really thought it necessary for your bra to come off—you had no idea this could actually feel so good. A moment later he begins toying with the other nipple and you gasp as a bolt of heat goes straight to your core.

You curse, further words catching in your throat as he suddenly switches, mouthing at your other breast and letting the cold air chill the other until you have goosebumps. It feels a little like hypnosis—you’re unable to move or speak as his tongue laves over you. Soon he’s replacing his mouth with a thumb again, sucking a mark onto your tit just above your nipple. You whimper a little at the pleasant brutality of it, hoping as he releases that it won’t soon fade. Spencer swipes over the stinging skin and presses a tender kiss to it, almost like an apology—but you sincerely doubt he’s actually sorry.

Then he resumes his descent, leaving soft kisses down between your breasts, over your ribcage and stomach—when he reaches your hips, he doesn’t pull off your underwear all at once. Rather, he slides the fabric down centimeter by centimeter, kissing the revealed skin like it’s precious.

This time you don’t need to be told to lift your hips. He helps you slip the final piece of clothing down and off of your legs, flinging it somewhere blindly before getting comfortable between your thighs once more. Your heart pounds with arousal and anxiety as his arms wrap around your thighs and his hands rub up and down the tops of them slowly.

“God, you’re fucking beautiful,” he mumbles, loosening his hold on one leg to thumb at your folds. They glisten in the dim light of his bedroom as he gently reveals your clit. A soft whine escapes you when he nudges at the aching bud, slipping over it a few times and alleviating a bit of the pressure that’s been building. “Shh, baby. I know. I’m gonna take care of it. You’re being so good for me.”

Fuck. The way he talks to you makes your brain turn to mush—you’re utterly incapable of forming an intelligent thought. Spencer has rendered you a complete idiot, and you’re not upset about it in the slightest.

He presses more gentle kisses to the creases between your thighs, just above your clit—everywhere except for where you need him most. Everything aches for him in the best way and at least you’re too turned on to be very insecure anymore. All you want is relief. But you’re trusting him.

Thankfully, he delivers.

The tip of his tongue grazes so lightly over your clit that if you weren’t this worked up you may not have felt it at all. In your current state, however, the stimulation echoes through every atom of your being. Every muscle is tense, frozen in place—you can’t even breathe for a second. He does it again, a little flatter, with a little more pressure, and you whimper. It’s a delicate thing, almost pained and definitely overwhelmed as he gently begins working his tongue against you. Your head cranes up to watch, your jaw drops. Approximations of curse words try to form, but come out only as, “f-fu—oh,” so whiny and soft it doesn’t even sound like you. He hums sympathetically, but you suspect it morphs into a chuckle as you continue to gasp and mewl.

There are times where you can hold back sounds of pleasure. When you’re by yourself, it’s typically not a problem. Two weeks ago when Spencer was knuckle deep in you for the first time, it had certainly been a challenge, and you’d pretty much given up. But this—this is something else entirely. It feels like religion. It feels like compulsion. Even if you had the slightest modicum of control over yourself, which you currently don’t, you wouldn’t want to keep quiet. You want him to know what he’s doing to you.

So you let every cry, every whine and whimper drag from your lungs, unbidden and unshaped. You’re new at this, after all—every broad lick feels so good that you have no fucking idea what do to with your hands or how to stop rolling your hips or how to censor your sounds.

“Spencer,” you keen in one of the moments you remember to breathe. He moans against you, taking you into his mouth and sucking lightly. Your hips buck. “Oh, my—fuck!”

The hand that’s still around your thigh rubs soothing lines up and down. The one that’s spreading you open pulls your folds apart a little bit further, granting him more access to your clit. He flicks his tongue and you almost come then and there, vision going gray for a split second.

“Wait, wait, Spence—“ you squeak, writhing and trying not to squeeze your thighs together for fear of hurting him. He pulls back and looks up at you, lips shining with your slick and eyes glazed with lust. Fuckfuckfuck he looks so fucking good. “Please, just… slow down, or I’m gonna… or it’s gonna be over.”

The corner of his mouth twitches as he rubs circles into your inner thigh.

“It’s over when you say it’s over. You don’t have a refractory period. We don’t have to stop at one.”

“Oh—you don’t—you don’t have to do that,” you stammer.

“I know I don’t have to. But if you want me to, I want to. You taste so good, angel girl.”

Well, shit.

He looks absurdly sexy between your legs like this. You have no idea how you got so lucky, but you don’t plan on taking it for granted. Your fingers tangle in his hair.

“I don’t know if I can do more than one,” you admit shyly, slightly embarrassed by how little you know about yourself and in general compared to Spencer. Hazel eyes sparkle in the warm light.

“How about we start with one and see how it feels?”

Your voice is breathy when you respond, “okay,” already impatient for him to get back to it. Spencer seems just as eager, immediately kissing between your legs with a passion that makes your lips jealous.

The flat of his tongue presses circles against you and your hips buck, already ramping up to that point you’d been at before calling a time-out. Slowly his fingers find their way to your entrance and he teases you with them, dipping in to the first knuckle before withdrawing again. If you could form words, you’d beg him to just do it already, but all you can manage is an affronted whine as you tilt your hips down, hoping he catches the meaning.

Of course he does—pushing two fingers inside you at once. The intrusive stretch adds a sharp edge to the pleasure, makes it more interesting, as your brain short-circuits and you choke out a moan. It only takes a few slow pumps of his fingers in tandem with the pressure of his tongue until your hips are writhing and you’re and mewling desperately, more overwhelmed with pleasure than you’ve ever been. You push his hair back, able to see him for the first time, and fully appreciate the hollow of his cheeks, the way he looks up at you with perfect, glassy half-lidded eyes, the rhythm of his hand and tongue—he takes your clit between his lips once more, sucking lightly, and you’re done for. A pornographic sob escapes from deep within you as you come, but he doesn’t stop. The orgasm lasts longer than you knew one could—although, it’s only your second time, so you don’t exactly have a lot of data to go off of. Your entire body feels warm and floaty, and what he’s doing feels so good you want him even deeper—but you know he won’t give you that yet. Instead you focus on the slow burn of your orgasm, allowing him to carry on for a while until you begin slowly drifting back to earth and it becomes a bit too much. He recognizes the barely-there whine for what it is and pulls his fingers from you carefully, pressing one final kiss to your clit that makes your legs twitch and summons a weak little moan.

Spencer’s lips find other avenues, over the delicate skin of your thighs and hips and stomach as he slowly drags himself up again. By the time you’re face to face again you’re still breathing hard. You sort of feel like prey underneath his weight, studied so scrupulously, known far more intimately by him than anyone has ever known you before. But there is so much light and kindness in the way he looks at you that you almost can’t make sense of it.

Maybe it’s possible to be known and still wanted. The possibility spins like a coin on its edge in your mind. An idea you spent so much time trying to nurture and is only just now beginning to sprout. Maybe someone could see you at your most vulnerable, and still find you worthy of kindness. Appreciation. Affection.

Spencer certainly could, it seems, as he ducks down to kiss you. You dodge it, turning your head demurely. He nudges his head against yours, speaking so, so softly, utterly cloying as he teases, “what? You’re not gonna kiss me now? Is that how it is?”

“No!” you balk, equally as quiet and especially bashful. “Not when you… no.”

“Let me kiss you,” he pleads, so earnestly you turn your head back to face him. His big eyes are hazy, reflecting all the warmth and dizziness you feel. “Let me kiss you. Please.”

You whine.

“I don’t wanna… taste… myself.”

Spencer doesn’t miss a beat.

“Hm. We’ll need to work on that. Because one day, I’ll make you come just like that again, and then I’m going to fuck you, and you’re really going to want me to kiss you then, angel.”

Something flickers in your core.

Suddenly you’re not so squeamish. You really want him to kiss you now. But it seems he’s going to have his fun, first.

“Open.” Without even thinking about it, your lips part. He really ought to be careful with what he tells you to do—you’re all too compliant. Even as his fingers slip between your lips, you’re obediently hollowing your cheeks around them, watching him with big eyes as his own mouth falls slightly open. “Oh, baby,” he croons. “What are we gonna do with you?”

That flicker has returned to a full-fledged throbbing once you open your mouth again, slightly dizzy from lack of oxygen.

“Can you make me come again right now?” you whisper, grasping lightly at his shirt. He grins like he loves the idea—and you let him have his way, accepting his lips on yours with no complaint. After a few moments, (the taste is surprisingly unobtrusive), he pulls away.

“I would love to.”

part three

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds smut

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ba9go · 1 month

Text

bakugou katsuki finds you annoying (he has a soft spot for you) pt. 2

sort-of enemies to lovers with bakugou!! bakugou being avoidant bc he’s bad at feelings. he’s a little shit in this one but he makes it up to the reader!! liiiiiight angst/comfort.

pls read part 1 before 🧡 part 3 (nsfw)

the more you interact with bakugou, the more you’re baffled by the insults he comes up with.

you bump into him in the corridor, and the two of you are completely alone so it’s impossible for you to pretend you haven’t seen him, so you wave awkwardly at him.

“hey, bakug—”

“fuck off, rabbitface.”

bakugou brushes past you as he walks by, leaving you gaping at him in complete horror. “my ears are not that long!”

“cry about it, maybe your nose will twitch too!” bakugou responds without looking back at you, and you find yourself holding your nose on the rest of your way back to your room. it does not twitch one bit.

the day of the midterm exams, you’re full of jitters, standing outside the classroom and flipping through your notes frantically for some last minute revision.

“nervous?” you look up to see bakugou standing in front of you, smirking down at you with his arms crossed.

“yeah,” you admit sheepishly. “i don’t wanna fuck this up.”

“don’t be stupid. you studied, didn’t you?” bakugou’s smirk drops and he raises an eyebrow at you. you nod, and he clicks his tongue at you. “only thing stopping you now is you, then.” bakugou pokes the side of your head twice, roughly but not hard enough to actually hurt. it catches you by surprise, and it happens so fast that by the time his hand drops back to his side, you’re not sure it even happened.

“better not fuck it up, buttercup.”

as bakugou walks away from you, you’re still feeling frazzled, just not for the test anymore.

by this point, you’ve given up on asking mina and the rest for advice. they’re all convinced of the same thing — that bakugou somehow has a soft spot for you. you don’t believe it.

some days, bakugou looks a little less murderously at you, and you think that maybe, just maybe, he doesn’t completely hate your guts, but other days, he completely brushes past you like you’re invisible and you feel like a fool for ever hoping that maybe the two of you could be friends.

but then bakugou starts ignoring you more and more, and you start to wonder if he actually hates you.

you run into bakugou on the way to the gym, and you grab his sleeve before you can even stop to think twice. “bakugou, you good?”

“hah?!” bakugou recoils away from you and looks at you like he’s repulsed by your touch. “fuck do you want, extra?”

extra. you’ve noticed that bakugou’s started calling you that a lot more often recently. you’ve heard him say it before, but not to you. was that all you meant to him now? when did that happen? what changed?

“what do you want? did i piss you off or something? why are you being so—”

“i’ve always been like this,” bakugou hisses at you, and you don’t think you’ve seen bakugou this angry at you before. “and you’ve always pissed me the fuck off. so just fuck off already, would ya?”

bakugou stomps away like godzilla after a rampage, and you’re the tokyo that he’s completely ravaged.

soft spot, my ass.

for the next two weeks, you listen to bakugou. you stay out of his way, you don’t even try to meet his gaze when you walk into class or when you walk past him in the hallways. ignoring him didn’t feel natural to you, but every time you saw bakugou, you reminded yourself that you were just another extra. you’d get used to not talking to bakugou eventually.

the others picked up on this change as well. kaminari casually asked if bakugou had come up with any “interesting, new” names for you, to which you had responded, “haven’t spoken to him in a while, but he did call me an “extra” the last time.”

“extra?” kaminari repeated slowly, raising his brows. “he called you an extra? that’s low. especially since it’s you.” you shrug, and kaminari frowns. “have you talked to kirishima about it? i’m stupid but i don’t speak caveman like bakugou does. kiri’s our best bet at deciphering him.”

you decline kaminari’s suggestion, insisting that it was no big deal, but it seemed kaminari went ahead and told kirishima anyway, because “bro code”.

(1) new message from red riot:

red riot: hey, sorry about bakugou, he’s been a real asshole to you lately

you: hey kiri!!! pls don’t apologise

you: how do u even know lol? kaminari?

red riot: ding ding ding

you: 👎

red riot: sorry… bro code

red riot: i beat some sense into him dw

you: poor kami

red riot: oh no i meant bakugou

you: what

red riot: (👍ᐛ )👍

turns out, your conversation with kaminari had completely set off a chain reaction that you absolutely could not stop, with kirishima (bless his heart) confronting bakugou himself.

you: what

you: u mean u just went over and kicked his ass?

red riot: yup!

red riot: well i guess we took turns

you: ????

red riot: like i got two punches in and he got two punches in and we talked and then we called it a day

you: ???????????????

red riot: (👍ᐛ )👍

you don’t dare to ask kirishima for the details of what exactly happened during their brawl, and you don’t know how you’re ever going to face bakugou ever again. the thought of running into bakugou legitimately scares you, so you decide to hole yourself in your room for the rest of the evening, just to be safe.

well, you thought you were safe, until…

(1) new message from Unknown Number:

Unknown Number: It’s Bakugou.

Unknown Number: I need to talk to you.

Unknown Number: You in your room?

you: no (👍ᐛ )👍

Unknown Number: Yeah right

Unknown Number: I’m at the door.

you’re filled with equal parts dread and fear as you shuffle over to the door reluctantly. you peek through the peephole to see bakugou standing there with a plastic bag in his hand.

you open the door hesitantly.

“you look like shit,” bakugou says, and it sounds so familiar and so right, you almost burst out laughing despite the context of the situation. despite yourself, you can’t help the small smile that forms on your lips.

“here.” before you can say anything, bakugou’s grabbing your wrist and handing you the plastic bag. it smells like food so you think its takeout, but you look inside and see that it has a little plastic bento box and metal chopsticks.

“is this your way of apologising?” you grin cheekily, hoping to get some kind of reaction out of him, but bakugou stares back at you unflinchingly.

“yeah,” bakugou says. “is it working?”

‘it worked,’ bakugou thinks as he lets you fling your arms around his neck and pull him into a hug.

“it’s working,” you mumbled into his shoulder, and you feel two large hands grip around your waist.

extras:

(👍ᐛ )👍 is so kiri-coded i love it

(👍ᐛ )👍

kirishima was pissed after kaminari told him what happened between you and bakugou

he walked over to bakugou’s room all prepared with ice packs and shit

knocked twice, waited for bakugou to open the door, threw two punches

bakugou was confused asf but it pissed him off so punched kiri right back out of reflex

the fight stops then and there, kirishima hands bakugou the ice pack, and they both sit on his bed to talk

both are just holding ice packs to their cheeks

kirishima tells bakugou that it was unmanly of him to be mean to you when you did nothing but try to be nice to him

bakugou just listens quietly, he doesn’t really say much, doesn’t really know what to do to fix the situation

like he already knew that he fucked up before kirishima came to rock his shit

but kirishima is a true bro and he gives bakugou advice on how to make things up to you

(👍ᐛ )👍

taglist (thank you for your support!!): @anicaaa67 @maddietries @valeriyaaak @v3n7s @deimosjay @zaiban2989 @girls-overflower @notmeduhh @dreamcastgirl99 @busdriver-move-that-ass @atashiboba @kathsuhki @armeenix @channnee @antiwhores @sukunasbottomlefteyeball @kenqki @vikizzy @thesimpybitch @eempxth @hanta-seros-wifey @itztaki @thekidscallmebosss

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joedirtymadre · 3 months

Text

Apologizing after your First Fight

Part 2, (Pls send requests, I like making these!)

MONSTER TRIO + LAW, ACE, SABO

LUFFY

You spent the next day in your room, refusing to eat or just say hi to your worried crew mates. You hugged yourself h def the covers, wondering if you went too far with your words. Maybe you should have said it in a different way…? You continued to wonder whether you should take your captain’s words to heart… “Maybe it would be best if I do start my own crew… a crew that won’t lash out when anyone speaks their mind…” you sighed as you nuzzled deeper into your bed.

Luffy’s POV

I stared off into the sunset while sitting on top of Sunny’s head. “She didn’t have to be so mean…” I grumbled as I continued to stare out into the open. “Luffy!” I heard Bami call out. “Wha-“ I was cut off by a smack to my head. “Ow!” I shouted. “Good! Why is (Y/N) still in her room? Why haven’t you checked up on her?” She asked, annoyed. “…” I stayed quiet. “Answer me!” She glared as she pulled on my cheek. “We haf a fighf,” I said nervously. “A fight?” Robin asked as she joined us. “Yeah,” I said as Nami let go of my cheek. “What did you do?” Nami asked as she crossed her arms. “Nothing! Or… nothing serious! I don’t know why she’s mad at me and trying to boss me around like she’s captain,” I huffed.

“Are you talking about yesterday?” Nami asked as she sat down beside me. “Yeah… she yelled at me because I left the ship to explore the island,” I explained. “Well why do you think that made her angry?” Robin asked as she sat on the other side of me. “I don’t know… cause I didn’t stay on the ship like I was supposed to… but I got bored!” I groaned. “Ok, but what else did she say?” Robin asked.

“Well… she said she’s mad that I didn’t listen to her, but I’m not a kid!” I argued back. “Ok, well think about it this way. What if you asked (Y/N) to make you a giant meal and she said ok, and later you find out she never made it because she got bored or distracted. Wouldn’t you be mad too?” Nami asked. “Yeah I would, but…” I trailed off. “I get it now, she’s mad cause she asked me to do something and I said ok but I went off to do my own thing…” I said softly, finally understanding. “Good, now go apologize!” Nami said. “Ok!” I said quickly as I jumped up to run to (Y/N)’s room.

I knocked on her door, hoping she’d answer it. “…coming,” I heard softly. I braced myself for a beating, but when the door opened I saw my girl in front of me. She had frizzy hair, swollen eyes, and was wrapped in a blanket. “(Y/N)…” I said softly. “What do you want?” she asked. “Can I come inside?” I asked. “You’re the captain, you can do whatever you want…” she glared as she walked back towards her bed. I followed her inside and shut the door behind me.

“(Y/N), I’m sorry… I didn’t understand why you were mad, but I get it now. You asked me to do something and I didn’t… I went out to do my own thing…” I said softly as I opened my arms, hoping she’d hug me back. “You really hurt my feelings,” she said softly. “I know, I just didn’t like being told what to do… and at the time I didn’t see what the problem was,” I explained. “You told me to go start my own crew… why would you try to kick me out of the crew so easily?” She asked as her eyes became glossy. “I was mad, I’m sorry… please don’t leave, don’t leave me,” I said as I pulled her into a tight hug.

“I’m sorry, I’ll always listen to you, cause I know you’re just trying to keep me and everyone else safe,” I said as I squeezed her tighter. “Alright… but you know you have to make it up to me, right?” She asked softly. “Yeah,” I replied. “It’s gonna be a mean punishment… I mean it,” she laughed as she looked up to me. “That’s fine, as long as you don’t leave. You can’t leave, I won’t let you,” I grinned. “Ok, but I haven't forgiven you yet. That punishment is gonna be big,” she said with a mischievous look in her eyes. “Bring it on,” I laughed.

ZORO

I sat in the dining room, just wanting to clear my head. I know I messed up, but did she seriously have to run away from me? I groaned as I slammed my head on the table. “Hey Moss head, break that forehead somewhere else. We eat there,” Curly brow frowned. “Whatever…” I replied. “Woah, no come back? Did you break one of your swords or something?” He asked as he sat across from me, wiping his hands. “I said something stupid to (Y/N), and I made her upset… I regretted saying it, but in the moment it slipped out… Now she’s been ignoring me for the past few days. “That’s why I’ve been seeing her in Chopper’s office more often,” he said. “Yeah, anytime I find her she runs away…” I groaned.

“So what did you say?” Sanji asked as he took out a cigarette. “I said… I said I feel like she’s smothering… me,” I said softly. “You dumbass! To (Y/N)?! I should shove my foot down your throat for uttering words like that to her!” The cook glared. I bit my tongue, not wanting to fight. “Did you at least talk to her about wanting space?” He asked. “No…” I sighed as I banged my head against the table again. “You really are a dumb marimo,”

Sanji said. “I know, so what can I do?” I asked. “You’re asking me for advice? That’s a first,” he scoffed. “Well, I would first apologize, and then you need to tell her the reason behind your little tantrum. Cause now she thinks you think she’s a bother, when she’s not,” he said. “That’s… really helpful,” I said. “Now hurry the hell out of here, before I try to steal her away from you,” he said he leaned into his chair. I nodded and rushed out of the dining room.

“(Y/N)!” I began calling around the ship, but no one’s seen her. “Where could she be?” I asked myself. “(Y/N)? She’s in the library,” Chopper said as he walked out of his office. “Thanks!” I said as I rushed off.

“(Y/N)!” I called out. “Yes?” I heard in a cold tone. I walked towards the voice and found her in a corner reading, not once looking up from her book. “Hey,” I said awkwardly as I walked closer. “What do you want?” She asked. “I wanted to… to see you,” I said slowly. “You sure? Cause I thought I was suffocating you,” she spat. “(Y/N)… I didn’t mean that, I don’t know… in the moment I just felt every-“ she cut me off.

“No need to explain. You want space, I’ll give you space,” she said quickly. “Oh thank god, I was scared you’d leave me… so you understand that sometimes I-“ she cut me off again. “Yep, so there’s no need for us to be together anymore if you find me so suffocating,” she smiled and quickly shut her book. “Wait, what?” I asked. “Why be with someone you find too clingy? I get it, might as well live that lone wolf style you want so bad,” she said as she began leaving. “No! Just please let me explain, just 1 minute,” I pleaded.

“Ok, 1 minute,” she said as she turned to face me. "I don’t find you annoying, clingy, or anything! I just… sometimes I just miss having alone time, but I don’t want to be alone all the time. God, even I don’t understand myself! I just… I felt like if I said anything you might leave me, but I don’t want you to leave… I love you…” I felt my ears turning red. “If you love me, then why did you think you couldn’t talk to me about this? I understand people needing their personal space, but you really didn’t feel comfortable communicating with me about this? You really think I’m the kind of person that would freak out over that?” She asked as tears welled up in her eyes.

“I’m sorry… you shouldn’t have to put up with me,” I said, feeling defeated. “Don’t say it like that, I like being with you.” She smiled softly as she stepped closer to me. “Please forgive me, I really don’t want to end things,” I said. “Alright, but make sure you talk to me from now on. Please?” She asked. “Yeah,” I nodded as I pulled her into a hug. “Oh, and you definitely have to make it up to me,” she smiled. “Definitely,” I smiled back.

SANJI

TW* (Eating Disorder, Starvation, Insecurities, etc.)

It’s been a few days now and I’m seriously worried about (Y/N), I grabbed the untouched tray from her door step. “(Y/N) please open the door! Please!” I pleaded as I pounded on the door. No response. I looked at the tray with worry, it’s been 4 days and she hasn’t stepped out of her room once. She hasn’t touched any of the trays of food either… “I’m sorry!” I called out, before finally kicking the door down.

I heard a small yelp. I looked inside and saw her room, clothes thrown everywhere, her closet emptied, and my eyes finally fell to her. She was sitting at her small vanity table, hair disheveled, pale skin, and dull eyes. “You really broke my door down?” She asked as she turned back to the vanity mirror. “I was worried about you, you haven’t stepped out of this room in 4 days, eaten in 4 days! I’m supposed to protect you, take care-” I was cut off. “Shut up! You don’t even care about me!” She spat.

“Why would you say that?” I asked as I stepped closer. “Because look at me… I’m not as pretty as her, not as thin, tall, have crappy hair, dull eyes… I can’t even compete against Nami…” she said softly as her body began to tremble. I stood behind her and softly placed my hands on her shoulders, turning her around to face me. “Are you crazy? You’re perfect, why are you comparing yourself to her?” I asked. “Because I see the way you look at her… the way you talk about her. I mean… you wouldn’t even let me touch her stupid dessert!” she glared.

“(Y/N) I love you, there’s no other woman that I want to be with. You have to believe me,” I said. “Kinda hard to believe you after that day,” she said as she avoided my eyes. “Please, I never wanted to hurt your feelings. My chef hat must’ve been too tight that day… I hate seeing you like this. I miss seeing your beautiful eyes whenever you watch me cook. Your smile can light up 10 billion islands, I love seeing you fight with your hair, I love how you can’t stay clean when we cook, I love how you never get tired of listening about my dream, and I love how you’ve always been so patient with me… Even when I’m being a shitty boyfriend…” I said softly as I wiped her tears with my thumbs.

“I… I can’t trust you,” she confessed. Those words felt like a knife went through my heart. “I understand…” I said softly as I stood up. I held out my hand, she stared confusedly. “Sanji?” She asked as she looked up. “If you’ll allow me, I’ll happily spend the rest of my life trying to prove to you how much I love you. I won’t let you feel 2nd place ever again,” I smiled softly, hoping she’ll accept. She stared at my hand for what felt like an eternity, but slowly placed hers in mine.

I quickly pulled her into a hug, “I know this doesn’t mean you’re forgiving me, but thank you for giving me another chance,” I said softly as I held on tight. I felt her tense up, but slowly relaxed in my arms. “Now, come on,” I said as I lifted her up. “Huh? W-Where are we going?” She asked, gaining some color back onto her face. “To the kitchen, I can’t let a goddess starve any longer,” I smiled as I walked towards the kitchen. “I-I can walk,” she blushed. “No way, I told you… I’ll happily spend the rest of my life proving myself to you,” I smiled.

LAW

You tossed your wrench, “Fuck!” you cursed as you laid on the floor next to the wiring you disassembled. That’s it, you’ve given up… you were starving, cold, and exhausted. “What time is it?” You asked yourself and checked your watch to see it was 10PM. “Woah… have I really been here all day? I haven’t eaten… I- Law!” You said as you scrambled to your feet. “He’s gonna be so mad at me… I acted so stubborn and stupid earlier,” You said worriedly as you rushed to your bedroom. You stopped right in front of your bedroom door. “I didn’t even fix the stupid motor, so now I look like a useless asshole,” You whispered to yourself as you slowly entered the bedroom.

“The asshole part is right,” you heard. You turned to see him sitting in the corner of the room reading under a lamp. You walked up slowly, “Hi,” you said softly. “Hey,” he glared. “Did you end up fixing the motor?” He asked. “N-No,” you stuttered. “Mmm,” he nodded, focusing back on the pages of his book. “L-Law… I’m sorry,” you said softly. “Sorry? For what?” He asked, acting clueless. “I acted like an ass earlier, I just wanted to fix the stupid motor. I wanted to help, but I probably made things worse,” you sighed as you sat in the chair beside him. “Oh well,” he said and closed his book. “I know you just wanted to help me earlier, but… I don’t know. There’s no excuse for my behavior earlier,” you said as you watched him walk to bed. “Well, thank you for your apology,” he said as he tucked himself into bed.

You sat awkwardly in your chair, maybe this is his way of asking for space? “I-I’ll go bunk with Bepo tonight, you deserve some space…” you trailed off as you headed towards the exit. “I didn’t say you could leave,” his voice boomed. You slowly turned around and walked towards the bed. He stared at you for a few seconds, “Come on already, I know you’re exhausted,” he said as he lifted the blanket. You rushed over and hopped into bed with him. “I’m sorry,” you repeated as you nuzzled into his chest. “It’s fine, we all act like assholes once in a while. I know you just wanted to help fix the motor, but next time take my advice and take a break,” he said as he kissed your forehead. “Mhmm, forgive me for my outburst earlier?” You asked. “Yeah, but you owe me. I had to spend one of our days off alone,” he grumbled. “Alright,” you smiled before falling asleep in each other’s arms.

ACE

It’s been 2 days since our argument and (Y/N) has been avoiding me like the plague. “Something wrong?” Marco asked. “I just don’t get why (Y/N) is so mad at me… You guys leave all the time without telling us and we don’t say anything,” I sighed as I banged my head against the bar. “Well, we’re not dating (Y/N). So she doesn’t really have the right to know when we’re leaving, but she does for you,” he said. “What?” I asked. “Well wouldn’t you be oissed if (Y/N) took off one day without even saying a goodbye, or even mentioning that she had a personal mission to do?” Marco asked. “Well I mean yeah, but… God I’m such a shitty boyfriend,” I groaned. “Now you get it!” Marco laughed.

“And if I were you, I’d apologize quickly. Heard through the grapevine she asked Pops to go on a personal mission for a while,” Marco said. “What? Without even- oh god I’m an asshole!” I said as I raced towards her bedroom. “(Y/N)! (Y/N)! (Y/N)!” I said as I knocked on the door repeatedly. “What?” She asked as she swung the door open. “I heard you’re leaving? Why?” I asked. “None of your business,” she said as she tried to shut the door, but my foot stopped it.

“It is my business, I can’t just let my-“ she cut me off. “Your what? Cause last time I checked I’m obviously not your girlfriend because you see me as nothing more than a crewmate,” she glared. “No I… I’m here to apologize,” I said slowly. “I didn’t get why you were so upset, but now that the roles are reversed I get it now… I’m acting like a shitty boyfriend, I should have told you that I was leaving. The thought of you just leaving without telling me anything… scares me, because you’re right, what if I never see you again?” I explained as I pushed my way through. She stepped back, “Please forgive me,” I pleaded.

“You don’t get how many nights I laid awake wondering if I was never going to see you again. If you were ever going to hold me again… why would you put me through that?” She asked. “I wasn’t thinking… I never think, I’m just a big dumbass with an amazing girlfriend who actually puts up with me,” I confessed. “You’re right, you are dumb. But at least you realize how amazing I am,” she softly smiled. I quickly pulled her in for a hug, “Don’t think I’m forgiving you just because you understand what you did wrong,” She said. “I know, I know. How should I make it up to you? Maybe I should spend the whole night making it up to you?” I asked slyly as my hands slid down her back. “Oh u-umm…” she blushed.

SABO

You have been ignoring Sabo for the past week. No matter how many times he’s tried to talk to you, give gifts, or whatever. You were sick and tired of him, you sat on a rock staring out into the sunset. “Hey (Y/N),” you heard a voice behind you. You turned to see Koala, “Hey Koala, what’s up?” you asked. “Nothing much, but I noticed you and Sabo had some sort of argument. He hasn’t told me anything, but I’m nervous I had something to do with it,” she said nervously as she sat beside me.

“Well to be honest, you’re only a small part of the problem. The real reason we fought is because he doesn’t want to spend time with me… The few hours we have free he always spends it reading or training, that we can’t goof off because we’re supposed to always be on high alert. But when he’s with you or anyone else he’s ok with goofing off and running off to go do something fun? I’m over it, he asked me to be his girlfriend. So why should I have to put up with his behavior as if he’s doing me some huge favor of being with me?” You asked. “I’m sorry… I didn’t even think about that… That is pretty crappy of him,” she said slowly. “Yeah, but it’s fine. We can go back to just teammates if that’s what he wants, since that’s how I’m being treated,” you sighed as you laid on your back.

“You’re really not going to give him another chance?” She asked. “I don’t know, but I do know that he’s in the trees behind us listening to us,” you said as you glanced over at Koala. “H-Huh?” She asked as she spun her head around. “Used you as a cover,” you shrugged. “Jeez…” Koala huffed. “It’s fine, but I guess I’ll see you later,” you smiled. “Yeah, don’t be ‘too’ hard on him,” she winked at me and I shrugged in response.

“Hey…” Sabo called out as he sat beside you. “Hi,” you replied. “I was just p-passing by I swear,” he smiled nervously. “You’re such a bad liar,” you said. “Look… (Y/N), I just wanted to say sorry. I haven’t been treating you so well these past few weeks and instead of spending my days off with you doing things that you like, I’ve gone off and either ignored you or left you alone…” he said slowly. “Yep. I’m glad you realized how crappy you’ve been,” you said as you glanced over to him. “Please forgive me?” He asked as he scooted closer to you. “No,” you said, bluntly. “At least give me another chance? I promise you won’t feel like this ever again,” he said as he grabbed your hand. You stared at him for a few seconds, “I guess, but if you ever pull this type of behavior again… who knows what will happen to you,” you playfully shrugged. “Sounds like a deal,” he smiled. “But… you do owe me, I still haven’t forgiven you,” you smirked. “Jeez, won’t let me off the hook so easily, huh?” he chuckled nervously. “Nope,” you said.

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on-leatheredwings · 6 months

Text

Checkmate

Yandere! Tim Drake / (AFAB) Reader

> romantic, rated M > tw/cw: yandere-typical behaviors (obsession). M rating is for a boner. just some sexual tension. reader is mentioned as bisexual.

> summary: Intellectually, Tim falls fast. Romantically, he falls hard. Seems this time it's both. > a/n: i just wanted to post some tim practice, pls let me know if i did okay. I made him a bit of a fuckboy i guess but ngl i think tim’s just run through af 😭 > word count: 1268

Tim likes you. And knowing himself, soon, he’s going to really like you.

More than anticipated, too. He didn’t think he’d have much of an opinion at all on you, when you had first met on your first day, in your new position as his personal assistant.

Personal assistant.

At the reveal, he exchanged a hard look with Bruce across the room. Tim Drake had not been slacking on the job. And sometimes he had the eye bags to prove it.

Tim hadn’t even said anything yet, when you chirped, “Think of it as delegation.”

You gave him a pleasant, albeit cheeky look – which he respected. If you had the qualifications and enough charm to impress the hiring manager, who was a notorious hardass in interviews, you were probably fine. Probably more than fine.

Either way, he expected to forget your existence until you texted or called him to remind him about meetings he hadn’t forgotten about.

It turns out, you had… personality. Probably more than you should’ve, working in the professional setting of Wayne Enterprises. You dealt with Tim’s shit (absences, excuses), but gave as good as you got (ultimatums, thinly-veiled blackmail to run and tell Bruce). You were also… very attractive. And clever. And smart. And insightful.

And God, he wonders if you have a boyfriend. Or girlfriend. Partner. And he wonders if he can somehow orchestrate a breakup.

Tim moves a chess piece across the board.

Okay, maybe he’s being too hasty.

Oh, for the love of– you know what? No, he isn’t being too hasty. Anyone working in such close quarters with the heir apparent of Wayne Enterprises is heavily vetted. But it’s about time he did his own background check on you. He has made it three whole months without doing so.

See, he really is getting over his control issues. Eat that, Stephanie.

Okay, if he’s going to entertain the idea of courting you– Wait, wait, since when was it courting? Yeah, no. He’s merely entertaining the thought of you. He’s been burned too many times now to start courting.

Let’s talk about having sex first before we start talking about dating, he jests with himself.

Anyway. He wonders what would be the most interesting means of going about this. Coming out and confessing would be a little boring. Too easy. His eyes wander to your lips. You’re too focused on making your next move to notice him ogling the soft swell of your chest beneath a sharp button-up. You’ve rolled up the sleeves – very casual for this very casual hangout. You both lounge on your bed, in your bedroom, in your apartment, because if Tim wins, you don’t get to hound him on personally contacting investors. (Sometimes, you gotta leave malcontents out to dry. Make them miss you.)

He hopes you like being experimented with. Or maybe you like experimenting on others. He would do anything you liked because, man, it’s thrilling to know people and their wants. Anything you give, he could take it–

Tim startles as a realization comes to his mind.

… Him. Taking it.

Is that something he wants? To bottom for you? … Is that something… he wants?

Yes.

Now that the idea has been conceived, yes, he wants that. So that’s that.

The reality of whether you’d want to do that… is slim… maybe? You’re bi as well. Maybe that changes things. He’s not going to think about it too hard, because now he’s getting excited.

Tim would love for the skittering, synapses-firing-on-all-cylinders effect in his brain to cool down – for everything to wash over with cool calculation and academic interest. He manages to do that much for even the most intriguing cases. But you… Tim sighs.

And now he’s hard.

Tim shifts uncomfortably. He’s lying on his stomach, held up by his forearms.

He sighs, even though there’s an evil piece of his brain snickering and taunting, “But you love this, though!” Evil, evil.

At Tim’s increasing silence, you lift a brow. Man, he’s been out of it all game.

“Tim?” He comes back to planet Earth. “It’s your move. Again.” You wear a Cheshire grin. “It’s almost like we’re taking turns, or something.”

He blinks, baby blue eyes clearing up. He shifts in his spot, feeling trills of pleasure from friction against erection. Your sheets. Against his erection. He bites back a smile. Okay, yes, he loves this. He likes hiding like this, right under your nose.

Him getting a boner was a development he had foreseen coming ten minutes ago, once he started daydreaming about you. So he just went ahead and casually switched positions. A risk, but a calculated one. He was pretty sure there’d be no reason for him to get up and expose the tent in his jeans. And boy does he love it when he’s right.

Tim goes to move another piece, when he glances up at you and nearly goes slack-jawed. You don’t meet his eyes. Instead, you wet your lips, seemingly meditating on something.

You meditate on him. After all, Tim is so… pretty. Pretty in a way unlike the rest of his gorgeous brothers. He has pretty eyes framed by dark lashes and a smaller frame, though he’s deceptively muscled under the clean-cut slacks and button ups. He has silky black hair that often falls into his eyes; a defined jaw. And pale skin. He is notably the palest in his family, burning miserably on beach days. It is that pale skin, contrasted so sharply with his dark green tee, that brings your eyes to his collarbones.

Tim nearly erupts.

Fuck, yes. He caught you staring. It takes him self-restraint not to puff out his chest or try to show more skin, lest he reveal his hard-on.

You snap out of it only moments after he notices, grin returning to your face.

“You know if you lose focus like that, I’m going to win,” you tease, almost childlike mischief in your expression.

Tim so badly wants to parrot the words back at you, but he doesn’t want to scare you into never checking him out ever again. The little inch you just gave him– oh, he intends to take a mile. Whatever small acquiesces you give in the future, he knows he’ll take that and much more.

Now, he’s hungry for you. As soon as this game is done, he’s going to create a new case study file, just for you. He could start kicking his feet at the thought, he's that excited. He’s excited!

He’ll put the pedestrian, basic stuff like your height, weight, alma mater, major, past jobs and experiences. Somehow get into your social media that’s all on private mode to see what you’re always laughing at on that damn phone. He’s also going to bring up your phone records, go through your email, go through your physical mail. Oh, fuck, surveillance. He’s already in your room, too, luckily. If only he had more of his bugs on hand… The ones he always keeps in his belt buckle will do for now. Also, Tim needs to think of some way to acquire your breast, waist, and hip size – he has a good idea of those measurements, but he wants to know. When is the next time you’ll be out of the house and not at work, he wonders–

“Tim,” you whine, impatient. The sound is music to his ears.

Tim’s eyes rise from the board to your pouting face, and he smiles apologetically. Suddenly, your face dawns with disbelief and indignance.

Tim swiftly picks up one last piece and knocks one yours over.

“Checkmate.”

#yandere tim drake #yandere batfam #tim drake x reader #tim drake #yandere tim drake x reader #mine #this was so hard but i feel much better about writing him #TuT wow feels like forever since i posted anything

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wintfleur · 7 months

Note

Hiii can I pls request 🌱 childhood home/room with Charles Leclerc or lewis and female reader? Loads of fluff and maybe nsfw?

For Charles like praising but if you write Lewis maybe an age gap, praising, pocessive? Soft but dominant for both and talking the reader through it with an extensive aftercare? Like all giggling and cuddling etc would loveee that

౨ৎ it’s called charm baby !

°. — pairings ( Lewis Hamilton x female! Reader )

°. — summary ( your boyfriend knows how to make you feel better, after dinner with him meeting your family doesn’t go well )

°. — details ( g; fluff & smut. w; smut, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!!!!), cursing, hair pulling, I think that’s all?. wc; 2.7k )

﹕─┈ prompt ~ childhood room

˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( I COULD NOT STOP GIGGLING AS I READ THIS NONNIE YOU ARE A GENIUS !!!! This was my first Lewis fic, and I just loved writing for him so thank you for sending in the request, I really hope you enjoy this !!! I’m still kinda new to writing smut so I hope you guys like it <333 )

1k celly masterlist main masterlist f1 masterlist

“Well that went better than i expected” Lewis mused after he heard the sound of you closing the door behind you. His eyes were immediately drawn to your walls, taking in every detail with a fond smile. He always wondered what your childhood room looked like; he'd seen a few pictures of you in the room, but it was different from actually being there. He didn't get a chance of getting a good look earlier when the two of you had brought your shared luggage up, your youngest brother who was only a few years younger than you, whisking him away before he could really take everything in.

You could hear the slight of sarcasm in his tone making you feel even worse on how your parents ⸺ no how your father treated him at dinner. The two of you decided to finally come visit your parents now that Lewis is on break. You were a little hesitant on coming, knowing how your father could be, but Lewis was convincing. Your mother was as sweet as always, asking questions about his career and giving his family good wishes, your two brothers were eager to talk about his career as well, your niece was absolutely smitten with him, and your father . . . completely uninterested. You knew he wasn't happy with you and Lewis's age-gap with how much he voiced his opinion about it, but still you thought he'd at least try . . . for you.

“I’m really sorry lew, we shouldn't have come” you frowned as your eyes followed your boyfriend of a year around your room. He was taking in every detail, everything in your room made sense to him, everything was so you. Lewis looked away from your collection of posters over your desk and moved to sit on the edge of your bed facing you, a smile on his lips. “Don't say that baby, i know you really wanted to see your family, and I've had a great time.”

“Give me a few more days and I'll get your dad to like me” Lewis promised as he leaned back on his hands, a small giggle leaving his lips as he saw the clearly old stuffed bear perfectly sitting on your bed. You feel your heart warm at his words, he was always so selfless, willing to go through anything just so he could see a smile on your pretty face. You swiftly lock your door and walk over to your boyfriend, the corner of your lips twitching up into a smirk when you watch how his eyes immediately drop to your swaying hips.

“You are quite charming” You whispered as you placed your hands on your boyfriend's shoulders, feeling the smooth silk of his shirt as you climbed up onto his lap, the two of you keeping eye contact as he looked up at you. Lewis smirked as he heard your coquettish tone that he loved so much. The dress he bought you in Brazil riding up your thighs at the new position and he was eager to move his hands to caress your bare thighs, chills decorating your skin at his touch.

“Oh, am i?” he teasingly asks you even though he was well aware how charming he is with how much you reminded him, a cocky smile on his lips. Lewis watched as you playfully rolled your eyes as you moved your hands to his nape, your breath hitching when you felt him slide his hands under your dress and up your thighs. You playfully chided him with a click of your tongue and a small shake of your head “Cockiness doesn't look good on you Lewis.”

That's a lie. It looked really good on him . . .

“Fuck but you do” lewis quickly breathed out as he looked up at you, swiftly moving one of his hands out from under your dress and tangling it in your hair at your nape and pulling you down into a wet kiss he’s wanted to do all day. A small sound of surprise leaves your lip that he's quick to swallow, his lips eagerly moving against yours. You move one of your hands to cup his cheek, the soft caress of your thumb on his jaw was completely different from the passionate kiss the two you were sharing.

You absentmindedly grinded against your boyfriend's lap, a mix of a moan and a whine leaving your lips at the feeling of the friction against his bulging length and the feeling of his grip tightening on your hair. The two of you were both so desperate for each other's touch, having to be good and keep your hands to yourself all day in front of your family. God it was torture, especially seeing how good he looked. The lingering touches he left on your waist as he walked past you, or the soft touches on your thighs under the table. He knew what he was doing . . .

You reluctantly pull away from your boyfriend's addictive lips, panting against his lips as you're slow to open your eyes. You lock eyes with lewis darkened ones, your thighs clenching around him when he untangles his fingers out of your hair and uses his thumb to wipe the spit off your tingling lips. “Please” your tone is desperate and whiny. You didn't have to say anything else; he knew what you wanted, and your eyes were begging him to fuck you.

You knew you were playing with fire, but your room was far enough from your parents, and you were too needy to really care. Lewis groaned as he felt you grind your hips impatiently against him, a smirk forming on his lips. He could feel you throbbing even with three layers of clothing between the two of you. Lewis chuckled and rested his hand on your collarbone, his thumb teasingly tracing the column of your throat, knowing that you were just itching to have him wrap his hand around it. His hand under your dress gripped your thigh “You think you can be quite hmm? Be my good girl?”

“I promise lewis, i'll be your good girl” you promised as you nodded quickly, starting to get impatient as you felt his hand slowly move up and down your thigh, the cold chill of his rings against your warm skin sending a shiver down your spine. You couldn't wait anymore, and he could see that. The look in your eyes, the impatient rolling of your hips,

“I know baby, you're always my good girl aren't you” Lewis whispered as slowly trailed his hand up the inside of your thigh. You let out a small huff of frustration, just wanting to feel his fingers calm that ache between your thighs. But you were quick to close your mouth and bite your lip at the stern look lewis gave you, he had no problem with you being needy, but he crossed the line at you being bratty. But he’ll take pity on his pretty girl, he moves his hand right to where you were needing him the most. A gasp leaving your lips at his touch while a small chuckle leaves him at how damp your panties were, his pointer finger teasingly rubbing your clit through your panties.

“Mhm yes lew” you whimpered and leaned down to lay your head on his shoulder, softly biting his silk shirt to keep your moans at bay as he dips his fingers into your panties, covering his fingers in your slick and smoothly slipping two fingers inside your throbbing hole. You wrap your arms around Lewis muscular shoulders, a whine leaving your lips at the sudden stretch.

Lewis smiles cheekily and looks down at you, your lips parted as sweet and quiet moans left your lips as he continued his slow movement, massaging your tight walls. Leaning down to whisper in your ear, his beard tickling your face, but you were too lost in pleasure to say anything about it “Awe darling, you're just sucking my fingers up, so tight.”

“Feels so good” You moaned out, tilting your head to start kissing and sucking your boyfriend's godly neck, desperately needing to occupy your mouth so you wouldn't be moaning out praises and curses at the pleasure your boyfriend was giving you. Lewis let out a quiet grunt at the feeling of your lips on his burning skin, sucking and nibbling. And the way you gently rutted against his fingers and the choked-out moan you let out when he curled his fingers up, made him want to lay you across the bed and fuck you until you couldn't take it anymore.

“Lew i need more ⸺ please fuckkk i need more” you begged, letting out a sharp gasp when he starts rubbing your clit with his thumb, his hand covered in your slick. Lewis smirks and locks eyes with you, your eyes glazed over. His poor baby was already fucked out and he hasn't even taken his cock out. Lewis kisses your forehead and slowly pulls his fingers out of your sopping hole and softly patting your clit as he whispers.

“Only because you asked so prettily.”

“Fuck darling, you take me so fucking well” Lewis got out between his grunts, his thumbs dipped into the dimples of your back as he holds tightly onto your waist as he thrusts into you from behind. His eyebrows furrowed and his lips parted as his gaze was fixed on where your bodies connected ⸺ loving how good your pussy swallows him in. He slides his hands down to hold your ass, his fingers sinking into your skin and spreading it open slightly to watch as his dick covered in your slick disappears in your needy cunt.

A soft chuckle leaves his lips when he notices your trembling thighs “Feels good, huh?”

“Feels so good” you mewled in pleasure, your arms were stretched under the coolness of your pillows, and the soft fabric of your duvet against your cheek and naked body felt so good against your burning skin. Your face was smushed against your soft pillow, hoping that it would help muffle your uncontrollable moans that only got more frequent the harder his thrusts got.

Lewis pulls up your hips and adjusts the pillow under your hips, the new angle causing him to pound into you deeper. A loud moan leaving your lips at how deep he was stretching you ⸺ you felt so full. The sound of your skin meeting creates a lewd noise that makes you feel like you were in a trance, being lulled by the rhythmic sound. You pull your pillow closer to you, whines and moans leaving your parted lips as your body jerks forward from the hard thrusts “It's too much!”

Lewis leans down as he continues fucking into your aching cunt, one of his hands softly rubbing up your back before tangling his hands into your hair and making a makeshift ponytail and pulling you up against his chest. Your back arched and one of your trembling hands moved behind you and dug your fingers into the skin of Lewis thigh so you wouldn't fall, a delicious hiss leaving his lips at the sting he welcomed. “You can take it baby ⸺ we both know you can” he whispered huskily in your ear, trailing off into a taunting coo, both of you thinking back on the countless times of you fucking yourself on his cock.

“You gonna cum for me love?” Lewis moaned, feeling the way you clenched around him, the feeling bringing him closer to his own peak. “Yes lew!” you whined as you tilted your head back against him. Lewis kept his eyes on you taking in the beauty of your side profile as he continued to fuck you. Your eyebrows were furrowed, and your eyes were glazed over with pleasure, your mouth parted as quiet moans slipped past your lips.

“I’m gonna cum ⸺ fuckk” you cried out, but it came out muffled from lewis hand quickly covering your mouth, your head tipping forward as you felt that rope inside you snap, letting you fall into your own desire. Everything went silent for a second and you swore you lost vision as you came undone. And like a chain reaction, Lewis spilled himself deep inside of you, not being able to hold back once he felt you cum around him. Quiet grunts leaving his lips as he tilted his head back in pleasure.

Your trembling body fell forward on your bed, a whimper leaving your lips at the feeling of him slipping out of you while a hiss left his. You snuggled your face into your unruly sheets as you tried to catch your breath and calm down from the intense orgasm your boyfriend led you to. Lewis’s sweaty chest heaved as he panted and also tried to catch his breath, his eyes closing for a few seconds.

He looks down at your tired body and places his hands on the bed at the sides of your body, softly kissing your back a few times a smile on his lips at the sight of your sweaty body. You let out a quiet groan as you rolled over in bed, your glazed over eyes looking up at your smiling boyfriend. Lewis leaned down, placing his hands by your head so he wouldn't crush you with his body weight.

“You did so good f’me” lewis praised you as he placed gentle and soft kisses all over your face. You smiled and shut your eyes at the soft feeling of his lips, one of his hands moving to gently caress your side. His head falling into the crook of your neck to softly kiss. You hum in satisfaction at his soft and sweet touches and whisper “up for a bath?”

Lewis placed a few more kisses on your shoulder and collarbone before sitting up on his knees between your spread legs. You smile and sit up as well, placing your hand on his abdomen before placing a soft and meaningful kiss over his heart. Lewis looked down at you with such love, taking your hand on his chest into his and placing a kiss on it before whispering “Always with you darling.”

Lewis helps you out of your bed and into your bathroom that was connected to your room, his hands flipping the switch while you were already moving to the shelf in your bathroom, grabbing a few candles and setting them on the edge around your big white bathtub. You would be lying if you said you didn't miss your bathtub the most about your childhood room.

Lewis rests his hands on your waist as you lean down to turn on the water, hot water soon pouring out and filling the bath. You giggle when you come up, your back coming flush against his chest. Lewis was quick to place a few kisses on your shoulder and whisper in your ear how beautiful you looked. You turn around and playfully scold him with a grin on your face “You're such a flirt.”

“I prefer to say I'm just charming” Lewis smirked, using your words against you. You bit your lip and nod your head, touché. You let Lewis get into the bath first, and then you. Your body nestling between his legs and his arms wrapped around your waist as you leaned back against his chest. The two of you enjoyed a few minutes of peaceful silence as you relaxed in the warm bath, your muscles relaxing from the cardio.

“I love you” you broke the silence as you tilted your head to look back at him. He could see the reflection of the candle burning in your eyes, and your lips were so red from all the bruising kisses the two of you shared. He brought his water-soaked hand and cups your cheek, bringing you closer and resting his forehead on the side of your head. Yes, the dinner didn't go the way the both of you wanted, but he wouldn't have changed anything because it brought the two of you here . . . in that soft moment filled with nothing but love and vanilla candles.

“And i love you “

˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( ahhh im nervous about this 🤭 please tell me what you guys think 💋 )

°. — taglist ( @iloveyou3000morgan @copper-boom @cixrosie @partyinpitlane @toasttt11 )

#﹕─┈ 𝜗 roro's 1k celly 𝜚 #﹕─┈ roro’s works #f1 #formula one #formula 1 #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton x reader #lh44 #lewis hamilton smut #f1 smut #formula one smut #formula 1 smut #formula one x reader #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #lh44 smut #saudi arabia gp 2024

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csainzoperator · 10 months

Text

yummy: LN4 ☆

summary: y/n is a chef in the mclaren hospitality who is famous for her fabulous recipies. everyone is head over heels for her recipies, and a certain someone is most definitely more than head over heels. but not just for the food.

(lando norris x fem!reader)

read more under the cut!

itsmey/n has posted!

another day at work! for the british gp, their special "sticky toffee pudding" was a success :)

tagged: landonorris and oscarpiastri

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, lewishamilton and 76,123 others.

landonorris it was so yum (she fed us the so called desert forcefully after giving us a 4 course meal)

- oscarpiastri you're such an ungrateful brat. it was great, bestie itsmey/n

- itsmey/n thank you pastry, and lando...i might leave you to starve to death.

lewishamilton i would kill for a pudding rn! you should drop by merc hospitality y/n!

- mclaren look at you trying to steal our goddamn chef....

f1wagsss oh my god you're so pretty

landonorris has posted!

P2 AT HOME RACE BABY!! so proud of the team to be finishing at P2 and P4. also special thanks to y/n for feeding us well :)

tagged: oscar piastri and itsmey/n

liked by georgerussell63, carlossainz55, itsmey/n and 872,182,283 others.

landonorizz are we gonn ignore the fact that y/n just made it to a lando post???

lechaaair OH Y/N FEEDS US TOO. SHE SERVES ALL THE DAMN TIME. MOTHER 🙏🏼🙏🏼

itsmey/n its literally my job tho...?

- oscarpiastri some people are bad at their job. he's appreciating you for being good. (lando you fr have no rizz man)

carlaando lando are you trynna make a move GN

- landonowinss BROS PROBABLY REGRETTING RN 💀

(time skip!)

it was the hungarian gp. you were in the mclaren hospitality. the mclaren kitchen was quite big, and your co-workers were extremely sweet. you mainly cooked for the drivers and mechanics, while guiding the others. you were tasting a dish when you feel a presence behind you. you immediately recognise who it is.

"what is it now, lando?" you ask with a knowing smile on your face. he sits down on the counter beside you and watches you as you work. "i was wondering if you would like to, maybe, just maybe, come outside with me and sit down and talk and get some food you know?" he blabbers

"are you asking me out on a date?" you tease him. "well, yeah. only if you want it to be. its okay if you say no" he says with a sad smile on his face. you cup his face with one of your hands and give his cheeks a squeeze. "ofcourse i'll come, dumbass. now shoo, let me work. you're too distracting"

the smug smile he has on his face makes you blush. "so i am distracting huh? what else am i? you can give me details when we go on that date" he winks at you and walks off. you just simply shake your head in amusement.

the date goes well. to be honest, more than well. you both have the most fun ever. lando is everything that you craved. he was the sweetest boy. day by day, meal by meal, both of you started talking more, discovering each other. one fine night, in his apartment in london, where you taught him how to bake his favourite cake, he surprises you by asking you to be his girlfriend. you say yes without hesitation. you knew he wasn't going to play around with your heart.

it was the brazilian gp. lando had placed P2 again! you were the proudest girlfriend to exist, and the happiest. you were just so incredibly proud as he was doing so good this year.

itsmey/n has posted!

brazil you were brilliiianttt <3 liked by oscarpiastri, mclaren, landonorris and 92,233 others.

f1wags HOLD UP. SOFT LAUNCHING????

oscarpiastri yuck i hate being around the hospitality now.

landonorris 🌟

- carlandodod PLS IM NOT OK WHAT DOES THIS MEAN.

- leclercvc oh. my. god. guys. i think its lando and y/n.

f1gosssip apparently some people saw looking for his "girlfriend" after the race, and some people even saw him kissing a girl in the mclaren garage! we hope its y/n 😫

y/nfannn MOTHER WHO IS THAT

landonorris has posted!

brazil with bae. thank you team for making the P2 happen! more to come.

p.s i don't believe in soft launches. she let me hard launch after 8 races 🖐🏼

tagged: itsmey/n and mclaren

liked by mclaren, itsmey/n, charles_leclerc and 827,123,12 others.

oscarpiastri GAG

carlandooo MAMA Y PAPA

carlossainz55 finally mate! congrats :)

maxverstappen1 lando isn't a kid anymore

f1wags OFFICIALLY OUR FAV WAG (with lily obv)

itsmey/n i love you, baby! super proud <3

- landonorris i love YOU. so much. so much.

paddockclubb 8 RACES?? HOW LONG HAS THIS BEEN GOING ON OMG

the end ♡

#f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 #carlos sainz x reader #f1 instagram au #fanfiction #charles leclerc #carlos sainz #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #formula one #instagram au #fanfic

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morallygreyyn · 10 months

Note

Can i pls get some clingy ass illumi x reader who hasn’t seen them in days because of his missions?

Have a nice day!! Make sure to drink water💓

miss me? (illumi zoldyck x reader)

description: illumi has been gone for a week and when he returns, he seems slightly off. it didn't take you long to realise that he wanted attention, namely yours...

authors note: another super old ask but i love this one with all my heart and soul. illumi? stunning. clingy illumi? immaculate. seriously there is nothing i love more than illumi so this is how i think he would be when he's clingy and wants attention! have a lovely day anon and i really hope you drink lots of water! (seriously i've just found out how important this is so pls everyone drink lots of water to flush out that bacteria) 💗

warnings: none

word count: 1.1k

requests are open! please read my rules!

You hadn’t seen Illumi Zoldyck for the better part of a week. While you were used to the assassin leaving often for work, usually you were in a position to follow him. This time, however, was one of the rare occasions where you had to stay home at your apartment, all for that blasted electrician who kept cancelling on you. If he called you one more time to cancel, while you stayed home when you could have followed your boyfriend to a sunny location that you would have treated like a holiday, you swore you would hire the Zoldyck yourself to track him down.

As though he had heard your silent threat, the electrician came and went, and your kitchen appliances were once again fully operational. Happy that you could finally restock the fridge, you left to get groceries. You couldn’t admit this out loud, but your apartment often felt too empty without the assassin occupying it too. While he didn’t own the space where you lived, he stayed there often enough that he may as well share it with you.

It had surprised you when you brought up the offer of living together and he didn’t reject the idea immediately. Illumi actually seemed contemplative, as though it was almost a pleasant thought. That was what you assumed anyway, you could never truly tell what he was thinking most of the time.

By the time you returned home, you knew something was different immediately. For one, you were certain that you had locked the door. Cautiously stepping into the apartment, you coiled and prepared to strike whatever or whoever was lurking. Despite not being an assassin, you were still a qualified Hunter, and those licences did not come easy.

It turns out that you needn't have bothered as, when you approached the living area, Illumi was sitting calmly at your kitchen island watching you.

“Oh, Illumi!” Setting down your bags, you ran to him, throwing your arms around your boyfriend as you held him tightly. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming back?”

“No signal.” He said simply as he let you hug him, hands gingerly settling around you. You had to fight tooth and nail for him to learn how to hug properly, and even now he still hadn’t quite managed to perfect the act. Despite this, he still tried, and that was good enough for you.

Pulling away, you looked at him with a smile. “How was it?”

He shrugged, a clear sign he was disinterested in the topic. “Simple.”

Nodding, you stepped back to put the groceries away, not wanting them to rot on the floor. Illumi sat back down, fathomless eyes locked on you while you completed the task you had set for yourself. You liked to think that you knew the Zoldyck rather well, and that included when something was bothering him.

Turning around, you raised an eyebrow as you met his gaze. “What?”

“What?”

“You’re staring at me.”

“Why are you pointing that out?”

“Because I’m wondering why.”

“I stare at you a lot.” He stated, tone very matter of factly.

“I know, but now it seems different.”

“It isn’t.”

“If you say so, darling.” You rolled your eyes and finished putting the food away. Once you had, you turned to face your boyfriend once more, looking for an explanation.

“You forgot something.” Illumi said, and while his voice was the usual light and expressionless one, his eyes still bore into yours.

Looking around, you couldn’t see anything out of place, and you had certainly left nothing on the counters. “What did I forget?”

Illumi didn’t answer, only continued to look at you expectedly. Now you were really confused, and slightly unnerved by his odd behaviour. Illumi rarely acted like this.

With no answer to give you clarity, you grinned in feigned annoyance, kissed his cheek and whispered you were happy to have him back before you left to head into the room you used as an at home office.

Sitting down at your desk and opening your files, you stared blankly at the screen while you mentally observed Illumi’s behaviour. There was something amiss, and you couldn’t put your finger on what. He wasn’t usually the expressive one; well, he was never the expressive one. All physical, verbal, and emotional affection fell on your shoulders to deliver. While this may seem one sided to most, you didn’t mind as you knew Illumi was not able to express much by way of love. Despite this, you knew he loved you, in his own way. He had threatened to kill the electrician for you when you complained about the situation to him, and that spoke millions. Not only that, but he also allowed you to be as affectionate as you are with him, and he accepted it whereas anyone else wouldn’t have a chance in hell of even approaching him, let alone the things you did together.

What was bothering him?

Just then, you saw a shadow move in your peripheral vision, and your heart dropped to your ass. “Fucking hell, Illumi! At least knock!”

He ignored your outburst. “What are you doing?”

“Working.” You said as you willed your heart to calm down.

“Oh.” Illumi stayed standing behind you, hovering ominously.

Then it clicked, Illumi was being clingy. This was how he acted when he wanted attention. Unable to control yourself, you laughed loudly at the realisation.

“What?” He asked, watching you stand from your seat to face him.

Your smile was incredibly smug as you approached, wrapping your hands around his waist. “Did somebody miss me?”

Naturally, he didn’t respond and it might’ve been your imagination, but he seemed to relax under your touch.

“I think I know what I’ve forgotten.” You captured your lips with his own, smiling as you did so. It was moments like this that made you realise that Illumi did in fact love you, and that he was quite attached to you. Even if he didn’t show it much, his hands resting on you, the slide of his lips against your own, the way he seemed unwilling to let you go spoke for him.You pulled away for a moment, bringing a hand up to caress his cheek. You had the Illumi Zoldyck as your lover, and no matter what anyone said, he loved you. “Miss me?”

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earlysunshines · 2 months

Text

it's (always) you

danielle marsh x fem!reader ; fluff, angst

synopsis: everyone has a set date and time tattooed onto them indicating their date of death. it’s your time soon, so you move out away from the city and end up in a small town and meet a very special girl.

warnings: slowburn, pining, angst ; mentions of death ; making out! making out w mo dani… ; reader has trauma (parents dead or wtv) ; anything else not mentioned ; literally not proofread it’s joever…

a/n: hi mo dani enjoyers i hope u all enjoy i lowk (highk) put a lot of effort into this embrassingly enough so um Yeah pls lmk how u like it ^_^

everyone has a predetermined time and date for their death. whether it’s a natural end or something peculiar, there’s no avoiding it.

this inevitability applies to everyone. no one can escape this fate—not your friends, parents, and not you. there are no exceptions, no miracles; no one can escape death unless they’re something more than a human.

as far as you know, you’re very much mortal. there’s a mark on your upper rib that has the date of your destined death in dark ink.

one thing you can escape is your misery, you're not going to spend the last few months of your life cooped up in a cramped, single bedroom apartment. the time you have left is short, so you might as well make the most of it.

before your parents passed two years ago, they entrusted you with a key to a safe, urging you to open it when the time felt right. they died on the same day, figured that going for a swim on their beach trip with you would be a wonderful idea, espeically on their death day. they often joked that they were soulmates, destined to be together. this belief was cemented not only by the matching date tattoos they had, but also by their coincidental placements—your father's mark below his left ear and your mother's below her right. their love and fate were intertwined in a way that seemed almost too perfect to be real.

you wonder if there’s some other universe where you’re all still together, you often wonder about that.

the safe they had given you is in the depths of your storage closet, you had shoved it there when you first moved in and haven’t touched it since – not until now.

it’s placed on your coffee table, you’re sitting on the floor and staring at the key biting the inside of your lip. when the time is right. the words ring in your head and you think, is this it? how do you know?

you don’t have time to wonder if this is the right time, either way, the safe will have to be opened sooner or later. you have exactly seven months, you can’t risk it. besides, you’ve already decided that you’re selling everything you own in your small, claustrophobic apartment and leaving for good – at least until it’s your time.

you push the key into the slot, turning it to the right and hearing two clicks before the door unlocks. you move your hand over to the little door handle and hesitate for a moment, swallowing shallowly before you open.

inside, there’s a small shoebox, a little book, and a debit card being held to a note with an old rubber band. it’s a little dusty inside, making you cough when you pull out each item and examine them all closely.

the shoebox is the first thing you reach for. brushing off the dust, you notice the little adidas logo before carefully opening it. your hand flies to your mouth in shock at what you see inside. it’s filled with cash—stacks of bills neatly arranged. you estimate there’s enough to cover your rent for three or four months at least. you can't believe your eyes, staring at the sight longer to ensure it isn’t a dream.

grabbing a stack, you measure its thickness against your finger, finding it to be about half its length. as you flip through, you discover each bill is a twenty. from the color and what you can glimpse in the rest of the box, you notice some stacks start with fifties, more twenties, and you’re almost certain there’s one topped with a hundred. the sheer amount leaves you awestruck, the reality of it sinking in as you carefully examine each stack.

the next item is the little book, you open it to find things worth more than all of the money in the shoe box.

there are pictures of you as a child, of your parents before you were born, and of the three of you together. as you flip through each page, the photos become more recent. by the time you reach the end, you realize it’s a chronological timeline capturing every moment they could. each image, a fragment of your shared history, leaves you feeling both nostalgic and overwhelmed. a tear slides down your cheek and you don’t even realize it.

the last item is the debit card, you look at it, grazing the material and looking at the slight dust on your fingers after.

you open the letter, looking closely and reading what’s written:

debit card value: 15000.

y/n, we miss you as much as you do, really.

we hope this finds you well, and that you have time left.

do what you will with the money, and don’t spend too much time sulking looking at the pictures.

be happy and don’t miss out on anything. make friends, experience more, meet people, maybe even find your own little soulmate. ha.

we love you always, don’t forget it. spend your time wisely, and live life to the fullest – don’t waste out on anything!

– lots of love, always, mom and dad.

you take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. the ache in your chest is bittersweet, but mainly bitter.

when you finish reading, a few drops of water stain the paper in your hand—tears you hadn’t realized had fallen. now you find yourself sniffling, holding this piece of love from your parents.

you pinch your eyes shut, wiping away the tears, but the crying only intensifies. it’s overwhelming – all of it. the countless hours spent staring at the ceiling, missing the two people who raised you, trying to hold yourself together until you had time to grieve. and now, holding this letter, it feels like a fresh wound.

–

you have no clue where you’re headed.

it took you two hours to stop crying and finally pull out your laptop. before opening the safe, your plan was to find an escape from the city. through squinted eyes, sniffles, and a pile of tissues, you managed to load the website for train and bus tickets. there were various options; one of them was to take a plane to somewhere completely foreign and figure things out there. however, the price was steep, and despite everything, you realized you still had a fondness for your area; a piece of your parents was practically anywhere if you stayed, and you can’t imagine leaving.

so now you’re on a train staring out the window as it departs, watching the buildings in the distance fade into trees and natural sights.

you bought the train and bus tickets because they were cheap and led to the water, ironically enough considering how your parents died. you always loved the beach, and your parents did too, maybe the beach loved them too much. besides the worst incident on the beach, many happy memories often had the beach lingering close, and it had always been a little dream of yours to just laze around someplace nearby it. after the chaos of the city that had surrounded you most of your life, you craved something quiet, mundane, and rural. a serene escape to the beach seemed like the perfect place for your final moments.

besides, you might as well follow in your parents’ footsteps.

you had fallen asleep on the train, exhausted from the emotional whirlwind. a gentle tap on your shoulder stirred you awake, and you slowly opened your eyes to see an elderly lady gazing at you with concern.

her kind eyes and soft expression immediately made you feel a bit more at ease. “are you okay?” she asks, voice slightly raspy.

“h-huh? hi, sorry, yeah.”

“you’re not dying today, are you?” she questions worriedly, but looks pretty unbothered despite her inquiry. “at least you didn’t pass sleeping on the train.”

“no, no.” you blink hard, waving your hand in the air as you dismiss her and simultaneously wake up from your four-hour nap. “i have um– a while before that.”

“good, good.” she says, then waves at you. “better get off quick honey, you wouldn’t want to miss your bus, would you? wherever you’re headed…”

“ah, no.”

“the busses in this area take longer since it’s not the city, you better hurry!”

“right, yes. thank you miss.” you nod at her, getting up and putting on your backpack, then grabbing your suitcase. you walk down the aisle, following behind her and getting off.

you check your ticket crumpled up in your pocket, looking at it closely and looking around for the stations. you pass by a small cafe and convenience store as you rush down the corridor, desperately looking for the sign that shows bus ‘11.’

ten minutes pass, your eyes finally find the sign, and five people are getting on to the bus as you catch sight of it. you run as fast as you can, picking up your suitcase during your rush and manage to get to the bus just as the doors had closed.

you knock on the windows of the doors, the bus driver looks at you, raising his brows and sighing as he presses a button. in no time, the doors fold inwards and you hop on, breathless.

“thank you so much,” you say in between breaths, “i’m sorry.”

he nods, then looks at you expectedly, holding his hand out. “ticket?”

“oh, yes.” you open your fist, giving him the slightly crumpled paper you had in your hand as you ran towards the vehicle. you look at him apologetically, muttering a small, “sorry.”

the bus driver tilts his head, motioning for you to just get on and find a seat. coincidentally, you make eye contact with the lady from before, sighing in relief and sitting next to her after seeing her pat down the empty space.

“i suppose we’re headed the same way.”

“yeah, what a coincidence.” you breath out, smiling at her. you haven’t smiled in a while, it feels good to do it, and it feels even better when she pats your shoulder and smiles back.

–

an hour later, the bus comes to a stop, and the old lady taps on your knee while you’re ten seconds away from falling asleep.

“this is where i get off dear.”

“ah, um–” you still have no idea where you’re going – the only think you know is that this bus allegedly leads to the beach, somewhere close at least. something about the lady and seeing her again urges you to follow her, it just feels right. maybe she’ll lead you where you need to go. “--this is my stop too.”

“ah, i see.”

“do you need help with your bags?”

“i’m quite alright dear, thank you.” she says, grabbing her big purse and scooting out after you had done so.

you follow her out the bus, then admire the scenery around you.

it’s three in the afternoon and the sun is shining all over, warming your face up. you’re in a small town, there’s the same shops and whatnot that you’d find in the city, but it’s smaller, much more home like, and in the distance you can see bright trees, bushes, and a small trail leading out. your mouth is agape just slightly as you observe and admire; it’s beautiful wherever you are.

“beautiful, right?” the lady is still there, you hadn’t noticed. “your first time here?”

“yeah.” you mumble, turning back to look down at her.

she smiles warmly and asks, “are you hungry?” you pause, opening your mouth to respond, but no words come out. sensing your hesitation, she smiles again, brushing it off. “you must be tired too. come, i’ll cook you something.”

before you can answer, she’s already heading off, dragging her suitcase in a different direction. with nothing else to do and no plan – you follow her.

as you walk, you pass various buildings, from quaint shops and cozy cafes to cute bookstores and a post office where elderly men play chess out front. the sight makes you smile without realizing it, a sense of comfort and fondness settling over you for this new place you've found.

it’ll be alright. you think, looking down at the back of your phonecase to see a small picture of you and your parents through the clear material.

–

she leads you to a restaurant down the road, it takes less than ten minutes to get there and only one turn after walking down the same sidewalk.

there are two small wooden tables outside, each with two matching chairs. behind the seating area, a large glass window offers a clear view inside. the window, though slightly worn, proudly displays a sign that reads "lee’s kitchen." through the glass, you can see more seating inside and a front desk.

everything about this place exudes comfort, from the trees, vines, and bushes that surround it to the cat sleeping peacefully beside a flower pot. the greenery wraps around the building and is highlighted by the sun’s glow, adding to its charm. the calico cat, nestled in a cozy spot, seems to embody the tranquility of the area. you love it already.

she leads you in, a bell ringing when the door opens.

she points over to a small table by the wall, gesturing you to settle down and relax for the time being.

“you can place your luggage on the other chair, there won’t be anyone here today.”

“right, thank you.”

“mhm.” she checks the clock on the wall, then smiles. “my granddaughter might barge in, let her know im cooking in the back, alright?”

“yeah, of course. thank you again.”

“it’s no problem…”

“y/n.” you respond. “my name is y/n.”

“lovely name. you can call me mrs. lee. settle down alright?”

“thank you.”

“it’s nothing.” she says, then disappears behind the counter and past the door to the back.

you walk over to the table she had pointed to, setting your bag next to you and leaving your suitcase nearby. you sigh, closing your eyes and then opening them again to look around. near the counter there’s a photo framed of ms. lee, an elderly man, and a younger girl who looks around six years old. looking at the frame you smile. the photo looks a little old, similar to the photos your parents had left you.

you take in the whole area, illuminated by warm lightbulbs that cast a cozy glow. the tables and chairs, though a bit older, feel comfortable and inviting. the ground is covered in faded dark gray marble tiles, and the seating areas are made of sturdy wood. plants are scattered around, adding touches of greenery. in one corner, there’s a tv that’s turned off. you’re not used to older places; everything in the city was either renovated or styled to look vintage. but this place is different—you can tell it’s genuinely aged with love and care, its authenticity warms your heart.

the bell above the door jingles, you turn your head to see who’s stepped in.

“grandma? are you back? who unlocked the door…” she mumbles the last part to herself, then furrows her brows and clutches her backpack strap when she sees you. “who are you?”

“oh, hi. um, your grandma is in the back, she led me here…”

“huh.” she hums, then shrugs. “i will be back, stranger.”

“um, okay?”

the girl walks past the counter and towards the other door, you assume this area is just the restaurant and their home is inside it. a few moments later, the girl comes back and sits in front of you. she’s changed out of the school uniform she had been wearing earlier and is now wearing an old t-shirt and linen shorts.

she looks at you, narrowing her eyes. “you’re not from here.” she states bluntly.

“i’m not.” you respond, looking back curiously. “you’ve got a good eye.”

“most people from here don’t have more than three piercings on their ear, neither do they have many tattoos.” she points out, her eyes filled with wonder are drawn to the faint flower on your upper forearm with a date printed on it. she tilts her head, widens her eyes a little, then says, “the date on your arm has already passed.”

“it’s my parents’ time, not mine.”

“oh, i’m sorry.”

“it’s alright.” you assure. “i’m from the city.”

“ah.” she clicks her tongue. “that’s cool.”

“is it?”

“i’ve heard lots about it, i’ve been once when i was young. it was cool.”

“kinda.” you smile at her, then rub on the ink tattooed on your arm. “did you grow up here?”

she hums. “born and raised!”

you can’t help but giggle at her energy and curiosity.

the girl looks about sixteen, quite young. she has a smile on her face now, quickly eager to converse and mingle with the random woman in her… home? restaurant? you’re not sure, but you figure you’ll find out.

“right, that’s lovely. is this restaurant yours?”

“my grandma’s.”

“ah, i see. i like it, it’s nicer than all of the ones in the city.”

“really?” she asks, then smiles wider. “my grandma’s restaurant is the best here.”

“is that so?” you respond cheekily, entertained by her statement.

before she can respond, her eyes redirect behind you and she lights up completely. she gets up, rushing over and you turn to see her hugging mrs. lee.

“you’re back! i didn’t think you’d be back so early grandma.”

“well, i’m here. did you eat enough at school? have some bibimbap. i’m worried you haven’t been eating well these days hyein.”

“i’m fine grandma, haerin shared with me.”

“kang’s daughter?”

“yes!” the girl beams – hyein.

mrs. lee walks over to your table and gently places two bowls in front of you. hyein sits back down across from you, eyeing the food hungrily. you look down at the bowl filled with spinach, carrots, beef, string beans, mushrooms, rice, and a sunny side up egg on top. the sauce poured over it makes the dish look even more mouthwatering. you glance up and catch hyein's gaze, which makes you smile.

her grandmother, mrs. lee, affectionately rubs hyein's shoulder, then yours. you look up in surprise, touched by the simple gesture of kindness. “eat up you two.” she says.

“thank you mrs. lee.” you respond sincerely, then mix up everything in your bowl. the older woman walks away, disappearing behind the counter again.

you take a bite of the food, sighing as you chew and it looks like you’re melting. it’s wonderful.

“told you it’s the best.” hyein shrugs, then takes a bite herself. “i missed this.”

the two of you eat in silence for a bit, it’s nice. you’re eating lunch with the granddaughter of some lady you had met miraculously, and it’s really making you happier than you’ve been the past few months.

hyein finishes her bite, swallowing and then asking, “so, what’s your name? how did you get here? are you travelling or something?”

she throws a lot of questions at you, you finish your bite before responding, “well, my name is y/n. i took the train and bus here, i don’t really have a plan. i think i’ll stay here as long as i can, it seems right.”

“really? you’re going to be the talk of the town then.”

“am i?”

“yeah, you’re new. everyone here knows everyone, but it’s not a bad thing that you’re new. everyone here is very nice.”

“that’s good.” you mumble, then take another bite.

“where are you staying?”

“probably a hotel nearby, i guess.”

“you’re going to stay in a hotel nearby the whole time?”

“until i can find a place to stay for a bit, not too long.”

“how long?”

you dig at your food, poking your spoon at a mushroom in your bowl. hyein continues to eye you, looking at you deeply and waiting for an answer. you take another bite, then look to the side toward the framed photo hung on the wall.

“until my time is up.”

hyein pauses, looking at the side of your face until you turn back to meet her eyes. her lips part, she doesn’t speak for a bit. you continue, “i have a while though. i’m just… trying to make it through until i can’t.”

“ah. i’m sorry.”

“it’s nothing to be sorry about hyein, it’s natural.”

“right.” she says quietly, then takes another bite of her food. “danielle’s time is up soon too i think.”

“danielle?” you question.

“this girl in town, probably your age. she’s really nice and wonderful, you wouldn’t even know that she’d be dying–” she clears her throat before rewording, “-- that her time is soon. she’s like… a ball of sunshine. you’ll probably run into her.”

“ah.”

“you say that a lot.”

“well what else am i supposed to say?”

“i don’t know.” hyein shrugs, then laughs. “it’s funny.”

you stick your tongue out at her before the two of you start to finish your food again.

–

mrs. lee insists on letting hyein help you find a place to stay because she apparently is out all the time and knows almost every nook and cranny of the town.

the closest (and only) hotel in the town is nearby where the bus had stopped. it’s small and seems to be a little on the older side. hyein leads you in, immediately getting greeted by an older man who smiles at her fondly.

“if it isn’t ms. lee hyein.” he grins, then looks at you. “ah, you’ve brought a friend?”

“this is y/n. she’s looking for a place to stay for a bit.”

he looks you up and down, eyes lingering on your tattoo. then he smiles, he has a lovely one. the man has visible wrinkles and dark gray hair, he wears a button up shirt that’s loose on him and chino pants held by a brown leather belt.

“well, that i can help you with ms. y/n.”

“thank you sir.”

“no need for formalities.” he waves his hand, “i know a wonderful single bed room for you.”

“thank you.”

he leads you towards the stairs, there’s no elevator in this hotel. it seems much more like a big home rather than a hotel, at least compared to the city. he leads you to the second floor of the building, then down the hall and to the room right at the end. hyein follows the whole way.

he fishes a key from his pocket and unlocks the door, holding it open for you to roll your suitcase in. you marvel at the sight before you: a well-made queen bed, the perfect amount of space, and curtains drawn back to reveal a distant beach. the azure water glimmers, mesmerizing you. it looks like a pleasant bike ride or a short drive to get there. the room feels inviting, a sanctuary with a breathtaking view.

“woah.” hyein says, looking out with you.

“it’s beautiful – the beach and the room sir.”

he laughs, then smiles proudly. “im glad you’re fond of it. will you be staying?”

“yes, yeah.” you respond immediately. “it’s amazing.”

it’s more than that, you wish you could live here. waking up in the city gave you the same view of the building next to you, which was boring and nothing compared to the top of the apartments with rent that costed more than a third of your previous paycheck.

–

you spend time settling into the hotel, but not too much. you’re still looking around for a place to stay, the houses aren’t too bad, but you won’t be here long enough for it to be worth buying.

the apartments aren’t too bad either, but they’re small and cluttered. you’re a bit lost on what you should do, so you spend time exploring the time while you reconsider everything.

additionally, you’ve been over at mrs. lee’s to just lounge and clear your mind. it’s nice sitting by the counter watching the regulars come in and mingle.

hyein – the sixteen year old girl, basically a child – is your first and only friend at the moment. after school (for her), around three hours past noon, you spend time eating lunch with hyein, talking to her about your current situation and asking her for advice since it’s her hometown.

you explain that the prices are pretty scary, but not too bad, and hyein dismisses your suggestions.

“those neighborhoods are not as nice as mine, try this area.”

“are there any good places?”

“apartment down the road, but i don’t know… the owner is kind of sketchy.”

“what do i do then.” you sigh, taking a bite out of your cold noodles. “the hotel is pretty and all, but it’s not cheap at all. plus, i don’t think the money i have can keep me going.”

“hmm… i’ll have to ask my grandma.”

you sigh, poking at your noodles again. you hear the bell over the restaurant door jingle, both you and hyein turn your heads to see who’s arrived – just out of curiosity.

hyein's face lights up with surprise and joy as she sees the woman who has just walked in. she jumps out of her seat and rushes to hug her, wrapping her arms tightly around her. the woman smiles with her eyes closed, hugging hyein just as tightly. hyein whispers something you can’t hear, then looks at you and excitedly tugs the woman over to your table.

they reach where you’re sitting and that’s when you notice just how striking the woman is.

your ears twitch and you straighten your posture. the woman has a few moles on the right side of her face, pretty eyes with noticeably long eyelashes, and is smiling at you sweetly. she tucks a strand of hair that isn’t tied up, then greets you, “hi.” her voice is higher than yours, soft, and bright.

“this is danielle, i think i mentioned her.”

danielle. she’s the girl hyein was talking about, she also had little time.

“you have pretty eyes.” danielle catches you off guard with the sudden compliment, you feel your cheeks warm up just a bit. “it’s nice to meet you…?”

you cough. “y/n. it’s y/n.”

“cute name! how do you like the town?”

“oh, it’s lovely.”

“it really is. have you been to the beach yet?”

“i haven’t gotten the time.”

“that’s a shame, you should visit soon when you have the chance.” she says, then turns to hyein and hugs her again. “well, i have to get going. i just wanted to stop by and say hi!”

“do you really have to?” hyein whines.

“i have to help out at the shelter, sorry hyeinie.”

“aw.” hyein pouts. “i’ll see you later then.”

“oh for sure, i was planning on having dinner here with my family sometime this week.”

you watch hyein smile brightly and grab danielle’s hand, leading her back to the entrance, leaving you alone. you continue to gaze after them, admiring danielle’s side profile and grinning to yourself. something about her, just upon seeing her, feels inexplicably right.

as soon as danielle entered your field of vision, something clicked inside you. it’s like a dream, a sense of déjà vu that you can’t quite place. the feeling is both familiar and surreal, as if you’ve known her forever and yet are seeing her for the first time. plus, your body tingles, you feel yourself relaxing and tensing up at the same time, it’s odd; you don’t even know her.

you linger in that moment, captivated by the strange yet comforting sensation that her presence brings.

–

a day later you’re back at mrs. lee’s restaurant, hyein has led you to the back where the kitchen is, then leaves you alone with her grandma.

mrs. lee stands there cutting up some carrots, then says, “i heard you’re looking for a place to stay?”

“yes.”

“have you had any luck?”

“um,” you haven’t had any luck, because each place either had a sketchy landlord (according to hyein) or just didn’t sit right with you price wise and really just with the overall atmosphere. you shake your head. “no, not yet.”

“y/n,” she starts, pausing and setting her knife down. mrs. lee looks at you with an intense gaze, making you feel small despite her being nearly a head shorter than you, and even shorter than hyein. “would you like to stay here?” she asks, her eyes searching yours for an answer.

you freeze, looking at her with disbelief. “w-what? are you serious?”

“we have space for you.”

“i– i couldn’t, i don’t want to be a burden.”

“you could always help out at the restaurant. maybe even help out hyein with her studies or anything like that.”

“really?”

“yes dear. hyein suggested it, she’s really fond of you.”

you continue to gaze at her, stunned by the offer. you wonder if it’s truly okay to live with them, having known them for less than two weeks. it might be a hassle for them to accommodate you. yet, hyein has been keeping you at the restaurant, sharing stories about her day and clearly enjoying your company. her happiness is reassuring; she’s a good friend.

the offer is incredibly generous—a place to live in exchange for some help. it’s a fair trade, and with the money you have, you could contribute in the best way possible.

mrs. lee still stares at you, waiting for an answer.

you nod. “i’ll take it, thank you so much. i promise i’ll do anything i can to help and not be a burden.”

she laughs softly, then gestures towards the carrots on the cutting board. “have you ever cooked?” she asks.

“um, yes. my dad used to work at a restaurant.”

“perfect. could you chop these into thin slices? do you know how to jullienne them?”

“y-yeah, of course. let me wash my hands.”

she claps her hands together, looking at you proudly. “and you even know the hygiene policies.”

you smile at her, laughing as you turn on the sink and then excusing yourself when you accidentally splash water on an employees apron. mrs. lee looks at you fondly. she watches you cut the carrots with precision and decent speed, nodding with approval.

–

the room next to hyein’s is a guest bedroom, it’s quite small, but it’s more than enough.

hyein helps you with your luggage, but you assure her that everything is alright. (she still helps you out anyway, at least with your trinkets and whatnot)

you leave the suitcase with your clothes on the ground and unpack your things from your bag, hyein eyes your cd player on the bed, looking at it closely. you catch her staring, then grin.

“you can check it out.”

“really?”

“of course.” you assure. she eagerly sits down on the bed and looks at the small device, turning it around and inspecting each side. you laugh and head over next to her, pulling out a cd from your bag. “here,” you hand it to her. you press a button and it opens something, making hyein’s eyes widen. you place the cd in, then press play.

an instrumental plays, filling the quiet room with a soft melody. you stare at the ground, humming along slowly. hyein observes you close.

“what’s this?”

“an old chet baker cd, it was my dad’s. he collected many, i tried to bring all my favorites here with me.”

“it’s nice.” hyein mumbles, “the song.”

you flop down on the bed, laying down and staring up at the ceiling.

“my parents used to cook dinner to jazz, this was my dad’s favorite. my mom is a fan of fred astaire.”

you spend the next thirty minutes playing your favorite songs for hyein, she’s fond of everything you show her. she hears you humming along, and it makes her smile. she’s only known you for a little while, but she can tell you’re one special person.

–

two weeks have already flown by, and you’ve been working at lee’s kitchen in the meantime. you start early in the morning, continuing until hyein returns home. then, you help her with any studies she needs assistance with. when that’s done, she eagerly drags you to her favorite spots, showing you the best coffee places around to satisfy your cravings, even if it’s a bit late for caffeine.

you've settled into something comfortable, maybe even a routine. if this is how you'll spend your last couple of months, then you're perfectly fine with the mundane. you don't have any siblings, but hyein is what you imagine it would be like to have one. you two bicker the way you've seen others bicker, and you enjoy every moment spent together. despite the three-year age difference, you've grown close quickly, sharing laughs and conversations about anything.

this is when you learn that it’s not time that makes strong bonds, it’s the people and their energy. you’ve known others for years only for them to walk away and drift off in a snap, none of those years added up to what you have with hyein.

she’s something like a sister to you, something like that. maybe a cousin – something familial.

–

“here’s your mandu, sauce, and vegetables. you sure you don’t want anything else?” you ask the customers outside – an older couple, maybe in their thirties or so.

the woman shakes her head, then smiles at you warmly. “thank you, it’s fine, really.”

“right, just let me know if you need anything.”

“thank you.” she says finally. you smile then turn to pick up the dishes left on the other table outside, and also the six dollar tip.

you balance the dishes on one hand, but almost drop them after turning around to see a familiar face, someone you met a few weeks ago.

her slightly grown out bangs fall over her forehead, parted in the middle. she looks at you with a smile, her pretty brown eyes sparkling. her long eyelashes make her even more striking, she looks like a princess almost, especially with the morning sun shining down on her. danielle waves at you, her smile growing wider, revealing a glimpse of her teeth.

“y/n! hi!” she greets, “i didn’t know you worked here too?”

“hi danielle.” you mumble, “mrs. lee gave me the job a few weeks ago actually, i’m really grateful.”

“ah, i see.”

you nod, then turn your head at the door. “let’s go inside, it’s pretty hot out here.”

“right.”

as you head through the door, you turn your body a bit so that the dishes on your hand can fit through too. danielle follows right behind, then seats herself right at the chair by the counter. she watches you head to the back, then peek out a minute later and pat down your apron.

you pull out your notepad, then ask, “what can i get you?”

“hmmm,” she pouts a bit as she thinks. “some cold noodles would be great, just a small portion though. could i get some sliced carrots on the side?”

“of course, anything else?”

“your company when you’re done with it, if that’s possible.”

you look up from your notepad, she’s just looking at you with her head tilted and smiling. you swallow lightly, then smile as you respond shyly, “um, i can… do my best. it’s not busy, i’ll ask mrs. lee.”

“great.”

offering one more smile and avoiding eye contact, you rush to the back and give the cooks the order. mrs. lee is cutting vegetables, you hesitantly approach her. she looks up, then smiles at you warmly before handing you small carrot slice. you laugh, moving your head over to grab it in between your teeth and take a bite.

“have you eaten yet dear?”

“no, um it’s nothing though. i just had a question.”

“you should eat soon… and what was it?”

“do you know danielle?”

“marsh?”

“i don’t know her last name… um, she has brown eyes and long lashes. very smiley.”

mrs. lee clicks her tongue. “yes, i know her.”

“right, yeah. she’s here, she ordered cold noodles and–”

“--carrots, her usual.” mrs. lee finishes your sentence. “sorry, what about her?”

“she just… asked me to keep her company.”

“well go on then.”

“oh, really?”

“you haven’t eaten either, go fix yourself something up and keep the girl company. she’s a lovely lady, really. very nice, very bubbly. hyein loves her, everyone does.”

“right.” you nod your head, looking down at the ground quickly before adding, “you’re sure it’s fine?”

“dear, this isn’t the city. it’s not too busy here, especially not right now. i don’t want you starving either.”

“of course, thank you.”

–

danielle waits nearly ten minutes, she’s looking at a magazine on the table before you’re back outside with her dishes. she immediately lights up looking at you, which makes you blush a bit; is everyone here so happy and bright?

you place her food down in front of her, then run back behind the counter to take off your apron and grab your own dish before sitting down next to her.

“whatcha got there?” she asks, eyeing your bowl.

“just eggs over rice with seaweed and soy sauce, nothing big.”

“looks wonderful,” she grabs a carrot slice with her chopstick and eats it happily. “yum.”

“yeah,” you awkwardly look down at your food before taking a bite. “yum.”

it’s strange, but also oddly comforting. being next to her is stressful at first, both of you simply eat in silence and danielle hums hear and there to let you know how much she enjoys her dish. you find yourself smirking as you eat, but don’t dare to look at her. not until she starts a conversation.

“so what brings you here?”

“sorry, what?”

“to the town.”

“oh.” you say mid bite, then swallow. “just… troubles. i needed to get out the city and… live a little.”

“i love that.” she grins, then takes another bite.

“thanks?” you let out a little laugh before poking at your egg. “what prompted you to ask me to give you company?”

she shrugs. “i just think you’re interesting, that’s all.”

for some reason, an enamored flutter stirs in your chest. you mutter a small, “ah,” before taking another bite of your food. even after danielle finishes her meal first, she keeps asking you questions, eager to have a conversation. when you finish your meal and hear the bell above the door ring, signaling a customer, mrs. lee suddenly pops out from the back and pushes you back into your seat. danielle giggles, extending your time together.

during your conversation, she learns that you’re an only child, about the tattoo on your forearm that you got because of your parents, and your hobbies. talking to her is surprisingly easy, much easier than with anyone you’ve ever met in the city. there, people shut down small talk, so you eventually gave up. but danielle isn’t the type to give up. she gives you her full attention, which is different than you’re used to.

this urges you to ask your own questions. you learn that she works at an animal shelter owned by her friends’ parents and tends to the pets. she even pulls out her phone to show you pictures of a dog she’s become close to—a fluffy friend named jerry. as she swipes through an album of two hundred photos, her expressions are adorable. it’s heartwarming, and you feel a sense of connection that you hadn’t expected.

“he’s so lovely and playful and–” a notification on her phone cuts her off, you read a bit and it’s a reminder that she has to clock into work soon. she frowns, then apologizes, “agh, i lost track of time.” and so did you, it’s been nearly thirty minutes but it had felt like five. “i should get going, it was great talking to you! hey, if you have time you should come over to the shelter! i can write address for you if you get lost.”

“it’s fine,” you say, already stacking both of your dishes together. “and i’d love to visit.”

“great, i love your company.”

“you do?”

“of course!” danielle giggles again, it brings a smile to your face. “i’ll see you around, okay? promise you’ll visit?”

“yes, yeah.” you mutter, “i’ll drop by.”

“great,” danielle says, then fishes for a marker in her little purse. she grabs your hand, catching you off guard. “can i?” she asks, pointing to your forearm.

“o-oh, yeah, of course.”

“sweet.” she starts to scribble an address, then a number. you watch closely, then your eyes drift away from your arm to her concentrated expression. she finishes writing and caps the pen again, clapping her hands proudly. “i also put my number just in case, text me if you need!”

“thanks danielle.”

“you can call me dani! since we’re friends now.”

friends. it makes you happy hearing it, you’re friends after a single conversation with her.

“alright, thanks friend.” your response earns a snicker from danielle, she’s shaking her head and smiling at you again before saying,

“you’re funny, i like you.” it sends another flutter in your chest, you gulp. “see you!”

“bye dani!”

she waves at you again before heading out the door, eliciting a jingle sound throughout the restaurant. you keep staring at the door, stuck in place until you feel a tap a your shoulder.

when you turn around, mrs. lee is beside you looking at the door and smiling.

“she’s a very sweet girl.” mrs. lee says, then looks up at you.

“yeah, i can tell.”

“she seems to be fond of you.”

“really? that’s good…”

“i’m glad you’re making friends y/n. you can’t hang around hyein forever…” she jokes, it makes your cheeks burn from embarrassment. you’re nineteen very much an adult, the revelation that your closest and only friend is a sixteen year old girl who’s currently in class.

you laugh, then shyly mumble, “thanks.”

–

later that evening, you and hyein head out to explore. you mention your conversation with danielle, and the girl walking next to you beams, evidently delighted.

you suggest walking to the animal shelter where danielle invited you to visit, and hyein lights up at the mere mention. she jumps up and exclaims, “yes!” before grabbing your hand and leading you down the road with infectious enthusiasm. it seems that danielle spreads all kinds of joy and excitement wherever she goes. how lovely.

the two of you make it there in no time, the ten minute walk seemed like nothing, somehow.

it’s a small building, but it looks incredibly charming from the outside. the wooden framing and exterior give it a warm, cozy feel, and the little sign reading “kang’s kare shelter” makes you smile. the place exudes a welcoming vibe, and you can only imagine how much lovelier it must be inside, especially if danielle is there too.

walking in, you’re greeted by someone who isn’t danielle.

instead, it’s a girl who lights up after seeing hyein, who runs behind the counter to hug her.

“haerin! surprise!”

“what are you doing here?”

hyein pouts, parting away and groaning, “you don’t sound thrilled.”

“pftt, you’ll just steal the snacks i bought.”

“hey! i’m also here to see the animals… and you i guess.”

the girl—haerin, presumably—rolls her eyes at hyein with a snarky grin. then she looks at you, tilting her head as you walk over and stand across the counter. hyein perks up when she sees you, dramatically gesturing with both hands as she introduces you.

“this is y/n! she just moved here from the city.”

“y/n?” haerin questions.

“that’s me.”

“oh, danielle mentioned you earlier. your eyes are nice...”

“what?” you raise a brow, confused.

the girl shrugs, then mumbles, “nothing.” she walks out, tilting her head to urge you and hyein to follow her. “come, i’ll show you the pets. danielle is doing a check-up on the only client—er, animal—we have.” she explains, then looks at hyein from the side, raising her brows with fake annoyance. “and hyein, i know you’re only here for jelly.”

“you know me too well.”

“whatever…” haerin sighs, opening a door to a room with three cats inside.

hyein gasps, looking at them all in awe. in a gentle voice, she fawns, saying “awww” and immediately running over to crouch down and pet the black cat by the window.

haerin walks over to the cat in the corner, clicking her tongue softly. the cat looks up at her and immediately walks over, rubbing its head against her hand. haerin smiles, petting it with care and affection.

you make your way to the orange cat sitting on a small chair, clearly designed for pets. you crouch down, gently stroking its fur. the cat stirs awake from its slumber and meows contentedly, making you smile. the room feels warm and peaceful, filled with the quiet sounds of purring and the soft rustle of fur.

after a minute or two of admiring the furry creature and snapping a few pictures, you catch haerin in your peripheral crouching down next to you, her eyes on the cat as she pets it too.

“danielle is in the room down the hall, just to let you know.”

“hm?” you turn to face her, she’s still petting the cat.

“go out the room and turn right, she’s in the room two doors down. she’s just doing a check-up. you can go see her if you want."

“oh, thanks.”

haerin turns to look at you. “have fun.” she mumbles, then brings the orange cat in her arms, looking at it like it’s her child.

you look over to see hyein sitting against the wall, all her attention is on the two cats that have found their way to their laps. you snap a quick picture before leaving the room.

your heart quickens with anticipation as you walk down the hall. you follow haerin’s directions and gently push open the door to find danielle tending to the same dog she had shown you earlier—jerry, who’s cuter in person. danielle is focused on the task at hand, using a stethoscope to listen to jerry's heartbeat, then checking his ears and gently inspecting his paws.

you hesitate for a moment before knocking softly on the door. danielle doesn't notice at first, but when she finally looks up and sees you, her face lights up with surprise and joy. her smile is radiant and contagious, you’re smiling too.

"y/n!" she exclaims, her eyes sparkling. "you came!"

“of course, i mean, you invited me.”

“aw, how sweet of you.” she says, then mumbles a, “lay down” and “stay.” to jerry, who does just as he’s told.

she walks over to you, then grabs your wrist without warning and it makes your heart skip a beat for some reason. she leads you over to the chair in the room and sits you down.

“did i bother you and jerry?”

“no, not at all. we’re almost done actually.” danielle assures, then turns back to tend to jerry.

you watch her work her magic, finishing up the job and giving him a treat after he’s done. she pats his head and helps him off the counter, he immediately rushes over to you and jumps up to lick your cheek.

“ah–” his tail is wagging, paws on your knees, and licking you sloppily.

“heyy jerry! i’m so sorry… he’s very excited to see you.”

“i’m glad,” you mutter through the outburst of affection. “does that mean i’m on his nice list?”

“everyone is,” she answers, watching you stand up so you can pet jerry without being bombarded with kisses. “but he’s never this excited. you’ve got some magic y/n-ie.”

the little nickname makes you smile harder, and jerry is jumping up so his paws claw at your pants more. danielle shakes her head in disapproval, but she’s still smiling as she calms him down.

you crouch to meet his level again, scratching behind his neck and petting him. you look up at danielle, who’s already looking at you.

“what breed is he?”

“burnese mountain dog, very affectionate dogs.”

jerry licks your hand, making you laugh. “that’s given.”

danielle crouches down next to you, she turns her head and it makes you nervous when your faces are so close together. she turns back to face jerry, fondly petting him. “he’s a very good boy, isn’t that right?” jerry barks in response, making her chuckle. “well, it’s time for him to rest. i gave him some medications earlier.”

“i see.”

“follow me.” she says. you nod.

you follow her into the next room, where danielle gently opens the door. jerry trots in and immediately heads to his cozy bed in the corner. danielle crouches beside him, her movements tender and reassuring. she lovingly pats him and plants a soft kiss on his head, which makes his tail wag slowly and then come to a gentle stop. with delicate, practiced motions, she scratches behind his ears and along his neck, using just the tips of her fingers. her soothing touch gradually calms him, and soon he’s lying comfortably, breathing evenly, and blinking slowly as he drifts into a state of peaceful relaxation.

her care and tenderness are genuinely admirable. the gentle, focused expression on her face as she tends to jerry mirrors the soft, loving way she interacts with him. it’s really cute. there’s a quiet grace in her movements and a warmth in her eyes that draws you in. you find yourself watching her with the same kind of admiration and affection she shows jerry, mesmerized by the serene connection between them.

she turns over to you, faintly mumbling, “hey, y/n?”

“yeah?”

“wait outside for me, would you? he’s a bit excited because you’re here. this guy here needs some rest.”

“oh– yeah, of course. sorry.”

“it’s fine, i won’t take long.”

you nod, giving her a soft smile before heading out the door.

as you take in the interior of the shelter, your gaze lingers on the wall adorned with photos of danielle, haerin, and their colleagues with the animals.

the pictures capture moments of joy and affinity—danielle’s pretty smile beside a playful puppy, haerin laughing with a contented cat on her lap. solo shots of the animals show their distinct personalities, while group photos feature jerry with his companions, their expressions curious. there’s also some pictures that show the other employees together with the animals.

the collection is heartwarming and conveys a sense of community and care. you find yourself smiling softly, touched by the genuine affection and dedication displayed in every frame.

the door opens in the corner of your eye, you turn and catch danielle peeking in as she closes it slowly.

“he’s asleep now.” danielle walks over to you, head tilted up just a bit. “i’m all yours now.”

the way she words everything is dangerous, it flusters you. she smiles like she hasn’t just formed a lump in your throat, making you cough to clear it.

“is he alright?”

“just inflammation and a bit of pain, he should be fine in the morning.”

“that’s great to hear.”

“it is.”

you stare at her for a little longer, struggling to find words to say. she beats you to it.

“did hyein tag along?”

“yeah, i was afraid i’d get lost.”

danielle giggles. “aw, she’s very sweet. her and haerin are close.”

“are they?”

“they go to school together, best friends.”

“that’s lovely.”

“mhm.” danielle turns her head in the other direction, putting her hands behind her back and holding her hands together. she bites the inside of her lip, then tilts her head, urging you to follow her.

“let me show you something, it’s better than the city i bet.”

you snicker, looking at her with raised brows. “you seem pretty confident.”

“trust me.” she starts to walk down the hall, taking a turn and leading you to sliding door. she opens it, stepping outside and you follow.

immediately, your jaw drops at the sight in front of you. it’s similar as the sight from the hotel you stayed in, giving you a view of the beach, but it’s prettier from this spot.

“woah.”

“is it better than the city?”

“for sure.”

danielle leans against the railing, gazing out at the sky. “this is the view i get to see everyday, i love it. i’m glad you came over, i wanted to show you this.”

“thank you, really.” you walk over to lean against the railing next to her, looking out as well. “you’re really sweet, like so sweet. i feel at home, you and everyone here are really welcoming.”

“well,” danielle starts, she’s facing you now. she looks at the side of your face, tracing down each feature before continuing, “a lovely person deserves a lovely welcome.”

—

haerin locks up the shelter, pulling on the door to ensure it’s fully locked. she turns around to shoot a small smile at danielle, holding a thumbs up.

“good to go.”

“great!”

the two walk down the road together, their route home is the same since danielle lives with haerin and her family. the two walk in silence for a bit, silence never hurts at all. they’ve been close since birth, and plus, haerin is just quiet, usually the listener.

but this time haerin is a bit curious, looking at danielle, who’s staring up at the sky. the sun has nearly set all the way.

“what did you and y/n do?”

“hm?” danielle turns her head. “oh, she met jerry!”

“ah.” haerin hums. “you seem very interested in her.”

“just curious.”

“hyein seems to like her a lot. city girl is interesting.”

danielle snickers at the nickname. “pftt, city girl…”

“well, city girl seems to be interested in you too.”

“she’s new and hasn’t mingled with many, it’s natural for her to do that.”

haerin shakes her head, then kicks a rock on the ground. “no, somethings different. same goes for you too.”

“what?” danielle’sbrows furrow slightly in confusion, but a soft giggle escapes her lips.

“you’re so eager to get to know her, you talked about her a lot today too. you’re not that talkative about people like that, not even with minji or hanni.”

danielle tilts her head, her eyes filled with a mix of amusement and curiosity, clearly trying to make sense of the unusual comment. “right,” the giggle lingers, a gentle sound that reflects her bemusement. “i don’t know, she’s just interesting. as soon as i met her she caught my eye, when i ran into her the first time it just… felt right?” danielle shrugs, sighing in a somewhat dreamy way. “i don’t know, i just think we could be good friends. she’s really sweet, and pretty too. i wonder if all city girls are that… ethereal.”

haerin just looks at her and narrows her eyes, then shrugs it off.

“whatever.”

–

mrs. lee gives you a day off, urging you to go out more by yourself instead of being around hyein. you hesitate when she tells you the night before, wanting nothing more than to help out with opening and share some small talk with her, but she shakes her head.

“you haven’t even gone to the beach, have you? you’re missing out… get out there. it’s prettier in the morning, you should sleep now before you miss the sunrise.”

this is how you find yourself out on a less than fifteen minute run through various neighborhoods and trails that you haven’t seen yet, and towards the sand in your vision.

the sky is still a soft gradient of dawn, with the first rays of sunlight just beginning to peek over the horizon. the sight of the sun emerging from behind the water casts a golden hue across the scene, and you can’t help but quicken your pace. your sneakers hit the sand, and you pause to slip them off, savoring the cool, grainy texture beneath your feet. you start walking down a natural trail, bordered by tufts of grass and delicate wildflowers.

the serenity of the moment, along with the gentle morning breeze, fills you with a sense of calm.

you can’t help but think that your mom and dad would love it here, with you, all of you together.

a sigh leaves your lips as you sit down on the sand, propping yourself up with your hands behind you and sitting with your feet out. you’re pretty far from where the waves crash and wet the sand, making sure you can’t get splashed.

you grab the small backpack you had brought along, it only has a waterbottle, your cd player, and headphones inside. you empty it, setting the cd player on your lap, putting on the headphones, and taking a sip of water.

jazz hums in your ear, making you smile.

yeah, your parents would love the sight.

the sun is peeking out more now, a third of it above the horizon. the rays of sun hit your face and it feels refreshing, something also clashes into you all of the sudden, making you yelp.

“jerry!” you hear from the distance.

a second later, there’s a dog licking your cheek and nuzzling itself into you, clearly excited to have run into you. you turn and catch jerry stepping back, looking at you with eager eyes and a wagging tail. you can’t help but laugh, reaching over to pet her.

“well look who it is.” you mutter softly, “miss me that much?”

jerry barks, then you catch danielle in the distance jogging up to you too. you stare a little hard at her, she’s wearing a cropped baby tee and jean shorts. her hair is being blown in her face by the wind, so she pushes a few strands behind her ear. she looks really pretty, that’s what you notice.

“i’m sorry about that,” danielle apologizes, crouching down to affectionately scratch jerry’s ears and neck. “you, mister, need to learn some manners.” she scolds playfully, giving him a pouty, angry look.

you can’t help but laugh. “hey, it’s a lovely surprise to see jerry, don’t be too harsh on him now…” you reach to pet him too, hand accidentally brushing against danielle’s – but who’s paying attention to that.

(you are.)

“it’s a surprise seeing you here, y/n.”

“same here – i mean, you know, seeing you.” you watch her sit down next to you on the sand, patting down on the sand to urge jerry to sit right in between you two. “mrs. lee gave me the day off, she recommended the beach in the morning.”

“she has a good eye.” danielle softly strokes jerry’s fur. “whatcha listening to?”

“chet baker, heard of him?”

“i have!” she nods. “i like a few of his songs.”

“really?”

“mhm, lovely voice, beautiful melodies.” she says, now looking at the rising sun. “can i listen with you?”

"oh! yeah, of course." you unplug your headphones and press the play button on the side of the device, upping the volume to let the melody fill the air.

danielle's ears twitch slightly as she lights up with recognition. "i know this one!"

"it's pretty popular. it was my mom’s favorite," you mumble, humming softly to the beginning of the song. the tune is gentle, slow, and oddly intimate, perfectly matching the mood of the moment.

"oh, i love this part," danielle mutters before starting to sing along softly, "wherever you are~ you’re near meeee~ you dare me to be untrueee."

you giggle softly, your lips curling into a smile as you watch her, bathed in the early morning sunlight and looking so genuinely happy.

turning back to face the view in the distance, you join in, "funny each time i fall in loveeee"

both of you face the sun, but as the last lyric of the verse plays, you coincidentally glance at each other and sing together,

"it’s always youuu”

laughter bubbles up between you, light and giddy, warming your hearts. there's something about danielle that makes you feel relaxed and content. you stop giggling for a moment to simply smile at her, and she mirrors your expression, both of you basking in the shared joy of the moment. you wonder how long a human can go without their heart beating or without breathing.

“danielle,” you almost whisper, gazing softly. “you have a really lovely voice.”

“aw, don’t be silly.”

“i’m not.” you roll your eyes, looking back at the sunrise. danielle continues to stare at the curve of your features.

“you’re not bad yourself.”

“that’s a lot coming from you, thank you michael buble.” you response makes danielle laugh hard, which makes you laugh even harder, the two of you are laughing like idiots in the sand as the sun comes out into full view.

danielle’s fingers run softly over the fur on jerry’s head, his blinks get slower. you look at him adoringly, petting his back.

“how long have you known him?”

“jerry?”

“who else would i be referring to…”

“harsh.” she frowns, making you scoff playfully. “a few years – since he was a puppy. we found him as a stray, he’s been in the shelter since.”

“i see. you must love him.”

“i knew him before i graduated high school.” danielle says, then looks at jerry lovingly. “he’s basically my son.”

“that’s cute.” you mumble. “you guys are really cute.”

danielle looks up at you, and for a moment, her eyes seem to sparkle. maybe it's just a trick of the light, but there's something about her gaze. she carries a natural grace, not just because she’s breathtakingly gorgeous, but because everything about her exudes warmth and ease. with danielle, there’s no room for worry or doubt. despite only knowing her for basically two days -- maybe less – she’s like someone you've known for years, even decades. she's sweet, kind, and caring; the latter.

it's hard to put into words, but there's something extraordinary about her. she’s just so...

“beautiful.” you didn’t mean to say that out loud, or continue to stare at her until the words processed in your head and you had turned away, flustered.

danielle looks at you in surprise, then laughs and tilts her head in confusion. “what?”

“sorry, nothing– the song–” clearing your throat, you point to the cd player. “it’s beautiful.”

“yeah.” danielle agrees, looking you in the eye.

–

you spend the rest of the day together, with danielle insisting, "you're so interesting," and expressing an urge "to get to know someone as cool as you more."

she leads you to her favorite café by the beach, enthusiastically offering to pay for the coconut latte, which she claims is the tastiest item on the menu. trusting her judgment, you take a sip, and the flavor lives up to her hype. danielle claps her hands and beams with delight when you give her a look and sigh of satisfaction after the first sip.

as the day progresses, she continues to show you around, her excitement palpable and infectious. her genuine enthusiasm helps you feel even more at ease in this new place. you can’t help but feel a sense of warmth and belonging, all thanks to her. it’s strange, but you don’t really dwell on it. with danielle, everything just feels right.

–

you had watched the sun rise and set with danielle, spending the entire day together, though it felt like only an hour or two had passed.

when you get back home, you flop onto your bed with a happy sigh. before you know it, someone barges into the room, then jumps and lands next to you on the bed. the mattress peaks and pushes you up with the combined force of gravity and the added weight.

you turn to see hyein looking at you with a knowing look, her brows raised and a stupid smirk on her face. "so," she begins, her tone dripping with playful curiosity, "how was your date with danielle?" she nudges you with her elbow, clearly fishing for details.

you sit up and look at her with a confused expression. “date? no, we just spent some time together.”

“haerin tells me it was from sunrise to sunset…” she nudges your shoulder playfully and you push her away. you can’t help but laugh, rolling your eyes at her antics.

"it wasn’t a date, i’ve known her for less than a week." you say. “we literally just spent the day together.”

the realization hits that you’ve never spent the day together with anyone other than your parents, even your late friends. you’ve gone hours with them and had sleepovers, but this isn’t the same.

“i bet it was a wonderful day.” hyein’s grin widens, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “seems like sunshine lady and city girl have hit it off.”

“w-what?” you snicker, laughing at the stupid nicknames. “sunshine–? city–? you’re genuinely a child. is that what you call us?”

“haerin made them up.”

you roll your eyes at hyein, who’s pushing you and asking for more details. her excitement is infectious, and you find yourself smiling even more, the memory of the day’s events replaying in your mind. danielle’s laughter, her genuine curiosity, the way she made everything feel so effortlessly right. as hyein continues to tease and prod for more details, you realize just how special this day has been.

danielle made time feel like nothing, which is a bit dangerous considering you don’t have a lot of time to begin with.

she had shared a lot of her likes, dislikes, life stories, and so much yet so little. you wanted to know more, you wanted her to ramble your ear off.

something that had caught your attention was the brief mention that she lived with haerin because her parents had passed away a few years ago. it brought some sorrow to you just from learning that, but some ease because she’s similar to you.

you briefly go over everything, and lastly you tell the younger girl beside you that danielle had given you her number, making hyein squeal.

“you have mo dani’s number?”

“mo dani?”

“nickname… you’ll know later – probably. you’re still new, but everyone knows the majority of her nicknames, she has a lot– ah! that’s not important. anyways–”

you chuckle at hyein shaking your head as you pull out your phone to show her your new lockscreen. it’s a picture of you and jerry down at the beach, one danielle had taken because she thought you two had looked adorable. the moment made you all nervous and blushy, but you don’t tell hyein that.

“i just wanted her to send this picture, isn’t he cute?”

“he’s adorable! oh my gosh let me tell you this funny story…” hyein starts, and you smile to yourself knowing that you’ve managed to change the subject. you don’t know how much teasing you can take from the menace in front of you.

–

you put an effort to visit danielle at least a few times a week after work and helping hyein out with assignments.

danielle is always happy to see you and converse while assisting her patients, you even help out with cleaning the instruments and area despite her trying to stop you. she insists it’s okay, but you’re willing to shut her down just to help.

hyein and haerin have a field day with you two everytime you’re together within their radius. they catch you two conversing, you staring at the patients – but mostly the woman helping them out – while danielle treats them, and the playful bickering and time spent together.

“they’re so cute… if only y/n wasn’t a loser.” hyein sighs, peeking at you two as you play with jerry.

“if only danielle could come to her senses.” haerin mumbles.

in return, danielle does her best to become a regular at lee’s kitchen. she’s there every other day — sometimes she’s they’re consecutively — for breakfast or even during her lunch break, though usually in the mornings because the restaurant is a bit of a walk from the shelter.

both of you spend time eating together because mrs. lee is generous, which makes you wonder if hyein had convinced her to let you slack off.

you find out that danielle has a weird, but cute obsession with carrots. each side she orders gets bigger, and she even ends up getting double the sides to the point that the amount of carrots she’s eating is more than the actual dish she orders. you marvel at this, even sending her off to work with a container of sliced carrots or giving her some each time you see her.

–

the library is a thirty minute walk from where you stay, haerin had recommended it to you because she assumed you’re “the type of person to spend time in a library for hours – willingly.” you didn’t know whether that was a compliment or not.

it’s been over three months in the town, you’ve made friends and grown quite fond of a special, bubbly girl – but you’ve never stepped foot in the library somehow.

walking in, you’re greeted by someone around your age, maybe a little older. she’s a girl with long dark hair, straighter than danielle’s. she’s wearing a button-up shirt and long linen pants, black frames sitting on her nose bridge.

“hi, welcome–” she pauses, looking at you closely. “–you’re… are you y/n? ah, i’ve been wanting to meet you.”

“oh, yeah. how did you–”

“danielle.” right, danielle, because it’s very normal and totally not making you overthink and flush at the thought of her talking about you to others. “she mentions you a lot, showed us a picture of you and jerry.”

“us?”

“me and our other friend hanni, she’s out and about right now though. anyways, would love to talk more, but there’s lots to do. everything is sorted out by genre, but if you need a certain book, you can look it up on the database and use the numbers to help you out,” she explains. her voice is very smooth, and she speaks with casual ease.

you nod, appreciating the information while trying to process the fact that danielle has been talking about you.

as you wander through the shelves, you can’t help but smile at the thought of her sharing your picture with her friends. however, you’re also a bit embarrassed because she has a lot of questionable pictures of you, ones you don’t look the best in. the warmth in your cheeks persists, but it’s a comforting kind of warmth, one that makes you feel a little valued.

your fingers graze each book, you’re just browsing around without thinking much of it.

past a few bookshelves there’s a small corner where light seeps in through a big window, and it gives a good view of the buildings across from the library. you notice a small book on the ground, narrowing your eyes at it and walking over to pick it up.

‘timestamps and twinflames’ the title is intriguing, so you find the nearest stool and open the book up.

the first page goes over the background of the book, something about a survey and observed data with various pairs that have a different relation and relationship to each other. it states that it’s a collection of family members, friends, and couples.

“a twin flame is a concept in spiritual and metaphysical beliefs that refers to an intense soul connection with someone thought to be a person's other half. it is often described as a deep, powerful bond that goes beyond physical attraction and emotional compatibility.

in this book, we’ve found puzzles with only two pieces, brought the pieces together, and found out their unique traits and connections.

along with this, we’ve noticed a trend with their date of death’s tattooed on them, including the time and placement.”

as you read through, everything reminds you of your parents.

“people run into each other for a reason, everyone’s interactions aren’t coincidences, they’re fate. not just death is calculated by the universe, but opportunities and decisions are influenced by it too in order for individuals to meet their ‘twin flame.’

3% of the worlds population – that have been reported and known – have met their twin flame. most of the time it’s romantic, however platonic twin flames exist as well. many of the reports have been of romantic partners, who fit seamlessly and complement each other well.

the chances of meeting one’s twin flame is very low, and individuals only have one twin flame. some people have twin flames from across the world, so it simply cannot happen. however, there are theories that twin flames meet in other universes, and it’s often depicted in media and literature. it’s not possible to find out if this theory is true, unfortunately.

twin flames always have the same timestamp of death, there are no exceptions to this – we’ve concluded.”

you’re deep into the book, absorbing every word. the information you've just read resonates a little too well with your parents' story. you never realized there was an entire study dedicated to this phenomenon. you had always considered your parents' meeting, falling in love, and the serendipitous timing of their lives as just a beautiful coincidence, nothing more. it was something out of a movie that you had always found crazy. but now, you see them as more than a mere coincidence; they’re a pair meticulously chosen and brought together by the universe itself – the universe.

"most individuals report similar experiences upon first meeting their twin flame. regardless of age–from adolescents to the elderly–the accounts share strikingly consistent themes:

when twin flames meet, there's an immediate sense of familiarity, as if they've known each other before, despite never having met. this uncanny recognition often comes with a profound feeling that something has clicked into place, filling a void they never knew existed.

many describe a peculiar sensation coursing through their bodies, a blend of exhilaration and tranquility, as if time has momentarily stopped. in that instant, everything becomes more comprehensible, and the world seems to align in a way that it never has before."

“hm.” you look at the page, your fingers running along each word as you read.

you felt a “peculiar sensation” and “exhilaration and tranquility” when you met danielle. you shake your head – it can’t be, that’s ridiculous. you don’t even have enough time to live and fulfill your time with a twin flame, why would the universe throw one at you?

the question doesn’t stop you from considering that it could be true, but maybe you’re just searching for something to make your last few months more meaningful. it’s a 3 percent chance of meeting your twin flame, and your record of being lucky isn’t the best.

(plus, your parents probably took all that luck away from you, it can’t possibly happen two generations in a row.

it doesn’t stop you from thinking that if danielle were your twin flame, you wouldn’t be opposed to it.

you’d love it.)

and just as if the universe had alerted danielle you had thought of her, you feel your phone buzz in your pocket. you reach down to pull it out, looking at the notification from her.

[danielle]

hi!

i just got off work :-)

are you busy?

i was wondering if you wanted to grab smoothies by the beach?

if you’re not busy of course…

you smile, unlocking your phone and responding immediately.

[y/n]

i’m not busy at all!

i was just reading at the library

i met your friend minji

i’ll meet you down at the beach? down by the cafe

[danielle]

yay!

that sounds perfect y/n-ie ;-)

can’t wait to see you! tell me about minji when we’re together

also, jerry won’t be joining us :-( he’s a very sleepy boy today

–

danielle arrives a little later than you, you take the time to buy her a smoothie while you had waited. one lychee smoothie for you, and a mango one for her – she had mentioned how much she liked mangos, and you made sure to ask for an extra carrot in the smoothie, earning a weird look from the worker.

you sit down outside on the steps, staring out at the beach until someone creeps from behind.

“hey!” danielle greets, putting both hands on your shoulders. you turn to look at her, rolling your eyes.

“you scared the life out of me.”

“that was the plan~” she sings, putting her hand out for you to take, urging you up. “you bought the smoothies already?”

“mhm, there’s a carrot in yours too, thought you’d like it.” the way her lips curve even more answers that remark. “let’s find a spot.” you insist.

she softens her gaze before nodding, you feel your heart pound against your chest

a tank top hugs her frame perfectly, its floral pattern complementing the dark linen shorts she wears. her sandals help her walk on the sand with ease as you both stroll along the beach. her hand is still intertwined with yours, and you feel your breath hitch when her grip tightens.

“so, how was your day?” she asks.

it’s a routine, you and danielle meeting up just because you two simply enjoy being around each other. she always asks you first, you rarely beat her to the chase.

“normal as always.”

“oh come onnn, tell me about everything.”

“it was just the usual dani.” you state, sipping on your smoothie. “we had breakfast and then um… oh, haerin’s mom came over and said hi. uhhh hyein didn’t have any homework so i went to the library, i think she’s hanging out with iroha or something. i met your friend minji, she tells me that my name is in your mouth…” you look at her with raised brows, expecting an answer.

“i– you know…” she looks down at the ground, kicking the sand. “we spend a lot of time together – i like spending time with you. of course i’m going to tell my friends about you silly… anyways, what did you do at the library? did you hang with minji?”

shaking your head, you respond, “no, she was busy. i read this book though, almost two hours passed… i was so into it.”

“what a lovely book… you have to show it to me sometime! we can even visit minji together!”

you grin at the thought, you’d do anything if she were there with you.

“yeah, that would be great. also, the book kind of had me thinking…” you stop in your place, looking at her.

danielle stops too, then looks at you with a tilted head. “yeah?”

“do you think soulmates– well, something more than that.”

“like what?”

“twin flames.” you mutter, then turn to look at the sea. “do you think they’re real?”

her features deepen with skepticism. “what?”

“like, i don’t know. i was reading the book and it was talking about people who were like, perfect for each other. you know how everyone has a destined death date? the book was talking about how everyone also has a destined person.” you explain, then lead her over to a nearby bench.

she sits down next to you, thinking to herself. “i’ve only seen that in movies, do you think they’re real?”

“i think my parents were twin flames.”

“is that so…”

“yeah, “ you mumble, taking a sip of your smoothie. “i told you that they had the same date of death right? well the book was saying that twin flames are like that. and plus, everything in the book i read resonated with them. i think they’re real.”

danielle, stares at you for a moment. you’re leaned against the bench and staring closely at the ocean.

“i think that’s a beautiful concept.”

“yeah,” you look at her again. “it’s wonderful.”

you two go silent, then you ask her how her day was to clear the strange tension in the air. your upper rib stings a bit – right where your mark is – but you ignore it as danielle tells you about a patient she had to calm down, a small kitten that had scratched her.

she ends up scooting a little closer, her shoulder touching yours until she’s leaning against you.

your mark stings again until you put your arm around her, keeping her close.

–

later, when the sun is setting, both of you stand by the wet part of the sand. the waves crash onto it, wetting your feet in the process.

danielle kicks some water towards you, it splashes against your lower legs, making you groan. you splash water towards her, hitting so aggressively that water splashes above her knee and hits the edge of her shorts.

“oh it’s so on.” she says, running towards you. you start to rush away, but she manages to splash you right on the back of your thigh, making you yelp.

“hey!”

“payback!”

“you started it!”

both of you end up kicking more water at each other, shouting and laughing in the process. she runs away to tie her hair up, then rushes back and leaps onto you, grabbing hold of your arm. she pulls you deeper into the water, which rises from your ankles to your knees.

“hey, wait–”

“scared of the water?” danielle snickers, her playful brown eyes sparkling and her teeth glowing in a wide smile.

you groan, shaking your head. “oh, shut up.”

the whole ordeal escalates as she uses her hands to splash water onto you, soaking your shorts and the bottom part of your oversized t-shirt. you scowl at her, then grab her arm and push her down into the water. her surprised laugh turns into a delighted squeal as she tumbles into the waves. she pulls you down with her and now both of you drenched but grinning from ear to ear.

you lift yourself out of the water, shaking your head and splashing her with droplets flying from your hair.

“now we’re even,” danielle says, wiping water off her face.

“absolutely not.”

you splash her again, and she yelps, then laughs. she stands up and backs away from you. you're watching her happily, then something makes you pause. her white tank top, now soaked, clings to her skin, and you catch a glimpse of ink on her rib, the same area as your own tattoo but on the opposite side; instead, it’s on her left.

before you can process it, she interrupts your thoughts with another splash. you close your eyes and spit out the salty water, groaning before you tackle her.

you two emerge from the water and stand up, facing each other and both wiping off the salty water from your faces. you use your hand to slick your hair back, then push away a chunk of hair that clings to danielle’s cheek.

“you’re soaked.” you chuckle through a grin.

“and who’s fault is that?” she questions sarcastically.

you shrug. “technically yours.”

she rolls her eyes at you, then does the unexpected.

her eyes dart to your lips for a moment before she cups your cheek gently with one hand. your gaze shifts to meet hers as she steps closer, maintaining eye contact.

“you look so cute right now…” she murmurs, brushing her thumb against the edge of your bottom lip. “can i?”

your stomach tightens, and your heart feels like it's being squeezed as if it were one of the pet toys danielle uses to calm her patients down. unable to form a coherent response, you nod and hum, “mhm.”

danielle smiles softly, and suddenly, everything feels right. she wraps her arms around your neck, leaning in and tilting her head. you close your eyes, feeling her lips press against yours.

it's a little salty, a given considering you’ve both been fighting in the ocean. but still, it’s warm and wonderful, and you feel like you might melt until you’re one with the water beneath you. she pulls back for a second, her eyes still closed and her lips ghosting over yours. then she kisses you again, and it feels like you've been hit by a tidal wave.

your hands move to her waist, pushing her closer.

she pulls away and looks at you, your faces a few inches apart.

“i like you a lot y/n.” she confesses, playing with a strand of your wet hair. “i really do.”

it hasn’t really hit you in the past, you never thought about it that hard. being around danielle made you giddy and carefree, plus she’s the prettiest woman you’ve ever seen, you’ve thought that since you first laid eyes on her. you don’t need a second to think or clarify in your mind that–

“me too.” you practically breathe out, looking at her lovingly.

“i’m glad.” she says, then kisses you again. your hand brushes against her tattoo without you knowing and she shivers, pulling away. “it’s kind of cold, and late.” she mumbles, “we should head back–”

you cut her off with another kiss, then part with a smile.

“yeah.”

–

hyein is wiping the tables, then hears the bell jingle. “we’re closed! come back tomorrow!” she says nicely without looking up.

“it’s me.” you say quietly.

she looks up, brows furrowing when she looks at your wet shirt and damp hair. “what happened to you?” she asks, “my god, wait here, let me get a towel.”

when she’s back with a gray towel in her hand, you put it around you and sigh happily, leaning against the wall. hyein looks at you with a weird expression, almost like you’re an idiot.

“what’s up with you?”

“i just kissed dani.” you say it like it’s unbelievable, maybe because it isn;t. “hyein i just kissed danielle marsh.”

hyein’s jaw drops, she walks over to you and puts her hands on your shoulder, shaking you. “did you really?” she questions, baffled. “don’t mess around with me!”

“i’m not.” you sigh, smiling to yourself. “i’m gonna shower.”

she groans, “hey! don’t just–”

you walk away from her, smiling the whole way through and making her groan again.

–

haerin opens the door to a soaked danielle. her tank top is still sticking to her skin and her hair is still wet, but there’s a smile on her face that’s way brighter than usual.

“why are you wet?” haerin asks, letting her inside. “why didn’t you bring swimwear.”

“i just kissed y/n.” danielle giggles, “i just kissed–” she puts a hand on haerin’s shoulder. “--y/n.”

haerin looks at her with absolute shock evident on her face. “you what.”

“oh my god it was so perfect and even better than the movies it was so unreal and–”

“you what?!” haerin’s jaw drops, she’s more than overwhelmed.

–

danielle greets you in the morning with a kiss on the cheek before sitting down to have breakfast with you. she looks at you much more lovingly now, since her feelings are clear to you. you smile shyly when she does it.

you lead her out of the restaurant, gently playing with her fingers as you both stand outside. small promises of seeing each other later are exchanged, and when danielle pouts, you reassure her that being apart for a few hours isn't the end of the world. to emphasize your point, you quickly peck her lips, earning a bright smile in return.

reluctantly, she lets go of your hand and waves before starting to walk away. suddenly, she rushes back to give you one more kiss, then dashes off to make her way to work.

danielle thinks of you the whole way to work, a small smile on her lips forms and doesn’t leave.

haerin is turning on the laptops at the front desk when she hears a bright and eager “good morning!” after the door swings open. the younger girl rolls her eyes, waving at danielle.

“someones happy.”

“how could i not be? guess who i just saw–”

“y/n,” haerin groans, but grins after. “we get it, you’re in love.”

“she gave me some extra carrots, and also a small bag of cherry tomatoes~”

haerin perks up, immediately walking over to danielle and tilting her head. danielle laughs, then fishes out a ziplock bag with ten or twelve little tomatoes inside, making haerin smile happily. she picks one out, plopping it into her mouth and chewing with a satisfied look on her face.

“tell your girlfriend i said thanks.”

danielle pulls out her phone, then snaps a picture of the happy haerin in front of her. haerin looks confused, then whines when she’s shown the picture.

“aw, look at you!” danielle giggles, zooming in on haerin’s stuffed cheek. “you look like a child.”

“shut up.”

“i’ll show y/n this, she’ll pack more next time.”

haerin pouts, then turns around smiling at the thought of more snacks for her.

–

you spend the next month hanging out with danielle whenever you can – she’s your girlfriend after all the fact that she’s all yours, it makes you giddy.

you two go on a variety of dates, spend time in danielle’s room looking at her old photos and trinkets, swim at the beach, take jerry out, accompanying her at work – anything really, because anything satisfies the two of you as long as you have each other.

this time you’re in danielle’s room again, laid on her bed side ways and propping yourself up with one elbow and your face in your hands. she’s talking about a dog she had treated at work, some shih tzu who had a temper tantrum and wouldn’t stop barking at her.

you look at her with stars in your eyes, nodding and humming along to her rambling. she’s sitting crissed cross in front of you, drying her hair with a towel and frowning at the mention that the shih tzu almost bit her.

“i’m sorry that happened dani.” you reach over to place a hand on her knee, rubbing it softly. “you dont deserve the hostility.”

“i know… ugh, anyway.” she leans over and presses a kiss on your forehead. “you should shower, use my towel.”

“okay okay.” you murmur, sitting up and leaning over to kiss her lips. you pull away and linger for a bit before asking, “haerin is alright with me staying over, right?”

“yeah, you’ve been feeding her tomato obsession, of course she is.”

you giggle, then get off the bed. “i’ll be quick.”

“okay love.” danielle says, smiling at you.

you walk down the hall and towards the bathroom with your pajamas – a t-shirt and shorts – then lock yourself inside. you smile thinking of danielle, thinking that this is the first time you’ve ever spent the night with someone you’ve liked romantically.

you look at the mirror in front of you and start to strip, taking off your shirt. you pause for a moment when you catch sight of the tattoo on your rib. it's been a while since you acknowledged it. running a finger over it, you shiver, then read the text. your eyes widen as the realization hits—you have less than three months until your time is up.

a wave of suffocation overwhelms you. you've just formed various bonds that have made you the happiest you have been since your parents passed. hyein feels like a sister to you. mrs. lee is one of the most generous and hardworking people you know—you'd spend hours and hours overtime for her if she asked. and then there's haerin, who you've built a solid friendship with and can joke around with effortlessly.

the weight of it all presses down on you, making it hard to breathe.

worst of all, you and danielle are together now.

you've never felt so strongly for someone, anyone. sure, you loved your parents deeply and felt your heart being ripped up into shreds when they died that night, but this—this is different.

something about danielle made you forget about the whole ‘destined death’ thing. she eased your worries and stopped your mind from spinning. she grounded you so your feet stayed down on earth instead of floating away into the space of your sorrow, and you’d bring the moon down for her on the way if she asked.

now, with less than three months left, it's all going to end. you'll lose everything and everyone you’ve built up in this town. how dumb could you be? thinking this was some stupid last resort, without considering the harm you’d cause. you'll leave everyone feeling as you did before—lost and alone. you're selfish, you're terrible. that’s all that runs in your mind.

it feels like the wind has been knocked out of you, or that you’ve stood up too quickly. you grip the sides of the sink for support, breathing shakily as you stare at your reflection. the room seems to close in around you as the weight of your situation presses down, making it hard to breathe.

–

danielle has been on her phone for over thirty minutes, her eyes drifting repeatedly to the closed door, worry etched across her face. just as she considers checking on you, the door opens, and you emerge in your pajamas with wet hair. the sight of danielle's face lighting up with happiness and relief eases you instantly, as if you hadn’t just spiraled in the bathroom moments before.

her smile is a balm to your frayed nerves, and the tension in your chest loosens. you take a deep breath, grateful for the small comfort of her presence. danielle sets her phone aside and moves towards you, her concern evident.

"everything okay?" she asks softly, her eyes searching yours.

you nod, forcing a smile. "yeah."

she pulls you into a gentle hug, and you allow yourself to relax in her embrace, letting the warmth of her affection wash over you. in that moment, everything feels a little more bearable, and you cling to that feeling, hoping it can carry you until you perish.

“you took long.” danielle teases. “missed you.”

“was it that long?”

“no…” danielle mutters, putting her arms around your neck. “but i started to worry.” she adds, pouting a bit.

“i’m sorry, i was just… zoning out.”

“yeah?”

“yeah.” you say, then tilt your head a bit.

danielle plays with your hair, her fingers massaging your scalp as she gazes at you lovingly. she gently rubs her thumb over your flushed skin, finding you utterly adorable. your face is warm from the hot shower, and she tiptoes to kiss you, smiling into it and humming, satisfied.

both of you stay close in that moment, lips pressing together, parting, and then reuniting. it's soft and sweet, with danielle's fingers threading through your hair and your own hand subtly tracing along her waistline.

when she finally pulls away, she bites the inside of her lip, looking at you with a fond smile. "hey… close the door?"

"hm? okay." you comply, stepping back just enough to push the door closed with your fingers.

as the door clicks shut, danielle pulls you by the wrist, her lips crashing against yours. you gasp in surprise but quickly reciprocate, eager and fervent. her hands glide up and down the base of your neck, applying just enough pressure to rile you up—successfully so.

your hand rests above her waist, and you pull her closer, bodies pressing together as your lips savor each other like you're both famished. danielle bites your bottom lip lightly, making you groan softly and part your lips.

"dani—" you breathe out, your fingers grasping at her shirt.

she moves down to your jawline, leaving a trail of soft pecks that lead to your neck. her kisses are light, making you sigh as you shift yourselves toward her bed. you slowly maneuver yourself on top of her, your movements synchronized and unhurried, savoring every touch and kiss.

“y-you’re really eager, aren’t you?”

“i can’t help it…” she says into your skin. “you’re just so…”

she finishes attacking your neck and pulls away to meet your flustered face, smiling as she rubs your cheeks with both thumbs. the searing heat on your cheeks warms up her own skin.

“...adorable.” danielle mutters.

“...whatever.”

your hands rest at her waist, fingers fiddling with the edge of her shirt. you look at her, silently asking, ‘is this okay?’ her response is to gently push your hand under her shirt, guiding your fingers to brush against her warm skin. the contact makes her bite her lip, a small sigh escaping her.

slowly, you slide your hand upwards, feeling the smooth curve of her side until your fingers rest just above her ribs. as your touch hovers over the ink on her skin, she gasps softly, the sound barely audible but full of emotion.

you pause for a moment, looking into her eyes, and see nothing but trust and desire. encouraged, you let your fingers trace the outline of her tattoo, feeling her shiver beneath your touch. her breathing quickens, and she closes her eyes, lost in the sensation.

danielle's hands find their way to your shoulders, pulling you closer. your lips meet again, more urgently this time, as if the world outside has ceased to exist.

you begin to pepper kisses along her jawline and neck, mimicking her earlier actions. danielle giggles as you do so, her hands moving through your hair. the previous intensity between you shifts to a more playful intimacy. you kiss her repeatedly, nipping at her skin and nudging your nose against her, eliciting another small laugh and a gentle tug at your hair.

the moment is lighthearted and warm until a knock at the bedroom door startles both of you. you practically jump off her, your cheeks burning with a mix of surprise and embarrassment. danielle clears her throat, quickly fixing her hair before getting up to answer the door.

"j-just a second," she calls out, giving you a reassuring smile before opening the door to see who it is. she clears her throat, answering, “yes?” and patting herself down before she opens the door to meet haerin. “oh, hey.”

“can we talk?” haerin says a bit seriously, making danielle look at her closely.

again, danielle clears her throat before turning to you. you’re avoiding any eye contact with haerin, simply shooting a thumbs up and running a hand through your hair to fix it up.

“yeah, of course.” she closes the door behind her, looking at haerin with a concerned expression. haerin looks worried, even looking at danielle with some type of pity and sadness. “is everything okay?”

“danielle, we… need to talk about– you know.” haerin mutters, pointing bashfully at danielle’s upper rib. “yeah.”

danielle tilts her head and her eyes flicker with confusion before she understands.

“oh.”

“i checked the date today,” haerin starts, looking at the ground. “you have little time, don’t you?”

“haerin, don’t worry about it.”

“it’s not just me. does y/n even know? i don’t even know when exactly, but that fact that i can predict the time is enough for me to worry. and what will you do? you and y/n? you’re going to–” haerin gulps, clenching her jaw as she tries to compose herself. tears well up in her eyes as she continues, “you’re going to be gone and… y/n doesn’t know.”

danielle looks at haerin with tears forming in her eyes as well. her bottom lip twitches looking at the younger girl before she speaks, “because i made the mistake of even hinting it, okay? look at you, and i bet minji, hanni, and hyein are stressed by it. it’s– look. i’ve been doing a great job at getting past it, okay? just… let me live the most i can.” danielle huffs, blinking and a tear falls. “i don’t have the most time anyway, not all of us are lucky enough to live past thirty.”

“dani–” haerin begins, but danielle just shakes her head, wiping her tear away.

"stop, just stop. i don’t want to think about it." it’s selfish, danielle knows it, but something about you makes her realize how much she’s missed out on in life. loving you is something she experienced late, yet it's the best thing that’s ever happened to her. from the moment she first laid eyes on you, something clicked.

an inexplicable urge pushed her to have breakfast with you that first time. then, she needed to see you again and again until her heart felt content and the burden of her tattoo faded away. you gave her clarity, a peace of mind she hadn’t known before. of course spending time with her friends and whatnot gave her some moments that were stress free, but she always came back home, laid in bed, and thought about her fate. however the more time she spent with you, the more the weight of her worries lifted, replaced by the lightness of your presence until it was like the whole tattoo thing didn’t exist or matter.

danielle feels a sense of urgency and desperation, knowing how fleeting these moments could be. but for now, with you by her side, everything feels right. it almost feels like you can be the one to break the whole ‘curse.’

(it’s nothing like that, just unlucky fate that danielle can’t seem to accept.)

“i’m going to go spend time with y/n.” danielle says after clearing her throat. haerin looks at her, mouth slightly open and tears practically spilling out her waterline.

–

you lay in bed with a hand on your tattoo and staring up at the ceiling. the door opens and you sit up eagerly, meeting danielle with slightly watered eyes and a tinted pink nose.

“sorry about that…” she says shyly, her lips pursing in to a smile. “haerin and i had a little um, talk.”

“are you okay?” she steps close enough for you to put a hand on her cheek and feel the moisture from the remnants of tears. “were you crying?”

“it’s nothing,” she assures, turning to kiss your hand.

she moves to turn off the lamp on the bedside table before laying down next to you and scooting up so her head is on your shoulder. your arm finds it’s away around to push her closer and she snuggles into you. you make a move to kiss her forehead, hearing a soft hum when you keep your lips on her skin.

“hey, y/n?”

“yeah?”

“what would you do if you had little time to live?” you fall silent from her question, feeling your throat tighten up.

danielle feels a hand in her hair, your finger twirls a strand of it. “what’s with the question?”

“i’m just curious.”

“well,” you start, moving over so you can turn on your side and face your grilfriend fully. “i’d move to the beach,” you put a hand on her cheek, tracing patterns onto her skin. “and find my way from there.”

“really?”

“yeah.” you nod. “my parents died at the beach actually. they thought they could beat their fate if they were the happiest people on earth.” your voice gets softer and danielle focuses on your features closely. “they didn’t beat it, but they were still the happiest people until their fate. i’d like to be like that.”

“are you happy?” danielle asks, holding your hand tightly.

“of course i am.” your hand moves down to danielle’s shoulder and your palm rubs against it. “i think i’ve been the happiest i’ve ever been just after knowing you exist.”

“maybe i am your twin flame.” danielle jokes.

“maybe.” there’s only one way to know that, but you can’t ask to see danielle’s tattoo, because then she’d ask for yours and you couldn’t possibly show someone as lucky as her your destined date. “what would you do if you had little time?”

danielle wants to confess everything—the limited time she has left, the emotions eating her up since she found out she wouldn’t even make it to twenty. she wants to spill her heart, to tell you how she had planned to keep everyone she knew close and spend all the time she could with them. but now, all she wants is to be with you until fate decides her time is up.

but danielle doesn’t say any of that.

instead, she cups your cheek, her thumb brushing against your soft skin with tender care. she leans in, her breath warm against your face, and gently kisses your nose before scooting into your arms.

“i don’t know, maybe spend time with you a little more.”

–

time is running out, and you’re the only one who knows.

it’s less than three weeks until you’re gone, until you’re nothing but a body and a silent heart.

(unless something brutal happens to you, then you wouldn’t be just a body – you really hope you won’t be fated to some horror movie ending.)

you've been making a boatload of excuses, claiming you're too busy to head over to the shelter or too sick. you've even found ways to dodge dates and quality time with danielle, sometimes by mentioning hyein. and tutoring hyein is a whole other story, it’s become another casualty of your avoidance tactics, with frequent claims of not feeling well or having headaches—anything to stay cooped up in your room or sulking by the beach. you hate doing this, but you convince yourself it’ll make the inevitable separation less painful; everyone will thank you sooner or later.

in this time, you’ve burned yourself on the wok more than usual, two or three times in one workday. each time, mrs. lee hears you curse loudly. she sits you down repeatedly, her concerned eyes searching yours, asking if everything is alright. each time, you give her a shaky breath and a feeble shake of your head, unable to muster more than that.

your heart feels heavy with every excuse, every lie, and every burn. you hope that distancing yourself now will make the eventual farewell easier, but the weight of your decision only grows heavier. mrs. lee’s concern, danielle’s confusion, and hyein’s disappointment haunt you, but you push through, believing it’s for the best.

when you burn yourself three times and cut your index finger once, mrs. lee grabs you and sits you down right in the living room after work. she doesn’t bat an eye at hyein, who walks in on the scene of her grandmother standing across from you with her arms crossed, her expression a mix of anger and concern. instead, mrs. lee sends hyein to her room. surprisingly, hyein doesn’t talk back. she looks at you with worry, then slowly moves herself up the stairs and down the hallway to her room.

you lean against the counter behind you, gripping it tightly. the bandaid on your finger loosens.

"are you going to tell me what’s bothering you, or are you going to keep bottling it up?" mrs. lee's voice is firm but gentle.

"nothing is wrong," you respond, your voice flat and unconvincing.

mrs. lee's eyes narrow slightly, her concern deepening. "don’t lie to me. i’ve seen you struggling. you’ve been out of it and now you’re hurting yourself more. i know you, you can handle cooking the hot dishes in your sleep, so what is wrong?”

your grip on the counter tightens as you avoid her gaze. "i’m fine. really."

she steps closer, her voice softening. "i care about you. whatever it is, you don’t have to go through it alone. did you and danielle break up? is that what this is?”

“n-no, no. thank god no.” you feel a lump forming in your throat, but you stubbornly shake your head. "i just... i can’t talk about it."

mrs. lee sighs, her frustration evident, “no, i’m not letting you just–”

“i have less than three weeks to live.” you choke out, looking down at the ground and feeling your body go weak. the counter holds you up.

mrs. lee looks at you, utterly shocked. “what?”

“that’s it. i don’t have much time.” tears blur your vision as you look back at her, and mrs. lee looks at you with all kinds of emotion.

“are you serious?” she asks, and you nod, lifting up your shirt so that the ink on your upper rib is visible. you accidentally sob, tears falling down your cheek as mrs. lee reads the date.

you close your eyes and turn away, unable to even look at her. a few seconds later you feel arms around your body, like someone is hugging you, and open your eyes to see her hair. she’s hugging you tight, rubbing your back comfortingly.

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry i didn’t tell you, i’m sorry i just—”

“dear, no, no. it’s okay, it’s alright. everything is okay.”

“is it?” you ask in between a sob. “i’m so selfish…”

“everyone is when it comes to this.” she says, then turns to look at your clearly. she wipes away your tears, then places her hands on your shoulder. “my best cook has to retire soon…”

you giggle softly, her attempt at easing the tension working. “i’m sorry.”

“it’s okay, it will all be alright.”

she hugs you again, and then you hear another sob coming from where the stairs are. hyein stands on the steps, holding the wooden railing with her hand covering her mouth and her eyes widened in disbelief.

“y/n,” hyein’s voice is shaky. “you’re dying soon?”

“hyein you weren’t supposed to–”

“are you really?”

you purse your lips and break away from her grandma, walking over to hug her. she hugs you back and sobs into you, her voice muffled into your shirt. i’m sorry.” you murmur, rubbing her back. “i’m really sorry, i’m so so sorry–”

“you idiot…” hyein mumbles. “is that why you’ve been avoiding me?”

“i’m sorry… i just didn’t want you to miss me.”

she parts from you and punches your shoulder, then wipes away her tears and sniffles. “i’d kill you for dying just like that, now we have to spend as much time we can.”

mrs. lee nods, looking at the two of you. “i’m firing you, you need to spend the most time you can.”

“hey wait– i really like this cooking gig, please don’t do that.”

“fine, two week notice.”

you manage to giggle even in the pressure of the moment, feeling the weight of your fate pushing down on you.

“okay, okay.”

hyein starts again, asking you with a concerned face, “and what about haerin? and especially your girlfriend?”

“i–” you lower your head. “i don’t want them to pity me, i just want to spend time with them normally. can you be the one to apologize for me?”

“wow y/n… you’re a terrible person.” hyein mumbles, her eyes starting to water again.

“i know, i’m sorry.”

she punches your shoulder again before hugging you. “i’m kidding. there’s nothing we can do, just promise me you’ll spend more time? no more saying you’re sick? maybe i’ll–” she sniffles, “--believe it on the last day if you say it though.”

you sob a little before hugging her tightly, humming in response. mrs. lee joins in and your arms wrap around both of them, all of you shedding tears.

–

haerin and danielle sit with jerry, who’s blinking slow and laying on the counter. danielle looks at him fondly, petting his fur.

“i don’t think he has much time left.” danielle informs, rubbing by his ears.

it’s ironic and almost perfect, danielle and (practically) her own dog dying soon.

haerin frowns, looking between the two.

“will you be okay?”

danielle smiles sadly, petting under his mouth. “we’ll meet again.”

haerin hums in response, petting jerry as well. “will we?” she asks suddenly, practically under her breath.

the younger girl feels an arm around her pulling her into a side hug. haerin gulps, hugging danielle tight.

“of course.”

silence follows as the three of them sit there together, no one says anything, jerry shuffles into danielle’s hand more, and all of them try to bear the fate that waits for them. haerin pulls away, looking at danielle with watery eyes.

“will you ever tell y/n? you know, that it’s soon?”

danielle shakes her head, then softly says, “i can’t put that weight on her. if i’m going to spend time with the love of my life, i want every moment to be happy from now on.” then danielle puts her hand on haerin’s shoulder, squeezing it tight. “and you don’t need to worry about me, okay? let’s spend time being happy.”

haerin doesn’t know what she’ll do without danielle, she doesn’t know what anyone in the town could do. if the sun had ceased to exist, their little town would still be radiant and lively just because danielle had been around.

–

hyein and haerin eat lunch by the arcade they always go to. the sun is shining down on them, making haerin sweat along her hairline and hyein fan herself with a plastic plate.

you’re gone in a week, and hyein is doing anything she can to prepare for it. she tries to keep herself happy and uplifted by going out with haerin, but it seems like haerin is dealing with her own thing. she’s usually quiet, but right now she’s dead silent, poking at her rice bowl.

“is everything oka–” hyein pauses when she watches haerin put her face in her hands, rubbing her face and groaning as her shoulders tense up. “what happened?” hyein questions, eyes widening.

“i hate these goddamn tattoos.”

“you don’t die for another like, thirty years haerin.”

“it’s not me.”

“who?”

haerin purses her lips and looks up at hyein, who’s gazing at her worriedly. haerin shakes her head, then sighs out, “danielle.”

“you told me before, is it that soon? already?” hyein starts to panic, not only are you done for soon, but even mo dani.

“she won’t tell me the exact date, i think in a week or two or–” haerin groans, putting her head down on the table. “--i don’t know! it’s just, i… i don’t know what to do.”

hyein bites the inside of her lip and pats haerin’s head, then says, “i know how you feel.”

she hears the older girl scoff lightly, “right.”

“y/n.”

haerin lifts her head up and looks at hyein intensely, then looks at her baffled. “what?” she practically chokes out, “y/n?”

“i shouldn’t tell you, but… her and danielle, it’s heartbreaking just thinking about it.”

“hey hey,” haerin snaps her fingers twice at hyein, “y/n is dying soon? are you serious?”

“in a week – less than i think.”

haerin sits there and processes all the information she’s just received before responding again, “should we tell them?” haerin asks, then stops to rethink. “actually, let’s not.”

“what?” hyein looks at her like she’s an idiot. “why not?”

“just let them be, the mention of death might make things worse for them. have you seen them, it’s like they were made for each other. what if y/n dies before dani? or the other way around? just let it be.”

hyein contemplates, staring at haerin worriedly again.

“fine,” the younger one sighs, “okay.”

–

you have a little over forty-eight hours until your time is up. you've spent every waking moment with those you care about, keeping your routine largely unchanged.

you still help hyein after school, hanging out with her at the little comic and antique store whenever you have time. the two of you take as many pictures as you can with her grandpa's old film camera, creating memories that will last. hyein wants to keep a piece of you with her always, something to look back on when she misses you. sometimes, haerin joins you, even coming over before her shifts to spend time with you both. these moments, surrounded by the people you love, fill you with a bittersweet joy. you're cherishing every second, knowing that your time is running out, and hoping these memories will live on in the hearts of those you leave behind.

along with hyein, you spend lots of time with her grandma. the two of you talk late at night and in the mornings, mrs. lee shares more stories from her youth and memorable moments of hyein. she talks about her late husband more often, revealing how much he influenced hyein's playful personality. you still help cook for the regulars despite mrs. lee telling you to just relax, but you love what you do – serving their meals and satisfying people until your favorite face comes into view after the bell above the restaurant door jingles.

you still eat breakfast with danielle, though lately, you've been choosing to sit outside to people-watch while you both soak in the sun. sometimes, the people-watching turns into dani-watching. you find yourself trying to memorize every feature and detail of her face—from the curve of her nose to the crinkle in her eyes when an animal passes by, the small beauty marks on her cheek, and the faint freckles on her skin.

time is running out, and you can only pray that you'll be able to carry the memory of the person you love with you even after you die. wherever you go, you want to keep danielle tattooed in your mind, every detail of her face etched into your memory.

even as you two walk along the boardwalk, your eyes are focused on danielle. she’s looking in the distance, the sun is going to set soon.

before you know it, she’s turning back to you, catching you staring.

“something on my face?”

“no, no.” you mumble, putting your hands in your pockets and smiling down at jerry, who is struggling to walk in a straight line. you smile, then admit, “i’m very fond of your face.”

danielle giggles, then locks her fingers with yours. “i feel the same way about you miss l/n.”

“i’m very glad miss marsh.”

“would love to be your mrs. someday.” danielle mutters shyly, then looks up at you and you swear her eyes are shimmering. “if you’d let me.”

your heart simultaneously flutters and cracks into a few pieces. you move her hand up to your lips, kissing the back of it and saying, “i wouldn’t want anything else but for you to be mrs. for eternity.”

“mhm, that sounds like a dream.”

the two of you walk in silence for a moment longer, comfortable beside each other with jerry’s steps getting all jumbled up. danielle smiles sadly at him, knowing he doesn’t have much time left. you look at him, then at danielle, feeling the exact same way.

danielle feels you squeeze her hand tighter, then her gaze shifts to you. you look her in the eyes for five seconds and don’t say a single thing, the only thing that registers in your mind is that she’s the person youve needed your whole life.

maybe if you had more time you’d spend every morning having breakfast with her in mrs. lee’s restaurant, and on your days off she could even take you to one of her favorite spots. if you had more time you’d spend more time tracing patterns onto her skin and leaving gentle kisses there too, and you’d give anything just to have one more day having a stupid, meaningless conversation with her too.

she’s all that you’ve been searching for, and you don’t recall searching for anything in the first place.

“what?” she asks, “are you okay?”

“i love you so much.” you say suddenly, catching her offguard. “like, i’d look for you in a room full of hundreds of people, no doubt.”

“what’s with the sudden–” you peck her lips cutting her off and pausing her in place. “--affection…”

“i just love you, so much, always.”

“are you okay?”

“just lovesick.” you sigh, tightening your jaw.

danielle shakes her head, looking at you confusedly but smiling regardless. her smile could be the sun and you’d still stare at it until you’re blinded for life – not that you have that much life left anyway.

“alright silly. i love you even more, you know?”

“no way.”

“i’m not going to argue with you because i’m right.” danielle chuckles, her hand moves to caress the base of your neck. “i love you forever and wherever and always.”

“likewise, but ten times more.”

“you can’t multiply infinity by ten.”

“well i just did it in my mind.”

“i’m gonna blow you up in my mind.”

“yeah but not before you think of me all lovingly.” danielle shoves your shoulder hearing the remark, you simply laugh.

–

it’s time, and you’d rather die than – well, die.

you hadn’t been able to sleep, staying up until the sun started to rise and sleep eventually took over. you made a small prayer in your head that you wouldn’t die in your sleep or due to staying up so late – or early for that matter – just so you could see everyone at least one more time.

you wake a few hours after you had passed out and the day had already gone by, it was already three hours afternoon and everyone – haerin, hyein, and mrs. lee – was looking at you worriedly as you woke up.

before you can process any of it, haerin and hyein shake you awake even more, you jolt up and almost hit your head on the bedframe.

“w-what? how long was i out, what time is it? what’s happening – am i dead?”

“y/n,” haerin says quickly, face full of worry. her brows are furrowed so deeply that more wrinkles than you can count on one hand are visible, and the rest of the bunch looks just as concerned. “it’s storming outside, it’s crazy.”

“is it?”

hyein grabs your hand, then nods. “danielle, she’s out there.”

you stand up immediately upon hearing this, eyes widening as you gasp, “what? is she crazy?”

“jerry ran out, he’s missing. we couldn’t find him and danielle went out to find him. it’s pouring, and it seems like it’ll thunder or – i don’t know, something!” haerin says hurriedly, looking at you all distressed and bother. “i don’t know where she is, i– we don’t know what to do.”

“where did you see her run off?” you ask.

“towards the beach–” hyein gets cuts off when you hug her and the other two tightly, you practically pull them into your arms, it’ll probably be the last time they’re in them anyway. hyein watches a tear flow down your cheek as well as your bottom lip trembling, looking at you worriedly. her eyes widen just as yours did when she watches you tear away and head towards the door. “--y/n, no way you’re going out in this–”

“hyein.” you’re crying, you’re crying so hard and your chest is tightening so hard that you’re terrified you might just collapse right then and there. “i don’t have much– hell, i don’t have any time left. today is the day, there’s nothing stopping me. if i die, it might as well be because i’m searching for the light of my life.”

the three look at you with tears streaming down their skin, mrs. lee sobs softly before nodding in understanding. hyein looks at you in disbelief, and haerin mirrors the younger girls expression.

you purse your lips before heading out the door, through the restaurant, and finally outside.

it’s raining like crazy, you can barely see. there’s no way danielle went out in these conditions.

an umbrella flies past you and you have to jump out of the way so it doesn’t hit you – there’s no way you’d let an umbrella kill you.

you start running as fast as you can toward the beach, ignoring the slight burn of the raindrops hitting you harder now that you’re running against the flow. you run as fast as you can and ignore the burn in your legs from not warming up, the only thing in your mind is danielle. she has to be crazy.

you reach the beach in less than ten minutes, huffing like crazy as you scan the area. the rain has died down just slightly, but you’re still soaking and getting hit by droplets falling down aggressively.

in the corner of your eye, you catch someone running along the boardwalk and hear a familiar voice calling out “jerry!”

danielle.

immediately, you run towards the sound and barely visible figure, then bump into her accdientally, making the two of you nearly trip and fall over on the ground. danielle squints her eyes at you, then widens them and yells, “y/n?”

“are you fucking crazy?” you shout, “it’s crazy out here, why would you run out like that?”

you can’t really tell in the rain, but you manage to catch how red her nose is and the slight pink in her eyes. she’s been crying.

“j-jerry, he just… he ran out. y/n, he doesn’t have much time, i– i can’t–”

the two of you turn your heads when you hear a bark in the distance, looking toward there the sound had come from and doing your best to find out what caused it. danielle starts to run towards the beach, and you immediately dash right after her, following without thinking.

“jerry?” she calls out at the top of her lungs, running closer to where the water is. “jerry!”

in the distance, you make out a small dog like figure. it’s jerry, there’s no doubt about it. the color of the furm the snout, and the familiar bark all give it away; there’s no way it’s not jerry.

she starts to take off her shoes, and before she can dart into the water – the water the splashes against the sand roughly, the waves getting bigger and bigger – you stop her, grabbign her wrist tightly and holding her back.

“are you insane?” you question her, brows creased in disbelief, worry, and care. “you’ll drown.”

“jerry is going to die.”

“danielle, you’ll die.”

“i know.”

you can’t believe her, she’s soaked and her hair is almost covering one of her eyes. she tries to loosen the grip you have on her with her other hand, but you don’t budge. instead, you look at her, trembling.

“what do you mean ‘you know’?”

danielle shakes her head, desperately pushing you away. “let me go! please y/n, jerry is–”

“danielle what do you mean?”

the split second you loosen your grip, danielle manages to break free. she darts towards the ocean, running into the water and disappearing without giving you an explanation.

you bite your lip, then run after her. you’re dying today anyway, and if it’s for danielle, you’d be more than happy to perish like this.

danielle is desperately swimming towards jerry, who’s already much deeper in the ocean past where most people can even swim. it’s probably meters deep, and yet, danielle is still swimming relentlessly, you follow her and manage to nearly catch up somehow, trying to stop her.

“danielle!” water fills your mouth as you call for her, she turns back to see you struggling and hesitates. “p-please–” a wave hits you and you try to fight back up, spitting out the mix of rain and salty water. “you’ll die–”

“y/n!” she yells, worriedly swimming towards you and managing to grab your hand.

she does her best to pull you above the water, but oyu’re heavier and it almost sinks her down too. you manage to fight back up, holding onto her hand tightly as you fight for air.

“y-you’re an idiot.” you gasp, breathing in and out deeply. “you’re going to die.”

“why did you follow me?” danielle asks, doing her best to keep her head above the water. “you’ll die.”

“danielle,” you give up, letting your body slightly relax as every emotion you’ve ever felt hits you in the face. “i know. i’m dying today and if it’s for you then i’ll gladly do so.”

“what?”

“july 22nd, danielle. there’s a tattoo on my upper rib that has today’s date on it, i’m gone today, it’s inevitable.”

the rain water hits her face and makes her fight for air, but even while she does so, the shock on her face is clear as day.

“are you serious?”

“yes! i need you to live on even if i can’t, please, just–”

she sobs, you hear her so clearly and you’re taken aback.

“you idiot! me too.”

“what?”

“july 22nd, 2024.” she says plainly, “on my upper left rib, y/n.”

you can’t speak – or breathe for that matter, but maybe thats just the water filling up your nose and mouth as the waves get worse. somehow, you laugh defeatedly, then smile at her.

“we’re going to die together,” you manage to say, almost happily. “danielle, we’re–”

she silences you with a look, swimming closer until her arms wrap around you. without a word, she kisses you as if it's the last thing you'll ever do. miraculously, there's no taste of seawater—just something sweet, tender, and life-saving. the kiss is deep and enveloping, making you feel as if you're floating on air rather than nearly drowning in water. time seems to stand still as her lips convey everything words cannot, leaving you breathless and profoundly connected.

before you can fully process the moment, a wave crashes over you both. instead of fighting for air, you close your eyes tighter, wrapping your arms around danielle, holding her as if you’ll never let go. she mirrors your actions, clinging to you like it’s the last thing she’ll ever do. when you part for a brief second, neither of you opens your eyes, the seawater will make it feel like your pupils are burning. danielle rests her head in the crook of your neck as you two tumble int he water, the world around you dissolves, leaving just the two of you holding onto each other until everything fades into black.

...

you’re at the beach for your sixteenth birthday, somewhere warm and nice. your parents found a great deal online, the place was a four hour train ride and the views along the way were wonderful..

there’s no tattoo on your rib, and your parents are only absent because they’re fetching you ice cream from the hotel lobby—not because they’re gone forever. you stare out at the sea, feeling the sun kiss your features, hoping the tint on each peak of your face won’t be too harsh. you made sure to apply extra sunscreen anyway.

hugging your knees, you hum along to a chet baker song playing on your phone. suddenly, with no warning at all, your earbuds are yanked from your ears, and a dog is all over you, licking your shoulder, then your cheek, and pulling away to look at you with its tongue out and tail wagging happily.

you jump from the unexpected arrival but quickly dissolve into giggles, reaching out to pet the dog. its joyful energy is contagious, and you find yourself laughing and playing along, forgetting everything else as you bask in the simple, pure joy of the moment.

the dog seems oddly familiar, as if you’d met it before. you shrug it off, there’s tons of dogs that look like the one in front of you.

however, there aren’t many – probably zero – people that look like the girl running up towards you, quickly moving her dog away from you and apologizing.

“i’m so sorry!” she looks about your age, plus, her voice is really nice to the ears. “jerry, you need to learn some manners!”

the dog whines, rubbing against the girls legs and hiding behind her.

the girl is wearing a floral top and striped shorts, her hair long and flowing past her chest, moving perfectly in the breeze like a scene from a movie. her hair is dark and wavy, framing her face beautifully. she looks at you curiously, her large eyes framed by long, pretty eyelashes. words fail you, but she beats you to the punch.

"you have pretty eyes," she states, seemingly unfazed by the oddity of the situation. "have we met before?"

suddenly, you feel shy. this very pretty girl with a very sweet voice has just complimented you, and it seems like she knows you. maybe she’s the daughter of your parents’ friends, someone who’s heard of you before? you don’t really know.

you struggle to find your voice, but finally manage a response. "i– i’m sorry… i don’t think we’ve met.” as soon as it comes out of your mouth, you want to take it right back because you’re observing her a little closer, finding more details of her face that stand out and make you blush a little more and realize that she really does seem familiar. you can’t tell where you’ve seen her, but there’s a strange familiarity.

“hm, i see.” she smiles warmly, her eyes lighting up as she puts her hand out. "i’m danielle.” she introdcuues, then points to her dog. “this is jerry.”

“my name is y/n.”

“your name is really nice.”

“yours is too.”

the two of you stare at each other, both seemingly trying to decipher the strange click you felt upon meeting. her dog, now less shy, nudges you, making you laugh and pet him adoringly.

"my dog seems to like you," danielle mumbles, "that’s odd. he’s shy with everyone but haerin..."

"i’m just as surprised as you are," you say, tilting your head away as the dog suddenly jumps up and starts to lick your collarbone. "my friend hyein is much better with animals; they love her."

"well, you must be special then."

you don't respond, instead smiling and patting down a space for this mysterious girl to sit next to you. she smiles back, then jerry sits between you two, wagging his tail and looking between you both proudly, as if this meeting were his plan all along.

...

everyone had questioned how young you two got married, but everyone who actually knew you – hyein, haerin, and everyone else you’ve mingled with closely along the way – know that the timing is more than perfect, maybe even too late.

(hyein still scolds you for postponing your proposal because you didn’t have the guts to do it.)

you’re twenty and have been married to danielle for six months. there's a ring on your finger, and she’s your mrs., your lover, your wife—your everything. she’s the reason you’re up early on a sunday morning, feeling a pang of guilt for leaving her alone in bed. but it doesn’t matter because you’re busy doing her laundry and opening the tin of new coffee beans from australia that danielle insisted on buying at three in the morning when they were on sale.

(“they’re roasted in my hometown! please…”

“the shipping is over half of the actual tin…” you sigh, but danielle gives you puppy eyes and you give in. “fine.”

she kisses you on the lips, almost knocking you over even as you sit beside each other on the bed. “i love you.”

it sounds like a prayer coming from her.)

the scent of fresh laundry fills the living room as you fold her bottoms and hang her clothes. suddenly, you feel arms wrapping around your waist from behind and a kiss on the nape of your neck. danielle's presence warms you, her embrace making the mundane task feel special.

“morning,” she murmurs, her breath tickling your skin. you lean back into her, feeling the love and contentment radiate between you. the laundry can wait; in this moment, all that matters is the connection you share, the life you've built together, and the promise of many more mornings just like this.

“well good morning mrs. marsh.”

“good morning mrs. l/n.” danielle giggles into your clipped up hair, then sighs happily. “you smell like detergent, i want you.”

you let out a pftt and turn around to put your hand on her cheek and kiss her forehead. she hums and attempts to kiss your lips, but you pause her, putting a hand over her mouth.

“did you brush?”

a muffled, whiny “yes” is heard from her before she pushes her hand and presses a chaste kiss on your lips. she smells like toothpaste and lavender, you love it – you love her.

“hey sweetheart,” she starts, twirling the strand that pokes out of the claw clip. “i had the craziest dream.”

“yeah? what was it about.” you ask, then part from her to fold one of the jeans danielle had gifted you when you two were seventeen.

“you were in it and we had matching tattoos.”

“is that so?”

she hums, then continues, “and the tattoos were on the same place – upper rib – but on opposite sides. it had the date july 22nd, 2024 inked on it. apparently that was when we died.”

“that’s odd, we got married that day.”

“that’s what i was thinking! i don’t know… it was such a weird dream.”

you stack your bottoms on top of each other and grab danielle’s hand, leading her over to the kitchen of your shared apartment. “tell me more, but first–” you grab your weighed out grinds of coffee and put them in your coffee puck. “what would you like?”

“latte with almond milk please – hot.”

“on it mrs.” you grin, then kiss her cheek before getting to work. “continue with your dream, please.”

“right.” she hops up on the counter and dangles her feet. you smile at her wavy, disheleved bedhead still present as she goes on, “we fell in love, had a dog named jerry, and then we drowned.”

you pause in your place after putting the puck in the machine and pressing ‘brew,’ then turn to face your wife with a baffled expression.

“oh.”

“i know right! and then it switched to something else where we met on the beach, your eyes were still pretty, and the same dog in the last dream made me run into you. it’s like it switched from one universe to another.”

you giggle, walking over to place your hands on the counter. she wraps her legs around your waist, then holds your face in her hands.

“that’s crazy,” you nearly whisper, starstruck. “wow.”

“i know! oh my gosh… i think those multiverse movies you’re making me watch are catching up.”

“or maybe we’re in love and meant to be in each universe…” you half-tease, but all of you hopes it’s true. “we’re like our own angsty romance movie or something.”

danielle rolls her eyes and you laugh before heading over to finish her morning coffee. she blows her drink a few times, then sips, closing her eyes, evidently satisfied with her beverage. you smile and subconsciously rub your ring with your thumb, hopping up on the counter to sit with her and dangle your feet as she leans her head on your shoulder.

you’d love to be with danielle in every universe, even if it were for a few months, years, or even days. any time with her would be a blessing.

she kisses your knuckles and it feels like you’re floating, like there’s nothing to worry about. as long as she’s beside you and in your life, whichever one that is, you know that you’ll be content regardless of any circumstance.

#kpop x reader #newjeans danielle #newjeans x reader #new jeans x reader #newjeans imagines #danielle marsh #danielle x reader #danielle marsh x reader #mo jihye x reader #mo jihye #newjeans mo jihye

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mrs-kmikaelson · 2 months

Text

What's in a Name?

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x reader Summary: 5 times you and Agent Hotchner questionably cross paths over the years, just for him to watch you walk away (+1 time you don't). Warnings: long asf, murder, violence, addiction, unhealthy coping mechanisms, corruption in government, allusions to abuse, one made-up case, hotch is a lil ooc (not rlly), and reader has grey morals (lmk if there's more) Eps incl: S1E21 (secrets and lies), S3E20 (lo-fi), S4E1 (mayhem) Words: 24.4K

Masterlist | Bonus (no.6)

a/n: this is the longest fic i have ever written. guys, one section is literally 10k words long— and i didn't notice!! it's too long for one part (there's a 1k block limit on tumblr) so the bonus is linked above and at the bottom. it took me... a while. so i hope u enjoy! might do a part 2. also i'm only on s4 of cm rn (even tho i know too much alr) so pls don't spoil. ly guys!!

1. The myth

Quantico, Virginia, 2004

The interrogation room was cold and your fingers felt frozen against the metal of the table, but you doubted it had anything to do with the fact that it was December. If anything, you'd bet good money that as soon as you stepped out of the room, the heat would return. You'd bet good money that a certain Agent Hotchner sitting across from you had fucked with the AC unit.

Nonetheless, you didn't show your discomfort, keeping a poker face.

Well, as much of a poker face that you could keep.

You had a smile on your face, a twinkle in your eye. While you preferred not to spend time in police stations, this really was turning out to be quite interesting.

Agent Hotchner didn't seem to hold the same opinion as you. The frown on his face was unmoving, his expression stone cold. High-strung, you thought, and then you wondered what crazy things he might've seen to make him that way.

You turn to the man sitting next to him (the boy really), and asked, "Does he ever smile?" You pointed to the man in question to emphasize your point, even though it was clear as day who you were referring to.

Spencer, as you'd learned his name was, looked somewhat flustered at your question, like he wasn't expecting you to speak to him, but he ignored you regardless. You took that as a no. "Ms. Y/L/N, you're known throughout the United States and many other European countries as 'The Angel of Death.'" Your smile widened at your nickname. "They say that, as soon as you contact someone, they're as good as dead."

"Oh? Is that what they say?" Your voice was sly and teasing.

Spencer ignored you yet again. Rude. "You send them a message through various online media, and then they mysteriously turn up deceased."

"Do they?" you drawled.

The stoic and silent Agent Hotchner took this as his cue to speak up. "As of late, your existence has been nothing more than a rumour, an urban legend amongst criminals and internet sleuths. A myth."

You hummed.

"But your recent attempt on Congressman Baylor has failed. You got sloppy," he deadpanned. "You went for a fish bigger than you could handle, and now the myth is likely headed for life without parole unless you tell me who you're working for."

You were silent for a moment as you held his stare, and he thought that finally, he was getting somewhere with you, but then you broke that silence with a giggle so bubbly it was almost hard to believe you were assassin.

"That's cute," you remarked.

He narrowed his eyes. "What's cute?"

You shrugged nonchalantly. "The fact that you think you can convict me."

It was Spencer this time that spoke up, his voice soft in comparison to the jagged edges of his partner's. Perhaps this job hadn't broken him yet, you thought. "Y/N, arrogance isn't gonna get you out of this."

You snorted. "No, trust me, this isn't arrogant. It's self-assured." You didn't give them a chance to get another thing in. "Tell me, what exactly has your technical analyst, Penelope Garcia, been able to dig up on me?" You saw slight alarm flare up in Agent Hotchner's eyes, surprise in Spencer's. "She's FBI, yeah, and you guys sure do like to play by the rules, but she isn't an agent like you, Hotchner. She must get impatient, bend the rules, perform some illegal activity that you don't question because it helps you with your case. That's why I'm a bit surprised that, even though she likely did run an illegal background on me, she didn't find my records. I mean, they're not that sealed. I bet I could unseal those bad boys right now."

He's lucky you didn't put money on that bet, because you would've won.

Aside from his eyes, no emotion other than irritation showed on his face. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh, you poor sweet things." Another chuckle left you. "Have you ever heard of this little thing called immunity?"

Hotch was quick to dispute. "No. You do not have immunity."

You contested, "Oh, yes, sweetheart, I do. And if you had checked my pockets for anything other than a pistol, then perhaps you'd have noticed this." Since they hadn't cuffed you, you reached into your back pocket easily and pulled out your badge, the words Central Intelligence Agency catching their eyes immediately.

Hotchner scoffed, the most emotion you'd seen from him since you met. "You're CIA?"

You cocked your head. "Y'know, for some of America's supposed best minds, I'm a little unimpressed."

Reid leaned forward in his seat. "You're—"

"Yes, I am. So your girl back at HQ seemed to miss a few details about me, and you have missed more than a few details about this case— if a case is even what you could call it." You stood up and rested your hands on the table, getting bored of this game already. "What you have, SSA Hotchner and Dr. Reid, is not a serial killer. I hope your victimology analysis picked this up already, but the quote-unquote victims you have are all bad people, people who have broken the law in irreparable ways. And when I say irreparable, I don't just mean Bill Clintoning it up with minors, despite many of them having done that. I mean selling government secrets, espionage, treason. Things that threaten national security, things that my bosses do not like. I'm sure you catch my drift, don't you?"

Before Agent Hotchner could respond, the door to the interrogation room was opening, and a smirk automatically arose on your face. About damn time.

A man who you instantly recognized as Jason Gideon stood in the doorway. You briefly met once, but you doubt he remembered you. His face was stern, too, and reluctance shined through his voice. "Hotch, the Secretary of Defense is here, and the DOD is demanding she be released."

You maintained Hotch's stare all the while Gideon spoke. The clench in his jaw was small, but you caught it. Something told you this man didn't like to be challenged—you'd keep that in mind.

Eventually, he nodded.

You grabbed your coat from behind your chair, stowed your badge away and flashed them your million-dollar smile. "Well, it was nice meeting you, boys. Let's do this again sometime, yeah?"

Then you were out the door, and Hotch thought that if he went forever without seeing you, it'd still be too soon.

And when Congressman Baylor was found dead a few hours later, he wasn't surprised.

2. Smile

Langley, Virginia, 2006

"I've got the personnel files all set up for you guys. Video, whatnot—it's all there in the conference room. Now if you have any questions, feel free to talk to my senior officers. This is Gina Sanchez, she's the Associate Director of Field Operations. And that guy up there is Kruger Spence, the Assistant Director of Operations. The lady with him is his second-in-command, Olivia Hopkins. And then there's, of course, my boss."

Gideon's brows went up. "Your boss?" he echoed. The rest of the team's confusion was just as palpable. When he was brought in by Bruno Hawks to assist the CIA in finding their mole, he assumed he was the one running point. As far as he was concerned, Hawks didn't even have a boss that'd be there.

"Yes, she's flown in from an assignment to help with this case." Right on cue, you walked out of an office, heels clicking on the floor and the same smile on your face that Hotch could remember from two years ago. "Meet Director Y/N Y/L/N; she's head of a CIA black ops initiative and envoy from the NSA."

Your voice was smug. "Oh, trust me, Bruno, we've met before." This time, Hotch couldn't conceal his scoff. He felt Elle glance at him in confusion—she's the only one who didn't know who you were. "Agent Gideon, it's a pleasure to meet you formally." He shook your hand, albeit unenthusiastically. "Agent Hotchner, I knew I'd be seeing you again." He rolled his eyes, making your smile widen, but out of his strong urge to be polite above all other things, he shook your hand, too, pulling away as fast as he could. "Dr. Reid." He nodded back to you, almost hesitant. You nodded to the rest of them individually. "You two I haven't met, but you must be Derek Morgan and Elle Greenaway. I wish we had more time for pleasantries, but lives are on the line, so I'd like to get moving ASAP."

With that, you swiftly turned and walked back to the office you'd made your own. You didn't often spend time at headquarters, but a mole in the Agency was enough to pull you away from the case you'd been working previously.

As you left, you heard Reid explain to Elle in a hushed tone, "That was The Angel of Death."

You stifled a chuckle. Let's see if Agent Hotchner's team was as good as they claimed to be.

❧

You and Hotch stood on either side of Bruno on the platform as he spoke to the entire office, Gideon off standing alone, seemingly in thought. "Now, we all know why BAU and Ms. Y/L/N are here. They have their job and we have ours. And we're down to the wire on this. Aaliyah Nadir risked everything, and now she and her children deserve our fullest attention. Let's find her."

They all walked off after Bruno dismissed them, all but Gina Sanchez. You glanced at her from the corner of your eye as she went to talk to Agent Gideon. You didn't hear their conversation, but you saw the hostility painted all over her face. Interesting.

After she left, Gideon made his way over to where you were standing, speaking quietly. "We think the agent who's tipping off Hassan may have had some kind of extreme event in their life."

"Something that distorted or redefined their belief system," Hotch added.

Bruno was quick to get defensive. Why, you weren't sure. "No, every agent undergoes regular psych evals. You know that. They're trained to cope with extreme events"

"Well, whatever turned this agent must not've been something you can train for," you cut in. You didn't miss the way Hotch glanced at you.

Bruno gestured outward with his hands. "Well, you're welcome to everything I have. Every op undertaken by these guys is on file."

You snickered a bit under your breath. Your ops certainly weren't "on file."

"What about the ones that aren't on file, like the wiretaps of the Saudi Embassy?" Hotch questioned.

"Those don't even exist," Bruno said. You didn't confirm nor deny that statement.

"How long has your department been running operations in Riyadh?" Hotch turned to Bruno, back straight and eyes sharp.

"We have a declared presence in Riyadh, monitoring US interests there. You know that. Now if that's all, I have an informant to save." You hummed as Bruno walked off, finding his attitude quite intriguing.

"And you, Agent Y/L/N?" You turned to face Gideon. "What do you think?"

You tilted your head. "Aren't you and Bruno friends? Why not ask him?" Because he had the same feeling you have.

He responded without missing a beat. "You don't have a belief system—this job is all you believe in."

This caused you to chuckle. He wasn't wrong. "Good profiling, Agent Gideon. And yes, I have my suspicions, but until further information is gathered, I'm not at liberty to discuss them. For everyone's safety." You gave one last glance to Agent Hotchner. "I look forward to see what your team has brought together."

❧

Not long after your talk with Hotch and Gideon, you stood with the latter and Agent Greenaway in a supply office where the body of Olivia Hopkins was lying dead.

Gideon turned to you expectantly. "It's your job to clean house. You do this?"

You scoffed. "If I wanted to kill a CIA senior officer, believe me, you wouldn't have thought it was a murder at all." You glanced around the room you were in. "And I certainly wouldn't have done it in a federal building."

He must've believed you because he ended his line of questioning there, turning back to Elle. "Have any other agents seen the body?" When she shook her head, he replied, "Good. We can use this to our advantage. Get the others."

You met up with the rest of the BAU in their designated conference room as Gideon quickly explained the situation. Your suspects filed into the room shortly after, each confused and annoyed. You analyzed their body language closely, standing next to Agent Hotchner.

"You're pulling us away from our assignments?" questioned Kruger. "There's a woman out there whose life depends on us."

Defensive. Self-centred. Rude. But not your guy.

Gina was the first to ask where Olivia was, which was either genuine or she was covering her ass.

Hotch was the one to answer. "Olivia Hopkins was murdered 10 minutes ago. Her neck was snapped."

"Just like John Summers," you drawled.

Kruger let out a scoff, but you kept your eyes on the other two as he spoke. "What are you talking about?" Gina looked spooked, but Bruno's expression was cold, even as he tried to imitate warmth. "You're lying. Where is she?"

"Right now, she's dead," you emphasized, not really caring to be sensitive.

Kruger looked at you like you'd just killed his dog. "Look, people don't just... get murdered inside the CIA."

Gina looked at him with betrayal in her eyes as if he were a traitor. Shifting blame.

Hawks spoke up. "I realize the enormity of this, but Hassan Nadir is still out there looking to kill his wife, and I need every agent on this." You tilted your head. Deflecting. He didn't even acknowledge that his own colleague, his responsibility, was dead.

Gina was the first to leave the room, deeply frazzled. Gideon followed after Hawks, but you didn't go with him. You stayed in the room with Hotch while the rest of his team filed out.

You weren't expecting him to talk to you, let alone ask for your opinion, but he did. "What are you thinking, Y/L/N?"

You hid your surprise, nodding to the door Gina and Kruger walked out of. "My money's not on her; it's not on Kruger, either."

He furrowed his brows, lowering his voice. "You think Bruno Hawks is the mole?"

You shrugged your shoulders. "Bruno's been leading this unit for all of, what, ten years? And he hasn't advanced at all? Someone like him must have higher ambitions, like leading the Agency one day, but that's not in his cards. Gina Sanchez and Kruger Spence have bright futures here; Hawks is already at the end of the line. So what's the next best thing in this city besides power?"

Realization dawned upon him. "Money."

"And by the looks of the old car he drives, that's something he's lacking, but something that he wants," you deduced, pausing. "But I'll let you continue your investigation."

He caught your hand just as you turned away, and you ignored the small spark that was sent through your body. His eyes were earnest and curious, but most of all you realized that they were beautiful. "Y/N, what's going to happen to the mole when we find them?"

You ignore the unfamiliar flutter you felt after he said your name for the first time, and it's then that you remember Hotch was a prosecutor. Before he was unit chief Agent Hotchner, he was just Aaron Hotchner, a man who valued balance and believed in justice. Even now, after climbing the ladder, he still didn't seem to understand that his own government was different.

In matters like these, the United States government didn't value justice.

They valued revenge.

But still, if not just to help him retain his faith in his country, you shrugged and told him, "The scales will be evened, Hotchner."

Then you pulled your wrist out of his light grip and walked away, and he couldn't tell if he wanted to know what you meant.

❧

Sanchez and Morgan were on their way to rescue Aaliyah and her children, and then you were made aware that Hassan was already there.

Bruno turned to Gideon. "Look, we can't arrest him. This is still a CIA matter. You do know that?" He then turned to you, like he was expecting to you to back him up.

You shook your head as Gideon said what you were thinking. "How are you going to explain this to the Saudi government?"

"Explain what?" he fired back. "This isn't happening."

You crossed your arms. "That's not how this works, Bruno. You don't just kill a Saudi diplomat and get away with it—that is how wars begin."

He scoffed at you. "Look who's talking. The Angel of Death, giving me a lecture on in-house cleaning."

You narrowed your eyes and stepped forward. "I don't know who the hell you think you're talking to right now, but you need to double back because, at the end of the day, what I. say. goes."

Bruno opened his mouth to argue, but Jason mediated, "Let's just get Aaliyah and her children back alive. We'll worry about Hassan's life after."

You gave Bruno one last hard stare before you turned back to the screen showing the Nadirs with Morgan and Gina outside. "Make the arrest, Morgan," Gideon called out. "It's FBI jurisdiction. You're in charge."

You listened to them over the comms. [FBI! Let the lady go and put the gun down. I said, put the gun down!]

The movement of heat on the screen told you that Hassan listened. [Diplomatic immunity, my friend], he said, and you chuckled.

[Uh-uh, you got it wrong, my friend. This container hasn't passed through customs. Officially, we're not on US soil. Summers was a smart man.]

Suddenly, you heard Gina's voice. [That he was.] Pause. [Drop the gun.]

The feed cut in and out as the figures moved out of the container. Confused, you called out, "Morgan, Sanchez, what's going on?"

Hawks turned to you and Gideon, and you wanted to wipe the smug look right off his face. "You two still certain that Gina isn't the mole?"

Gideon ignored him. "Morgan." No answer. "Morgan, what's going on?"

[Gideon, we got a situation here.]

You raised your voice. "Gina, don't do this. Do not do this."

"She doesn't take orders from you," Bruno snided.

You took another step forward to him. "Listen here, asshole—"

Gina cut in, [Bruno, what do you want me to do?]

"Gina, you put down that gun. That is an order—"

[Bruno?]

This made you turn to Bruno, and if you were in an animation, smoke must've been coming out of your ears. "Hawks, I swear to god, if you don't stand down, you will be endangering the security of this country—"

Bruno only responded to Gina. "You know what to do."

[Say it!]

"This is not your call. It is not your fucking call, Bruno."

He finally turned to you. "This is strictly in-house and you know it."

"I don't give a damn. It is still not. your. call."

"Finish him."

"Gina, don't you dare do this."

[You're going to cut the visual feed, right, Bruno?]

"Of course. Cut it now. Cut it," he ordered, and the feed was off before you could even protest.

And then you heard four gunshots.

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. White hot anger rushed through your veins in contrast to your normal playful demeanour. Meanwhile, Bruno turned to Gideon, saying, "I want to thank you, Jason, for your help."

You stayed quiet as Gideon responded, too angry to speak. "Why?" He paused, genuine disbelief evident in his tone. "Why'd you turn against everything you believe in?"

"What are you talking about?"

"When someone asks you how you feel about... losing one of your colleagues, the only human answer is 'I feel guilty,' isn't it?"

Bruno nodded and mocked, "But as you so brilliantly deduced, Kruger Spence is the guilty one." Following that statement, you watched as Elle walked up to where you three stood, a tiny paper in hand that she gave to him. Based on the ignorant smile that graced his face upon reading it, you could guess what it said. "Ridiculous," he deflected, tucking the paper into his jacket pocket. "Absurd."

That's when you snapped out of your anger-induced stupor. "No, Bruno." You shook your head. "The only thing that's absurd is how arrogant you are to believe that you're getting away with this."

Bruno pursed his lips, flashing you a sarcastic smile. "Unfortunately, with Hassan now dead, you have no proof."

"Oh, you son of a—"

Dr. Reid cut you off, announcing to everyone, "Actually, Hassan is alive and well. He's en route—that's all the proof we'll need." At this, you let out a chuckle. You certainly didn't need that proof, but it was nice to prove Hawks wrong before he was sent to where he deserved to be.

He clenched his jaw, stepping closer to Gideon instead of you, likely because he knew he couldn't shake you. "You are a fool if you think they're going to put me in prison with all that I know." He glanced at you and your lips quirked upward, because this was true.

"Why'd you have to kill Olivia?" Elle interrogated. She was straight to the point; you liked her.

"Economics," Gideon replied, staring straight at Bruno. "Olivia was looking into your financial records when you snapped her neck."

Elle scoffed under her breath. "So she knew your dirty little secret."

"Which one?" Bruno asked. "I have so many."

You stepped closer to the trio. "The one that involves you cashing out through Hassan, maybe buying a real Rolex instead of the fake you don so proudly."

You could see Bruno's façade cracking, his frustration leaking through. "Twenty-million from Hassan will go a very long way to help occupy my mind on a beach somewhere."

Gideon wasn't fazed. "The only beach you'll see is on a postcard I send you from my vacation. Let me have your gun."

Knowing there was no way out of this, Bruno did what he said willingly, but he still had to taunt. "You know, I think the consequences of what you're doing to me, my friend, are going to be a lot harder to live with than you think."

Jason stared at him without blinking, and he stared until Bruno walked out, escorted by agents left and right of him. You found it comical, that petty thieves were escorted to the back of police cars in chains, yet a man who nearly started a war could walk out freely.

Well, you supposed Bruno Hawks wouldn't be free for much longer.

And it was your job to see to that.

❧

You were packing up your things in your office when a knock sounded. You turned to see a raven-haired man in a suit standing there, a hand in his pocket. A grin came to your face. "Agent Hotchner," you greeted. "Congrats on solving the case."

He let out a chuckle that surprised you. Aaron Hotchner didn't look like a man who laughed often. "Yeah, well, thank you, but I have a feeling you knew from the beginning."

Your grin widened. "Ah, I just needed proof." You continued to pack your things. "And besides, I wanted to see what your team was capable of."

He hummed, and you thought he'd leave after that, but he stayed, looking around the room with a careful interest. "No pictures," he noted. "No personal artifacts. It's extremely clean in here—untouched, almost. How much time do you spend here?"

You fully turned to him after that, giving him your full attention. With comments like those, that must've been what he was after. You crossed your arms, but the smile never left your face. "Perceptive, Hotchner," you remarked. "Profiling me now?"

He shook his head. "Not profiling, just observing."

Now it was your turn to hum, looking him up and down. You found that you liked what you saw, visually, but the implications to what you saw weren't very fond. "Well, what I observe, is an accomplished man in a nice suit, but you don't wear that suit because you're unit chief, you wear it because you got used to it as a prosecutor and now it makes you feel on top of things... professional. You're stiff and stoic, but that's because you like to separate your work life from your home life. At home, with your wife and kid, you're lively and relaxed, but that's also to compensate for the fact that this job takes a lot out of you; you're not home often, and that puts a strain on your marriage, which is why you haven't called your wife once today." Your voice was soft as you delivered that final blow. Hotch looked both uncomfortable and, surprisingly, impressed. But thus far, nothing about Aaron Hotchner was what you were used to. "Tell me, Agent Hotchner, was I correct?"

Hotch lightly snorted, but he didn't answer. Instead, he took to staring right back at you. You'd been stared at by bad men, murderers, rapists, terrorists and the like, but for some reason, his stare bothered you. You turned back around and packed one last thing into your bag. Then you walked toward the door, stopping just before you made your exit like an invisible barrier was holding you back.

You patted his shoulder, telling him, "You should smile more, Hotchner. It'd suit you."

And then Aaron watched you leave for the second time in his life, except this time—for reasons he couldn't begin to fathom—he hoped he'd see you again.

3. The games we play

Washington, D.C., 2007

The air in Washington was always crisp. There was something different about it—like you could smell the power in the air, like you feel it. When you were home, in your apartment, it was suffocating. There was enough politics in this city that you could drown in it, politics you didn't care for. You saw enough of it as is.

Nevertheless, you weren't home often, so it wasn't too troublesome. Today, however, you were home, except you weren't here to rest.

You stepped out of your Mercedes as soon as you parked, locking the car and walking straight into the alleyway. Men in blue stood in your path, hands out. "Ma'am, this is a crime scene—"

You wordlessly held up your badge, effectively shutting him up. With red climbing up his neck, he nodded and lifted up the yellow tape for you.

When you made it past them, there was a woman in a red dress there. She'd be beautiful, you thought, if she weren't sprawled out dead on the ground. Her dress was so dark you almost couldn't see the blood stain.

But the blood pooled around her was a telltale.

Next to her body was a card with typed-out letters and numbers that appeared random.

But you knew better than that.

There was a woman taking photographs of the scene and a detective analyzing it. He was just as confused as those officers when you showed up. "Excuse me, who are you?"

You gave him a short smile. "Detective Walker, I wish we could've met under better circumstances. I'm Y/N Y/L/N." You held one hand out and simultaneously held up the other with your badge. "I've been instructed to take over this case."

He furrowed his brows. "I'm sorry, Ms. Y/L/N, but I've already alerted—"

"Detective Walker."

At that, you screwed your eyes shut and cursed under your breath. You recognized that voice—hell, you recognized the sound of his footsteps. And he was exactly what you didn't need.

Composing yourself, you spun around with your signature smile. "SSA Hotchner."

Hotch looked momentarily stunned at your being there, but that was quickly wiped away. "Y/N. What are you doing here?"

"Well, if you mean in the city, I live here. And if you mean at this scene, then that's because it's mine." You paused, letting that soak in. "This is my case."

Confusion was visible on his face. For a second, you thought it was cute. "No, this is a BAU case. Series of murders, victimizing high-level escorts—forgive me, but I don't see why this would require a CIA presence."

Of course, you don't, you thought, but for once, you didn't say what you were thinking. Instead, you explained, "I understand that 4 women have died in the past week, but believe me, Agent Hotchner, that is not the case I'm here to solve." When his brows knitted together, you elaborated, "These women are not the targets of these attacks."

"What do you mean?"

You sighed, pointing over to the woman's body. "See that card over there?"

"Yeah, it's the unsub's signature."

"No, it's more than that. It's not a way for him to get off; it's not something he does compulsively. It is a taunt," you stressed. "Those letters aren't random. They're part of a code."

"A code to what?"

"A code to an NSA file recording every single undercover operation the United States has in foreign countries." Like your words were a vacuum, they sucked anything lighthearted out of the atmosphere—if there was any to begin with—and left tension in their wake. "6 high-level analysts have parts of that code. I'm guessing that 4 of them are already dead." You glanced back at the dead body before looking back at Hotch. "The unsub isn't a serial killer, Agent Hotchner. He's a traitor with a mission to annihilate everything in his wake."

❧

After looking at the scene, you sent Detective Walker away, telling him it wasn't personal but this case was too sensitive to be worked by local police. They didn't have the clearance nor did they have the means to help. You asked him to send you all of his evidence, and he complied easily, but someone wasn't so easily persuaded.

"You're going to need help."

You snorted. "Thank you, but I think I'll do just fine without it." Just as you reached your car, Hotch grabbed your wrist.

You turned around, but before you could say anything, he spoke. "You could use my team, and you know it."

Your eyes ever so slightly narrowed. "All due respect, Agent Hotchner, but this is above your pay grade."

He held your stare for a few seconds until you saw his jaw tense. He glanced to the side before he exasperatedly muttered, "Please, Y/N." He looked up at you. "I want to help with this case."

Unknowingly, you straightened your back. Aaron Hotchner surprised you more and more each time you saw him. The corners of your lips curved upward, but something about your smile was more sincere. "You're not a man who says please much, are you?"

He rolled his eyes and neglected to answer. "Does that mean you'll accept our help?"

You paused. Was that what you meant? Your mouth didn't correspond with your brain as you replied, "I'm running point on this." Hotch's shoulders imperceptibly relaxed and he nodded. "I'll tell Detective Walker to send his stuff over to the BAU. I'll meet you there to brief your team." You turned away before you could see him nod a second time.

You don't know why you said yes, but you did. On the drive over, you told yourself it was because he was right, you could use some extra hands, and it helped that the BAU were good at what they did.

Yes, that's why I didn't send him away.

You didn't explore any other option.

❧

Hotch got to the BAU before you but waited for you to arrive before walking into the building. To make sure you got to the right place, you reasoned.

You went through the typical security procedure: removed your guns, walked through the metal detector, and showed your ID. In the elevator, you cracked a couple jokes that he didn't laugh at, asshole, but you nearly caught him slipping at one.

"This city's so damn power-hungry that even the serial killers would prefer a fucking computer code over sex. What a nerd. Hey, how often does that happen in your line of work, Hotchner?" You turned your head for his response when you saw his lips twitching.

You let out a dramatic gasp. "Agent. Hotchner. Are you..." you lowered your voice, a devious smile crawling to your lips. "smiling?"

His efforts to suppress his little smile failed after that. "Let's focus on the case, Y/L/N."

"Sureeee," you drawled. The elevator dinged and opened. "Better be careful, Agent. I might just start thinking you have a soul."

He shook his head at you and walked out of the elevator ahead of you so that you couldn't see him as a full smile graced his face. However, once you got to the conference, Hotch erased any sign of that smile and walked in full-stride.

You gave the room a cursory glance, duly noting that they must've spent a lot of time in here. You noticed immediately afterward that some faces were missing, and on the other hand, some new ones had appeared.

You followed Hotch to the front of the room in front of their TV.

"Everyone, this is Director Y/N Y/L/N from the CIA. She'll be leading this case—and as some of you may recall, she's already worked with us on an investigation about a year ago," he announced, subsequently gesturing around the table. "Y/N, this is SSA Emily Prentiss, SSA David Rossi, our communications liaison Jennifer Jareau, and our technical analyst Penelope Garcia."

You nodded, smiling at them. "It's nice to meet you all—"

"You're— you're her."

You turned to the blonde with pink highlights that'd cut you off, Penelope, and furrowed your brows. "I'm sorry?"

"Oh my god, you're her," she whispered, her eyes wide and her face awestruck. "You're The Angel of Death."

You held back a laugh. "That is what people to tend to call me, yes."

She opened and closed her mouth repeatedly before eventually blurting, "I— you're an icon. I've read some of your code before in snippets, and it's beautiful. And, I mean, when you can code like that and then do what you do, it's no wonder that the government would want you all to themselv—"

"Garcia." At Hotch's command, Penelope's mouth snapped shut and snickers were heard around the table. "We are here to work," he told her, trying to be serious, but you could hear the amusement hiding behind his tone.

"Yes— yes, Sir. Work. Working," she said, but her eyes remained trained on you even as she spoke.

Morgan laughed, swivelling his chair toward you. "Sorry, angel. She gets a little..." he twirled his finger next to his head, "Comicon-y whenever things involve computers."

This snapped her out of her trance and made her whip around to point her finger at him. "You better shut it, Morgan, before I show everyone those pictures of you at Comicon with me."

His smile dropped. "Babygirl, you wouldn't."

"Oh, yes, sugar, I would."

Hotch exasperatedly cut their very entertaining banter off. "Work."

"Morgan, you've been to Comicon?" Without even looking at him, you could hear the smirk in the man's words.

"Leave it, Rossi. You heard the bossman: we've got work," he changed the subject, but based on the fiery look being sent his way by Reid and the teasing one by Emily, you'd bet that this conversation wasn't over.

Hotch signalled for you to start, so you stepped forward, got a little more serious for his sake, and began, "The serial killer you've been phoned in on is not a serial killer. The women he's killed are unfortunately collateral damage to a much bigger problem." Behind you, pictures of the paper left next to the bodies appear on screen. "The unsub is going after high-level members of the NSA who have fragments of a specific code. He's been leaving those fragments at the crime scenes. So far, he has 4—there are only 2 more. Once he gets the last two, it'll only be a matter of time before he's able to unlock a classified file, detailing every undercover op we have or have had in other countries."

The room was quiet. Morgan was the first to question, "So, he's a whistleblower?"

"No, not necessarily. Given his M.O. and need to taunt us with these papers, his goal isn't to expose the government—it's only a stepping stone to what he truly wants, which is chaos."

Emily spoke up next. "Well, he's clearly a narcissist, and he's sadistic at that. Otherwise, he wouldn't have killed these women like this."

Dr. Reid nodded, keeping his eyes on the file in front of him. "Craves control, finds a way to manipulate the situation and mold it into what he wants it to be." He looked up, talking with his hands while explaining, "Narcissists are devoted to themselves and will further themselves in whatever way possible. They lack empathy and find enjoyment in causing others pain, stemming from their grandiose sense of self-importance. Nathan Leopold and Richard Loeb were drawn in and obsessed with Nietzsche's idea of Übermenschen, supermen who possessed such high intelligence that it put them above the law. They later confessed to the police that they sought to commit 'perfect crime.' This unsub is likely suffering from the same sense of entitlement."

Rossi tipped his pen at him, agreeing, "Yeah, he's arrogant and he believes he can get away with this, hence the taunting. All he wants is to feed his ego, but he hides behind the whistleblower façade to absolve himself of blame."

"And he's impatient," Derek added. "4 bodies in one week. We don't have much time before he strikes again."

"No, we don't," you said. The screen changed to display the pictures of two men. "The last two people with the code are Malik Hussein and Ethan Torrie. I believe he'll go after Ethan first; he's in D.C. for this big gala tonight. That's where the unsub will make his move."

Emily looked between you and Hotch, almost as if she was unsure who she was addressing her question to. "So what's our plan?"

You, too, glanced at Hotch before looking back at her, splaying your hands out in front of yourself. "Well, we only have one course of action: wait for the unsub to approach Ethan."

Unexpectedly, Hotch interrupted you, saying, "Y/N and I will go in undercover." What? You held yourself back from widening your eyes and whipping your head around. "The rest of you will be waiting for our signal. Garcia, can you get us on the guest-list?"

"Already on it, Sir."

He nodded, firing orders away, "Alright, Morgan and Prentiss, I want you both to go back to the crime scenes. Talk to the owners of the establishments, bartenders, doormen—anybody who could've seen the unsub leave the building with the victims. Garcia, consult with CCTV footage. Rossi and Reid, I want you looking at his M.O. and why he didn't leave the men there with the women. JJ, contact The Post and tell them not to run the latest murder; it's imperative we keep this and the unsub's true motives out of the press. Y/N and I will go over tonight's plan."

They all voiced their confirmations and, like clockwork, filed out of the room until it was just you and Hotch left standing. The air suddenly got heavier—with what, you had no idea.

It felt different, old and new all at the same time, like everything and nothing you'd ever felt before. You couldn't pinpoint it, couldn't describe it.

Growing bored of the silence, you raised a brow, repeating, "'Y/N and I will go undercover?'"

Hotch, who was in the middle of collecting his things, paused and raised a brow of his own, turning to face you. "Yes. Is there a problem?"

You looked him up and down, taking your time and not bothering to be subtle about it. After a moment, you responded, "No." A smirk slowly came to your face. "Let's go over that plan."

He maintained his stare for a few seconds, reminding you of when you met. Eventually, he nodded and got to it. All the while, your mind ran rampant—but not with the case.

Agent Hotchner continued to surprise you.

And you'd be sure to return the favour.

❧

After planning for hours, you and Hotch came up with a decent story. He'd be going as himself. You'd pretend you were his girlfriend, his tag-along for the party, with a fake identity. His presence would make sense, but if people found out Y/N Y/L/N was there, they'd start to wonder things that this plan couldn't afford.

Your name wasn't widely known, nor was your face, but at a party like this, you had to be careful.

That's what you explained to Hotch.

"I don't understand. Nobody knows who you are. Not even Garcia could figure out who you really were when we met." He furrowed his brows in confusion.

You sighed, "There's going to be a lot of powerful people there, Hotchner. Everybody knows The Angel of Death, but there are some big fish in Washington that know she's Y/N."

This seemed to confuse him more. You surmised that he didn't like not knowing things. "Why do you say it like that—say your name as if it's not your name?"

You gave him a look.

His eyes widened. And for the second time that day, you found yourself thinking that Aaron Hotchner was cute. "It's not your name?"

"Why do you think Penelope had such a hard time finding my credentials?" you inquired. You went on before he could answer. "I take it she didn't find my records at The Academy, either. She found that I went to Caltech, but she didn't find yearbook photos or my social media. She found that I grew up in Massachusetts, that my parents are dead, that I was born in '79. But otherwise, I'm a ghost, aren't I?" Your voice was somewhat playful.

Hotch didn't seem to find the humour in what you were saying.

"So everything about you is a lie." It wasn't a question.

Your eyes glinted with amusement. You leaned in to where he sat across from you on the other side of the table. If you didn't know any better, you'd say that Agent Hotchner stiffened. "'Nothing more than a rumour, an urban legend amongst criminals and internet sleuths. A myth,'" you whispered. "Does that sound familiar?"

He didn't respond.

"As you said, Agent Hotchner, I am a myth. I am not meant to exist. So find me another identity and show me that you're up for the task before this entire plan is derailed by a name."

Your memory was cut off by a knock at your door. You swiped your lipstick across your lips and they immediately quirked upward right after.

You took your time getting the door. Whether Agent Hotchner realized it or not—or rather, whether he was willing to admit it or not—this was a game. And you were nothing if not a damn good player.

Without knowing it, he started it when he picked you up off the street that day in '04. He moved another piece on the board when he walked into your office in '06. And then he asked to work on this case.

It didn't matter what he thought about you or what your name really was. All that mattered was the next move.

You opened the door and his eyes immediately widened on their own accord. They travelled down your body, tracing the outline of the red dress you'd picked out, finding the slit on the side. But this was all within a split-second.

In the blink of an eye, his eyes were back on yours. If you hadn't been paying attention, you would've missed it. He was hoping you did.

But you didn't.

You did, however, miss his ears going red when you turned around, leaving the door open as an invitation inside.

"You're wearing a suit," you noted, smirking. "How out of character for you."

You heard the door shut, and then footsteps behind you. "Funny, Y/N."

You chuckled. "Please, I know you think I'm hilarious."

He lightly shook his head as you stood in front of your mirror, putting on your earrings. He took that moment to look around your apartment, eyes scanning over your living room. No pictures anywhere, no plants or art. You had a couch, but no television. He glanced to the adjoining kitchen. There was an espresso machine, but he was willing to bet that if he checked your fridge, it'd be empty.

"You can stop trying to profile my apartment," you informed him, still adding the finishing touches to your outfit. "I don't stay here often."

"I can tell."

He watched as you picked up your heels then went to sit on the couch to put them on. He tried not to let his eyes wander, instead trying to look around the room some more, but even without having his eyes on you, he still couldn't get your picture out of his head.

Distractedly, he heard you absentmindedly ask, "Hey, whatever happened to Gideon and Greenaway?"

He looked at you to respond, seeing you get up. "Things with the job. Certain cases take more of a toll on others." He didn't explain that Elle spiralled or that Gideon lost everything he held dear. He preferred not to think about it.

You tilted your head. "Did things happen with you, too?"

He didn't answer, instead opting to suggest, "Let's go over the case one more time."

You nodded and let him get away with it.

Hotch schooled his expression. "You're Deirdre Carter. You're a CPA. We met years ago on a work conference but hit it off recently. We've been dating for five months."

"Dating," you repeat.

His brows furrowed. "Yes." He didn't understand why you were hung up on it until he saw you glance down at his hand. It's then that he realized he was still wearing his ring. "Oh."

Your voice got softer, and you didn't know if that was part of the game or not. "Look, Hotchner, you don't have to do this if you don't want to. I can do this solo."

"No—" he sighed, looking down at the ring he'd worn everyday for years on end. "I'm divorced. I guess I just wear it out of habit," he revealed.

"Oh."

He took it off and stuffed it in his jacket pocket. "Let's head out," he said. You nodded, leading him out.

And you didn't mention the ring again.

❧

Once you got to the building, you met Derek, who was in a secuirty uniform, at the front. He momentarily disabled the metal detector for you so that the guns on your thigh and in Hotch's boot weren't caught.

In the hall, the music played ceremoniously, an orchestra of jazz players working tirelessly to entertain D.C.'s wealthiest and most powerful. The President would be making an appearance later. You hoped to get this done and get out of here before that happened.

Your eyes found Torrie within a minute, subtly signalling his location to Hotch. He was by the bar, a redhead on his arm. The two of you went that way.

He ordered you drinks at the bar that he wouldn't drink, but as soon as your martini was in front of you, you were picking it up and taking a sip.

"What are you doing?" he hissed, talking through his teeth. "We don't drink on the job."

You smirked at him. "You don't drink on the job. I'm just keeping up appearances." You then took the olive and bit into it. For some reason, you enjoyed getting under Hotchner's skin.

He rolled his eyes at you, likely about to reprimand you again, but a voice in your ears stopped him. "Do the two of you have eyes on Torrie?"

Hotch turned to you and brought his hand to your face, cupping your cheek. To those surrounding you, he was just a man caressing his girlfriend—hell, the leap in your chest told you that you nearly bought it. But you knew he did this so that the mic hidden in his sleeve would be at your mouth. You held his stare, a sweet smile gracing your face as you replied to Rossi, "Yes. By the bar."

"Good. Prentiss is on the floor with the ambassador if you need her."

You leaned into Hotch, too, running your hands down his suit jacket while he glanced around for Emily. "Got it."

The next voice you heard was Garcia's. "Hello, my lovelies, I am watching you on camera. Hotch, to your left is the door through which you'll take our bad guy. It's being guarded by Reid and JJ as we speak."

You lowly thanked her, to which she stammered out a "you're welcome." Hotch took his hand away from your face and you removed yours from his chest, cursing the part of yourself that missed his touch.

If you weren't on a case, you'd have thought more about how pretty his eyes were.

The music suddenly changed, becoming a slow song. Your eyes darted behind Hotch to see Ethan and his date making their way to the dance floor. You downed the rest of your martini then grabbed onto his hand, wordlessly pulling him to the floor.

You felt him lightly tense when you put your hands around his neck. "Relax," you whispered. "Just go with it."

At that, he eased up, wrapping his hands around your waist. You moved to the beat of the song, taking control of your dance while he kept a close eye on Torrie. No one had approached them yet, you gathered.

The dance came easy to you, too easy, like it'd been rehearsed or like it was something you'd been doing all your life. Your feet moved synchronously like they had a mind of their own. You didn't have to think about it—it just happened.

It was funny, almost. The stiff and stoic Aaron Hotchner could dance. Your mind went back to when he smiled in the elevator earlier. It made you wonder what he was like before. Before he was a profiler or unit chief.

You know you were different before you were in this life, before you became Y/N.

You wondered what would've happened if you met back then, when you were just you and he was just him.

And just as soon as you started wondering, you no longer wanted to think about it. Instead, you asked him, "Did you ever think you and I would be dancing together like this when we met?"

He glanced down at you then looked away. "No." A ghost of a smirk came to his lips. "I thought I'd be putting you behind bars."

You chuckled. "I know. It was quite entertaining."

"To you, maybe." He glanced down at you again. "I don't like being blindsided."

"Oh, I know." When he glanced down at you this time, he saw your eyes twinkling. "That is precisely why it was so entertaining, Agent Hotchner."

He chuckled under his breath, and something in you fluttered. "You're something else, Y/L/N."

You hummed, murmuring, "And don't I know it?"

He was gonna say something else but then something in his expression changed. He was back to stoic, eyes hardening. You straightened your back and stopped dancing. "7 o'clock," he muttered.

You unwound your hands from his neck, turning around to see a man beelining at Torrie from across the room. But if you had your way, which you would, then he wouldn't make it to Ethan at all.

With Hotch hot on your heels, you headed his way, moving through the crowd effortlessly. Just before he was about to reach them, you inconspicuously unholstered your gun from your thigh and pressed it against his back, stopping him in his tracks.

Hotch caught up to you, standing to the side and obstructing the view. "Careful, friend. I wouldn't want to shoot you in front of all these people, but I will." As a warning, you clicked the safety off.

The man tensed as Hotch grabbed his arm. Your voice was sweet in comparison to your sour words. "Now, you're gonna follow him or I'm gonna pump you full of lead. Capisce?" Neither you nor Hotch waited for a response, leading him towards the side doors that Garcia had notified you of.

Upon getting there, Reid and JJ opened the doors without a word and closed them immediately after you'd gone through them.

As soon as the doors closed, the unsub twisted Hotch's arm, prompting him to yelp. Simultaneously, he knocked the gun out of your hand, sending it thudding across the floor.

He shoved you against the wall, knocking the wind out of your lungs. Meanwhile, Hotch threw a punch his way. A crack resounded through the hallway followed by the unsub growling. He threw a punch back that Hotch narrowly dodged, but in one quick motion, he pulled Hotch's tie, catching him off guard.

In a flash, he had Hotch in a chokehold, fighting for breath. You acted quickly, reaching for the knife sheathed on your thigh, running up behind the ubsub and holding it to his throat, causing him to go rigid.

"Let him go or I slit your fucking throat," you spat.

He didn't ease his hold, making you bring the knife closer, knicking him. "I said, let. him. go."

Begrudgingly, he let Hotch go, who was gasping for breath. You let him catch his bearings for a moment, but you had to alert him, "Hotchner, the cuffs."

He coughed but nodded, grabbing the cuffs from his pocket. You took them from him, shoving the unsub against the wall just as he did to you and pulling his arms behind him. You wrapped the cuffs around his wrists and tightened them until you heard him grunt.

"In case you didn't get the memo, you're under arrest, asshole."

Knowing this would never reach a courtroom, you didn't read him his rights or tell him what he was being arrested for. He knew.

Where he was going, he'd never forget it.

❧

You and Hotch stood to the side in an alley after you'd shoved the unsub into the back of a black sedan, watching the car drive off.

"I know that you're just itching to interrogate him," you commented, your voice echoing in the night. "But trust me, that's somebody else's job now." You felt Hotch's eyes on you, but you didn't look at him.

His stare burned into the side of your head. "That wasn't a cop car," he said.

"No," you finally looked back at him. "it wasn't."

"Who was driving that car?"

"A CIA agent."

"And where is he going now?"

"To pay for his crimes," you slowly answered, narrowing your eyes. "Stop worrying about it."

He stepped closer to you. "He should be doing that in a federal prison, with a sentence decided by a judge and a jury. The families of those analysts, those women— they deserve closure."

You shook your head, an incredulous laugh leaving you. "You still don't get it, do you?" Your voice was teasing, but your undertone was hard and serious. "A trial means telling a bunch of people, including civilians, about ops that are not meant to exist. It's just not gonna happen."

Hotch kept staring at you for what felt like forever but was really only a few seconds, giving you the urge to squirm under his gaze. For some reason, you didn't like the way he was looking at you. Finally, he looked away, exhaling, "It's not right, Y/N."

Somewhere, deep inside, you felt a pang. You touched his shoulder, softly telling him, "You should know better than anyone that the law isn't about right and wrong."

He still didn't look at you.

You sighed. "Thank you for your help, Agent Hotchner." You patted his shoulder one last time and then left the alley, walking through the door you came out of and, in doing so, you felt something change.

The game was over.

You just couldn't tell who won.

By the time Aaron had noticed this change, he tried to follow you, but when he opened the door only to see an empty hallway, he realized it was too late.

You were gone.

And he didn't know why that disappointed him so much.

4. Unpredictable

New York, New York, 2008

Whenever Aaron was in New York, he liked to pick up good coffee and eat good food. But as he stood over a dead man's corpse, he felt his appetite vanish.

He and his team stood at the crime scene, analyzing it. It was different, but he couldn't shake the feeling that everything about these murders were different. There was something off about them, and he couldn't figure out exactly what it was.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a black car pull up next to the yellow tape, the Mercedes logo glinting in the light. He furrowed his brows then shook his head, thinking better of it. Stop thinking about her.

"Uniforms are rounding up witnesses."

Detective Cooper and Brustin's arrival made him look away from the car and toward them instead. "Doesn't sound like anyone got a clean look," Cooper said.

Morgan looked up at the security camera that should've caught everything but in reality caught nothing useful. "It's over in a flash," he remarked. "He's probably gone before anyone even realizes what's happening."

Right beside him, Kate asked, "Is this what it felt during the Son of Sam?"

Just as Brustin was about to answer, a new voice sounded from behind them. "Son of Sam is the least of your worries." His breath hitched. They all turned around, and Hotch instantly realized that he was right: that car was yours—and now you stood right in front of him.

You gave him a glance but then your eyes were back on Kate. "What you should be focused on is another 9/11."

Kate lightly scoffed. "My apologies— who are you?"

"Y/N Y/L/N, CIA," you introduced yourself, flashing your badge. Recognition briefly flickered through her eyes. "And you must Kate Joyner, head of New York's field office." To be polite, you held out your hand, and she reluctantly shook it. "I'm here as the Agency's delegate, and I'll also be representing Homeland Security for the time being."

"Homeland Security?" You looked to Morgan. "It's nice to see you again, angel, but what does Homeland Security have to do here?"

You went to answer, but Joyner cut you off, "I'll ask the questions, Agent Morgan, thank you." Your eyes widened slightly in surprise, and a quick look at Derek told you that his did, too, but then Kate was looking at you again, waiting for you to answer.

Your mind was brought back to the situation at hand. You glanced at Hotch once more to see he was already looking at you, but then you looked away. "I have reason to believe that this guy is more than a serial killer. In fact, I have reason to believe this is more than one guy."

Kate crossed her arms. "What are you suggesting?"

Every time Hotch had seen you, no matter how serious the situation was, you were lighthearted, amused, knowing you'd come out on top. But this time, your voice was devoid of its usual playfulness as you disclosed to them a fact that changed their entire investigation.

"If I'm right, Agent Joyner, then we're dealing with terrorists."

❧

Once the initial shock from your revelation died down, you told them that you'd explain everything back at the field office. Unexpectedly, Morgan asked to ride back with you and you obliged, figuring his company wasn't too bad.

Hotch stared at you the entire time as you got in the car, and he continued to stare at you until you sped out of sight.

You didn't look back once.

"So, terrorism, huh?"

You glanced at Derek and smirked, finding that playful nature again. "I told you, I'd explain at the Bureau."

He shook his head at you, a similar smirk on his face, then he quizzed, "Hey, did Hotch happen to tell you why Joyner's giving me attitude?"

You furrowed your brows as you came to a stop light, turning toward him. "What makes you think I've talked to him?"

Derek snorted. "Please, every time I've seen the two of you together, you're all flirty—even when he was still with Haley."

"So what? I've flirted with Spencer before—doesn't mean I wanted to get into his pants," you defended.

His smirk widened. "I never said you wanted to get into the boss' pants."

"You insinuated it."

"Why, angel? Do you want to get into his pants?"

You deadpanned, "No, I do not." Despite yourself, you couldn't stop red from crawling to your cheeks.

"Yeah, keep telling yourself that." Right after, the light turned green, as if saving you from whatever this was. Then the teasing disappeared from Morgan's voice, replaced with curiosity. "Wait, so you're seriously telling me Hotch didn't call you?"

"Yes, Derek. That is exactly what I am telling you," you insisted, then you glanced back at him. "But to answer your question, Kate doesn't like you for the same reason she doesn't like me: power." He stared at you confusedly, so you elaborated, "Word on the steet is that the FBI wants to reassign her, and you're their star replacement."

"What?" Shock laced through his voice.

"What, are you telling me you actually didn't know?"

"No, I thought the Bureau was so proud of itself for stealing her away from Scotland Yard."

"Well, don't ask me to explain FBI politics to you. I'm in an entirely different organization, my guy."

Derek groaned in exasperation, making you laugh and forget about Hotch, even if it was only for a second.

❧

By the time you and Derek got to the field office, you were all business, unlike any time Hotch had ever seen you.

With the team gathered around you, you stood in front of the evidence board and started, "The unsubs' behaviour is questionable. They're disciplined, they're using countersurveillance. They take a quick shot then leave the scene immediately, not stopping to watch or enjoy the kill at all. There is nothing sexual about it, and that is because these killings are not the work of a serial killer. They're methodical. They look like mob hits at first glance, simulate gang initiations. They seem random, but they're not. The murders, just like the Death card you received, are a smoke screen."

Kate cut you off. "How can you be so sure?"

You suppressed your irritation at being interrupted and kept calm. Cooly, you explained, "Murders like these create panic— not just amongst the general population, but amongst law enforcement, as well; it is terror. It serves their greater goal." You gestured with your hands as you spoke. "The murders simulate a bombing. From there, they station someone to watch, gauge how long it takes police to respond."

Understanding flashed through Morgan's eyes. "At which point they bring in a second bomb."

"Exactly," you affirmed. "The goal is always to take out a first round of civilians, followed by a second wave of emergency responders. It's trial and error—it's how they practice. And if someone catches the shooter, that's fine because we just end up thinking we have a murderer; the cell is never compromised. And in creating such panic, they ensure the most urgent response time short of a bombing. It's by far the smartest way to plan for a terrorist attack."

You crossed your arms, giving them time to absorb your words. You didn't expect anyone to respond so soon, and you certainly didn't expect that person to be Hotch. "It's a theory, Y/N." His voice was soft, and that seemed to only add fuel to the fire.

You resisted the urge to scoff, sharply retorting, "Isn't any profile?"

He didn't answer. Perhaps that was the smartest choice; he didn't want to pick an argument with you, not now.

Hesistantly, Spencer spoke up, "I think— I think she's right." He walked behind you to the board, picking up a red marker and circling spots on the map before turning back around to face you. "I think they're targeting points of entry. All the murders have taken place near a bridge or tunnel."

"Holland Tunnel, Midtown Tunnel, Manhattan Bridge," Emily muttered.

"If bombs went off, emergency response would shut down any ability to get in or out of the city," JJ remarked. "It's— it's like people would be trapped on the island."

It looked like you had everyone convinced, even Hotch—despite his reluctance to believe you—but for some reason, Kate Joyner just couldn't let up. She crossed her arms. "I still fail to see how you came to the conclusion of multiple shooters."

Unbothered, you replied, "Having followers do the shootings would ensure they're willing to kill or be killed for their cause."

She countered, "But is there any evidence that that's the case?"

You narrowed your eyes, going to respond when someone's ringtone sounded. Derek picked up his phone and put it on speaker. You could almost thank whoever it was for stopping you from saying something you would or wouldn't regret.

"Talk to me, babygirl."

Penelope's voice came through the phone. "Okay, I have bad news then badder, connected news. What would you like me to start with?"

Derek glanced up at you, then at Hotch. "Gimme the bad news, Garcia."

"Alright, well, I was looking at the surveillance footage from the murders, specifically the most recent compared to the previous, and found something very, very off. I'll share my screen with you." Emily turned on the laptop on the table closest to all of you, and the footage immediately appeared. Silently, you watched the videos one after the other, and you had a feeling that Garcia was just about to vindicate you. "You guys see what I saw?"

"Well, he sprints off in one and walks calmly in the other. It's two entirely different demeanours," Morgan said.

"Exactly, my dove. So check it out, I did a digital perspective analysis rendering on all the shootings we have footage of. Now the first two were inconclusive, but again, in the last two, I found something très weird." Garcia did a freeze-frame, her analysis software appearing. "Your calm, walking type—he's about 6 foot 1." The screen changed to the other scene. "But your sprinter, he's like 5'9", 5'10" tops."

While the air in the office got colder, you stood there holding back the urge to smirk. You saw both Morgan and Hotch glance at you from the corner of your eye, but you only turned to Kate, seeing somewhat of a defeated expression on her face.

"Is this evidence enough for you, Agent Joyner?"

❧

That surveillance footage was enough confirmation for you, no matter what Joyner had to say about it. Following Garcia's revelation, you walked away from the team's makeshift conference room and walked into the bullpen, pulling out your phone and dialling Homeland Security.

You notified them of the situation at hand and that you were expecting something big soon, but not yet, telling them not to act without your say-so. It was of vital importance that you controlled the situation; you couldn't let the unsubs know you were onto them, so you couldn't make any moves just yet, either.

You hung up the phone, sighing. You hated cases like these. Being The Angel of Death was something you got used to; you could control that, but dealing with a cell like this wasn't just more challenging—it was unpredictable, and unpredictable was something you weren't quite fond of.

You turned around and nearly jumped out of your skin when you saw Hotch standing right behind you. Your hand slapped against your chest. "Holy shit, Hotchner, don't they teach you not to a sneak up on a girl in FBI school?"

Something almost like a smile came to his lips, the last thing you were expecting from him, especially at a time like this. "I'd hardly call that sneaking up on you. And according to you, you've been to 'FBI school,' so you should know."

You scoffed. "Regardless." Hotch's eyes remained on you, and the corners of his lips never went down. An uncomfortable silence then settled between you, despite the loud bustling in your surroundings.

You were hoping you could've gone this entire visit without speaking to him alone.

He must've noticed this, because his next words were, "You've been avoiding me."

You tensed ever so slightly. You'd been here all of five minutes, and he thought you were avoiding him. "I have not been avoiding you—"

"Yes, you have."

"We have bigger problems to deal with. Not everything is about you, Hotchner."

"Why are you avoiding me, Y/N?" You hated how his voice sounded, calm and soft. You hated the fact that he was even asking you this right now. You wanted him to be the stoic guy he always was. You didn't like this. And deep down, you knew that that was why you were avoiding him.

You didn't like the unpredictable.

And Aaron Hotchner was just that.

In lieu of responding, you dodged the question, biting back, "Why do you care?"

Hotch stilled as if you'd just hit him with the question of the century. It was then that he realized he didn't know. He couldn't answer you because he didn't have the answer himself.

He didn't know what he was going to say when he opened his mouth, and he supposed he never would, because a second later, a phone rang.

A sigh left his lips as he went to pick the phone up off some agent's desk, and you watched as the stoic man you knew returned. Yet, for some reason, you weren't as relieved as you thought you'd be.

"Hotchner." Kate chose that moment to walk out of her office while Morgan and Rossi came up from behind you. Hotch's voice became grave. "Does it look it could be one of our guys?"

Derek took the words right from your mouth. "What's going on?"

Hotch put down the phone. "We've got eyes on one of them," he answered. "He's on the subway platform at 59th and Lex."

"59th—? We could've been right there." He looked at Kate with an accusatory glare. The fury that lit up in his eyes and the way she refused to look back told you there was a conversation between them that you missed.

Over the phone, you heard Garcia let out a shaky breath, telling you all that the unsub shot the woman.

Kate paced. "Where the hell are the police?"

Meanwhile, you picked up another telephone from the adjacent desk. "This is Y/N Y/L/N with the CIA. We have a murder suspect on 59th and Lex, subway platform. Hurry."

You slammed the phone down as you heard Penelope fret, "God, he's getting away."

"Garcia, can you get eyes on him above ground?"

A few clicks were audible as she responded, "He's heading west on 59th Street."

Kate spoke up, stating what you already knew. "If he makes it to the park, we've lost him."

"We lost the visual," another woman said.

Derek scoffed while Rossi questioned, "Are the police on the scene?"

"Negative."

And just like that, without another word, it was clear to everyone in the room that you just lost your only suspect.

You pinched the bridge of your nose, cursing under your breath. Next to you, Derek made his frustrations much more known. "We could've had that guy," he snapped.

Kate finally looked at him. "Even if we were on that platform, odds are he would have moved onto someone isolated."

This didn't console him at all. "Maybe, but it was worth taking a shot—"

"I had every available man on the street."

Morgan stepped forward, seething. "And I suggested to you that you use this team." Realization came over you. Now you understood why he was so angry; Kate let her resentment of him get in the way of the case, and that decision may have just cost you a life.

Just as you thought Hotch couldn't get any more unpredictable, he scolded, "Morgan, second-guessing doesn't do us any good right now."

Your brows raised, but he didn't look at you, nor did he look at Derek.

"Hotch, we have a possible terrorist attack coming. How am I supposed to look these cops in the eye and tell them that we're actually here to help them?"

Hotch's reply was sharp. "We're here to present a profile. That's what we need to do."

Derek ignored him, pressing, "I said to put as express stops. 14th, 42nd, 59th— and that's exactly where they hit—"

"It's not your place to have this discussion." This time, Hotch did look at him, and his eyes were hard.

Immediately, you cut in, spitting out his name. "Agent Hotchner." Hotch's eyes went right to you. You stepped forward, firing, "We have six bodies. And right now, I have to call Homeland Security and tell them that we not only have another one, but we also just lost a valuable chance to find one of the perpetrators."

"Which is exactly why we need to stay focused."

"Focused?" Derek echoed. Then he took a step closer, standing eye to eye with his boss. "From where I'm standing, all your focus is on her."

Kate's head ducked down, and from there, it didn't take much for you to connect the dots. All of a sudden, it made sense why Derek had asked you about Kate earlier instead of going straight to Hotch.

And to think that, just a few moments ago, he'd been going after you.

With a tick in his jaw, Hotch commanded, "Take a walk. Now."

Derek stared at him for a split-second before walking off without another word.

"You know, I think I'm gonna take that walk with him," you muttered. And just like that, it was as if Hotch realized you were still there.

He went to say your name, but you were turning your back and walking away before he could even utter the first syllable.

Unpredictability. What a fickle thing.

You hated it.

❧

You found Derek at a nearby bar, the closest bar to the field office. Contrary to what you said to Hotch, you didn't come looking for him; he just so happened to find the same place you did.

Before you even pulled out the barstool, he was sighing. "I know. I was out of line."

You lightly snorted. "I'm not here to chastise you, Derek." He looked up at you, surprise flashing through his eyes. "I'm just here to drink." Right on cue, the bartender came up to you and asked you wanted to drink, to which you ordered brandy, neat.

When said drink arrived in front of you and you downed it in one go, it prompted him to ask, "Aren't you still on the job?"

A slight chuckle left you. "Morgan, I run an entire CIA ops division and then I also get asked to do things like this." You then deadpanned, "Trust me, I can hold my liquor."

He held his hands up in surrender, an amused expression on his face before something serious took it over, wiping the smile from his face. "I'm sorry about Joyner, by the way." When you look at him confused, he explained, "I didn't have to say that. Not in front of you."

You sighed. Not this again. "Derek, I have nothing going on with your boss. So whatever the deal is with him and Kate is absolutely none of my business." For some reason, the words stung coming out of your mouth, and you didn't like it one bit.

He left it alone and didn't press the issue further (thankfully). You glanced at the beer in front of him. You nodded toward it, stating, "You haven't touched that."

He glanced at it. "Guess I don't have the appetite for it right now."

You hummed. "Or you want to go back."

He let out a long, dramatic sigh, nearly making you laugh. "I have to apologize to her, don't I?" This time, when you nodded and he ran a hand over his bald head, you did laugh. "Fucking hell."

You sarcastically patted his shoulder. "Don't sweat it, sweetheart. I'll walk back with you."

"Sweetheart?" you heard him question as you stood up, putting enough money down for both of your drinks. "And now you're paying for me? You're threatening my manhood here, angel."

"Get over it, Morgan."

And as he let out a hearty laugh, you let yourself pretend that you didn't have a different agent on your mind entirely.

❧

Upon getting back to the office, you suddenly wished you'd had another drink as you were informed that there was not only another shooting, but Detective Cooper was shot after he and Prentiss chased after him.

Kate seemed to have taken Derek's suggestion and sent the team out on the streets in the hour and a half you were away. In that time, Prentiss and Cooper nearly got one of the shooters, but he was fast; he could've gotten away. Yet he stopped and shot Cooper, prompting Emily to fire a shot of her own.

Suicide by cop.

You hung up the phone, walking back into the room after telling Homeland that you'd be calling with another update soon. "Three shootings in one day," you said, catching everyone's attention. "They're ramping up to something."

Morgan held his phone up in the air and wiggled it. "Yeah, well, while you were on the phone, Garcia called. They hacked into at least one camera at every scene and have been watching from day one."

You cursed under your breath just as Kate called your name. "Y/N." You looked up at her in half-veiled surprise, seeing her standing with her arms crossed, a somewhat uncomfortable look on her face. "Aaron told me more about your position in the CIA, how you're more well-versed in situations such as these." It looked like she had a hard time getting the words out, despite the sincerity in her tone. "I'd like you to take the lead on this."

You were sure that the surprise must've shown on your face, courtesy of fatigue, but you quickly masked it and nodded. You took one deep breath, and then you dived in. "We need to hit the ground running." You turned to everyone individually as you gave them instructions. "Rossi, I'd like you to talk to the Commissioner. He'll be familiar with you." He nodded and left the room. "Derek, you brief Homeland Security, tell them I sent you. I want them to know we're expecting them to strike any minute now."

"You got it, angel."

You turned to Emily, who was already ahead of you. "I'll head to the hospital, check on Cooper, and brief Detective Brustin."

"Good. And Spencer—"

He (with a creepy accuracy) anticipated what you were going to say before you even said it. "JJ and I will talk to the Port Authority Police."

You nodded then realized that left only two people, unwelcome dread filling you. Out of a stubborn attempt to prove his earlier claim about avoiding him wrong, you looked to Hotch but still didn't meet his eyes. "Agent Hotchner, you and Kate should speak to the mayor. I have to make some calls to the DOD. We'll all meet back here as soon as possible. We are crunched for time, but the one advantage that we have is that they don't know we know they're watching."

Everyone who hadn't already left nodded and got to their tasks. Hotch looked like he wanted to stick around and say something to you, but as you said, the clock was ticking.

You called the DOD and briefly explained what Homeland Security had likely already spoken to them about, that you saw a terrorist event on the horizon. They told you that, luckily, the Deputy Secretary of Defense was in town, only ten, maybe twenty minutes away from where you were.

Quickly, you gathered your things and made your way out of the building. At the exit, however, you found exactly who you didn't want to see.

Hotch and Kate.

They hadn't left yet.

They stood outside the door, facing each other. He had his hand on her elbow, and he was saying something you couldn't make out. Whatever it was, it made her lips upturn.

You couldn't recognize the feeling that crawled through your veins at that moment. The green monster and you hadn't been acquainted in a while, but for some reason, she was showing up, making your body her home, and you hated it.

Shaking off whatever it was you were feeling, you pushed the door open. Hotch noticed you first. "Y/N," he said. He took his hand off her arm. A weight was lifted off your chest.

"Agent Hotchner," you greeted, promptly turning to the blonde and doing the same. "Agent Joyner. I've gotten word that the Deputy Secretary of Defense is in New York; I'm heading to see her."

Kate nodded. "Good. Aaron and I are on our way to the mayor's office now." She turned, starting to walk away, and then you realized she was heading in the same direction as your car.

Fuck. They parked next to you.

You started walking, too, Hotch now at your side. Kate was ahead of you guys. You're sure that Hotch could naturally walk faster than you, but he remained at your side. This is deliberate, you thought.

Your conversation from earlier hung in the air. With Kate gone, the tension between you was now palpable. But he wouldn't say anything, you assured yourself, not with her in earshot.

But perhaps you underestimated him. With every meeting, Aaron Hotchner continued to surprise you. He had become unpredictable to you.

Yet, the two of you would soon bear witness to just how unpredictable life could truly be.

Just as you were nearing your vehicles, Aaron opened his mouth to say something, but a loud boom cut him off.

Before either of you could register it, you were sent flying backward, shockwaves rippling through your body.

And then everything went black.

❧

New York City has never been so quiet, you thought, blinking your eyes open. And you've never been able to see the stars in this city, either, but tonight, you saw them just fine. Part of you wondered if you were dreaming.

No, not a dream. A hallucination.

There's been an accident.

The thought hit you like a ton of bricks as pain erupted in your side. A groan left you unwarranted. You went to touch it then hissed at the throbbing. There was no blood there, though, no wound, so it must've been the bones.

Nowhere else hurt—not that bad, at least. You tested yourself, trying to sit up. It hurt to do so, but you did it. And when you did, you were met with the sight of an SUV, up in flames.

No, not an accident. This was planned.

But it wasn't your car. It would've made sense if it were your car, if you were the direct target, but you weren't. Your mind ran a mile a minute. Why would they blow up a random SUV?

It's then that you remember it wasn't a random SUV. It was Hotch's.

Hotch and Kate.

They were with you.

With that realization, any and all intellectual thought escape your grasp. You shot upward, the pain becoming nonexistent as a surge of adrenaline flowed through your body. "Hotch!" you screamed. No answer. "Hotch! Kate!" No one answered. "Aaron!" You continued to cry his name but no one answered.

Tears you welled up in your eyes. It was lost on you that you hadn't cried in years. It was equally lost on you that this was the first time you'd ever said his name.

You spun around, letting go of a breath you didn't know you were holding when you spotted a man in a suit, standing there, just staring at the fire. You jogged over to him and called out his name, but he didn't move his head. You tried again. "Aaron." No response. "Aaron!"

Finally, he looked at you. A plethora of emotions could be seen on his face. Confusion. Anger. Fear. Then worry. "Y/N," he breathed. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine." That was a lie, but you could handle the pain well. You had good experience. "Are you?"

"Yes, I think so."

You took a quick moment to examine him, the cut by his brow, the blood by his ear; you think back to how he didn't respond to your calls. Concussion, you thought, and a ruptured ear drum.

You take ahold of his arm, gently but firmly, and slowly asked him, "Aaron, where's Kate?"

He blinked, glancing back at the wreck and then back at you. You watched him swallow. "I—"

"Hey! Are the two of you okay?"

Your eyes and his simultaneously snapped to the voice that'd just appeared, seeing a scrawny kid stand in front of you. Like a switch had been flipped, the abundance of emotions on his face dissipated into one.

Determination.

"What's your name?" he questioned.

The kid looked at him, confused. "What?"

Hotch repeated, "What's your name?"

As if he thought you two were crazy, he glanced between you warily. "Sam," he replied.

Hotch didn't look at him or acknowledge his name as he ordered, "Call 911."

"Yeah— yeah, I did."

"Call 911— tell that there's been an explosion."

"Sir, are you okay?" His eyes darted to you. "Ma'am, are you hurt?" Momentarily, he glanced down, his eyes catching the gun on your belt. He looked to Hotch, finding the same thing. Stunned, he looked back up. "Are you guys cops?"

Hotch's eyes were still on the fire. "Call 911. Tell them... that a— that a federal agent—" Without warning, he took off running towards the car, yelling, "Kate!"

"Hotch!" You went to follow him but the kid stopped you.

"Okay so you want me to say you're a federal agent?"

You turned around, eyes blazing. "Call 911. Tell them that there's been a car explosion, involving two FBI agents and one CIA officer." You barely finished your sentence before you were running after Hotch.

By the time you got to him, he was taking off his jacket, about to shield himself and run right into the car but you stopped him. "Aaron!"

His eyes darted to you then travelled behind you. The dread painted on his features mixed with relief, but you couldn't tell which emotion was stronger. You turned, following his line of sight, and saw Kate lying on the ground, a trail of blood leading to her body.

Without missing a beat, you both ran to her, her coughing becoming more audible as you got closer. Aaron got down immediately, and her first words were, "My purse. I can't find my purse."

He shushed her. "Don't move, don't move."

"Aaron, my purse."

Shock. She's in shock.

If only just to placate her, Hotch glanced around for it. "I don't think you had one," he said.

"I must've dropped it," she gasped, moving her head.

"Kate—" you cut in from above, "Kate, you need to stop trying to move."

She looked up at you, her eyes widening at whatever she saw. "Y/N. Y/N, what happened?"

You ran a hand through your hair. "I don't— I don't know. A bomb. An IED, I think." You glanced back at the car, your mind going back to the same race it was racing in before you found Aaron.

"An IED?" she echoed. "I have to get up."

"No. No, no, no. Lie down. Lie still. You need to lie still," he pleaded with her.

Suddenly, she caught your attention back. "Am I moving my legs?"

Hotch shushed her again at first, then he questioned, "What?"

Both of you glanced down at her legs at the same time. You resisted the urge to cup your mouth.

You were gonna be sick.

Weakly, she asked again, "Am I moving my legs?"

You didn't have the heart to answer her. From the looks of it, neither did Aaron, because he changed the subject. "I'm going to have to turn you and see where the blood is coming from," he said.

"Do it."

"Alright? Okay." He turned her while you focused on the sirens wailing in the distance, getting closer. The sound blended in with Kate's crying until it was all one and the same to you.

Police cars and ambulances soon pulled up just ahead of you, maybe a hundred yards away. You stood taller, yelling, "Officer down!" When they didn't come any closer, you flailed your arms. "Officer down! Here! There's an officer down!"

Kate's voice, ever so quiet, cut through the noise like a knife. "They're not coming." You turned to her, seeing her look at both of you defeatedly. "We told them not to. Remember?"

Your own words rang through your head. The goal is always to take out a first round of civilians, followed by a second wave of emergency responders.

The reality of the situation struck you. They weren't coming.

"The first wave of responders are the targets," she got out. "ESU orders are not— to let anyone in until the area is cleared."

"No." You shook your head. "I'm not taking that as an answer."

"Y/N—"

"We are getting you out of here, Kate, come hell or high water." Your previous aversion to her no longer mattered. She was lying on the ground covered in blood, unable to move her legs. All that mattered was getting her out.

Without wasting another second, you ran toward the barricade. ESU officer braced their rifles, but you had your badge ready as you stood a safe distance away from them. You were trying to think calmly, as calmly as you could. Your ribs stung as you held the badge up in the air.

The words were spoken in an erratic panic. "My name is Director Y/N Y/L/N, I'm a senior officer of the CIA. Behind me are SSAs Aaron Hotchner and Kate Joyner. She is injured— badly—"

A man stepped forward and cut you off cooly, "I understand that, ma'am, but I have orders not to let anyone in—"

You lost it. "Screw your orders! She can't fucking move!"

"Ma'am, my orders are what they are."

"Your orders are what they are," you repeated under your breath, a humourless chuckle escaping. "What's your name?"

He squared his shoulders. "It's Captain Warner, ma'am."

"Well, Captain Warner," you spat. "Allow me to re-introduce myself. My name is Director or Agent Y/L/N, not ma'am. Director. And I am quite familiar with your orders, Captain; I gave them. You are here because I made the call that put you here. And, so help me God, if you don't listen to this order, I will make the call that relieves you of your position."

Warner didn't appear to be shaken, but you could see the cloud of doubt floating in his eyes. You'd think that anyone would grapple for their job, but Warner was being difficult. "I apologize, Director, but I can't do that."

Your nostrils flared. You were just about to continue telling him off when an awfully familiar voice sounded, asking for someone in charge. Your eyes widened. "Derek!"

Derek's head snapped your way. "Holy shit. Y/N!" He came running towards you but was stopped by the same officers that kept you from crossing the barricade, holding up their guns.

"This area is restricted," he said.

He held up his badge. "I'm Agent Morgan, FBI. That's my friend—"

"This area is restricted," Warner repeated, barely looking at him. "I will take care of your friend. Now go back to the Federal Building. There are evac marshaling spots. Check in and make sure they know where you are."

Morgan held his ground, stepping in front of Warner and retaliating, "I am not about to do that."

"Get out of my face or I'll have you bodily removed, Agent."

"Derek." You caught his attention. "Hotch and Kate are down there."

He spun around. "That's my boss down there!"

"My orders are what they are."

You scoffed at the recycled statement while Derek argued, "I don't give a damn what your orders are!"

"I get it, Agent, but we've been told by you" he gave you a glance "'Responders are the targets.' So, until the blast site is cleared, no one goes in."

Morgan looked back at you then back at the Captain with a renewed resolution, trying a different approach. "You're Marine Corps, right?" Warner didn't respond, looking down. "Right?"

"Please. Go back to the marshaling point."

"I'm not doing it." He pointed to the site. "I'm not just going to let my man lie down there like that."

As if on cue, Hotch screamed, "Someone! Damnit, we're here!" You nearly flinched at the sheer pain in his voice, and Derek certainly didn't look unaffected, either.

"'Never leave a man behind.' You do remember that, don't you?"

Hotch kept screaming as Morgan and Warner stared each other down. It seemed that he must've gotten to him, because within just a moment, he said, "Go."

Derek didn't waste another second, immediately running to you and grabbing onto your shoulders. "Y/N, are you alright?"

"I'm fine! I'm fine, it's Kate."

He nodded and then took off following with you trailing closely behind, but not before you gave Captain Warner a pointed glare.

When you got to Hotch, the kid was back, seemingly tending to Kate as Morgan explained, "They're not letting any ambulances down here until they clear the scene." He glanced at the kid like he just noticed he was there. "Kid, you've gotta get behind the barricades. Let's go." The kid didn't move. "Go!"

"Go, Sam." At Hotch's word, the kid got up and ran, but your attention was focused solely on Kate, checking her vitals.

"Talk to me. Can we carry her?" Morgan barely gave him time to respond. "Hotch, can we carry her?"

"No, I tried. Morgan—" he paused, intaking a shaky breath, "she's going to bleed to death if we don't get her out of here. We've got to do something."

Derek's phone ringing cut off whatever he was going to say. He picked it up immediately. "Garcia, I got Hotch and Y/N, but listen to me, you got to get somebody down here right away. You hear me? Right now." You didn't hear what Garcia said next, but it caused his head to snap up. "What? You're absolutely sure?" He glanced at you then to the kid who you realized never left.

The kid held his hands out like he was asking what you were waiting for, causing you to tilt your head, confused.

Morgan hung up the phone and then his next words shocked you. "Hotch. The kid. He's the bomber."

Your eyes went wide before instantly going to Hotch. "Are you okay to stay here?" you asked.

He didn't even think about it. "Go."

With that, you and Morgan took off running. The kid bolted, leaving you to chase after him.

Despite the heels on your feet (that luckily weren't stilettos) and obvious bruise to your side, you couldn't feel pain. All you feel was the pure adrenaline pumping through your veins. You hadn't been so ready to fight in ages. The anger coursing through your body was unparalleled.

This kid wasn't getting away with this, and you'd make sure of it.

You chased the kid down the street, Morgan ahead of you. An ambulance passed you while you ran, and you prayed it'd be heading Hotch's way.

You kept chasing after the kid, turning a corner and he was gone, but Morgan was already heading down the stairs for the subway, so you knew he was down there.

You ran down the stairs, skipping steps as you went, following Morgan's lead and pulling out your gun. Civilians filled the station, evacuating. "Out of the way!" you screamed, pushing past them.

"Move! Where'd he go? Where?" Some pointed straight ahead, so you kept running.

You got down to where the subway was, but by now, it was empty. You came to a stop next to Morgan, holding up your gun.

"Show your face, you son of a bitch!"

No one showed. You nodded to the train and panted, "Morgan, I'll take the back. You take the front."

Heaving, he nodded, going for the front. You entered the train with your gun held high, pointing it on either side of the door. You walked through the cart slowly, checking beheind yourself periodically to ensure the kid wouldn't sneak up on you.

You pushed open the door to the next cart warily. It was just as empty as the previous one. You went for the next cart. Nothing again. You met Morgan in the middle. "Nothing," you said.

"Me neither. But there's a door at the front. I'm thinking he could've hopped through there," he told you.

You nodded and followed him there, accepting his help and jumping down. Carefully, with your gun and flashlight in hand, you walked on the tracks, avoiding the power supply. You shouted, "We know you're in here, kid. Show your fucking face, you coward!"

A noise sounded, making you turn around to check it while Morgan continued forward. "You've got nowhere to run, man. You hear me? There's nothing down here for you."

"Is that all you see?" At the sound of the kid's voice, you spun around, moving your flashlight around. "Huh? Darkness?"

You caught up to Morgan, and then the kid showed himself. Your flashlight revealed his shoes lying on the ground while he slowly walked on the rail, balancing himself like this was a game. You cocked your gun. "You listen to me, you little shit. This is not a fucking game. Get your ass off the tracks and put your hands on top of your fucking head. Do it now."

When he failed to listen to you, Derek yelled, "Do it now!"

The kid did as you said, but not to listen to you. It was to mock you. "You will lose in the end," he said.

Derek moved forward. "Shut up. Shut your mouth."

"You wanna know why?" He continued on like he'd never said a word. "Because you fear what we embrace."

Before you could do anything, he took one foot off the track and put it on the third rail. "Get off the— no! No, no!" Derek and you were forced backward as the light blinded your eyes. Without even lifting your eyes up, you knew undoubtedly that the kid was dead.

He just killed himself right in front you.

"Damnit." You reached to run a hand through your hair but you were stopped by the stabbing pain in your ribs, suddenly reappearing. You hissed, "Ah, shit."

"Y/N?" Within a blink, Derek was in front of you. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

"I'm fi— fuck." Your knees buckled, but Morgan caught you, holding onto by your waist. When that caused another hiss, he switched his hold to your arms.

"I think you might've broken some ribs. How the hell didn't you notice this before?"

"I— it didn't feel this bad before."

Morgan cursed under his breath. "Your adrenaline is wearing off. We need to get you to a hospital."

"No, I'm o—" a sharp stab cut you off, making you grunt. "Fine. But what about Kate?"

"We both saw that ambulance drive their way," he reasoned. "They're gonna be okay. Look, if we get back and they're still there, we can stay, alright?"

You thought over his proposal and eventually relented and let him lead you off the tracks, giving in to the pain. You just hoped that he was right, that they were okay.

Please let them be okay.

❧

You arrived at the hospital in record time, passing through the streets like light work. After receiving confirmation that Hotch and Kate were at Saint Barclays, he drove the two of you there, too, insisting that a doctor see you despite your equal insistence that you were fine.

Now, you sat on an ER bed. You had a few cuts here and there but nothing too deep; you were given sutures for one cut across your cheek. The doctor wasn't looking at you right now; she was looking at your chart, giving you time to glance around the triage room.

You weren't a big fan of hospitals, never were. They were never a source of good news, and every hospital you stepped into smelled the same, like bleach and chemicals. When you were younger, you were convinced that this was to cover up the smell of death.

That wasn't too far off.

The doctor pulled you out of your revierie, snapping the chart shut. "So, Ms. Y/L/N, I've ruled out the possibility of a collapsed lung, but you've broken 4 of your left true ribs," she informed you. "From what your partner has told me, you've over-exerted yourself, and thus exacerbated the issue."

"I'm a CIA officer and had to chase a suspect," was the only explanation you offered.

She deadpanned. "I understand that, Ms. Y/L/N, but you've just made your healing process ten time harder."

You gave her a short smile. "I've been through worse."

She looked at you for a few more seconds before she sighed, re-opening the chart book. "I can prescribe you some medication for the pain."

You declined perhaps a bit too quickly. "No, that's alright."

Slowly, she looked up at you, her eyes questioning. "No? Why not? I can imagine you're in a great deal of pain right now."

At her inquiry, you were reminded of someone else's interrogative questions. Hotch's voice filled your head, Why do you say it like that—say your name as if it's not your name?

Your mind travelled back to a time you weren't Y/N. There was a girl with a different name who wore your face, a girl you separated yourself from entirely. She didn't grow up thinking she'd have a future in law enforcement—she didn't even think she'd have a future at all.

She hung around the wrong crowd and picked up bad habits, habits like oxycodone and amphetamines. But you weren't her anymore.

You were 7 years sober.

You'd rather not explain all of this to the attending in front of you—you'd rather not explain it to anyone. Instead, you just said, "I have a high pain tolerance. I can handle it."

She stared at you warily, but otherwise, there wasn't much she could do but accept your decision. "I'd advise against that, but it is your choice."

You pursed your lips into what you hoped was a small smile. "It is."

She kept her persistent stare until she eventually gave up, leaving the makeshift room. You didn't wait long before you left, too, jumping off the table and pushing back the curtain. You walked through the halls in search of the tan-skinned man you came in with, avoiding looking anywhere but ahead of you.

Hospitals were unpredictacle.

You didn't like that.

You turned a corner, and as if you just had good luck, Derek was there, already walking your way.

He raised a brow at you. "You all good, angel?"

You fell into step beside him, letting him lead the way to wherever you were going and flashing him a flirtatious smile. "Never been better, muscles." It wasn't a total lie; the pain had mostly subsided, and you'd felt worse in your life.

Morgan didn't bat an eyelash. "Well, that's good because we need to get moving. The team's on the way."

At the mention of the BAU, your thoughts were re-directed. Without stopping, you glanced over at Derek and gave him a quick once-over. He seemed normal: he was flirting with you, no signs of dejection. So Hotch must've been alright. Still, though, you felt compelled to ask, "Hotchner and Joyner. Are they okay?"

If Derek noticed the small blip in your voice, he didn't say anything. You weren't sure if you even noticed it, either. "Hotch is fine, back to barking orders and being a drill sergeant. Kate's in surgery, though."

You couldn't explain the wave of calm that came over you at that moment. You couldn't explain why you even cared.

But you did.

You nodded in response and changed subjects. "Has anything happened since the first blast?"

"No. Nothing."

An exasperated sigh left you. "That doesn't make any sense. Something should've happened by now." You ran a hand through your hair, your gears turning. "I mean, why go through all this trouble just to hit a single SUV with a few agents? Why not wait until we were in our cars?"

"I don't know," he replied. "What I'm still stuck on is why the kid would stay knowing we'd figure him out."

"Yeah, why would he stay—" suddenly, you halted in your tracks, cutting yourself off as memories rushed to the forefront of your brain.

[Thank you for your input, Ms. Y/L/N. The Secretary of Defense is unavailable at the moment, so the Deputy Secretary will be fielding all defense matters for the moment. She happens to be in town, and she'd like to be briefed in person, if that's alright.]

Yes, I can do that. Just send me an address.

Then you heard the voices of Secret Service agents in your head: I'm sorry, but this hospital is on strict bypass.

"What? What is it?" Derek's voice shook you out of your reverie. You looked up to see him standing in front of you, a worried expression on his face. You would've laughed if it weren't so serious. He probably thought you had a concussion—and while you didn't, what you were going to say was worse than that.

"Derek," you started.

Your tone must've scared him because he stepped closer. "What?"

You paused, mulling over the details in your head. Secret Service was here. Someone important was in the building, someone like the Secretary of Defense. And that bomber just so happened to stick around until an ambulance showed up, taking Hotch and Kate straight here.

Sam didn't wait until you were cars, and that wasn't a careless mistake. It wasn't because he was so excited that he couldn't wait. It was because that blast wasn't meant to kill you, not on impact.

It was meant to take you here.

When you made up your mind, you took a step closer to him and lowered your voice, not wanting to attract panic in spite of the fact that it'd happen, anyway. Your voice was rigid.

"I think there's a bomb in this hospital."

❧

After quickly explaining your theory to Derek, you parted ways; he went to go find the team while you took off to find the head of that Secret Service detail.

Any uneasiness you felt being in this hospital increased a tenfold, no longer because of the fact that it was a hospital but because it could blow any minute now. You knew you weren't scared, though—and maybe you should've been, but this was the job.

You found the SS soon enough, calling out to them, "Hey, men in black!"

Your volume turned heads, including theirs. The bald man stood up from where he was leaned over on a counter and greeted you first, leading you to believe he was in charge. "Ms. Y/L/N." So he knew who you were. That made this a lot easier.

You didn't waste any time. "The Secretary of Defense is in this hospital, isn't he?"

"Ma'am, I know you're high up on the ladder, but—"

You cut him off briskly, "There is a bomb in this building, and it's rigged to assassinate the Secretary."

The agent whose name you didn't ask for stiffened but adapted quickly, ordering the agents behind him to hit the alarms all without looking away from you. "Where is it?" he then questioned.

"The ambulance my colleague drove in, I believe." The word colleague tasted wrong on your tongue, but you didn't have the time to dwell on it. "Is it already in the basement?"

"Yes."

"Okay, then you need to evac the building. You need to get the Secretary and everybody else out of here right now."

"We can't do that," he answered. "He's undergoing surgery as we speak."

You were sure that the next words to leave your mouth would be curses, but before you could even get them out, a band of rushed footsteps became audible from behind you. It didn't take you long to recognize who they belonged to.

The footsteps stopped where you were. You glanced to see the team surrounding you, Derek on your left and Hotch on your right. So he was alright. You held back a sigh of relief and kept your eyes off him, directing all your focus to the task at hand.

Silently, Morgan handed you a Kevlar vest. You nodded to him in thanks and put it on while Hotch hurriedly interrogated, "The paramedic I came in with—do you have eyes on him?"

The Secret Service Agent briefly glanced at you, to which you nodded, prompting him to turn over a computer playing a live feed.

"Is that a cell in his hands?"

Rossi pressed onto a mic on his chest. "Garcia, can you remote access the grid I'm in and jam all the frequencies?" She said something you couldn't hear and then he added, tone clipped, "There's a bomb in the basement of this building."

Garcia worked quickly, disrupting the satellite feeds in your location within seconds. You could tell she did this by paramedic's actions on the screen. "Look. He's coming back," Prentiss said. "He's going to detonate the bomb manually if he has to."

"Where did Morgan go?" At Hotch's abrupt words, you turned to your left but Derek was no longer there. He'd snuck off while you were paying attention to the feed, and you had no doubt as to where.

His appearance on the computer screen confirmed your suspicions. You sighed, before tiredly voicing, "He went to find the ambulance."

Hotch's voice was incredulous. "Alone?"

Rossi didn't share Hotch's surprise. "Let's head down."

You were off before he even finished the sentence, trusting the Secret Service agents to do their jobs well enough while you all did yours. You removed your gun from your holster, holding it up and jogging through the now empty hallways with tunnel vision.

You barely noticed the others behind you until Hotch somehow got ahead of you. "He's going to the basement," he called out.

You think it was Emily that replied. "Stairs."

You pushed the door to the stairwell open and Hotch entered quickly, scanning the area with his gun as he moved. It was eerily silent, the only sound being the alarms in the distance and your footsteps rapidly hitting the stairs as you took them two at a time.

None of you said a word.

By the time you reached the basement, the alarm was non-existent. Your loud footsteps became quieted, soundless with the precision only people like you could have. You could hear a pin drop.

At the end of the hallway, you wordlessly split into two groups: you with Hotch and Rossi, and Prentiss with Reid.

Hotch led the way while you and Rossi covered him. Your bomber was sitting criss-crossed against the netted gate, gun tossed on the ground with a cellphone in one hand and a knife in the other. Fuck.

You could only pray that Morgan got out before that signal came back online.

You had your gun in the air, even though you knew what was gonna happen. You all did.

Rossi's voice cut through the air. "FBI."

The bomber didn't flinch, staring at the ground with a lifeless look in his eyes. He was a dead man.

He raised the knife to his neck—and if you weren't with FBI agents right now, you would've shot his shaking hand and knocked that knife straight to the ground. You would've forced him to take accountability—perhaps not in a courtroom, but in a place that would still enforce a semblance of justice.

But you were with FBI agents. And Hotch reminded you of this as he spoke up, "Put it down. It's over."

Yes, it was. Because the coward slit his throat thereafter, and the knife clattered to the ground.

Slowly, you lowered your guns. You holstered yours, and then you were walking away. You didn't spare the body another glance. It wasn't a life lost.

Either way, he would've died. It just shouldn't have been on his terms.

Emily was behind you. She flipped her phone open and then you heard a sigh of relief. "Garcia just messaged me," she told you. "Morgan's okay."

Spencer and Rossi let out their own sighs while you muttered a small "Thank God" under your breath. You hadn't known Derek Morgan for long, but he was good, and he felt like a friend.

You didn't have many of those.

You got back to the floor you were on in little time, and everyone parted ways, likely going to rest. The night was over—this was over. You, on the other hand, still had some administrative work to do, starting with checking on the Secretary of Defense.

But before you did anything, you stood there. You stood there and watched the team trickle out of the area, everyone but Hotch. He was still down there.

You went to glance back to see if he was coming up but then thought better of it, choosing to walk away instead.

He's fine, you thought. He was fine.

And so were you.

❧

You got off the phone with the DOD, your last in a long line of phone calls, telling them that the threat had been eliminated as far as you were concerned. You would've been out of that hospital ASAP, but they asked you to stay there until the new Secret Service detail arrived, and you couldn't really say no.

The lack of action suddenly made you more aware of your surroundings. Your senses returned to you; the smell of bleach became more pungent, and the fluorescent lights seemed to just bounce off the white tile.

With nothing else to focus on, the pain in your side returned, too, but you were good at handling pain. It hurt to breathe, but the alternative was relapsing, and you'd come too far for that.

Normally, when you were craving drugs or just stressed, you'd find a drink. It wasn't the best coping mechanism, but it worked. Alcohol wasn't strong enough to hook you; it was just enough to sate you, to take your mind off the pills.

However, you were in a hospital, and none of that was around. So you went looking for the next best thing: coffee.

You found a mini coffee bar in a nearby waiting room, right next to a vending machine. It was one of the automatic ones that took capsules. The selection was pretty shitty, but you weren't exactly expecting premium Italian coffee, so you plopped a pod into the machine, anyway.

You waited for your coffee to brew in silence, listening to the sound of the machine whirring. The PA dinged in the background and footsteps were muffled. You had a habit of listening for those, for footsteps. Most times, like now, if you weren't preoccupied, you could detect them right away.

You sensed Hotch when he was 5 feet away. You could recognize his footsteps so easily, but that was the habit.

You told yourself it was the job.

Without turning around, you quietly greeted, "Agent Hotchner."

He returned your greeting, grabbing a styrofoam cup and going to stand next to you. "Y/N." His voice was as saccharine as the sugar you poured into your coffee.

You hated that, and you hated what it implied.

The case was over. The threat was defeated. And now you were alone together with a conversation unfinished, a conversation you'd much rather not have.

To think that, when you last saw Hotch in Virginia, you were all for the game, the chase. But now it felt like the roles were reversed. This was different. He shouldn't be talking to me.

But he was.

"Yo—"

You cut him off, "How's Kate?" Low blow, Y/N. The breath of air he sucked in made you look up from the creamer to his face. His eyes were no longer on you; they were on the machine as it poured his coffee, but you understood. You could taste apology on your lips before you even said the words. "I'm sorry."

Hotch nodded, grabbing his coffee from the tray when it was finished brewing. "She wasn't in pain," he said. That's all there was to say, really. She wasn't in pain when she died, nor was she in pain when you found her.

Kate Joyner was dead the second that blast hit.

But you spoke none of this. You went to grab your cup, intending to walk away, but Hotch stopped you, placing his hand on your arm before you could fully turn away. You stopped yourself from intaking a sharp breath.

"You're avoiding me."

He said it so plainly, like you were talking about a case or the weather, like this was normal, like the two of you didn't see each other every other year at most, like you weren't you and he wasn't him. It made you want to screw your eyes shut, but you didn't. As if to prove a point, you turned yourself toward him fully, facing him head on.

"I'm not."

"You are."

Your eyes narrowed. "I'm not an unsub, Hotchner. I'm not gonna fold to this interrogation tactic."

"I met you as an unsub," he retorted.

"But I wasn't." You let out a little scoff, half amused, half annoyed. "How would you know if I was avoiding you? You didn't know me then, and you don't know me now."

"But I want to."

Whatever reply you were expecting, it wasn't that. Your breath got caught in your throat. His voice was still so soft, a harsh contrast to the cuts littered across his face. He took a step closer to you. "I want to know you."

You blinked once in shock, almost like you were checking if you were hallucinating, but when your eyes opened, he was still there. When you blinked a second time, it was in realization.

He's just been told Kate's dead, and now whatever pain meds they gave him are kicking in.

Reality slapped you across the face. You took a step back, slowly shaking your head. "You don't want to know me, Hotchner."

He took another step forward. "I do."

Another step back. "You don't." You shook your head again, emphasizing your point. "You really don't."

"Y/N—"

The shrill sound of your ringtone cut him off, and you'd never been so grateful. You picked it up immediately. "Y/L/N." The lady on the other end got to it quick; all you had to do was agree. "Okay, I'll be there momentarily. Thanks."

You hung up your cell, snapping it shut. You gave Hotch a glance before you were looking away, letting your eyes wander everywhere else. "That was the DOD. Secret Service is here. I have to go check out with them." You didn't let him get a word in. "I'll see you around, Agent Hotchner."

And then, just like every other time Aaron Hotchner had ever been in your proximity, you were leaving. In his grasp one second, in the mist in the next.

He watched you walk away wordlessly, not knowing when he'd see you again, words he was going to say dying on his lips.

And then you were gone.

He let out a long sigh, and then looked to his coffee on the mini table, spotting a similar one right next to it.

You left your coffee there, he realized.

With all the other things you left, too.

5. The gavel and the gun

Southbridge, Virginia, 2008

You didn't find yourself down in Virginia too often, not unless you were on business, but Derek assured you that tonight was about everything but that.

"I'm breaking you out of your shell, angel," he said, making a turn on Curtis Drive. "You need to get out more."

You snorted. "One, I don't have a shell. Two, I am literally out so much that my apartment collects dust, and three," you held up a third finger, despite his close attention to the road, "that's bullshit. You just want me to score you some hot chicks."

He let out a burly laugh, something you'd gotten used to after hanging out with him. "Baby, I don't need you to pick anyone up for me. I can do that all on my own."

"What, are you afraid that I'll steal all your girls, Morgan?"

His reply was swift. "Couldn't do that if you tried, Y/N/N. You're still hung up on Hotch."

Your jaw nearly fell, but you were used to this banter you had. You quipped back, "Please, the only one hung up on anyone here is you. You want Garcia."

He choked on his own spit, making you throw your head back and laugh. He didn't see that one coming.

You caught onto Derek's feelings for Garcia early on, but they became especially prominent when he was buzzed one night and told you she was the one on call with him when he drove that ambulance into the field.

That was six months ago. And now, you were in Derek Morgan's car, trying to coax him into asking out a woman with whom he violated many HR regulations.

Derek clearly didn't have a response which only made you laugh harder. You patted his back while he recovered. "Caaaaareful, muscles. I don't want to die on my way to a bar. I'm literally in the CIA—that would be so heavily anti-climactic."

The only thing he heard in that sentence was his nickname, snapping out of his stupor. "Okay, this 'muscles' thing is starting to feel less like a compliment and more condescending."

You huffed out a little chuckle as he put the car in park. "And 'angel' isn't?"

He furrowed his brows, opening his door. "You love that name."

You copied his movements, getting out of the car before pointedly looking at him. "Yeah, when the words 'of death' follow it."

He snorted. "Cryptic." He held his arm out for you, to which you obliged, wrapping yours in his before walking into the estabishment with him.

You would've responded and teased him further had you not been cut off by an oddly familiar voice. "Morgan!" Your head snapped to a table where not only the object of your teasing stood, but all of their crime-fighting friends. From afar, you watched Penelope's eyes widen behind her glasses. Then she squealed, "And Y/N!"

To her credit, she did look just the slightest bit embarrassed when people turned to stare at her.

She still wasn't used to you. And God, was that comical.

A smirk crawled onto your face as you walked to their table, glancing at Derek and recalling your earlier quip. "Ooh, careful, Morgan. Your girl's a fan. I might just take her."

For a guy that nearly died in the car at the mention of her, he didn't seem all that startled. In fact, a smirk of his own graced his face. "I doubt you'll be focused on Penelope tonight, angel."

Your brows pinched together, but before you could question what he meant, you reached the table. JJ and Emily greeted you with wide smiles, the latter pulling you in for a hug that was surprising but not unwelcome. Garcia followed right behind her, hesitantly wrapping her arms around you. You cleared this hesitancy by embracing her tightly. Goodness, she's precious.

Over her shoulder, you mouthed to Morgan, Don't fuck it up.

When you let her go, Rossi tipped his glass at you while Reid just gave you an awkward wave. For his benefit, you resisted the urge to laugh.

You spun back around to flash a smug smile at Morgan, eager for him to see that you weren't fazed by this little surprise he so clearly wanted to jar you with, but then your eyes locked with a darker pair and you realized, oh. They weren't the surprise.

He was.

"Y/N."

What was this feeling? Winded? Was it— breathless? You couldn't describe it; you'd only felt it a few times in life, and you didn't know why you felt it right now. Eventually, you realized you had to answer.

"Hotchner."

You were going to fucking strangle Derek Morgan.

❧

If it wasn't considered rude and you weren't surrounded by a horde of profilers, you would've been texting Derek furiously. It didn't help that the only spot left at the table was next to the man you'd be texting about.

Derek was fun to party with—you went out with him all the time—but whenever he invited you out with the rest of the BAU, you politely declined and came up with whatever excuse was available. Clearly, he caught on to the reason.

You've been avoiding me.

And maybe that was true.

A gasp broke you out of your thoughts. You looked over to see Penelope jumping out of her seat. "Oh, my god, I love this song. Derek, get up right now, we're going to dance," she all but demanded.

It's then that you noticed that JJ and Emily had already beat them to the dance floor, and Spencer was being talked up by some girl at the bar.

No— "Alright, alright, calm down, mama, I'm coming." You glared daggers at him as he flashed you a sly grin, then he wrapped an arm around Penelope and left. He left you alone with Hotch and Rossi.

At least Rossi's still here— "You know, I think I'm going to get another drink." You're kidding.

Apparently, he was not kidding. Rossi got up, and you could've sworn you saw him wink at Hotch before he left for the bar.

And then there were two.

Fuck.

Now that the others were all gone, you felt his proximity much more prominently. If you moved just the slightest bit, your knees would touch. You hated that the thought even crossed your mind.

But you couldn't leave. If you left, then it'd be obvious that you were, in fact, avoiding him, and you didn't want it to be obvious. It shouldn't have been obvious because there was nothing there to avoid; the two of you were nothing, so you had no reason to avoid him.

You were nothing.

Even if, for a second, you might've felt something.

"What's wrong?" His voice cut into the tension like it was butter. But the question didn't sound like concern; if you didn't know any better, you'd say it was almost teasing.

You finally looked at him, turning your head and realizing he was closer than you thought. Close enough to see the specks of green in his eyes and the locks of hair falling over his face. Close enough that you could push those locks back if you wanted to. And you wanted to.

But you didn't.

You schooled your expression and raised a brow, causing him to elaborate, "You were much more flirtatious when we didn't know each other."

Of course, I was, is what you wanted to say. Of course, you were; that was before whatever happened in D.C., before you danced with him and before you let him down. Before reality came knocking and showed him that you were polar opposites, that he was a man of the gavel and you were a woman of the gun. Before he confronted you. Before he told you that he wanted to know you.

So, of course. Of course, I was. Because what the hell was I supposed to do with that?

That's what you wanted to say, but you didn't. Instead, you countered, "Why do you assume something's wrong? Maybe I've just lost interest in our game."

Hotch looked at you like he knew that was a load of bull. He looked you up and down like he could see right through you, and you hated that, because if he looked hard enough, he just might. You thought, for a second, he'd drop it, but then he came back harder. "Is that because you're not winning?"

Taken aback, you laughed to hide how astounded you were, looking away as you deflected, "You must've been one hell of a lawyer, Agent Hotchner."

He let you re-route the conversation, humming. "I was good at my field," he admitted, pausing briefly. "I actually got my nickname while I was working at the DA's office, Hotch."

"Oh?" you uttered, disinterest shining through your voice that you hoped he'd pick up on.

"Yeah. And now it's what everybody calls me." Another pause. "Everybody but you."

You turned back to him. Clearly, that's what he wanted from you with that statement. He was looking at you expectantly, waiting on you for something—you just didn't know what. "You dwell on what I call you?"

He shrugged like he was unbothered. "It's just an observation. You refer to everyone using their first name, even Kate. At one point, I think you even said our names consecutively. Agent Hotchner and then Kate."

Shit, you didn't remember that, but he was probably right. It must've been a blip, you must not have been paying attention. Still, you shrugged right back at him. "I don't put that much thought into it."

He continued like you'd never said anything. "You said my name after the blast." You stiffened. "Repeatedly. And then, once we were in the hospital, you were back to formality."

You forced a smile onto your face in attempts to mask the discomfort. "So?" you said. Like you weren't affected. Like you weren't surprised that he noticed or equally surprised that he was calling you out on it.

"So," he repeated. "What's holding you back from saying my name?"

Damnit, he had you. He had you, and he knew it. You knew he knew it based on the fire in his eyes, fire with intent to burn.

But you had more.

You had walked through fire; you were forged in fire, so this was a challenge you'd accept.

You leaned in closer, just until your mouth was next to his ear. He inhaled sharply. Good. Slowly, you breathed, "What's in a name... Hotchner?"

When you leaned back, you were met with a thrown-off-Hotch, but you didn't stick around to savour the image. You hopped off your barstool and left the table, opting to go dance with Emily and JJ as opposed to let him have the last word.

If you had it your way, he wouldn't get another word in for the rest of the night.

If only you could always have it your way.

❧

You danced with the girls the rest of the night, Hotch forgotten. The others were elsewhere, off on their own. They were good company, and it was nice to hang out with other women. Eventually, the dancing wore them out and they decided it was time to head out, making sure to exchange numbers with you and add you to their group chat before they bid you farewell.

Something told you they were a little more than friends, but you weren't sure if they even knew that.

Alone, you decided to get off the dance floor, making your way over to the bar to text Derek. It was getting late; the bar would close soon, and you wanted to head home. But when you opened your phone, you already had a message from him—timestamped an hour ago. Furrowing your brows, you clicked on it.

Sorry, angel, but Pen opened a window for me and I had to take it.

If you know what I mean ;)

Please don't kill me. I'll send a car for you when you're ready.

Audibly, you groaned, closing your eyes in exhaustion. Of course, he shot his shot with Garcia on the night he's meant to drive you home. And you couldn't even be that mad about it.

You sighed, accepting it and going to open your Uber app when a voice queried from behind you, "Are you alright?"

Fuckkkkkk, you were really hoping he left by now. Reluctantly, you turned around, facing Hotch. "Yeah, Derek was my ride home, but he um," you paused, wiping a hand across your face, "he got lucky."

"With Garcia?"

You laughed at how transparent it was and how quick he, their boss, was to get it. "Yeah, so I'm just gonna catch an Uber home."

"Don't be ridiculous; I'll drive you home." You were shocked at how quickly he shot you down, looking up at him to see he was being totally serious.

"No, you are being ridiculous. I live all the way in Washington."

He shrugged his shoulders like it was nothing, like you were friends and his offer was normal. "I live in Arlington—it's not out of the way. Besides, would you rather pay for an hour-long car ride or have me drive you for free?"

Honestly, you'd rather do many things besides let Hotch drive you home for an hour, so you excused, "I'm good for the money."

He rolled his eyes. "It's 1AM, Y/N; I'm not gonna let you take an Uber home." He nodded to the exit. "Come on, let's go."

Now you rolled your eyes. He'd made up his mind, despite your disapproval. Yet you still glanced down at your phone, debating it. You supposed that he was better than a total stranger, and it was only an hour.

Maybe you were tired and your judgement was impaired, but for some reason, you obliged. "Fine."

You didn't know if it was a trick of light, but for a second there, it looked like Hotch's lips quirked upward.

For a second.

❧

The car ride was silent if not for the music drumming lowly in the background. You didn't crack any jokes or say anything playful or innapropriate; you were a silence filler, you hated silence, but you'd rather sit in silence than talk to Aaron Hotchner any longer than you had to.

His presence was already pushing it.

If Hotch noticed how quiet you were, which he likely did, then he didn't comment on it. You were sure that he was profiling you silently, though, the same way you were silently profiling him.

He wasn't driving his official government vehicle, but it was still a black SUV. Not a Tahoe, though; it was an Escalade. It wasn't too proud or boastful but it wasn't too unassuming, either. Expensive but not too much of a head-turner.

A glance to the back displayed a car seat. You suspected that his son was with his ex-wife, since he was here at one in the morning and not at home. He was a stable father, and you could tell.

You knew what instability looked like.

The CD he had in when you got into the car was the White Album, Beatles. That, you could've guessed easily. It fit.

The car was clean. It smelled like peppermint and his cologne. If you opened the glove box, you'd probably find a gun. He carried two on his person while working, so he probably had one in here and then another at his place.

Prepared.

But what neither of you were prepared for was the sudden downpour of rain.

Hotch turned on his windshield wipers, then you saw a flash of white followed by a loud clap of thunder. He cursed under his breath, and you then cursed yourself for finding it attractive. "It's a storm."

"I can see that."

He ignored your quip. "Well, we're already in Arlington. My apartment is two minutes away—we could stop there until it's clear."

You held back a sigh. Regardless of your feelings, it was unsafe to drive in this weather. That's why you agreed. "Okay."

He wasn't lying about being two minutes away. With in no time, you were in front of his complex. Running inside barely did anything; you were drenched after being outside for maybe ten seconds.

The thunder was loud and continuous; the only place you didn't hear it was in the elevator. Then it returned once you were out, walking through the halls to his apartment.

You were on your phone while he unlocked the door, checking the weather app. This time you couldn't repress the sigh that left you. "Forecast says this storm's going all night."

"Oh." He opened the door, holding it open for you. "Well, you can stay the night." What? "I'll drive you home first thing in the morning."

"Um—"

He gestured to his living room, suggesting, "I'll take the couch. You can have the bed." Well, it wasn't really a suggestion, and you didn't have much of a choice, either.

So you nodded. He said something about going to change and fetch you clothes, and then you were alone in Aaron Hotchner's foyer.

You. In his apartment.

You thought back to when you met him, in an interrogation room as he accused you of being a serial killer. And you were a killer, just not that kind. Yet, now, he willingly had you, a gun for the government, in his apartment. This was the same Aaron Hotchner who prosecuted criminals, who hunted down evil, and believed in justice and court of law. The same Aaron Hotchner who frowned upon your unseriousness and grey morals. And he was also the same Aaron Hotchner that stood next to you in a hospital waiting room and told you he wanted to know you.

God, it was ironic. Him wanting to know you. You didn't know if he understood what that meant, what that entailed.

He was the gavel, and you were the gun.

And that was that.

He walked back into the room after a good three minutes, changed into attire more informal than you'd ever seen him. He wore a button-down and jeans to the bar, but you didn't imagine you'd ever see him in sweats.

"Bathroom's on the left," he told you, pointing to it. "Feel free to use the shower. I left some clothes on the bed for you, and if you need anything, I'll be out here."

You nodded, saying a quiet "thanks" before you walked past him to his room. You'd skip the shower; you didn't have any underwear for that.

Closing the door, you took a moment to scan his room. Bed in the middle, navy blue sheets. Window facing the door, dark red curtains covering them. There was a closet to the side, likely filled with suits, then a dresser across from the bed for ties and everything else.

There were two nightstands on either side of the bed, a frame on one. When you got closer, you saw it was a picture of a little boy with a grin so wide that it brought a smile to your face.

On the bed, Hotch left you a pair of grey jogging pants and a worn blue hoodie with George Washington University painted on in chipped white in the middle. You changed out of your wet dress, and all hesitation for wearing Hotch's clothes went out the door the second you put on his hoodie.

The sweatpants were just as comfortable, despite having to pull the drawstrings immensely far. You could fall asleep like this no problem, but then just as you went for the bed, the light cut out, drowning you in darkness.

You're kidding me.

There was a knock on the bedroom door soon after. You weren't sure if you could find it without stumbling or knocking something over, so you just shouted, "Come in."

Hotch's head poked in, illuminating the room with the flashlight on his phone. "It's the whole neighbourhood. Do you want a candle?"

Yes, I do. You had a thing about sleeping in the dark, but like hell if you were gonna tell him that. A CIA agent, afraid of the dark—you weren't telling anybody that. "No, I'm good, but um," why am I stammering? "Could I get some water, please?"

"Yes, of course." Hotch was quick to leave the room for what you requested, and you were quick to follow him. He was the one with the flashlight.

His kitchen was barely visible, but you caught a glimpse of a few drawings on the fridge. When he lit a candle and placed it on the counter, you saw the the drawings were finger paintings, one of a whole child's hand. Again, you couldn't stop the corners of your lips from curving upwards.

Aaron Hotchner. You'd seen the prosecutor, the profiler, the unit chief, and now the father.

"Here." Hotch's voice cut through your thoughts as he handed you a glass of water. You didn't even hear when he turned the tap on.

You wordlessly took the water, thanking him with a nod. He stood there as you took a sip, watching you with a gaze that felt scrutinizing but probably wasn't. He was good at hiding what he was thinking, but you could still tell that he was thinking, nonetheless.

In a split-second decision, you lost the battle with yourself not to engage in conversation. "What? Did you poison this?"

He ignored you, like always, and questioned, "Are you afraid of the dark?"

You just barely stopped yourself from choking, masking your cough with a chuckle. "What?" How the fuck did he guess that?

Vaguely, he added, "You seem like the type."

"Oh, 'I seem like the type?'" you echoed. "Is that your normal-person way of saying 'it fits with my profile?'"

He shrugged. "More or less."

Another chuckle left you, this time unforced. You were wondering if he was drinking before you and Derek showed up. This confidence and nonchalance was new, but amusing. Maybe you had one too many drinks, too, or maybe something about this version of Aaron was drawing you in, but you indulged him. "Okay, Hotchner. Give me my profile."

He paused, looking at you like he was debating if you really meant it but you saw the moment he made up his mind, decision flashing through his eyes. He gave you a once-over, but not because he needed to; you had a feeling this profile had been brewing for a while now.

"You're a control freak," he started. "This doesn't just shine through in your work—it also appears in your day-to-day life, like your overwhelming need to fill silence or dislike for the dark. This comes from a period of your life when you weren't in control, and now you have to control every situation you encounter. You come off as easygoing, but in reality, you're closed off. You hide behind jokes and arrogance because you don't want people to know the real you, but every once in a while, she reveals herself. She cares, but you can't have that be used against you, so you pretend you don't. You don't have many friends because that opens doors, and you are afraid of what is behind them. That is why, even as you stand in my kitchen, wearing my clothes, you still refuse to say my name. It's a defense mechanism, a way for you to create distance because, as much as you deny it, you feel something."

Somewhere in his explanation, he got closer to you. He never broke eye contact, not once. He stared at you like you were a puzzle he was waiting to solve, and he had too many pieces. You suddenly wished you'd never asked.

You intook a deep breath. "Ho—"

He cut you off, voice now just above a whisper. "What are you hiding from, Y/N?"

What am I hiding from?

Your eyes involuntarily darted down to his lips, and he caught it. He took another step closer, and you let him. What am I hiding from?

Your breath was shaky as Hotch leaned down, resting his forehead against yours. One movement and your lips would touch. You wondered what it'd feel like. To kiss him. To stop hiding.

What are you hiding from, Y/N?

You leaned in, and then just before your lips met his, the lights turned back on.

Just like that, you pulled away, the sound of your racing heart concealed by the sound of the heater kicking back on. "I should— I should get back to bed now." You kept your eyes on the tile.

"Y/N—"

"Um, thank you for the water—"

"Y/N."

Finally, you looked up at him, concern and confusion swimming in his eyes, and you understood it. One second, you were on the verge of kissing, and now you were on the verge of tears. You didn't understand it, either.

But this, whatever it was, it couldn't happen. This was a lapse of your judgement. He was Aaron Hotchner, the prosecutor, the profiler, the unit chief, and the father: the gavel. You were Y/N Y/L/N, the hacker, the director, the addict, and the killer: the gun.

This wasn't gonna happen.

So you loaded a round into the chamber, put your finger on the trigger, and took the safety off. Then you aimed it at yourself and fired, "You're a good man, Aaron." Too good for me.

You think he was too shocked by his own name, and that's why he let you walk away.

And as you closed his bedroom door, you had a feeling that it wasn't the only door you just closed.

6. A lie is the truth (link)

taglist: @flow33didontsmoke

extra a/n: guys i'm so mad ab this block limit and how this can't be one part but wtv!!

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