#exit interview suggestions

[exitpro]

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[g0dlyunsub]

don't pretend.

spencer can see through all of your lies, including the bruises you’re hiding behind makeup.

pairing :: spencer x fem bau!reader

warnings :: mentions of prisons, physical violence, bruises, reader gets injured, patching up, fluff

word count :: 1.6k

author’s note :: oh, looks like i’ve spawned another hurt/comfort fic yet again…

accompanying song :: who hurt you by role model

you’re an ambitious profiler. 

you’re such an ambitious profiler that you interview offenders with the most extensive list of records whenever you have time. you want to understand more than just the simple question of why they did it. you want to explore the how’s and what if’s.

and you’re soft-hearted, so much so that you jeopardize your own safety. 

things should’ve gone smoothly with your fifth and last inmate of the week, had you been a little more aware of your surroundings.

but you placed too much faith on your ability to make peace with the man who unyieldingly worshiped violence.

that was your only mistake, but it was a costly one. 

you had kindly asked the guard to release the handcuffs, even though he insisted that they stay on. 

it’s alright, you told him with the wave of your hand. 

but you should’ve noticed the look of challenge on the inmate’s face. it was like he was taunting you, almost as if to say, do you really feel safe being in the same room as me?

it was your soft-heartedness that almost got you severely injured. 

he managed to land punches to your left cheek and scratched his nails into the flesh of your leg as he fell, right as he was tackled to the ground. 

he laughed when he saw you holding your hand against your throbbing cheek.

you arrive at the office as early as you can, a layer of makeup thicker than usual coating the bruise swelling your left cheek. 

you pretend to bury your head in the case file that you retrieved from your desk when the rest of the team started to flood into the room.

when spencer arrives, he gives you a nod and gleefully chirps good morning as he takes his seat beside you. 

spencer knows your routine like the back of his palm – he knows you’re busy with interviews at the federal prison on saturdays and sundays, and he knows you always need a caffeine boost the next morning. you gladly accept the cup of coffee that he sets in front of your hands with a small smile.

as hotch is debriefing the case with garcia, however, you can’t help but feel his eyes drilling into the side of your face, as if he can see through your cover. 

your makeup can’t be that obvious, right?

your thoughts are interrupted when hotch closes the cover of his case file, stands, and announces wheels up in 20. 

you lift yourself with the support of the table and wait for everyone else to exit before you follow, doing your best to disguise the limp in your walk.

---

“alright. jj and prentiss, go to the morgue. morgan and reid, go to the crime scene. dave, you and l/n can set up with the local p.d. i’ll go talk to the victims’ families.”

as hotch assigns roles to the team, everyone nods when their names are called out. but spencer raises his hand slightly and clears his throat.

“actually, hotch, do you mind if i switch with rossi and set up with l/n and the locals instead?”

hotch hesitates for a second, but nods slowly. 

“sure. dave, you okay with that?”

the italian agent cocks up a questioning eyebrow but gives a warm smile. “i don’t see why not.”

you’ve never heard spencer contest hotch’s orders before, so you’re stumped as to why he’s suggesting an alternative role this time. but you soon brush off the thought, and decide to occupy your time re-reading the case files before the jet lands.

you sink into your seat with a heavy sigh, forcing your eyes shut as pain travels down your legs. you’re thankful that hotch assigned you to set up at the local p.d., since it doesn’t require much locomotion and spares you the struggle of getting up constantly. you watch as spencer spreads the corners of the map and sticks push pins into the corkboard. 

“how did your interviews go yesterday?” spencer breaks the silence first and moves to grab a red marker. with his practiced hand, he quickly circles the areas of the crime scenes on the map.

you gulp.

“they went pretty well, you know, nothing out of the ordinary.”

spencer caps the tip, and a click sounds as the plastic edges meet. he nods, wets his lips with his tongue, and turns to look at you. you meet his gaze for a brief second before you look away, pretending to busy yourself with the m.e. reports that jj sent over.

“green neutralizes red.”

his sudden remark startles you. you drop the papers in your hands and look up. “i’m sorry?”

“green contains the wavelengths that are missing in red light, so when they mix, the colors neutralize each other. that’s why concealers with a green base are better at covering up more reddish bruising,” spencer elaborates, and starts to match up the photos of the crime scenes to the locations marked on the map.

you blink. oh.

there’s no way he’s talking about you, right?

“um, yeah, green’s a common color corrector,” you mutter as you nervously tap your fingers against the wooden table. “but there weren’t any bruises or marks of assault on the victims.” 

spencer scoffs as you finish your sentence.

“it’s not about the victims. you. i’m talking about you.” 

you swallow slowly. 

“i-i don’t know what you’re talking about,” you try, a fake smile plastered over your face as you shake your head left and right. 

spencer studies you with a scrutinizing stare, eyes boring into yours like he’s counting the number of times you blink.

“could you grab that for me?” he asks at last, pointing to the book that’s two tables away, the one titled florida’s topography and bathymetry. without thinking, you nod and stand.

fuck.

what a clever way to set you up. now you have to somehow mask the limp in your steps and pretend like the pain coursing through your legs is nonexistent.

you do your best to walk normally, but it’s hard to tell if you’re doing a good job from his unreadable stare. you hold the book out with a bemused smile, hoping it’s enough to cover your pained expression.

he doesn’t look convinced. 

“that,” spencer points to your leg with an accusatory gaze, “why are you walking like that?” 

he swiftly takes the book from you, and your hand instinctively grips the side of the table for support.

“like what?” 

you’re going to make him pry the confession out of you. 

“like you’re hurting,” spencer utters quietly. his last word catches your breath completely.

“is that why you asked rossi to switch with you? so you could interrogate me?” 

“who hurt you?” spencer ignores your question, setting the book aside and leaning over the table to get a closer look at your face. 

instinctively, you retreat and look down, but he walks around the table and kneels in front of you. your brain buzzes with the words he’s just declared. it’s not what did you do, or what happened to you. instead, it’s who hurt you. 

“i… it’s nothing.” you shift in your chair, but he stops the seat from turning completely by laying a hand on the headrest.

“tell me. please.” 

you can’t fake it anymore, especially when he’s already hammered the nail into the hole perfectly.

you rub your sweaty palms on your lap. “one of them tried to hurt me during the interview. i-it was my fault, i asked the guards to take off the cuffs. i thought they’d be more willing to cooperate that way.”

spencer’s expression mellows as you speak, but he doesn’t return a comment. somehow, this makes you even more nervous.

a second after, he lifts his hand and slides a finger along the slightly swollen area of your cheek. he hesitates when you start to wince in pain.

tapping his knee with his index finger, he instructs, “let me take a look at your leg.”

you comply.

when you lift your leg, spencer’s hand slips between the wedge of your platform's heel, and gracefully sets your foot on his knee. 

you observe him gently push the thin fabric of your trousers upwards. you hold your breath when he leans in to inspect closely, and you almost shudder when the vapor of his warm breath tickles the gash on your flared shin. 

spencer steps back to retrieve a first-aid kit lying nearby and rolls up the sleeves of his shirt. without saying a single word, he pulls a cotton pad and a gauze roll from the bag.

as he wraps your leg with the gauze, he looks up to meet your lowered gaze.

“tell me his name.”

you bite your lip.

“it’s fine. you should focus on the geo-profile instead.” you exhale as spencer unfolds the rolls on the hem of your trousers to cover your leg again.

“you do know that it won’t take me long to go through every incident report,” he retorts back with a challenging glint in his eye. your cheeks heat up with a hot flush of red.

goddamnit, spencer reid. 

you hastily brush yourself away from him.

“what are you going to do?”

he pauses, every second of silence only feeding your suspicions. you watch the corner of his lips tug into a smirk.

“you know, nothing out of the ordinary.”

you huff.

“don’t use my words against me.” 

he shrugs with an indifferent expression, but chuckles before standing back up.

“his name. or do we want to do this the hard way?”

[loveln4]

this clip i saw where the interviewer asked for their ideal date scenario, and oscar said smth like movie, restaurant, walk. and lando giggled and said smth like 1.say hi 2. boat ride under the stars 3.i'd rather not say no the fic would be like lando asking the reader out (first date) on a boat ride and then reader (who's seen the interview before) either goes damn okay or like 'wow, don't want to get to know me first?'

as requested!!

IDEAL DATE

“Wouldn’t you like to get to know me first?”

LANDO NORRIS x READER

synopsis: lando asks a girl out after a big win, but this girl’s heard about his ‘ideal’ date.

The night was young and Lando Norris had just won his first race.

The Miami GP had left him with a high and a large boost of confidence. Drink, after drink just encouraged the boost of his ego.

“Mate, calm down will you?” Oscar, his teammate had said as Lando downed his third shot. “You’ve got the whole night.”

Groaning with a sour expression plastered on his face, the alcohol burning his throat, “Yeah, but you see that girl there?” He replies, pointing to a girl laughing with Kika Gomes, Pierre Gasly’s girlfriend. “I need some liquid courage.”

Oscar laughs in his face, “Just go ask her out!” Lando grabs for Oscar’s shot and downs it, “Are you serious?”

“Now i’m ready.”

Lando made his way toward the two girls, squeezing in between sweaty bodies, never looking away from her face. “Hi, Kika.” He smiles down at the wag he’s gotten to know these past few years.

“Lando.” She smiles at him, looking to her friend with a knowing smile. “I’ve got to find Pierre before he does something stupid, see you tomorrow?” Kika tells the girl and she departs with a kiss on the cheek.

“Hi.” The girl turns and looks up at Lando, “Congratulations on the win.”

Lando beams, “Thanks! You enjoying your night?”

“Yes, but perhaps it’d be joy-able with someone by my side?”

“How about I take you somewhere?” Lando suggests.

This gains a laugh from the girl, “You don’t even know my name, Lando.” Lando stutters over his sentence, trying to come up with something to say, “I’m kidding!” She laughs at him, “I’m y/n.”

“Well, y/n we’ve just met and you’re already causing me grief.”

“Good.” Y/n begins to walk toward the exit, Lando following closely behind, “Where’d you want to take me?l” She asks as they exit, camera’s flashing in their faces.

“Far from here, that’s for sure.” He lightly grabbed her arm and guided her around a corner, “It isn’t far from here.”

“You talking about your hotel room?” She jokes with him.

“That could happen after if you want.” He wiggles his brows.

His hand had left her arm minutes ago but she could still feel the lingering burn his fingers left. The breeze sobered Lando up as they walked along the harbor in silence.

“We’re here.” He stopped in front of a boat. It was big, the exterior a pearly white and the inside clean like it hadn’t been touched before.

“A boat?”

“Yes, a boat.” He smiles down at her and gestures toward it, “Would you like to go on a boat ride with me?”

This earns a laugh from y/n. “Wouldn’t you like to get to know me first?”

Lando was startled by this, “What do you mean?”

“I’ve seen that interview with you and Oscar. ‘What is your ideal date?’ You had said, 1. say hi, 2. boat ride and uh— what was the last one?”

“I’d rather not say?”

“Yeah, that.” Y/n responded, “I’ll still go on a boat ride with you but…i’m not sure if we’d end up in your hotel room.”

“That’s fine.” He began to walk onto the boat.

Y/n was stunned, “Lando! Are you cut because i don’t want to shag you?”

He turned around, a large grin on his face, “No, i just wanted you on the boat.” He sat down, y/n mirroring this action, “You ready for the best boat ride in your life, y/n?”

“You know it.”

A/N: you can picture what happens afterward…maybe they do it? maybe they don’t.

leave requests please!! any drivers, any scenarios.

[enhani-ki]

hiii! this is my first time requesting but could you write a story with angst where enhypen basically takes you ni-ki’s gf on a trip for work purposes and he was excited to travel with you but ends up calling you clingy for wanting to be around him angst to fluff

like i need you - reader x ni-ki

warnings: very little suggestive, cursing, etc.

the idea of traveling with you, his girlfriend, along with his group members for their overseas schedule made ni-ki really excited.

he had begged you for weeks just to join him, promising it would be fun, promising you'd get to experience what he does, everything, together.

you felt ni-ki's hand held yours, the plane landed and you were really here together now.

a staff member approached the two of you as you stepped into the terminal, they reached for his arm and instructed to exit in a different gate before completely pulling him away.

your fingers slipped from his as he turned to look at you with a conflicted expression.

"go... i'm fine."

tight schedule, everyone moved from one place to another, and ni-ki was always preoccupied.

there's also these endless meetings, rehearsals, and interviews... whenever you tried to be near your boyfriend, it felt like you were being pushed aside.

you really understood that it was busy and you're not about this life, but it also felt like you were losing part of the excitement you had for this trip.

you saw ni-ki walking alone through the hotel lobby after a long day, so you ran and held his hand, and instead of holding too like he usually did, he sighed and pulled away.

"y/n, can you stop being so clingy?"

you froze in place, blinking at him, not sure if you heard him right. y/n? clingy?

"excuse me?"

"so- sorry..." ni-ki ran a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated. "i'm just... i want to sleep."

you swallowed hard, nodding slowly before you walked away.

later that night, you wanted to check on your boyfriend. after all, he wasn't being his usual self earlier.

but he wasn't in his room.

you made your way to the next door instead, heesung opened the door and smiled.

"hello uhh... is riki here? he's not in his room."

heesung nodded, stepping aside to reveal ni-ki sleeping peacefully on his bed, hugging his pillow. "want me to wake him up?" he offered.

you quickly waved your hands. "n- no, don't, please."

"but i don't want him here..." he teased, making you chuckle. "just kidding."

you bowed slightly. "i was just checking on him. thank you, heesung."

he smiled, pulling out his phone. "here, i'll let you know once he woke up."

you quietly left after exchanging number.

and ni-ki spent his free time gaming the next day, his focus were sharp until they started losing. he let out a frustrated sigh before glancing over at heesung, only to see him texting someone.

"wha- hyung!" ni-ki groaned, but his hyung barely reacted to their defeat.

"calm down bitch."

just then, a notification popped up on heesung's phone, ni-ki caught a glimpse of your name.

"is that my girlfriend?"

heesung rolled his eyes. "yeah. check it, dumbass."

he grabbed the phone, scrolling through the messages, smiling slightly when he saw that every text was just also about him, asking if he was okay, if he had eaten, if he was sleeping well.

his irritation from losing the game faded. he locked the phone and tossed it back to heesung.

now, watching him from afar, you weren't sure if he even remembered bringing you here.

you stood near the back of the hotel's lounge, watching as ni-ki laughed with the members and staff, smiling so wide.

he's completely in his element and exactly where he wanted to be.

you didn't know if your eyes saw it correctly, but you swore his smile dropped when he saw you.

you glanced around, searching for someone else he could've been looking at, maybe it's not you because he didn't greet you or at least wave at you.

and if that look was because of you, then it felt like your presence had disrupted whatever joy he had in that moment and that hurts more than anything.

you went back to your hotel room, closing the door behind you before frustratedly collapsing onto the bed.

and when heesung texted you that they were done and just hanging out, you waited for hours.

you: are you gonna talk to me?

riki: what's wrong? everything okay there?

you: no, it's not okay. what's wrong with you?

you: you kept asking me to come with you, and you're acting like you don't even know i'm here.

you felt your chest tighten as you typed.

riki: i'm just busy.

you: i know you are, but you're also done already. i just saw you with everyone downstairs. no cameras.

riki: i can't talk to everyone first?

you: you know that's not what i meant.

it took him longer to reply this time.

riki: okay. just let me know if you need something.

fuck this.

you: i wanna go home.

riki: what? you can't.

you: i can.

riki: stop being stubborn.

a knock echoed through your room minutes later, ni-ki opened the door, and walked straight to you.

"y/n," he called out. "you can't just go home anytime you want when you're in a different country."

you ignored him, reaching for the remote to turn on the tv instead. keeping your focus on the screen, pretending he wasn't there.

"you might wanna think about everyone around you."

that made you scoff, think about everyone around me? like that wasn't exactly what you had been doing this entire time.

you gave him space, let him have his fun, not forcing yourself into his world then it would feel like he really didn't even want you here.

ni-ki exhaled sharply, stepping forward before shutting off the tv.

you glared at him. "seriously?"

"did you hear anything i just said?" he asked, he wasn't angry, just annoyed.

you didn't answer. instead, you turned your back on him, pulling the blanket over yourself, holding back all tears threatening to fall.

he's just really right there, trying to reason and argue when you just really miss him.

at least assure me that i'm still being appreciated here...

ni-ki sighed before running a hand through his hair. he should just leave and let you do whatever you want but stopped when he heard a faint sniffle.

he sat on the edge of your bed, unlocking his phone and started scrolling through your messages, the ones you had sent over the past few days.

you've been so patient.

you've been waiting for him, reaching out, and asking if he was okay.

and he had time... so he could've really replied too, he could've come to see you even for a little bit but for some reason, he didn't.

not because he doesn't love you, not because he doesn't care but because he had been so secured, so caught up in enjoying his life as an idol that he forgot you were part of it, too.

ni-ki felt guilty.

he reached over and squeezed your arm through the blanket. "baby…"

now, it's baby.

you didn't respond again. he sighed, wrapping his arms around you despite the blanket being a barrier. "i'm sorry."

"please talk to me."

you shushed him. he let out a sigh again and did the only thing he could think of. he slid under the blanket to hug you.

and ni-ki's usually not one to wake up right away but he was hugging you tightly in his sleep, that's why he also stirred when he felt you moving.

you stood up.

"where are you going?" he said quietly, his voice were still groggy.

he watched as you stripped off your clothes, stepping into the bathtub and sinking into the warm water.

he rubbed his eyes, standing up to follow you, then sat on the edge, watching you quietly before reaching for the shampoo bottle.

he poured some and rubbed it in his hands, gently applying it to your hair slow and careful.

then, he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "you're so pretty."

you didn't respond.

"i'm sorry for calling you clingy," he kissed your forehead again.

"i'm sorry for not replying to your texts," he kissed your cheek.

you finally looked up at him, your lips slightly parted.

"i'm so sorry for making you feel like you're alone." he said before kissing you on the lips.

you sighed, "...are you not excited to be with me anymore?"

his heart ached, you're looking at him like you're scared of his answer.

ni-ki cupped your face, "of course not," he murmured. "i'm always, always excited to be with you."

you bit your lip, eyes glistening as you were about to cry.

"riki... i can't keep up with these..." you sobbed. "i can't relate to you..."

ni-ki knelt down on the floor, wrapping his arms around you. his hands roamed, rubbing your arms, cupping your boobs, just holding you close as he tried to chase away the bad thoughts clouding your mind.

you felt sorry too, thinking about he barely had a moment to himself, let alone to be with you, and he looks so tired too... "riki, sor-"

he chuckled, reaching out to wipe away the tears falling from your eyes. "don't, please." he whispered, "i'll cry too."

you sniffled, rolling your eyes. "no, you won't"

"i will." he grinned, wrapping his arms more gently around your neck, not caring that his shirt was getting wet or that shampoo was dripping onto him. "...i'll force myself."

you let out a small laugh, making him finally breathe in relief.

ni-ki looked at you with a soft smile before pressing a kiss on your temple, "we could go wherever now," he murmured. "let me make it up to you."

a/n: i should've made it more angsty but it's so hard omfg TT hope you like it! also, i realized i fucked up because the request was "wanting to be around" and i think i did it wrong??? SORRY

マスターリストm.list

taglist 𖤘: @dolliewon @ziiao

[undreaming-fanfiction]

I am massively busy with work and finalizing my Big Bang, but this idea just won't leave...

Steve and Eddie are both actors. They're in their mid thirties, well established, but they never starred together in anything. Steve tends to be cast in the same type, the dumb but pretty love interest, Eddie has lots of indie and disturbing movies under his belt. But this time, they both landed something big.

They get cast in the new Batman movie.

Steve is, of course, Batman. He insists on doing his own stunts. He refuses to get dehydrated for his shirtless scenes because he knows how damaging it is to both young men and women alike, he's not going to contribute to shitty expectations. The director (Dustin, duh!) sees something in him other directors never have - a potential for depth, for internal turmoil. He gives Steve the chance to prove himself as an actor and Steve pounces on it.

He's still very hot.

Eddie is cast as the Joker. He is a fan of the comics and scoffs at how absurd and deranged the character is becoming. He gets hired because he immediately says he doesn't think the character needs to rely on cheap tricks and shock value to be terrifying. Cutting off his face? Not cool. He suggests to play the Joker according to one of the older comics he has - one where the Joker is actually absolutely sane, but hides it to never be held accountable for his actions. The only person who ever saw through his ruse was Dr. Harleen Quinzel. Joker took care of that issue very quickly.

The chemistry between Steve and Eddie on screen is insane. They go toe to toe, it's impossible to look away when they interact. Eddie utilizes his bright smile to the maximum, tweaking it just right within moments so it becomes unsettling. The first time he laughs, Steve gets goosebumps.

Steve encompasses Bruce's loneliness so well Eddie's heart breaks for him. Dustin finds him in the trailer, giving himself gentle slaps over the face and muttering "you're evil, damn it, you don't want to comfort the Bat!!".

Batgirl (Robin) and Harley Quinn (Chrissy) find their slow descent into love hilarious. They all become good friends on the set.

Hopper, an acting veteran who plays Commissioner Gordon, grasps Steve's shoulder after an intense fight scene and mutters: "Good job, Steve, but maybe don't stare at his lips so much?"

Robin doesn't give him the same courtesy and once Dustin yells "Cut!", she screeches: "NOW KISS!"

The movie is a hit. People love the cast and the story, some of the OG fans complain as they always do, but the ratings are great, there are many interviews, panels, all of that.

And of course, there's gossip about Steve and Eddie being a thing, which enrages the macho Batman fanbase. Their Batman isn't gay!

But the rumors quickly disappear after an award ceremony where Eddie is nominated for the best supporting actor. He wins, of course. And as he gets up to accept the small statue and deliver a speech with enough "fuck"s to give the censor a headache, he drags Steve up and kisses him in front of the whole world.

A week later, Steve and Eddie are together in front of a camera again, answering questions in an interview.

The host asks: "What do you say to those fans that are disappointed, who say that their Batman isn't gay?"

Steve just snorts, pulls Eddie closer and answers: "They're right. Their Batman isn't gay. But he's definitely bi."

Also the comic story I'm mentioning exits and is short but fantastic. 10/10 recommend.

Oh also. The first spark happens when Steve sees Eddie's hair and blurts out: "Please tell me they're not making you cut it shorter. It's too gorgeous for that."

Also because people were asking about the comics - it's Batman Black and White - Case Study and it can be found on Tumblr HERE

[movingmusically]

I found your fics recently and can't stop reading them! You're really talented at this and i look forward to reading more of your work

Can i request something inspired by austin's flirty interaction with a reporter during the sydney premiere of bike riders? He looked so hot in a drenched suit/wet hair.Except the reporter is reader and they end up exchanging numbers and hooking up afterwards.

Word Count: 6.8k

Masterlist

Exit Through the Side Door

The rain hadn’t let up all night. It fell in a steady curtain over the Sydney premiere of The Bikeriders, drenching everything, the carpet glistening with every flash of the camera lights. You stood under a canopy that didn’t help much, microphone in hand, nerves in check—mostly.

You stepped into position just as Austin Butler was ushered over, suit drenched and hair slicked back in a way that really shouldn’t have looked as good as it did. He was all sharp cheekbones and slow charm, water dripping from his collar, his grin disarmingly casual as he turned toward you.

Oh.

That was your first thought. Just—oh.

Because you’d seen the press photos, the interviews, the clips. But they didn’t quite prepare you for the real thing. Not for the way his gaze locked onto you as if he had all the time in the world. Not for the way he wore the rain like it was part of the suit.

“Hi Austin,” you said, offering your hand. “I’m Y/N.”

“Y/N?” he repeated, taking your hand with a firm but warm grip. “Have we met before?”

You smiled. “Not unless you’ve been secretly watching Australian breakfast news. Maybe I just have one of those familiar faces.”

He glanced down at his soaked attire and then back at you, noting your relatively dry appearance. “You’re dry; I’m soaked,” he said with a grin.

“I was going to say—we’ve really turned on the weather for you,” you quipped, gesturing to the rain around you.

“You sure did,” he laughed. “Are you from here, from Sydney?” he asked before you could get to your first actual question.

You nodded. “Born and raised.”

He smiled. “That explains the accent.”

Before you could reply, he tilted his head slightly, still watching you. “So what are you into?”

The question caught you off guard—not because it was inappropriate, but because of the way he asked it. Casual. Curious. Like he really wanted to know. And maybe it was the way he was looking at you, maybe it was the weather, or the fact that his voice dropped just a little when he said it—but for a split second, your mind absolutely did not go to hobbies.

You blinked once, composing yourself. “What am I into?”

“Yeah,” he said, flashing a slow smile. “Like, what gets you out of bed in the morning?”

You let out a soft laugh, deflecting gently. “Bit of a heavy question for a red carpet, isn’t it?”

His mouth curved. “I’m just trying to get to know you.”

You raised a brow. “I’m supposed to be interviewing you, by the way,” you said, angling the mic back between you with a knowing smile. “Just in case you forgot.”

He grinned, leaned in just a little. “Am I being difficult already?”

“A little slippery.”

“I’ll behave,” he said, though there was a glint in his eye that suggested otherwise. “I just don’t like talking about myself.” The admission was low, sheepish—and absolutely not the energy of someone who looked like he’d been airlifted in from a perfume commercial.

You arched a brow. “That’s kind of your job tonight.”

“Yeah, well,” he shrugged. “I’d rather learn about you.”

“Oh, smooth,” you said, laughing despite yourself.

“What else can you tell me?” he asked, still not letting go of the thread. “How old are you?”

You raised an eyebrow, caught off guard by the directness—but far from rattled. “Wow. Straight for the kill.”

He grinned. “You don’t have to tell me.”

You leaned in, mic angled just slightly away, like you were about to tell him a secret. “Let’s just say… old enough to know better.”

Austin’s grin widened, and you could see the moment it clicked for him—that you weren’t flustered. Not really. You were playing back.

“Now I’m intrigued.”

You tried not to laugh. “I should probably jump into the questions, ’cause this is my job. You wouldn’t want me to get in trouble, would you?”

“Depends,” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Is it the fun kind of trouble?”

You tried not to laugh.

“Okay, okay,” he added, still not taking his eyes off you. “What do you want to talk about?”

And just like that, the flirtation hung in the air—light but electric, threaded beneath the rhythm of rain and red carpet chatter.

You hadn’t expected to enjoy it as much as you did. The interview, that is. After weeks of watching clips and prepping questions for the premiere, you’d figured it would be another round of carefully measured answers and predictable talking points. But Austin had surprised you.

Once the teasing simmered down, he’d answered your questions about the film with a quiet thoughtfulness that felt… rare. He spoke about the physicality of the role, the camaraderie on set, the way riding felt like freedom on wheels—his words, not yours. You’d been half-listening by that point anyway, too caught up in the way he kept sneaking looks at you mid-sentence. The whole time, he kept circling back to you. Like he genuinely liked that your questions weren’t the same ones he’d been asked all night. Like you’d managed to catch him off guard, too.

Your crew was wrapping up now, voices raised over the sound of distant applause and the chatter of the still-moving press line. You’d taken a step to the side, microphone now tucked into its bag, your fingers absently smoothing the skirt of your dress as the adrenaline started to ebb. The energy of the red carpet was winding down, and you could already feel the buzz of it fading into something quieter—something a little more surreal.

You were still turning the moment over in your mind—his smile, the way his gaze had lingered just a beat too long—when someone stepped into your periphery.

“Hi,” a woman said, polite but brisk, with a sleek blazer and a laminated crew pass hanging around her neck. “You’re Y/N, right?”

You blinked, a little startled. “Yes?”

She glanced around quickly, then leaned in just a touch. “Austin asked if you’d be alright with passing along your number.”

You stared at her, thrown for a half-second before catching yourself. “He… did?”

She smiled, like she wasn’t surprised you were surprised. “Or, if you’d prefer, I can give you his.”

Your stomach flipped—just a little—and you hesitated. Not out of doubt, but out of sheer disbelief that this night was unfolding like a scene from something scripted. “Right. Um. Sure. You can give him mine.”

She pulled out her phone, efficient as ever. “Great. Go ahead.”

You rattled it off, still vaguely stunned, and she repeated it back to confirm. “Thanks,” she added, already typing something out. “You’ll probably hear from him tonight.”

And with that, she was gone—vanishing into the well-oiled chaos of handlers and publicists and umbrellas moving in choreographed circles.

You stood there for a second longer, barely noticing the rain anymore, heart thudding with something dangerously close to anticipation.

Well. That was unexpected.

But not unwelcome.

Not even a little.

You didn’t linger too long after the carpet wrapped—just enough time to collect your gear and say a few goodbyes. You weren’t technically required to attend the screening, but tonight… you’d made an exception.

Part of it was curiosity. The film, the buzz, the scale of it all. But mostly? It was him.

Inside the ornate, velvet-draped theatre, you slipped into a seat near the back. The crowd buzzed with anticipation, the kind of low, charged hum that only comes with red carpet premieres and sold-out venues. You let your dress settle around your legs, your lanyard tucked away in your bag now, trying to look like just another guest. Though part of you was keenly aware of where the exits were, just in case.

And then the lights dimmed.

The screen flickered to life—not with the film, not yet—but with the host stepping into the spotlight. Moments later, Austin appeared beside him.

Still in the same drenched suit, hair slightly rumpled now from running a hand through it, he took the mic with an easy smile. The audience erupted into applause, whistles echoing through the cavernous theatre. You felt it more than heard it.

He didn’t speak for long. Just a few words about the film, the team, how grateful he was to be there. But he delivered it the same way he’d given your interview—sincere, understated, a little rogue around the edges. You caught yourself smiling.

Then, just as the host moved to wrap up, Austin glanced out into the audience. A quick scan, casual. Meaningless to anyone else.

But somehow—maybe it was luck, maybe it was instinct—his eyes caught yours.

You couldn’t be sure. Not from this far back. But for a second too long, his gaze stayed fixed somewhere in your direction.

Your breath caught.

And then he was gone. Offstage. Applause rising again as the lights dimmed fully and the opening credits rolled.

You stayed for a few minutes. Long enough to be polite, long enough to confirm what you already knew: your focus was not on the film.

Your phone buzzed quietly in your lap, lighting up with a number you didn’t recognise. You opened the message before your heart had even caught up.

Austin: Hey, it’s Austin. Didn’t want to interrupt the movie... But I’m still drenched and skipping the after-party.

Austin: Want to sneak out with me instead?

Your heart did something entirely inconvenient and unprofessional.

You glanced at the screen. The darkened crowd. The glowing stage below.

Then you reached for your bag.

And stood up.

You moved quietly, slipping past knees and whispered apologies, heart thudding in your throat as you edged down the curved row toward the exit. You didn’t look back. You didn’t need to.

The theatre lobby felt cavernous now, mostly empty save for a couple of ushers and a group of stragglers lingering by the merch table. You stepped out into the cool night air, the rain finally slowed to a misty drizzle, the kind that clung to skin and curled into hair.

You barely had time to check your phone again when another buzz lit up the screen.

Austin: I’m out back. Black car. Driver’s with me.

Austin: You coming?

You didn’t respond. Just moved.

Your heels clicked softly against the slick pavement as you followed the side path skirting the venue, past ropes and service doors and a stagehand smoking something that definitely wasn’t a cigarette. It was that in-between moment—storm fading, night settling, the kind of hush where anything felt possible.

And then you saw him.

Still in the same suit, but with the jacket unbuttoned now, clinging to his frame in a way that was entirely unfair. His shirt was wrinkled, the collar slightly askew. He was leaning against the open back door of a black car, posture casual but eyes locked on yours the second you rounded the corner.

His smile was quieter now. Realer. Less for show.

“You made it,” he said.

You lifted a brow. “Didn’t even wait for the opening scene. Bold of you to assume it wasn’t the best part.”

He laughed, head dipping, and opened the door wider. “Couldn’t risk it.”

You tilted your head. “What, missing the film?”

His eyes flicked over you, amused. “Missing you.”

You stood still for a second longer, then ducked into the car.

The door shut behind you with a soft, insulated thud. Inside was warm and quiet, separated from the noise of the night and the hum of the festival. You heard him slide in beside you, the faint rustle of wet fabric and the click of the door as it locked.

You turned toward him.

He was closer now.

Much closer.

His voice was soft when he spoke, low and amused. “You never did tell me.”

You lifted a brow. “Tell you what?”

“What you’re into.”

Your lips curled. “You’re still thinking about that?”

“I haven’t stopped.”

And just like that, the space between you tilted. The quiet of the car was thick now. Not uncomfortable, just… waiting. His knee brushed yours where you were both angled slightly in, facing each other like the rest of the world had politely excused itself.

“I thought maybe you’d change your mind,” Austin said softly, his voice barely above the hum of the engine as the driver pulled away. “Go home. Do the sensible thing.”

You tilted your head, pretending to think. “I considered it.”

“Yeah?”

You nodded. “And then I remembered you said you don’t like talking about yourself. Which makes you a terrible interview. So really, I’m just here for professional closure.”

He laughed quietly, that same slow, low sound that had already started to take up space in your head. “Of course. You’re very committed to your craft.”

“Painfully.”

His eyes drifted over your face, less playful now, something warmer settling in. “Wasn’t just the interview.”

You met his gaze, pulse skipping.

“No?” you asked.

He shook his head. “You were different.”

You arched a brow. “Because I didn’t ask what it was like working with Tom Hardy?”

“That helped.” His smile tugged a little wider, then softened. “But nah. Just… the way you looked at me.”

You went still. “And how did I look at you?”

He was quiet for a second too long. Then, “Like maybe you already knew me.”

Your breath caught in your throat. You tried to play it off, to reach for something flippant, but nothing came. Nothing that didn’t sound exactly like what it was—a deflection.

Austin didn’t push. Just let the silence stretch. Let the air do its work.

The lights of the city blurred by the tinted windows, casting flashes of movement across his face. You watched them flicker along his jaw, his cheek, the collar of his shirt still damp from the rain.

“You warm enough?” he asked after a moment, his voice quieter now.

You nodded. “Yeah.”

But he still reached over. Just to adjust the air slightly. Just to check.

His hand lingered between you for a second longer than necessary, and when he settled back, his thigh pressed lightly against yours. He didn’t move. Neither did you.

Your phone buzzed in your bag, a faint, tinny sound you ignored without hesitation.

“Where are we going?” you asked.

He glanced at you. “Do you want me to tell you?”

You considered. “Not really.”

He smiled. “Okay then.”

And that was that.

The rest of the drive passed in companionable silence, thick with anticipation and the occasional glance that lingered too long. You felt like you were floating above it all—like it wasn’t entirely real yet. Like someone might call “cut” at any moment, and you’d laugh and step out of character.

Except this wasn’t performance. And the look in his eyes wasn’t scripted.

By the time the car slowed to a stop, you still didn’t know where you were, only that it was somewhere tucked away—quiet, dimly lit, and far from the buzz of the premiere. A private entrance. No photographers. No fans. Just a door. And him, holding it open.

“You coming?” he asked.

You didn’t answer.

You walked through.

The small lobby was nearly silent, a discreet hum of soft lighting and polished marble. A nod from the driver to the concierge, a keycard already in Austin’s hand. No waiting.

He guided you into the lift without a word, the space too small, too quiet, too charged. You could feel the weight of him beside you, the damp cling of his shirt, the slow way his eyes traced the line of your jaw when he thought you weren’t looking. Or maybe he wanted you to notice. Maybe that was the point.

Neither of you said a word.

The elevator chimed. He stepped out first.

You followed.

The walk down the hall was short. Carpeted. Quiet. You didn’t realise you were holding your breath until he swiped the key, opened the door, and stood aside.

“After you,” he murmured.

You stepped inside.

The door shut behind you with a heavy click, muffling the world outside. Inside, everything was quieter. Dim lighting. Soft shadows. Clean lines and dark wood and the faint hum of an air conditioner overhead. A hotel suite—minimal, expensive, impersonal. But he didn’t look out of place in it.

He raked a hand through his damp hair and looked down at himself, letting out a low laugh. “I’m still completely soaked.”

You stepped in closer, already reaching for him. “Good thing I’m here, then.”

He didn’t move as you slid your hands to his chest, fingers brushing over the lapels of his blazer. You pushed it back slowly, the fabric heavy and damp beneath your touch, and eased it off his shoulders, letting it fall onto the arm of a nearby chair.

Then your hands found his tie—dark, saturated, clinging slightly to his collar. You loosened it carefully, your fingers grazing the skin of his throat as you pulled it free. He watched you the whole time, eyes darkening with each movement.

You moved to his shirt next, fingers finding the buttons one by one. Each one you undid revealed a little more skin—warm beneath your touch, slick where the fabric had clung tight. Your knuckles brushed his chest as you worked lower, and his breath caught, just barely.

When the last button came undone, you slid the shirt off his shoulders and let it fall to the floor. His body was lean, solid, damp from the rain—but none of it seemed to bother him. He didn’t say anything, just watched you—eyes dark, mouth parted, chest rising and falling as you skimmed your palms over the planes of his chest, tracing the dip between his collarbones, the slope of his ribs. When your fingers drifted down to the waistband of his trousers, he caught your wrists—not to stop you, but just to still them. To look at you.

“You sure?” he asked, voice low, rough at the edges.

You nodded, eyes steady. “I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.”

That grin curled again, and he leaned in to kiss you.

It started slow—tentative, exploratory. Then his hands came up, one to your cheek, the other to your waist, and he deepened it, pulling you closer with slow, certain intent.

He walked you backwards without breaking the kiss, his mouth warm and sure, and you didn’t realise where he was leading you until the backs of your thighs bumped a low console table. You let him guide you onto it, the wood cool beneath your legs as your dress slid up slightly.

His hands found your waist, gripping just tight enough to make you squirm, and when your fingers tangled in his wet hair, he groaned into your mouth, kissing you harder. One hand cradled your face, thumb brushing your cheekbone, the other slipped between your legs, dragging your dress up higher.

Then—heat.

His fingers brushed the inside of your thigh, stroking up slowly until they pressed over your underwear. You let out a sharp breath, hips canting forward. His mouth found your neck, teeth grazing your skin just enough to make you shiver, and then he was palming you through the thin fabric, fingers firm and teasing.

Your head tipped back against the wall with a soft thud, a quiet, breathy sound leaving your lips.

“Look at me,” he said, voice rough, his mouth hot against your jaw.

You forced your eyes open.

He was already watching you.

And then he slid his fingers under the fabric, just enough to part you, to feel the heat and slick waiting for him. He started slow, stroking between your folds, dragging his fingertips over your clit in soft, maddening circles.

Your thighs trembled, hands fisting in the back of his hair, your breath coming harder now—whimpers you didn’t mean to let out falling freely as he worked you open.

You were close—already. His voice, his mouth, his fingers—

But just when your body began to tighten, when your hips rolled into his touch with desperation, he pulled away.

You gasped. “Austin—”

“Shh,” he murmured, dropping to his knees.

His hands slid up your thighs, slow and reverent, as he tugged your underwear down and off. Then he hooked your legs over his shoulders and leaned in.

The first stroke of his tongue was soft—barely there—but it still made you cry out, your back arching, fingers flying to his hair again. He groaned at the contact, hands gripping your hips tighter, holding you steady as he licked you open, slow and thorough.

He was patient. Methodical. Every flick, every press of his tongue felt intentional—like he was learning you in real time, testing what made you gasp, what made you shudder.

When he focused on your clit, lips wrapping around it with just the right pressure, your head fell back again, legs tightening around him. He moaned against you like he could feel it too, the vibrations shooting straight through you.

Your body was shaking now, breath broken and shallow, and still he didn’t stop—just kept going, kept devouring you like he couldn’t get enough, like this was all he wanted.

Like tasting you was his whole goddamn purpose.

And when your orgasm finally hit—sharp, sudden, flooding every nerve—you didn’t even realise you were crying out his name until your voice cracked around it.

Austin groaned like it was the sound he’d been waiting for all night. He didn’t move at first—just held you there, tongue slow and lazy now, coaxing every last ripple of pleasure from your body until you were trembling beneath him.

Then, finally, he eased back. Kissed the inside of your thigh. Let your legs fall gently from his shoulders.

You blinked down at him, flushed and unsteady, as he straightened up. His lips were slick, jaw tense, eyes dark with something deeper than want. His hands settled on your knees, spreading them wider as he stepped between them.

“Come here,” you whispered, your voice rough, breath catching on the words.

He didn’t make you say it twice.

His mouth was on yours before you could catch your breath, and you tasted yourself on his tongue. He kissed you like he meant it—slow and deep, hungry but still savouring you. You tugged at his belt as he kissed you, fingers fumbling for the buckle. He let you work it open, then helped you push his trousers and boxers down in one rough motion.

And then he was fully bare before you.

You inhaled sharply, eyes dragging down, taking in the sight of him—cock hard and flushed, curved up against his stomach, impossibly perfect.

You met his gaze again.

“Condom?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded, leaning just long enough to grab his wallet from the dresser and produce one. You took it from him, tore it open with steady hands, and rolled it on—slow, careful. His hips tilted into your touch, a soft sound escaping his throat.

Austin stepped back in, kissing you again as he reached down, guiding himself to your entrance. He paused, the tip pressing against you, and his eyes searched yours one last time.

“You sure?” he asked again, voice barely more than a breath.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulled him in. “I’ve never been more sure.”

Then he pushed in—slow, thick, stretching you open inch by inch until you were full to the hilt, your breath catching hard in your throat.

You clung to him, mouth falling open, a broken sound escaping your lips as he bottomed out.

Austin let out a curse against your shoulder. “Fuck… you feel—” He cut himself off, pulled back slightly, and rolled his hips into you again. “So fucking good.”

You couldn’t answer. Could barely think. All you could do was hold on as he started to move—slow at first, deep and deliberate, like he wanted you to feel every inch of him.

And god, you did.

Your head fell back against the wall again, your fingers locked in the damp strands at the base of his neck, hips meeting his with greedy little rolls as the rhythm built. Each thrust sent a jolt through you, your whole body thrumming with the aftershocks of your first orgasm and the climb toward another.

“Austin,” you gasped, nails dragging down his back.

He kissed you hard. “I’ve got you.”

His hands slid under your thighs, lifting you off the console in one smooth motion. You wrapped your arms tighter around his shoulders, breath catching again as he carried you across the room—still inside you, every step a slow, careful press that made your head spin.

He paused beside the bed, holding you there with your bodies still pressed close, and looked down at you with something close to reverence.

“This dress,” he murmured, brushing a hand up your side, over the fabric still clinging to your body. “It needs to go.”

You nodded, heart thudding.

He set you down on your feet, your balance unsteady, hands still resting lightly on his chest. You didn’t look away as he reached for the hem of your dress, dragging it up over your hips, your ribs, then over your head, letting it fall to the floor. The air hit your skin—cool against the heat of you—and his gaze swept over your body with something close to awe.

You stood there, bare before him, the soft light painting every line of you.

Then he guided you back onto the bed, eyes never leaving yours, and followed you down. He climbed over you with slow, deliberate weight—mouth finding yours again as he sank back in with a low, desperate sound.

This time, the angle was deeper. He moved slowly, letting you feel it, letting you adjust.

One hand braced beside your head, the other cupping your breast, thumbing your nipple until you whimpered into his mouth. He groaned at the sound, hips pressing deeper, his tongue dragging against yours with an urgency that bordered on reckless.

“You like that?” he murmured against your lips.

You nodded, breath hitching. “Yes.”

“Yeah,” he muttered, voice thick, like it was costing him to keep his control. “Feels so fucking good.”

His thumb circled again, teasing and insistent, until your back arched and your breath turned ragged. He dropped his forehead to yours, eyes fluttering closed for half a second before he started to move faster—stronger now, like he couldn’t help it.

You met him thrust for thrust, your body tuned to his, every nerve alight and wanting. Everything he gave you—the slow drag of his hips, the warmth of his body pressed tight to yours, the way he said your name like it meant something—had you slipping closer to the edge.

Austin rocked into you harder, each thrust smooth and purposeful, hips meeting yours with that perfect mix of restraint and urgency. His mouth trailed down your jaw, over your neck, until he found the spot just beneath your ear that made you gasp. He stayed there, sucking gently, his breath ragged now against your pulse.

Your legs wrapped tighter around his waist, heels digging into the backs of his thighs. He was everywhere—his weight, his heat, the sound of his voice breaking in your ear. Your body moved with his like it had always known how.

One hand slid between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit, circling with just enough pressure to send a bolt of heat straight through your core.

You cried out, back arching. “Austin—fuck—”

“I know,” he rasped. “I know, baby, you’re close.”

You were. So close it hurt.

His mouth was back on yours, swallowing your moans, his pace relentless now—more erratic, less polished. The edge was close for him too; you could feel it in the way his body tensed above you, the way his rhythm stuttered.

“Look at me,” he said again, voice sharp and pleading this time.

You forced your eyes open, locking onto his.

And came hard.

Your body clamped around him, trembling beneath him, a cry catching in your throat as waves of pleasure surged through you. You barely heard his curse before he followed—hips jerking once, twice, a groan tearing from his chest as he collapsed against you, burying his face in your neck.

The room pulsed with silence after that, broken only by the sound of your breath and the soft thud of your heart against his.

He didn’t move for a long moment—just stayed there, holding himself over you with shaky arms, his chest rising and falling against yours. Then he lifted his head, eyes meeting yours again, lips parted like he wanted to say something but couldn’t quite find the words.

You reached up and brushed your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck.

He exhaled, a soft, almost disbelieving sound. “That was…”

You smiled faintly. “Yeah.”

Austin pressed a kiss to your jaw—soft, lingering—before easing out of you. He moved carefully, like he didn’t want to jar the moment, and rose to his feet. You watched the shift of his body in the low light as he turned away, discarded the condom, and returned a moment later, sliding back under the sheets beside you.

You lay there in silence for a beat, still catching your breath. Then, finally, you shifted to sit up slightly, pulling the sheet with you.

“I should go,” you said quietly. “We’ve both got early starts.”

“Don’t,” he said gently, cutting you off.

You looked over, surprised by the softness in his voice. You expected some cheeky line, maybe an invitation for round two. But it wasn’t that. He wasn’t asking for more sex—though the heat between you still simmered under the surface.

He just didn’t want it to end yet.

And if you were honest with yourself… neither did you.

Austin pulled the covers up around you both, then turned to face you, propped on one elbow. You mirrored him, shifting closer until your knees brushed under the sheets. Your hand drifted to the edge of the duvet, fingers fidgeting slightly—still a little unsteady from everything he’d just done to you.

“This isn’t really my thing,” you said after a moment, voice low. “Sneaking out of premieres with the guy I just interviewed.”

Austin smiled—warm, a little crooked. “Yeah. Me either.”

You raised a brow. “Seriously?”

He nodded. “This kind of thing… the timing never lines up. Or the person isn’t right.”

You hummed, eyes meeting his. “And tonight?”

He reached out, tucking a damp strand of hair behind your ear. “The timing still sucks. But the person’s definitely right.”

You smiled despite yourself.

For a moment, neither of you said anything. The quiet between you was soft now, comfortable. His hand lingered where it had tucked your hair, fingers brushing lightly along your jaw before he let it fall.

Then, almost sheepishly, Austin glanced toward the other side of the room. “I haven’t eaten since before the carpet.”

You blinked, surprised. “Seriously?”

He nodded, lips tugging into something crooked. “Didn’t have time. Got soaked. Got distracted.” His eyes flicked back to yours. “Still distracted.”

You laughed, the sound quiet in your throat. “You want to order something?”

“If you’re hungry,” he said, but the tilt of his voice gave him away—hopeful, a little too quick. Like he didn’t want you to go. Not yet.

You tilted your head, teasing. “What do you usually get after premieres and impromptu hotel sex?”

Austin grinned. “I usually don’t do either.”

That made you laugh again, and this time it lingered. “Okay, fine. What would you order if you did?”

“Fries,” he said instantly, like he’d been waiting for the question. “And something chocolate.”

“Solid choices.”

“I knew you’d approve.”

You sat up, the sheet slipping slightly down your chest, and reached for the room service menu. The air was cool against your skin, but the heat between you hadn’t gone anywhere. Your legs brushed his beneath the covers as you scanned the options.

Austin shifted beside you, propping himself up, his gaze heavy on your face.

You glanced sideways without looking up from the page. “Are you even reading this?”

“Nope.”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile gave you away.

Eventually, the two of you settled on a late-night order that made absolutely no sense—fries, a sandwich neither of you could pronounce, and some kind of molten chocolate cake that Austin insisted was necessary. He called it in, his voice smooth and relaxed on the phone, like this was something the two of you did all the time.

While he ordered, you slid off the bed and padded into the bathroom. You didn’t bother getting dressed—just slipped one of the soft white robes from behind the door around your shoulders, tying it loosely at the waist. You ran a hand through your hair, still a little wild, still damp in places, then caught your own eye in the mirror and shook your head with a quiet, breathless laugh.

When you came back out, Austin was already under the covers again, stretched across the bed like he owned it, one arm behind his head, the other resting lightly over his stomach. His eyes flicked to you the moment you stepped into view.

“That’s a good look,” he said, nodding toward the robe.

You smirked. “Don’t get used to it.”

He chuckled and held up the covers, an invitation. You climbed in beside him, and he tucked them back around you like it was instinct.

And for a while, you just talked.

Not about the film, or the junket, or your job. Not even about the fact that you were in a strange hotel bed with someone you’d only just met.

You talked about everything else.

Music. Books. Childhood stories. The way certain songs made you cry on long flights. The dumbest thing he ever did as a teenager. The cities you’d loved. The places you still wanted to go.

Somewhere between the laughter and the promise of shared fries, he told you about the best view he’d ever seen—from the back of a motorbike in Joshua Tree, the desert washed gold at sunset. You told him about a night drive down the coast with the windows down and no shoes on, the smell of salt and petrol and freedom in your lungs.

At some point, his hand found your knee under the blanket—like it had just landed there. But he didn’t move it after.

The food came. You shuffled upright, propping yourselves against the headboard, the tray between you. You shared everything—swapping bites, comparing favourites, arguing over who got the last fry until he fed it to you with a grin. The chocolate cake was rich, dense, and wildly indulgent. You took turns stealing bites off the same spoon.

You didn’t even notice when the heat crept back in—until it was already there.

The way his hand drifted from your knee to your hip.

The way your leg slid over his, the robe falling open slightly without either of you fixing it. The way your fingers grazed his chest, just resting there… then stroking, slower, softer, testing the beat of his heart beneath your palm.

You looked up at the same time.

The question didn’t need asking.

The kiss came next.

Slower, deeper this time. Less urgency. More weight. The kind of kiss that said I liked the first time… but I’m not done learning you yet.

Austin shifted beneath you, one hand sliding to your hip, the other curling around the back of your thigh as he guided you forward. You let him, knees bracketing his hips as you straddled him, the robe slipping from your shoulders and pooling around your waist before you shrugged it off entirely.

He looked up at you like he still couldn’t believe you were real.

You reached for the packet together, your fingers steady now as you tore it open, rolled it on. His hands never left your body.

And this time—god, this time—it was slower. Deeper. Your body moved with his like you already knew how. He sat back against the pillows, letting you take him in at your own pace, his hands roaming your thighs, your back, everywhere he could reach.

It wasn’t frantic. It was deliberate. Drawn-out. Felt. Every rock of your hips, every sound in your throat, the way he watched you like he never wanted the moment to end.

He kissed you through it. Held you steady. Whispered your name like it meant something.

And when you came again—softer this time, clinging to his shoulders, your mouth pressed against his neck—he followed not long after, breath stuttering, his hands gripping you like he didn’t want to let go.

You stayed there like that for a while. His arms loose around your waist, your cheek resting against his shoulder, your breath still shallow. The room had settled into quiet again, the kind that made everything feel suspended—like time had pulled back to give you a moment before it all started moving again.

Eventually, you shifted just enough to press a kiss to his neck, then leaned back slightly to meet his eyes.

Austin cupped the side of your face, thumb brushing your cheekbone. “You okay?”

You nodded, lips tugging into something small and real. “Yeah. You?”

His smile was soft. “Definitely.”

You climbed off his lap with a quiet, reluctant sigh. He disposed of the condom while you pulled the sheet loosely around yourself and flopped back onto the bed with your hair a mess and your skin still warm. He joined you a moment later, lying on his side, facing you again.

Neither of you said anything for a while. The weight of what had just passed had mellowed into something slower, more grounded. You could still feel it in your limbs, in the places he’d touched you, but the urgency had passed.

Eventually, you spoke—your voice softer now, hesitant. “I should probably…”

He didn’t let you finish.

“Don’t,” he said gently.

You glanced over. “Austin…”

“I know,” he said, already reading it in your tone. “I know you’re not staying overnight. Just—don’t go yet.”

You hesitated, then nodded once. “Okay.”

You pulled the sheet tighter around you and lay back beside him. He reached for your hand this time, tangling your fingers together over the blanket. It felt oddly intimate. Strangely natural.

For a few more minutes, you just breathed in the quiet together.

“I’m glad you came,” he said finally, breaking the silence.

You turned your head toward him, brow raised. “To your hotel, or in general?”

He grinned, unabashed. “Both.”

That made you laugh, and the tension eased again.

Time passed without either of you marking it. The food trays still sat abandoned at the foot of the bed, the chocolate cake forgotten halfway through. Somewhere in the suite, a clock ticked. Somewhere outside, the rain had stopped entirely.

You shifted slowly, the sheets rustling as you sat up. Austin didn’t say anything—just watched you, one arm tucked behind his head, the other resting across the space you were just in. His gaze was soft, unreadable in the low light.

It was late now. Not quite morning, but close enough to feel it coming. You had work in a few hours. He had a full day of press.

You gathered your things slowly, slipping back into your dress, your skin still humming from everything that had happened between these walls. He stayed in bed, propped up, the sheet pooling at his hips.

He didn’t try to stop you this time.

You walked to the door and hesitated, hand on the handle, then turned to look back.

“You’ll be gone after the junket?” you asked.

He nodded once. “Yeah. Early flight the next day.”

You gave a small nod, lips curving faintly. “Well… have a good rest of the trip.”

He held your gaze for a beat. “You too. Take care, alright?”

You didn’t answer. Just stepped back to the bed, leaned in, and kissed him—slow, soft, like a thank you that you didn’t know how else to give.

He kissed you back with the same quiet weight, his hand rising briefly to your hip, grounding you for one last moment.

When you finally pulled away, you smiled. “Bye, Austin.”

“Bye, Y/N.”

Then you turned.

And left.

Taglist:

@thefallofthedamned @saturnsdaughtr @bellesdreamyprofile @butlerrizz @myradiaz @chocolatetree222

[fawnsuga]

Missing Interviews of Columbine

Numerous interviews, particularly those involving key individuals, remain unreleased. Below is a list compiled over the years. Some of these interviews may be embedded within other interviews or found in random sections of the reports, which is common in many cases. This list is not exhaustive; there are potentially hundreds of missing interviews featuring crucial witnesses and figures related to this case.

Robyn Anderson - Page 19

Tim Conner - 911 caller, CD 1, Tape 6, approx. 75:00 - Reported seeing a suspect escaping.

Scott Fuselier - TCM associate and son of Dwayne Fuselier, head of the FBI investigation into Columbine.

Ryan Ezzie - Follow-up: Ezzie observed four shooters at the West entrance (11k, p. 2967); there was no subsequent follow-up.

Alleged Student in the Car with Neil Gardner - Allegedly, an injured student was present in Gardner's car, but the injuries do not correspond with those of known victims, and no one claims to have been in the vehicle.

"Firetruck Boy" - A male student exited the East entrance, was frisked, and placed in the cab of a truck. Dispatch tapes identify this individual as Nathan and suggest he is "one of the bad guys."

Joel Cline and Rob Phye - Reported by Kathy Johnson and Rob Phye (11k, p. 440) as having communicated with Brooks Brown by phone during the shootings, stating that "something big was going to happen, and he did not think those guys were going to come out alive."

Wayne and Kathy Harris - October 1999

Michelle Taylor - Triage nurse

Mrs. Herring - 4th Period Algebra I - Mentioned in Mark Kintgen's interview.

Lt. Monte Fleming - One of three officers who assisted Patrick Ireland.

Ryan Knautson - One of three officers who assisted Patrick Ireland.

Charlie Martinez - One of three officers who assisted Patrick Ireland.

Dr. Pi and Darcy Fisher - Treated Patrick Ireland at the hospital. Other missing interviews include Dr. Prall, a neurosurgeon, and Diane Greenburg, the nurse who provided the officer with the bullet that was removed. Dr. Schraa, assigned to follow-up treatment with Ireland, is also unaccounted for.

Beth Klepper - Had lunch with Patrick Ireland.

15/136 Triaged Individuals

Greg Barnes' Original Interview - Only the follow-up interview is available.

Mark Taylor's Original Interview - Only the follow-up interview is available.

Peggy Dodd's Original Interview - Only the follow-up interview is available.

Gary Talocco's Original Interview - Only the follow-up interview is available.

Rachael Boles - Her mother declined to permit an interview.

Daniel Guon Clem (p. 13083) - Title sheet without an interview; friend of Horst Rossmueller (11k, p. 8977).

Delores LNU (p. 13145) - Had information on Dustin Gorton; no follow-up conducted.

Greg Garnet (p. 13188) - Title sheet without an interview.

Victor Good (p. 17919) - Identified as having important information; lead pursued by CBI agent Jerry Means, yet not referenced in Means' own interviews beginning on p. 8932.

Brian Heritage (p. 13231) - Title sheet without an interview.

Alicia Hewitt (p. 13232) - Title sheet without an interview.

Mona Kali (p. 13264) - Title sheet without an interview.

Jonathan Kings - Possible Bear Creek TCM participant.

Karen Kraeczowski (p. 13290) - Title sheet without an interview.

Eric Kruger (p. 13291) - Title sheet without an interview. However, Arvada PD Detective Walt Parsons interviewed him at CHS (p. 8815).

Aaron Maley - Title sheet without an interview.

Greg Phillips (p. 13435) - Title sheet without an interview.

Lauren Pool (p. 13441) - Title sheet without an interview.

Logan Richins (p. 13465) - Title sheet without an interview.

Joe Schmallmoser - R1 Security Supervisor - Title sheet without an interview.

Tammy Solano-Gonzales (p. 13545) - Title sheet without an interview.

[REDACTED] - Informed his girlfriend about the attack and claimed involvement in making explosives, but there was no follow-up (p. 13556).

Aleeca Thomas (p. 13569) - Title sheet without an interview; reported seeing a trench coat wearer in a tan car.

Carmen Zamora (p. 13650) - Title sheet without an interview.

[tevanbuckley]

some low points from the ry*an g*zman interview because i need you all to feel my pain.

when talking about his celibacy (yes he uses that word): "I haven't entertained any interactions with any other females" — gave me the ick 0/10

uses the phrase "a woman's touch," to explain why women are inherently good at interior decorating(?) and that this skill is how women are able to enrich a successful man's life — side note: at no point do they talk about how men enrich women’s lives.

immediately after this the religious imagery takes a left turn and exits my frame of reference, bc instead of just asking "do you think you still have things to work on?" like a normal person, the host says "I want to know what one Thorn is in your flesh." — someone raised more religious than i was needs to chime in on if this is normal christian doctrine or a sign he might be in a cult. (is it a reference to the thorns in jesus' crown?)

ryan makes a weird comment about how "you've seen civilizations built on [a man in love]" — genuinely idk what the fuck this means — but it leads into a tangent about like, men as providers and how "I would do anything for my women."

"peace is key yeah we got enough problems in the world outside the house and so long as I come back to the house and I get peace," — maybe i'm being pedantic but the way he keeps framing woman as belonging in the home is 🚩🚩🚩🚩

"for the next woman I would have in my life I can see that they navigate their their problems and still offer peace to their men." — again 🚩🚩🚩🚩🚩🚩🚩🚩

surprisingly claims he has been to therapy, which assuming is true, idk it worked.

the host: "women may be fighting internal battles you know kind of themselves do you believe that a woman still fighting those battles are able to still bring peace" — because remember ladies, no matter what you're going through your job is to bring peace to your man's home.

there's some more brief gender essentialist bs where ryan talks about how men "like to fix things," but are bad listeners, and how "problems within women are so specific to women that I wouldn't even try and and say that I have a grasp on them."

then the host randomly asks him if he thinks men need to be financially stable before entering a relationship or if dating a broke guy is a way to "present loyalty."

weirdly ryan actually kind of dodges this question, but ends up suggesting social media is a good place to get "great examples of what does and what doesn't seem to work." in relationships — and no. no it isn't.

oh and then he starts talking about conor mcgregor for some reason? and how it's bad he disrespected his wife by stepping outside their marriage — and i mean sure, although infidelity feels second to the rape accusations??

says it's harder for a woman to come into a man's life when he's already established because "now the man has proven to himself that he never needed a woman." — which, interesting given how later he talks about how women need to stop trying to do the independent woman thing.

he also gets weirdly possessive over his daughter at one point. does the classic "God forbid I find out that man disrespects my little baby." — idk, on the surface he talks about how he wants her to know her value, but it seems like he has a pretty limited view of what that value is.

the host drops lore about how she moved out of her parents house at 14/15 and how she had to "stop thinking like a woman and start thinking also like a man," but stay feminine and "know what a man wants and how to cater to that but also still be soft." — i mean good lord, i don't even know where to start 🤢.

this btw is the preamble to ryan's rant about "independent women."

and god the more i read the more i am deeply concerned about the woman hosting (i saw someone earlier say she's 21). this woman is barely an adult and has so much internalised misogyny, talking about how "us women don't know how to direct our emotions." and "in today's generation a lot of men are deprived of even the small things because a lot of women are takers."

this whole interview is utterly bizarre and i feel like it's taken years off my life. like i said earlier, this isn't a normal podcast he got weird on, this is straight up christian propaganda

[thiccpersonality]

5 Times Bruce Was Protective of His Pups (+2 Times They Were Protective of Him)

1: The Interview

Batman hates a lot of things: mornings, waking up early, the sunlight peaking through his curtains, people-more specifically, Superman-bossing him around (even if that one is a bit hypocritical) and losing (in general) bets, just to name a few. But, another thing is strangers being around his newly adopted pup; Richard, anything and anyone that isn't deemed trustworthy to Bruce is deemed as a threat or kept in his sights as a potential enemy until stated otherwise.

Which is why Batman finds himself feeling antsy as he waits for the signal to be given for him and Superman to exit the backstage area together and onto set.

The omega doesn't even know why he agreed to be shown in public with his pup and Superman, it's just...he couldn't resist the excited little eyes turned his way when Richard heard the Kryptonian suggest doing an interview together. Of course, Bruce knows he should have knew his pup would be excited at the idea of an audience, the boy was a performer and entertainer for Heaven's sake, it's just that he never expected for himself to be so nervous about taking his baby out in public for the first time in awhile that wasn't for dealing with small crimes.

"Robin, make sure to stay under my cape unless stated otherwise, okay?"

The boy pouts at the gentle command, curious as to why his mom is so nervous. "But why? I could perform a lot of cool tricks for them out there. I bet they've never seen a live circus act before!"

Batman sighs fondly at the boy's youthful exuberance, his gloved hand instinctively raising to scent the boy's neck gland before realizing his own wrist is covered and settling for gently ruffling the pup's hair. "I bet so too. But...I would really appreciate it if you stayed under my cape until I tell you to come out-" He pauses at the disbelieving look on Robin's face, sighing softly in response-"What is it? Why do you look like that?"

"Because you aren't planning to let me ever come out, are you?"

At Batman's silence, Robin pouts further, a frustrated little puppy squeak escaping his throat. "See! Why can't I show them my tricks, B? I know they'd love to see me! Do you know how much people talk about Robin in the news? I'd be a hit!"

Batman takes in the boy's excited face carefully, thinking that maybe he's holding the boy back from something that could be good for him, but he knows his worries aren't unfounded. He remembers when he was just a pup, traumatized from witnessing his parents murder and just as bitter and angry as Richard...which is why he's not comfortable with the pup being in the spotlight, the boy seems to have good days where he's excited and happier than ever before; but then, things are too loud, the media that never ceases to leave Bruce Wayne alone too much for the poor boy to handle...and he's just scared that they'll upset his precious child, that maybe all of this spotlight won't be that great in the end, but what is he to do? He gave Alfred a break today and won't bother the alpha to come and watch his pup when the reasons for it most likely aren't even that serious.

A deep, soothing voice, however, interrupts Batman's thoughts.

"C'mon, Batman. Robin seems to be all for it, so why not let him be in the limelight for a few minutes? He knows you'll keep a good eye on him...and I hope you know that I will too?"

Superman gives a calm, reassuring smile down towards the smaller man, hoping that it's as disarming as he's trying to make it. This whole thing with the Bat is still fairly new, and he's even surprised that the man agreed to doing this with him when the other was so...volatile when they first met, but to be fair, Robin wasn't there when they encountered each other. It seems that the pup really has changed Batman in an unimaginable way.

"Of course he knows that-" a quick glance to his pup-"At least I hope he knows that?" Batman is yet again interrupted by his pup tugging at his cape desperately, "Pleeeease! Pretty pleeeeease? I promise I'll make you look good and-and make sure to smile-oh! Wait--I'll make sure to look grumpy to make you look really, reeeeally serious. And I'll stay close by, and I'll-"

"Okay, okay. You can...go...out there. But! You have to stay behind me when we go out first, okay? I'll make sure to introduce you properly before you do anything, they don't even know that you are here with us."

Robin nods enthusiastically and instinctually hides behind the omega at hearing someone approaching their dressing room, a small but audible knock is heard before one of the PA pokes their head in. "U-Uh...Superman, sir. A-And...Batman, sir. I've been told to come and get you guys, it's almost time for you all to h-head on." The poor beta swallows nervously at Batman's blank, white stare being directed his way. He can't see the man's eyes, but he can feel the icy stare piercing his skin almost painfully, luckily enough, Superman steps in front of the Bat with a bright smile. "Of course, thank you! We'll be right on out."

The beta nods quickly before rushing out of the dressing room, leaving the three heroes alone, Robin snickering softly at Batman's attitude.

"Agent A wouldn't appreciate your lack of manners, B. You were supposed to say, 'thank you very much.' You teach me to say please and thank you, but I never hear you say it...unless it's to Al-Agent A." The displeased grumble coming from Batman makes Robin even more amused, "That's because Agent A deserves said pleases and thank you's...most of the time anyway, though sometimes he gets on my nerves giving his opinion when I never asked for it. I'm surprised I haven't fired him ye-" Robin's 'oooh' cuts him off, even if the pup knows this familiar pattern of Bruce "threatening" to fire Alfred or lessen his pay, the child still likes to cause mischief wherever he can. "I'm telling him what you said! And you can't fire him, he's your daddy!"

Batman softens at the pup's words and-yet again-sighs softly, nodding in agreement of the pup's analysis of his and Alfred's relationship, slipping out a one hundred dollar bill for the pup just in case he really does plan on telling Alfred what was said.

"I won't say anything about my lack of manners or any threats to Agent A as long as you don't?"

Robin takes a moment to think about the question in Batman's tone; a mere proposition for him to not say anything, after all, he knows how scary Alfred's wrath can be. And even if it's not anger, you still don't want to be scolded by the older alpha...it makes you feel guilty for any bad things you've done, however, it's just that: a proposition, a mere suggestion for Robin to decide if he wants to go along with Batman's request or not, and while he may not be business savvy, he's not an idiot and immediately snatches the money and slips it into his own utility belt. "What are you talking about, B?"

The omega smiles down proudly at his pup and the genuine look of innocence written all over the pup's face, "That's my boy-"

Superman clears his throat to get the two Gothamites attention, holding the dressing room door open for the two when they look his way. "We have an interview to show up to...and I don't think we should make them wait any longer, it'd be rude-"

"But Batman isn't rude. He has the greatest manners ever, very nice."

Superman looks amused at Robin keeping up his act, eyeing the boy suspiciously as Batman leads them out the door. "You sure about that? Your answer wasn't swayed by...perhaps, a one hundred dollar bill?"

A small, offended gasp escapes the pup who decided to hide under the black cape anyway. "I don't take bribes, Superman, only cash or credit." The Super snorts at the young boy, not bothering to correct him on how that's what a bribe usually entails is money, instead, choosing to superspeed his way in front of Batman. "Do you want me to head out first? I...know how uncomfortable taking Robin out made you? So, maybe seeing me first might be for the best."

Batman wants to bristle at the taller pointing out his vulnerability...but he's too busy trying to ignore the flutter of his heart at the alpha's thoughtfulness.

"Mm. Fine."

————°————

The directed applause dies down as they come back from a commercial break, the interviewer/talkshow host smiling brightly for the camera. "For the first time in the history of ever we have two very special guests coming out for us today-and I don't mean gay-" the audience erupts into cued laughter-"One is the Golden Child of Metropolis, Superman, who is used to being in the spotlight and having annoying folks like myself poking and prodding at him. Let's give the champion of Krypton a big, but not too big, round of applause! He's still from Metropolis folks."

The crowd gives a more genuine round of applause and laughter this time around, the Gothamites curiously watching the super powered alien exit from the back with watchful eyes, one audience member shouting how they think Gotham Knights is still a better baseball team than whatever forgettable team Metropolis has.

Superman has to hold back from replying about how if his team is so " forgettable", then why did the Gotham Knights lose the World Series two times to them. It really shouldn't bother the Kryptonian as much as it does...but he loves baseball, so sue him for being passionate about it. Instead, he offers the host a thankful smile for having him in Gotham, the woman feeling as though she has to squint to properly look at the alpha. "How is anyone this happy in the morning? I'll never know, but thank you for agreeing to come to Gotham for this interview, Superman."

She pauses as the crowd claps again, her excitement-and nerves-growing at who she has to introduce next.

"Next is someone who I have great respect for and am extremely proud to introduce. This man-or I should say-Bat, is an enigma; a legend and seemingly myth to all who have heard of his great, seemingly impossible, feats. I am very happy-" and nervous goes unsaid-"to introduce our Dark Knight of Gotham, Batman!"

The crowd grows deathly silent as the Bat steps out onto set, the mood changing to one of slight unease and stunned awe as the man's beloved people witness his cape dramatically fanning out on the ground around him like some sort of Gothic wedding train. His stance tall and confident; commanding, as he keeps his eyes trained on the now stupefied TV hostess, each step eerily silent yet so loud to the people watching him walk forward as if he owns the place. The silence deafening as everyone takes a moment to process that the Batman is actually here, "U-Uh, you may seat-I mean, take a seat...i-if you want Batman, you don't need to if you don't...want...to."

The woman messes with her already neat hair nervously, turning to smile at the audience and camera to the best of her abilities. "Uh...a round of applause, please?" It takes a few more seconds before everyone reclaims the basics of their fine motor skills and burst into loud applauses and whistles. 

Batman does his best not to growl at the audience, they aren't doing anything wrong...just being loud and making his protective instincts flair, but he knows it's not them.

It takes everything in the omega to not clear his throat before speaking, if he does, that would most likely be a sign that he is nervous...and just in case any enemies are watching, he can't let them see he's weak, especially with a pup around. He ignores the woman's curious and slightly worried looks as to why he hasn't taken his seat yet, and turns to the audience and camera crew. "Before we begin, I have someone else you should be pleased to meet-" everyone's eyes are immediately drawn towards the small, vibrating lump underneath his cape-"Batman can't go anywhere without his partner, so you better show your appreciation at the new vigilante, Robin."

Everyone in the crowd gasps quietly and excitedly at the small pup that rushes out of the cape and performs a series of difficult flips and tumbles before landing perfectly and bowing.

Robin keeps his head bowed as the crowd cheers loudly and coos at him, rubbing at his chest at the random prickly feeling in it from the noise, before sitting up and smiling cutely. "Thank you! Thank you!" The crowd genuinely giggles at the cute display, no one daring to show the usual Gotham grumpiness towards the Bat's pup.

Batman finally takes his seat next to Superman, the alpha nodding at him proudly for not getting defensive while the omega does everything to ignore that stupid flutter in his stomach from that godforsaken smile.

"O-Oh, wow! This was something completely unexpected, but absolutely welcomed! Another round of applause for our guest heroes on: Shut Up! And Spill That Tea." The hostess relaxes somewhat at the sight of the pup, she admits that the boy is a breath of fresh air in the usual smog of Gotham...and the feeling of the studio, because while Superman is a way friendlier presence than Batman, he still is intimidating in his own way. She finds herself softening at the sight of the pup skipping up to Batman and crawling up onto the alpha's lap, "Thank you for gracing us with your presence, Robin. It's very nice to be able to meet such an adorable new face."

The boy smiles at the hostess and waves at her seemingly bashfully while his other hand holds his cheek. "You flatter me, Veronica-I mean, Ms. Veronica. I love your show." Her eyes widen at the fact that the pup watches her program, "Oh...thank you! I didn't know that you watched my show? How do you have time for that with all this crime fighting?" Veronica glances up at Batman to gauge his reaction to her question, sighing softly in relief at his attention placed carefully onto his pup.

Robin pouts at the question, his arms crossing to show his displeasure. "I'm not allowed out every night. B and Agent A say that growing pups need as much rest as possible...even though I try to tell them that I'm old enough to stay up late."

The crowd 'oooh's' and 'ahhh's' at his confession, Veronica perking up at the sudden mention of another name. "I have to say that I agree, you still need your sleep to grow just as strong as Batman. And I'm sure this...Agent A is a good man too if he's working with you both, if I may ask, who is this mysterious agent?" Robin pauses at that, worrying he maybe revealed too much and glances up at Batman quickly to see if he messed up, relaxing into the other when he looks normal enough. "He's a mysterious agent as you said. But back to how I watch your show! I enjoy waking up every morning and watching it! Because B only allows me to fight petty crimes on weekends, I have to get my drama fix every other day."

Even though the boy completely avoided her question, Veronica can't find it in herself to be annoyed like how she'd usually be if anyone else tried it.

"I appreciate you for tuning in! What makes you enjoy my brand of tea spills compared to other shows?"

Robin's smile is mischievous, "I enjoy how you don't hesitate to give your opinion. You aren't a suck up like most other TV hosts when they speak on a topic, and while you talk about things that may or may not be true, you keep it real in your opinion without also being overly cruel."

Veronica makes an impressed noise at how clearly the boy speaks, of course he's still a child...but definitely better spoken than most children she runs into. "Now who's the flatterer-" she smiles and looks at the camera for a minute-"Listen up, folks! This is something completely new and different for a show like this, as many of my viewers know, we talk gossip and scandals here a lot. But, as we are dealing with two men who could easily crush me if I ask the wrong questions, we will go a different route today and just stick with regular schmegular interview questions with...maybe slightly juicier questions thrown in, at least with Superman anyhow."

Veronica turns back towards the two older heroes, her eyes trying not to linger on Batman too long in fear he'll snip at her for admiring his physique a little too closely.

"Alrighty, so, you two have made headlines about a year or two ago with the announcement that Superman was in Gotham. Even better, was the lucky bastard who captured you two together on a rooftop, though some eye witnesses say our Dark Knight wasn't all too welcoming. I-as I'm sure everyone else-would love to know how you two first met and what caused Superman to bother stepping foot in Gotham?"

She leans in expectantly, expecting Superman to cooperate first and easiest.

"Well...If I'm allowed to say this? That wasn't the first time Batman and I met, we met a year prior in Metropolis when he was investigating a crime that involved both Lex Luthor and The Joker. That instance was the first time we were actually captured together, however, and...yeah, Batman wasn't so welcoming of me being here."

Veronica eyes the Kryptonian like a predator with its prey as he keeps drifting his eyes over to look at Batman, the excitement bubbling in her stomach at the almost reverential look the alpha wears on his face. Humming in response to his words, "And how exactly have you come to this point of doing an interview together? No one can get their hands on the Bat...not unless you are as stupid enough to try it like the Rogue Gallery, but I guess Superman can use his powers in many ways, right everyone?"

The audience whoops and wolf whistles at the implications of her words, the Super flushing under the attention and because he would love to use his powers in such a way towards the Bat. 

"Superman isn't as stupid as he appears, Veronica. He'd be a fool to try touching me."

Everyone grows silent again at the Bat talking, a shiver running down everyone's spine at the soothing, yet bone shaking, silky deepness of the man's voice.

Superman's eyebrows twitch at the way the other man says it...he...technically did touch the Bat when he pushed him into the wall with his superspeed, but the man pulled out his greatest weakness in retaliation. However, he still got to touch the Batman! Veronica licks her lips in excitement at the Bat actually participating and saying something, "Of course! So I take that to mean, he has never tried being forceful with you?" It's Robin that responds this time, his voice innocently confused. "Why would they fight? They're friends."

The set descends into a silent chaos as the audience starts whispering about what was just said, Veronica turning her sights back to the pup, deciding she'll try to suck as much information out of him (in a nice way) as possible, because the boy obviously has all the tea to spill.

He's her strongest weapon right now.

"Oh? They are friends, are they?"

Robin nods absentmindedly while crawling around all over Batman, playfully biting the Bat-ears and tugging as he usually does whenever he's near the omega's head.

"Yeah! B came down today because I overheard Superman asking him if he wanted to do this. Batman said no, but I was super excited at the thought of-" Robin yips at Batman's gloved hands gently grabbing his scruff warningly, not enough to hurt obviously, but to get the excited pup to calm down and stop him from saying anything more. Right...he almost exposed how he was excited to see an audience again, that could cause possible questions to anyone listening extremely closely as to who his civilian identity is. "B-eeee..."

Everyone watches as the pup is gently reprimanded, the boy puffing his cheeks out and snuggling up to the Bat immediately after the punishment, his apologetic puppy squeaks filling the room.

Batman huffs fondly at the boy, ignoring the urge to nuzzle into the boy's neck and gently rubbing his back instead. "He heard us talking and begged me to come on this show. I only came because he likes it so much." Veronica swallows nervously at the man looking at her but nods, "T-That's very sweet of you to do this for Robin. Uh...we have to go on a commercial break, but we'll be right back with more hot topics for these three heroes."

Veronica slumps in her seat as soon as they go to commercial, scrubbing a hand carefully down her face and sighing loudly as the pressure slightly lifts from her shoulders.

Her honey brown eyes eye the trio curiously, watching as the pup is given consolation snacks, her manicured nails tapping unconsciously on her desk as she wonders what the boy was about to say and how she can pull more juicy stuff out of the pup without scaring him off. She enjoys juicy gossip as much as any other drama leech, but she doesn't like to make innocent pups cry, especially not Batman's pup.

Veronica closes her eyes as the makeup artist touches up her face with a powder so she doesn't look so greasy, it's not her fault she was starting to sweat under the intimidating glare of Batman.

The shocked gasp escaping from her makeup artist startles the TV hostess out from her thoughts, her mouth hanging open stupidly at the Bat standing in front of her desk. "Robin was looking forward to performing." Veronica is frozen in place at the command in his tone, as though he expects her to open up a spot for the pup to perform. "O-Oh...I was...supposed to ask questions-"

"Your questions are stupid-"

"Batman!"

Superman zips over to the man, his gaze apologetic towards Veronica for the other's rudeness. "I'm sorry about him, it seems he forgot the conversation he had with Robin about manners."

"What conversation?"

Robin speaks up from around his lollipop, looking between Superman and Veronica curiously. "I don't remember that? I do know I mentioned something about B being suuuuper duuuuper polite and well-mannered." The boy turns fully towards the intimidated and fascinated woman, "Can I pretty please do some tricks for you all? I promise you've never seen anyone perform quite like I have! That's why I came today, B said that I would be able to do something."

Batman grumbles, "I never said that."

Veronica looks between the Bat and his pup before conceding to the puppy eyes she knows the boy is making at her.

"Alright, alright, kid. No need to look at me like that. I'm sure we can open up a spot for you as soon as we come back on air, m'kay?" Veronica straightens out her suit jacket as everyone rushes back into place, her lips twitching up in amusement as Batman quietly tells Robin he can't perform with a lollipop in his mouth, her perfectly trained smile returning as the last commercial plays. "I know that we are getting off of our usual schedule, but it seems that Robin would like to perform some lovely tricks for us today. So if we could give him a warm round of applause as he takes the spotlight to let him know how eager we are to see his special tricks he's learned from Batman himself."

Veronica is thankful for the sound crew in this moment and how they don't bother showing irritation if they have any, but choose to play a song for Robin to do his flips to, the crowd clapping along as the music starts and the boy performs on the open floor.

Robin gives a beaming smile as he begins, reveling in the cheers and aww's he receives anytime he does something particularly cool. It feels as though it's been forever since he's done something like this, even though he knows deep down it probably hasn't been horribly long, it feels...freeing to pull stunts like this once more for an exuberant audience, yet also intimidating, he tries his best to push on despite that prickly feeling appearing again in his chest.

His mind flashes back to that horrible night as his body soars through the air, the anxious feeling spreading through him the more he thinks about it.

That fateful night started just like this too, didn't it?

Robin remembers how excited he was to witness his parents perform, recalls how enthusiastic he was to do his own little show, a-and the audience were just as loud and excited as he was too. Their claps and screams filling his ears as he flipped across the stage...yet unlike then, he feels himself falling-falling-falling--

Everyone gasps as Robin lands awkwardly and falls down with a loud cry, everyone's worried murmurs sounding too loud for the pup's sensitive ears, his hands lifting to cover them in hopes he can't hear the horrified shouts of the audience. A dangerous snarl is heard from Batman towards the camera crew and how they focus on Robin, one of them having the audacity to zoom in on the boy's reaction. "Turn the cameras off, now!" Veronica flinches at the command and waves frantically at her crew, disappointment in her gaze towards the one camera man for his carelessness towards the pup.

Luckily the cameras cut off to a commercial break as Robin shouts, "M-Mommy! Daddy!" The mood tense as the pup reaches out to people who aren't even there, "M-Mama!"

Everyone is too stunned to notice how Batman reacts to the last call, a snarl ripping through his throat at the people watching his son like some spectacle as he quickly gathers the puppy into his arms, securely tucking him away under his cape before gliding off set with his trembling bundle.

Superman can't help his own protective glare directed towards the one specific cameraman before super speeding to the dressing room where he can hear Robin struggling to breathe properly, standing guard outside to make sure no one approaches them and keeping his ear out for the two. "C'mon puppy, breathe with me-" a loud whimper from the boy as Batman shushes him-"I know it's hard to, but mama is right here, it's going to be okay--"

Superman's eyes widen at that and he chooses to stop listening in, standing taller with a warning growl as one of the crew passes by.

"You aren't at the circus, baby. You are right here, on the set of Shut Up! And Spill That Tea, your favorite show, yeah? Can you feel my arms around you?" Batman waits for Robin's slow nod, the omega looking around cautiously before taking off his mask to nuzzle the pup, "That's very good. You are doing so well, honey, but I'm still concerned about your breathing. Just...come here-" he gently turns the boy's head so that his ear is resting on his chest-"Listen to my heartbeat and just follow it as best you can. I'm going to count to five when we inhale and count eight with exhaling, okay? Follow along as best you can."

Robin whimpers, his heartbeat too loud in his own ears, yet warring with the calming, steady sound of Bruce's own.

"One. Two. Three. Four. Five-" Bruce's voice washes over Richard like calming, gently swaying waters, the pup clinging onto the older man's voice like a lifeline as he slowly starts to breathe normally.

Batman, after a couple minutes of repeating the patterns, ends with his own relieved exhale at the pup's breathing evening out into something normal. "Richard..." His voice croons softly to the child at the tears wetting his suit, "Are you okay?" The boy sniffles and nuzzles into Bruce's neck, sniffling the soft and spicy scent of the omega. "I-I'm sorry, mama. I-I couldn't-you were right! I couldn't handle it a-and I made you look-" he's cut off at the hands that gently grab at his tear stained cheeks.

"Don't even finish that sentence. It's not about how you made me look, I already know how I look, and that's fine with me. This is about you and how you are holding up now...you know I understand what you're going through, don't you?" Richard softens at the reminder that Bruce truly does know how he feels, nodding his head gently as he slumps against his mom. 

"Do I...do I have to go back out there?"

Bruce growls protectively, hugging the boy closely, flashbacks of the media bombarding and overwhelming him when he was this age coming to the forefront of his mind. "Never! You never have to be seen by them if you don't want to. Only when you are ready to."

Robin nods softly, the weight of his stress making him sleepy as he rests his head against Bruce's shoulder, his ears twitching at the sound of Batman's communicator chiming, watching sleepily as the omega slips his mask back on and answers. "Alfred says he's on his way back home with ingredients for some chicken noodle soup, if that sounds pleasing to you?"

Robin hums softly with a small smile on his face, nodding and nuzzling into the man as he clears out their scents from the room before exiting the door.

Superman slumps in relief at seeing Robin look a lot less shaken than before, though there's still some lingering shakiness from the sudden flashback. "Is he okay?" Batman tightens his hold on Robin, his hand gently rubbing up and down the pup's back. "Yes. He's going to be fine, Superman-" the omega curses the unwanted warmth he feels at the alpha showing concern for his pup-"We...have to go though, he's not going back out there after that. I'm so-"

The Kryptonian waves off the apology, "Don't even say that, please. I've never heard you apologize for anything before...and I definitely don't want it to be for something like this-" the alpha looks away nervously, wanting to ask so many questions about what he heard the other man say to Robin, but deciding against it as now's not the time-"U-Um...can I give you both a lift home? My cape will keep you both warm and cozy on the trip to...wherever it is you go to." Batman bounces his child higher, adjusting his hold on the boy as he eyes Superman wearily for the offer, softening slightly at realizing it was just a genuine offer. "No, I have my own ride. Batmobile, remember?"

"Oh! Right...right."

The two heroes stand there awkwardly, the soft sound of Robin's snores managing to cut through the tense air as the alpha and omega focus on the boy.

"I should--You should get him home." 

They pause to stare at each other for speaking at the same time, Batman nodding his head in thanks for Superman's understanding as he heads to the exit, his mouth opening slightly in surprise as the Super holds the door open for him.

"Your hands are full."

With a small hum, Batman exits the building, squinting instinctively at the rare show of sunlight shining down through Gotham's sky, the Batmobile's roof sliding open as he nears it. The omega gently settles the pup into his seat while Superman keeps an eye out for any gossip hungry media, heading over to the driver's side after buckling the child up and hesitating before hopping in, his tone uncharacteristically soft as he addresses the alpha, "Thank you."

Superman feels his heart beat furiously in his chest at the gently whispered words, watching the Batmobile race off before turning his eyes up to the bright sky and smiling, remembering exactly why he's so fond of mornings.

(This is taken from my AO3 account here: Thicc_Personality I just thought I'd cross post it here too as I haven't posted anything in a bit 😂. I hope this is enjoyable to someone? You darlings please stay safe, happy, healthy and of course lovely as always. 💛

P.S. Here are the links to—Part 2: The Gala, Part 3: The Search and Part 4: The Girls)

[scoupsakakitty]

Seonghwa friends to lovers?

Beneath the Stars | idol!seonghwa x Reader | fluff

It had been a long, exhausting day for the members of Ateez. They had just wrapped up a hectic round of promotions, interviews, and rehearsals, all while preparing for their upcoming tour. The members were scattered across the dorm, some settling down to rest, others still bustling around, trying to keep themselves occupied after such a grueling day. But Seonghwa couldn’t shake the exhaustion that weighed heavily on him.

It wasn’t just the physical fatigue — it was the mental exhaustion, the constant pressure to keep up appearances, and the quiet longing for something more. His gaze kept drifting to the small window in the living room, where the first flakes of snow began to fall from the dark sky.

Y/N, who had been one of his closest friends since trainee days, noticed his far-off expression. She stood by the doorway for a moment, watching him, unsure whether to leave him be or to approach. They had always been comfortable with silence around each other, but this felt different. She could tell something was on his mind.

Seonghwa looked up, catching her gaze. “I was thinking about taking a walk. Want to join me?” he asked, his voice soft but inviting.

Y/N smiled. “Of course, I could use a bit of fresh air.” The thought of walking through the snow with him, just the two of them, sounded perfect.

She grabbed her jacket, and Seonghwa pulled on his own. The two of them exited the dorm quietly, the cold night air hitting them immediately as they stepped into the street. The snow had begun to cover the ground, turning the world into a soft, white wonderland. The city lights reflected off the snowflakes, creating a magical atmosphere.

“First snow,” Y/N said with a small laugh, her breath visible in the cold air.

Seonghwa glanced at her, a soft smile playing on his lips. “It’s beautiful. It feels like everything is finally slowing down for a moment.”

They walked side by side, the silence between them peaceful rather than awkward. Y/N felt her body relax as the crisp air filled her lungs. It was the kind of moment she had always dreamed of — no cameras, no expectations, just the two of them, enjoying the simplicity of the night.

As they strolled through the empty streets, Y/N found herself sneaking glances at Seonghwa. He looked good in the cold, his sharp features softened by the gentle snowfall. His hands were stuffed in his pockets, but she could still see the occasional glint in his eyes as he looked up at the sky, lost in thought.

“You know,” Y/N began, breaking the silence, “I’ve always wanted to support you guys on tour. I know I’m not part of the group, but I could come along and help with whatever you need — behind the scenes stuff, anything.”

Seonghwa turned his head to look at her, his eyes lighting up slightly at the suggestion. “You’d want to do that?” he asked, a little surprised but pleased.

Y/N shrugged. “Of course. I mean, you’ve been my friend for so long, and I’ve always wanted to be there for you. Plus, I think it would be fun. I’ve never been on tour with you guys before.”

Seonghwa smiled, warmth spreading through his chest at her words. “That would be amazing. You’re always welcome, Y/N. I’d love to have you there.” He glanced over at her with a teasing smirk. “Just don’t make me look bad in front of the fans, okay?”

Y/N laughed, nudging him lightly with her shoulder. “I’ll do my best to keep your reputation intact, don’t worry.”

The two of them continued to walk, the playful banter easing the tension that had built up over the past few weeks. It had been a while since they had just hung out like this, without any distractions or pressures from the world around them.

As they passed under a streetlight, Y/N pulled out her phone. “Wait, hold on. Let me get a picture of you,” she said, pointing her camera at Seonghwa.

Seonghwa raised an eyebrow. “A picture of me? At this hour? Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

Y/N grinned mischievously. “You look good in the snow, Seonghwa. It’s the first snow of the year — I’m capturing the moment.”

Seonghwa rolled his eyes but obliged, standing still and letting Y/N snap a few pictures. The snow was falling more heavily now, and the soft light from the streetlamp cast a warm glow over his face. Y/N couldn’t help but notice how handsome he looked, standing there with the snowflakes catching in his hair, the quiet smile he wore, and the way his eyes shone in the dim light. She quickly snapped another picture, this one with him laughing at something she had said, his expression relaxed and carefree.

“This one’s perfect,” she said as she reviewed the shot.

Seonghwa leaned over to look at it, his gaze lingering on her face for a moment. “You’re always so good with the camera, Y/N. Maybe you should come on tour as our photographer too.”

She smiled, tucking her phone away. “I’m more than happy to do whatever you need. I’m just glad to be part of this.”

They walked a little farther in silence, the cold wind picking up, but neither of them felt the need to rush back to the warmth of the dorm. Instead, they wandered aimlessly, each lost in their thoughts, enjoying the peaceful quiet of the snowy evening.

“I’m really looking forward to the tour,” Seonghwa said quietly, breaking the silence once again. “But, you know, it’s going to be hard being away from everyone for so long.”

Y/N nodded. “I get that. It’s going to be tough for all of you. But I’m sure it’ll be amazing. You’ve worked so hard for this.”

He smiled at her, his gaze softening. “Yeah… but I’m glad to have you around, Y/N. Even if you’re not officially part of the group, you’re always there for us. It means a lot.”

Y/N felt her heart flutter at his words, but she kept her expression neutral, not wanting to let on how much his support meant to her. They had been friends for years, but moments like this always made her wonder if it could be something more. She glanced up at the sky, trying to focus on the falling snowflakes rather than the quiet tension that lingered between them.

“Thanks, Seonghwa,” she said after a moment. “I’ll always be here for you. I mean it.”

They stopped walking, standing in the middle of the street with the snow falling gently around them. Seonghwa turned to face her, his eyes searching hers. “Y/N…”

She looked up at him, feeling her heart race as he took a step closer. The world around them seemed to slow, the only sound the soft whisper of the wind and the delicate sound of snowflakes landing on the ground.

“I… I’m glad you’re here,” Seonghwa said, his voice low but sincere.

Y/N felt her breath catch in her throat, her pulse quickening as she realized how close they were. There was a moment of stillness, an almost electric tension in the air. And then, without thinking, she reached out, lightly hooking her arm through his, pulling herself closer as they resumed walking.

Seonghwa’s heart skipped a beat, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he adjusted his stride to match hers, their arms brushing gently. Neither of them spoke for a while, the silence between them comfortable, yet filled with something unspoken.

They walked under the stars, with the snow continuing to fall around them. The moment felt timeless, like something out of a dream. And in that moment, with their hands brushing, with their hearts both racing, it was as if everything had finally fallen into place.

As they reached the end of the street, Y/N stopped and looked up at him. “I’m really glad we did this. I needed it,” she said softly, her gaze meeting his.

Seonghwa smiled, his eyes full of warmth. “Me too.”

Then, in a sudden, gentle motion, he leaned forward, his lips brushing against hers in a soft, tender kiss. The first kiss — not rushed, not forced, but as natural as breathing. It felt like everything had led to this moment, as if they were always meant to share this quiet, beautiful moment together.

When they pulled away, their foreheads resting against each other, neither of them spoke for a long time. The snow continued to fall, the stars twinkling above them, and for once, everything felt right.

[closerstars]

small favors

mingyu x oc reader

fluff, friends to lovers

note: this is purely self-indulgent because i have a big fat ass crush on mingyu. havent got the time to proofread and fancify everything but pls enjoy!!!

—

"This is my third glass already. If that girl in the red dress doesn't stick around, I'm tapping out," you sigh, your face resting on your hand while the other holds onto your margarita. Mingyu had come up with the plan for you both to team up and help Wonwoo find a date at Seungcheol’s sister’s wedding party, and you had readily agreed.

You've known Wonwoo since childhood, introduced by his mom at the playground, and you've been the best of friends since then. Mingyu joined your circle in high school, and the three of you have been inseparable ever since.

"Hang in there. I think the girl in red might be the one. They’ve been chatting for a good ten minutes now," Mingyu remarks, checking his watch.

"Yeah? Let's see," you reply skeptically.

"Such a pessimist. Remember, she's your candidate," Mingyu teases.

"I don't know, I just don't see Wonwoo fully engaged in the conversation. She had that charm when I talked to her," you admit, though it's hard to tell from three tables away whether Wonwoo's truly interested or just politely listening.

As you both observe, Soonyoung joins in with his drink. "What are you both up to now?" he asks, following your gaze to Wonwoo and the girl in the red dress, looking at you and Mingyu with a confused expression.

Turning to Soonyoung, you ask, "Soonyoung, what do you think? Will the girl in the red dress be able to break through Wonwoo's defenses?"

He takes a sip and frowns at the aftertaste. "How come you never set me up? We're friends too, you know, both of you."

"Just answer the question," you roll your eyes.

Soonyoung takes another look at Wonwoo and the girl in the red dress. "I think she might," he finally answers, earning a nod of agreement from you.

"Hey, look! They're laughing!" Mingyu giggles at the sight of Wonwoo saying something that earns a laugh from the girl.

"Oh my god," you gush with Mingyu. "She just handed him her phone."

You playfully slap Mingyu’s arm. "Dude, they're exchanging numbers!"

Both matchmakers celebrate with high fives until the girl in the red dress exits their view and waves goodbye to Wonwoo.

"Wait, where's she going? Is she heading home already?" you wonder aloud, checking the time on your phone. When you look back up, the girl in the red dress passes by your table and greets you with a nod, saying, "Nice to meet you again, Y/N. Gotta go."

Wonwoo follows after her, approaching your table. As he sets his drink down, you immediately ask, “So?”

Wonwoo takes a sip of his drink. “She was alright,” he says nonchalantly, earning a disappointed expression from you, which he finds amusing.

"What do you mean she was alright?" Mingyu prompts.

"Well…" Wonwoo tilts his head, trying to recall the details. "She’s a photographer. So that’s a good start."

Impatient with his lack of detail, you sigh. Typical Wonwoo, a man of few words. "Okay. And?"

Wonwoo takes another sip. “She suggested I visit her photo exhibit sometime. So she gave me her Instagram page and I gave her mine too.”

Realizing your mission was a success, you grasp Mingyu's shoulder. Mingyu raises his glass, proposing a toast among the four of you.

"I'm so happy right now, I need another glass," you giggle, taking a sip of your margarita.

“Okay. Wonwoo’s got a date. How about me?” Soonyoung pouts, making you laugh. You then ask Mingyu to switch seats so you can play matchmaker with Soonyoung this time.

As you're in the middle of interviewing Soonyoung and scanning the crowd with him to find someone he’d want to talk to, Dami, Seungcheol’s sister in lawapproaches and grabs your arm, pulling you to her.

“Y/N! I have someone you should meet!”

With wide eyes, you look at your tablemates and mouth "Help," but they only laugh at you.

“Bye!” Wonwoo teases, waving to you.

Meanwhile, the three guys left at the table continue drinking and talking over the jazz music playing in the background. Mingyu notices you at a table with Seungcheol as Dami walks through the crowd with her arm looped around some guy in a tux.

He figures maybe this is the guy Dami wanted to introduce you to. Guess they aren’t the only ones playing matchmaker that night.

Wonwoo notices his best friend looking intently from afar. He turns his head back to see you shaking hands with a handsome stranger. Mingyu’s eyes start to wander, trying to distract himself from the hint of jealousy he was feeling

“When is the DJ set going to start? I am so bored,” Soonyoung pouts as he scrolls through his phone, then gets nudged by Wonwoo, directing his attention to you observing something from a distance.

Soonyoung couldn’t help but tease. “Oh wow, Dami’s got good taste. I’d like to see how Y/N would play the game tonight.”

“What?” Mingyu snaps out of it and pretends not to hear.

“Good luck stealing her back, man. Just letting you know I’m always Team Mingyu.” Soonyoung pats Mingyu's back, gripping his drink and takes off.

Wonwoo then slides closer to Mingyu. “You know you’ve always had the advantage, right?”

Mingyu looks at him, confused. “Advantage? What are you talking about?” Mingyu knows what his best friend was talking about. Wonwoo is direct, but this conversation feels different. They've never discussed about him and Y/N before.

“Oh, come on, Mingyu. I've noticed the way you look at her lately. If you like her, just tell her and let it happen the way its fated to happen,” Wonwoo says, taking a sip of his drink, as though confessing to Y/N were as simple as ordering another round.

If telling Y/N what he felt was that easy for him and her, he could’ve done it sooner. But no. He wanted to be sure. He wanted to be sure that this wasn’t just some sort of crush.

“Okay, let's calm down,” he chuckles nervously. “I’m just taking my time, hyung. And I also want to give her all the time and space she needs if…” he pauses. “… if she ever feels the same way.” He adds hastily, gulping down the rest of his drink. “This stuff is good. I need more.”

Conveniently, Seungcheol appears out of nowhere with two glasses in hand, setting them down their table. “I thought you might need another round,” he says, chuckling softly.

Mingyu thanks him, but before he can even grab his drink, you swoop in and snatch it from his hand, leaving the three of them surprised.

“Thanks,” you say, taking a sip and letting out a relieved sigh. You hadn't expected to meet one of your biggest radio DJ crushes, Joshua, at a wedding party. As the brief conversation with him ends, you hurriedly excuse yourself from Seungmi, feeling your face grow warmer by the second.

As you return to your table, Cheol gives Mingyu a teasing glance while sipping on his drink. “Y/N's pretty cute when she's flustered.”

“Oh shut up.” You playfully roll your eyes and then offered to get Mingyu a new glass which you did.

As you stepped away, Wonwoo chuckles at Cheol’s comment, earning an eye roll from Mingyu. “This is so annoying.”

“Why are you annoyed? Oh, I see. You know I heard that Joshua invited her to visit him at the radio booth sometime.” Cheol prods.

“She'll probably be too busy to go,” Mingyu counters.

“How would you know? Are you her manager?”

“What if I am?” Mingyu retorts, trying to play it cool.

They stop abruptly when you came back with a new drink in hand and gave it to Mingyu. “Gentlemen. I am back. Here’s your drink, sir.”

“So how’d it go meeting one of your celebrity crushes?” Wonwoo asks. He wanted to see how his bestfriend will react.

“Oh. Pfft. Yeah I think I played it real cool. Did I?” You turn to Seungcheol for affirmation but he laughs at you instead.

“You were good. Charming at least.” He winks at you and you mouthed a ‘thank you’ You then proceeded to rambling about Joshua’s radio show Sunday Mornings aired every Sunday morning.

“So annoying.” Mingyu mutters as he side eyes Seungcheol.

Wonwoo tries to hold in a laugh, covering his mouth with his drink. Mingyu takes another big sip from his drink thinking this was going to be a long night for him.

—

The tension Mingyu was feeling inside eases off as the night progressed. He has the alcohol to thank for that as well as when the dj finally starts his set for the after-after party.

You, however, was on a high and was extra loud for the night. Never in your life would you think you’d have the energy to goof around and match Soonyoung’s on the dancefloor considering that you weren’t that good of a dancer.

With your confidence at its peak you even pulled the bride to dance with you twirled her over to her now husband. The warmth and joy you felt was incomparable as you watched the newly weds dance and then seal everything with a kiss as the song ended.

Another song plays as you wanted to rest because your feet was starting to hurt already so you head to the bar for another drink as if you weren’t tipsy enough. You scan the room for somewhere to sit on but all you found was the flight of stairs from where the bride and groom had their grand entrance earlier that night.

Wonwoo was sitting down a step checking his phone. He then notices you approaching. He scoots a little and sweeps the space beside him with his hand for you to sit on.

“Tired?” He says with a welcoming smile.

“Yeah. A little.” You sigh as you carefully take a seat.

“Did you at least have fun tonight?” He asks like a dad asking his daughter if she had fun.

“Yes, dad. There were lots of boys hitting on me though.” You joke and scrunch your nose waiting for his reaction.

Wonwoo chuckles and plays along. “Ah my pretty daughter. The boys must’ve had a hard time getting your attention.”

“They’re just boys. I’m here for the party.”

“Really? No one caught your eye?” He points to the small crowd of people enjoying the music, dancing, having drinks.

You casually pretend to scan the crowd until you notice Mingyu was fast approaching still looking to be at full energy.

“I dunno. This guy seems pretty decent.” You shrugged. “Pretty. Decent. Kind.” You said that in a very smug way but heaven knows you meant it.

You’ve developed a skill of being friends with Kim Mingyu. And that was suppressing even the slightest infatuation that eventually grew over the years. Who wouldn’t have a crush on Kim Mingyu anyway?

You’ve had plenty of experience with girls befriending you just to get close to him, some would bribe you with coffee to have you give them his number. You get the coffee, ask Mingyu for permission if he’s comfortable with his number being given and then hand him the coffee you got for free.

With your sibling-like dynamic, he was so comfortable with sharing even his dating life sometimes it wasn’t as fun anymore because you realize how good of a person he was it’s almost unreal that some girls think of him as too naive when he’s really just that kind of person who always believes there is something good in everything.

You were glad to be his friend. You continue to learn a lot from him. There’s an internal struggle however, when that dreaded question “what if you wanted something more than being friends” comes to mind. It scares you. Scared that he might get to close to see through the cracks.

“What are you two doing?! Sitting down?! Really?!” Mingyu reaches for your hand while his other hand reaches for Wonwoo’s and then pulls the both of you up like his ragdolls.

This was always the dynamic between you three. Mingyu being the energetic golden retriever, Wonwoo being the calm black cat, you being the confused chihuahua to balance them out.

—

Later that night, you find yourself assisting a drunk Kwon Soonyoung to his hotel room.

As you search your purse for Soon’s key card he has entrusted you earlier that night, Wonwoo was trying to restrain Soon who was trying to kiss him while he laughs and giggles. Same with Mingyu. But he just talks to Soon in his state.

The door beeped and clicked open so you successfully assisted Soonyoung to his room. You help remove his blazer and then finally made him lay in bed.

Thankfully, your rooms were on the same floor so you all went your separate ways for the night.

Once you settled in and changed to a shirt and sweatpants. You were in the midst of removing stubborn makeup when you decided to open a bottle of beer to cap off the night

As you were quietly browsing photos you took in your hotel room you notices Mingyu’s coat that you lazily hung to a chair.

You text him.

“You still awake??? forgot to give your coat back sorry”

“i’ll go get it in a minute” he replied

You continue browsing the photos you took for tonight and you stop at photos Soonyoung took of Mingyu and you making funny faces. Your lips curl to a smile as you remember this was taken after you sent Wonwoo off with a girl to talk too.

You heard knocking so you toss your phone to your bed and set the beer bottle down. You get Mingyu’s coat and open the door.

“Hey.” You were greeted with Mingyu hair still a bit wet from the shower, obvious from the droplets of his hoodie.

“I was going to give it later in the morning but you were eager to get it.” You hand him your coat.

“You can just tell me you’re gonna hug it to your sleep if you want to you know.” He reaches for it and your hands slightly brush together.

Your face contorts. “Ew. Why the hell would I do that? Creepy.”

“So you can dream of me. Duh.” He is still at it.

“I’ll pass. Good night, Gyu.” You were not having enough of it you rolled your eyes and was about to close the door but his hand stops it.

There was silence between you two for a few seconds. He then takes a step closer, height towering over you. At this moment you felt as if you were put under his spell. Unable to move, you focus on his forehead since your legs might just give up if you look straight into his eyes.

His eyes traveling from your eyes nose and lips.

He softly touches your fingers, moving up your arms barely touching it with his fingertips then tracing your jaw.

You feel your breath slowing down. Your eyes trying to read his. Was this really happening? Should you let it happen?

“Can I kiss you?” He says quietly.

You nod slightly, closed your eyes then it happens. You felt the warmth spread to your face.

Mingyu smiles as he pulled away. Both your eyes meeting each other. You sigh a little. Your foreheads against each other.

“You taste like beer.” He giggles softly and you let out a shy laugh.

You weren’t sure what got to you as you reached for his neck to kiss him again.

After you break it off there was a pause and then you both go back to laughing faces against each other. You have no idea if it was just the high of finally doing what both your hearts wanted to do for a long while. And finally meeting halfway with what the score is between the two of you.

You were both interrupted with the sound of the door being opened. You both straighten up as if nothing happened.

“I-uh…” Mingyu clears his throat. “Goodnight, Y/N.

You touch your nape and avoided eye contact. “Yeah uh. Good night, Gyu.”

—

It was another long day for you and Mingyu at work. While you were busy writing and revising scripts and trying to help your editor with the video editing, Mingyu was busy shooting new content for the project you were working together for. He was the director this time and you were one of the writers.

No one has said a word ever since that kiss. You were at your best at pretending that it did not bother you at all and kept busy at work.

He asked you to eat lunch with him at your favorite sandwich place.

The whole time you sat there were complaining about how you were frustrated at one of your scripts keep getting scrapped by one of the hosts you were shooting.

“Can I talk to you about something” He asked softly.

You peel off the wrapper of your subway BLT “Yeah go on.“ And then you took a big bite.

“About that kiss.” His eyes not leaving yours. Observing how you’d react.

You somehow mastered controling your reactions being with Mingyu for years.

“What about it?” You said nonchalantly. “I was pretty drunk that night.” No you weren’t. You were having a beer and completely aware.

“You…were?” He tilts his head like a confused puppy. “Okay. But I remember you kissing me back.” He was taken aback by your reply. You were clearly not as kissing anyone she sees drunk level as Soonyoung.

“Yeah, cause I was drunk. We do and say stupid things when we’re drunk. I’m sorry if it made you uncomfortable.” You meet his eyes this time to make your lie more convincing to him but moreso yourself.

Mingyu was left confused. You were not drunk that night.

He raised an eyebrow because you were obviously lying. You were more stern, retained more eye contact when you lie. It’s the same strategy you do when you’re pushed to do revisions to scripts that you did not want to do because it’ll only change the story.

“Look I just want to you to know that I don’t regret doing that.”

“Mmhmm.” You were busy chewing your sandwich and back to avoiding eye contact.

“And that I have liked you long enough for me to have the courage to do that.”

He can see your eyes widen and proactively try to avoid his. Your gut goes crazy until your eyes meet his. You stay there and your gut eases.

You were about to say something but couldn’t find the words so you just closed your mouth and looked into his eyes now and sighed.

“But please don’t say anything. You don’t have to answer.”

“And just tell me if you’re not comfortable with this. I mean we do work together almost all the time.” He then takes a big bite of the sandwich he barely touched after all that.

“It’s fine. I mean… It was a drunken mistake on me. I just-” You sighed again and wanted to say something but your emotions were all over the place. “Thank you. For telling me this.”

“Are we cool?”

You smiled. “Course we are.”

—

“So… Wonwoo told me something earlier before he left.” You peeked through your laptop and glanced at Mingyu who was cooking.

“What’d he say?”

“Nothing. He just told me that he… saw us kiss that night at the wedding.” You shrug trying to keep your tone as casual as you can.

“Okay. And?”

“He said that whatever that was, it’s safe with him. It’s none of his business.” You stood up from your seat and walked to their fridge.

“I just told him that it was nothing. I was drunk.” You said as you searched for a can of soda and then reached for it.

Mingyu’s eyebrows were raised at the sound of you saying you were drunk excuse again. He turns to face you with arms crossed across his chest. “It was nothing huh? And you were drunk.”

“Yeah. I was. Haven’t we talked about this?” You opened the soda but almost fizzed out but you drink it up with your mouth before it spills.

Mingyu scoffs. “You can’t keep convincing yourself that you were too drunk to kiss me back that night,” Mingyu finally snaps, his frustration boiling over. He’s tired of you dismissing your kiss as a drunken mistake. It wasn’t just about the kiss he was frustrated about.

You were a mess. You were going on this push and pull game of yours. You would be sweet one day and then the next one push him away. It wasn’t as if Mingyu didn’t see this coming knowing you.

Your eyes widen in disbelief. “What did you just say?”

“You were sober,” Mingyu states firmly, taking a step closer to her. “You kissed me back.” He removes his apron this time and carefully sets it aside.

Your arms cross defensively. “And what if I did?”

“Just admit it,” Mingyu insists, his voice tinged with exasperation. “I kissed you because I like you, you kissed me back, and now you keep saying you were drunk and it was nothing?”

“Stop saying the word ‘kiss’!” You retort, your irritation becoming more obvious.

“Stop acting like a child!” Mingyu shoots back, his frustration building up.

“I was just experimenting, okay? Can we drop it now?” Your tone softens slightly as you resigns herself to the conversation.

“Experimenting? For what? You’re unbelievable! Are we guinea pigs now to experiment your feelings on?” Mingyu’s disbelief is palpable.

“I was trying to see if it was real,” you admit reluctantly, her voice barely above a whisper.

“What is?” Mingyu’s gaze softens as he meets her eyes.

“You and I,” you replie quietly, your defenses crumbling. “Whatever this is.”

There’s a moment of silence as they both process your confession.

Finally, you sigh, tone resigned. “I was just checking. Making sure what I felt was real. So I can confront it and have the guts to tell you.”

“But you kissed me, so I kissed you back, and then I went crazy, so I wanted to think about it for days, hence me trying to convince myself and you all that I was drunk!”

Mingyu’s eyes soften, a hint of understanding dawning in them as they trail from her eyes to her lips. “Well, do you want to check again?” he asks softly.

You chuckle, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “You’re so stupid,” you murmur. “I’m not kissing you again.”

“You want to,” Mingyu insists, leaning in closer.

You place your palm on his chest, stopping him from closing the gap. “Yeah, I kinda do,” you admit, before leaning in for a short kiss.

[verinarin]

Drunken mind, sober thoughts

fluff | slightly suggestive | Rafayel’s low tolerance towards alcohol has left you in a little bit of a problem, his drunken mind spoke his truest thoughts

a/n this is my first time writing for Rafayel to combat my writer’s block ｡ﾟ(ﾟ´Д｀ﾟ)ﾟ｡, but don’t worry Veritas Ratio lovers I would come bearing gift in the near future, NOT PROOFREAD !

The night’s at its prime and so does Rafayel, he lavishes himself in fruitless conversation amongst people with different ulterior motives, his lips curves into a mischievous smile as his lips touched the rim of his liquor filled glass

As a result of his carelessness in indulging alcohol as well as his low tolerance, a hue of crimson painted his face. The colour contrasts beautifully with his pale skin, leaving both men and women mesmerised whilst talking towards him

This however does not bode with you, Thomas knew that Rafayel would mindlessly quench his thirst with alcohol that’s why he specifically made a curfew for Rafayel and well the night must come to an end for the charismatic painter

With a sigh leaving your body you leaned down towards his neck, “Rafayel, you have an important interview tomorrow. You need to go home okay ?,” you whisper softly, not wanting to upset the visibly drunk man

With a huff he swiftly finished his glass, he flash an apologetic smile towards his ‘friends’, he quickly stood up from his seat and bid the crowd farewell, you could feel multiple pair of eyes glaring at you silently cursing you from taking Rafayel away from them

“Miss bodyguard, I’m still bored. How do you plan to fix that hmm ?” Rafayel pouts as he try to steady his steps, you let out a small groan before intertwining your fingers with his, letting his weight slightly rest on your body for support, “You can’t even walk straight,”

“Ah that’s true !, but once we’re at the hotel room we could still play something don’t you think ?” he looks down towards you with that trademarked smiles of his

“You need to sleep Rafayel,” you huff as you tap the room’s key onto the censor, you carefully lead Rafayel towards the bed, but with him being stubborn you could only manage to seat him on the couch

“Rafayel you’re flushed red right now, it would be better to sleep now to minimise your hangover in the morning,” you kneel before the man, the soft yellow glow of the moon illuminates his skin, his lips curves into a pout as he defies your order

“Can’t sleep, don’t want to,” he huffs as he fold his arms and look away, you can’t help but to chuckle seeing the man before you acting like a child, “Alright let’s make a deal then,”

“I’m listening,” he turns his head back towards you, your hand reach forward to gently caress his cheek, the skin burns warmly against your nerves, “I would give you a reward you can redeem now, whatever it is you want I’ll give it to you in exchange of you sleeping afterwards,”

“Deal, I want you to sleep beside me, hold me close and keep me safe during the night,” he replies without much thought, it’s like he already has this request at the back of his mind waiting for a chance to come to fruition

It took you a couple of seconds to weigh in the pros and cons, well his request is pretty effective in keeping tabs on him so you simply nodded and with that somehow the man before you gain a foothold of sobriety for just a second to drag his own body towards the bed, “I’m stuffy in this shirt, can you change my clothes please ?,”

In a normal day you would probably hit his head for requesting that but in light of his current predicament and the fact that you’re too tired to argue you simply rummage through his baggage and bring back a pyjama set for him to wear

“Here you go, now I want to change too so I expect you to finish changing once I’m done,” you set the clothes beside him before taking your own fresh clothes and change into a more comfortable clothes, once you exit the bathroom you could only see Rafayel waiting for you like a loss puppy

“Why aren’t you in your pyjamas yet ?,” you sigh before setting down your dirty clothes and walk towards him, “I can’t reach my leg, can’t wear pants,” hearing that you ascertain that this man is dumber than usual becomes there’s no connection between his leg and dragging his pants down

“Well I guess you’re sleeping in that outfit then,” you shrug as you walk away from him, but he prevented you by grasping your wrist, “Please change my clothes for me, I don’t like feeling sticky,” he whines and of course whatever he wants he’ll get

You steel yourself as you kneel down before him and start to slowly unbutton his shirt, you could see his chest heaving up and down as you carefully undress him, “Y’know I feel like your mom, because this is not in my job description,”

“It would be,” Rafayel replies calmly, shutting down your small chuckles. “What do you mean by that ?,” you ask as you drag the shirt off his shoulders

“Well in the future you’ll be my lover so this would also be a reoccurring task,” he smirks as he took his shirt off and bringing the pyjama shirt on to your hand, your merely laugh at his drunken mind not knowing that it’s his sincerest wish

“Yeah yeah I’m sure it’ll be delightful to have you as a boyfriend,” you tease as you button up his shirt, now this part is tricky, his pants. “Can’t you undress your pants by yourself?,”

“What are you shy ?,” he chuckles as he leans down and hold eye contact towards you, “It’s inappropriate for me y’know,” you roll your eyes, hoping that he would not sense your embarrassment

“Why would it be inappropriate ?, you would see what’s underneath it when the time comes,” he winks and with that you quickly stood up, he whines and apologises. He quickly change his pants by himself why you stare at the wall waiting for him and at the same time trying to calm your breath

And with that you’re now laying on the bed with Rafayel resting his head against your chest, his arms wrapped around your waist like a vice, “So soft and warm,” he mumbles, you can’t help but to find it hard to maintain your composure when there’s a thin line that Rafayel is crossing,

“You didn’t mean what you say, you’ll forget it in the morning,” you huff as you pet his hair, you could feel his displeasure at your sentiment since he nuzzled his face deeper into your chest, not wanting to look at you, “I won’t forget it and even if I do, everything that comes off my mouth is sincere and true,” he mumbles

“Drunken mind is often filled with sober thoughts,”

[rafayelgod]

🔞WARNING 18+ 21+ ADULTS CONTENT!🔞

Rafayel (Dominance)

You arrive at the perfume event, a buzz of excitement in the air. The venue is filled with a sea of people, all eager to catch a glimpse of the famous artists and celebrities in attendance. Rafayel, your popular artist, is the center of attention, and as you navigate through the crowd, you can feel the energy and anticipation building.

The overwhelming scent of various perfumes hits you like a wave, causing Rafayel to wince and hold his nose. "Ugh, this is too much, Mis Bodyguard. I can't stand it. Let's get out of here, quick!" he exclaims, his voice filled with a mix of annoyance and amusement.

You smile, used to his dramatic reactions, and offer your arm. "Lead the way, my sensitive artist. We shall escape this olfactory assault together."

As you weave through the crowd, journalists and fans alike call out to Rafayel, their voices a cacophony of questions and praises. "Rafayel! Over here! How does it feel to be the center of attention?" "We love your work! Sign our albums!" "Rafayel, a quick interview, please!"

Rafayel, with a mix of pride and exasperation, waves and smiles, but his eyes are fixed on the exit. "I appreciate the love, my fans, but Mis Bodyguard and I must take our leave. Another time, perhaps?"

You both quicken your pace, pushing through the throng, until you spot a small, secluded room, a potential haven from the chaos. Rafayel, with a determined look, pulls you inside, closing the door behind you.

The room is a welcome respite, a quiet, dimly lit space, devoid of the overwhelming perfume scents. Rafayel leans against the door, his chest heaving, and lets out a loud sigh. "Ah, much better. I can breathe again, Mis Bodyguard. You saved me."

You chuckle, your eyes twinkling with amusement. "Always happy to be of service. Though I must admit, I'm curious. Why the sudden escape? You're usually the center of attention, soaking up the adoration."

Rafayel moves closer, his eyes intense and focused on you. "It's not the attention I mind, Mis Bodyguard. It's the perfumes. They make my head spin, and not in a good way. I can't think straight, and it's affecting my performance. I need... clarity."

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued. "Clarity, you say? And how do you propose to achieve that, Mr. Artist?"

Rafayel takes a step closer, his voice lowering to a husky whisper. "I have a theory, Cutie... A theory that involves your perfume and my lips."

Your heart skips a beat at the suggestive tone, and you feel a warm flush creep up your neck. "My perfume? And what exactly would your lips be doing Raf?"

He leans in, his breath warm on your skin. "Sampling, of course. A little taste test, if you will. To see if your perfume is as intoxicating as I imagine."

He takes your wrist and inhales its scent. He actually just wanted to clear his mind to control the crazy thoughts caused by the perfume scent outside. Rafayel feels extremely mad right now, and you, knowing this, can only help him.

You swallow, "And if it is?"

You feel a shiver run down your spine, a mix of excitement and nerves. "And where might that be? This room is rather... public."

He smiles, a devilish glint in his eye. "Mis Bodyguard, first, just your neck... let's see if your perfume lives up to my expectations."

Rafayel leans in, his lips brushing against your neck, sending a jolt of electricity through your body. His touch is gentle, yet firm, as he nuzzles your skin, inhaling deeply. "Mmm, just as I imagined. A perfect blend of sweetness and spice. I could get lost in this scent."

You close your eyes, savoring the sensation of his lips on your skin. "I'm glad you approve. But be careful, or you might get addicted."

He chuckles, a low, seductive sound, and trails kisses along your jawline. "Addicted I already am, Mis Bodyguard. To your beauty, your scent, and your patience with my antics."

His kisses become more urgent, Without warning, Rafayel crashes his lips against yours hungrily. More insistent, as he moves to capture your lips in a passionate kiss. "Mmh.. Raf wait-"

He backs you up against the wall, his tall frame caging you in. His hands tangle in your hair, deepening the kiss. He sucks on your lower lip, then slides his tongue in to meet yours. Your hands finding their way to his broad shoulders, pulling him closer.

The kiss deepens, a dance of tongues and lips, as you both lose yourselves in the moment. Rafayel's hands roam your body, exploring, caressing, as if memorizing every curve and contour.

"A.. ah.. mmh-"

You moan softly into his mouth, encouraging him, and he responds by lifting you into his arms, cradling you against his chest. "You said.. just neck.."

He pulls back slightly, a smile spreading across his face, a mix of amusement and desire playing in his eyes. "I said I wanted a kiss on your neck, not that I wouldn't be taking a kiss from your lips if it was offered." His voice is low and husky. His eyes roaming over your body with clear lust. "No, sweetheart. I want to fuck you. Hard. Against this wall. Right now."

"Wh.. but? what no, Rafayel-" you squirm.

He silences your protest with another searing kiss, his hands moving to your bottom to lift you up, wrapping your legs around his waist. "No buts. Stop talking and start moaning." His voice is firm as he presses you against the wall, his hardness evident against your core.

"Rafayel.. aammh.."

He groans at your muffled sound, reaching down to undo his pants quickly. He pushes your skirt up and tugs your panties aside, positioning himself at your entrance. "Hold on tight." He warns before thrusting into you hard, filling you completely. "Cutie.. a-ahh.."

"R-af.." You gasp and hold your scream.

He covers your mouth with one hand, smirking darkly. "Shh... mmh.. quiet. Don't want them hearing us out there Cutie, do we?" He starts moving in long, powerful strokes, knowing exactly how to hit that spot deep inside. "Hah.. you feel so good taking me like this...ahh hah.. Mis Bodyguard..."

You try to graps something in that small room. Rafayel notices your desperate grip for stability, a smirk tugging at his lips as he watches you scramble for something to hold onto in the cramped space. He leans in closer, his breath hot against your ear as he growls playfully. "Need something to grasp onto, Cutie?" You nods.

With a low chuckle, he takes both your wrists gently but firmly in one hand, pinning them above your head against the wall. He adjusts his grip, ensuring you're supported as he thrusts deeper and harder. "Better?" He teases, his voice thick with lust. Your eyes roll "Mmhh..!"

Seeing your eyes roll back, he smirks in satisfaction, knowing he's hitting all the right spots. "That's it, sweetheart. Let me do the work. Just take it." He continues his relentless pace, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing softly in the small room.

He takes full advantage of your surrender, his powerful arms holding you up effortlessly as he pounds into you. He can feel you trembling against the wall, your nails digging into his arms where he pins your wrists. He loves how small you feel against him, how easily he can overpower you.

"R.. raf.. i.. aahmh-"

As you start to cum, he muffles your moans with a brutal kiss, swallowing your cries of pleasure. He follows you over the edge, his body tensing as he spills himself inside you with a low growl. He keeps kissing you, prolonging the moment as he fills you up.

He keeps you pinned against the wall, his body pressed tightly against yours, his breath ragged and hot against your skin. He pulls back from the kiss, his eyes dark and intense as he watches you close your eyes, feeling his seed leaking out of you. "That's a good girl,"

He notices the flush spreading across your cheeks and the way your body relaxes further, "R..rafayel.." still feeling his presence inside you. A satisfied smirk plays on his lips as he adjust his grip, slowly lowering you down until your feet touch the ground. "Mis Bodyguard.. you're still so full of me," He presses his forehead against the wall next to yours, panting softly as he watches his own sticky essence drip down your legs. He can smell his own scent mixed with yours, and it's driving him crazy with possessiveness.

He cleans you up gently but thoroughly, his touch surprisingly tender. He then carries you out of the small room, holding you close to his chest. He approaches the personal assistant, his expression stern but concerned. "My bodyguard is not feeling well. We're heading back to the limousine.

The limousine ride back to his place is a blur of heated kisses and eager touches. By the time you arrive at his luxurious mansion, you're both breathless and eager for more.

Rafayel leads you through the grand entrance, his hand never leaving yours. His new mansion is a study in opulence, with high ceilings, intricate architecture, and an air of sophistication.

You and Rafayel go to bedroom and do it again.

"That, Mis Bodyguard, was... incredible. A perfect blend, indeed."

You smile, a contented glow spreading through you. "I'd say our experiment was a resounding success, Rafayel."

He chuckles, a soft, satisfied sound, and rolls off you, pulling you into his arms. "Indeed it was. And I think we should conduct many more such experiments in the future."

You snuggle closer, your head resting on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. "I'd like that, Rafayel. Very much."

And so, in the aftermath of passion, you both drift off to sleep, entwined in each other's arms, a perfect blend of love and desire.

- The End -🌚❤💦

© Melody (Follow for new hot story) 🌚💦

[reiderwriter]

Hating You Is The Easiest Thing I Can Do

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: When your boss pulls your case out from under you and gives it right to the BAU, you're pissed. You're even more pissed when Doctor Spencer Reid suggests you can't do your job properly. After a week in his company, you decide to give him a piece of your mind

Warnings: Day One of Kinktober - Hate Sex, enemies to lovers, dom/sub, Mean!Dom!Spencer, Brat!Reader, spanking, degradation, spanking, spit kink, sir kink, vaginal fingering, slight creampie, Reader's boss is an asshole, typical office misogyny. Spencer is also an asshole, but that's just because he's a dumbass.

A/N: Special thank you to @reidmotif and @mrs-dr-reid for proofreading this one for me! I wrote this when on a major Pride and Prejudice moment, which is why there's a whole lot of plot before the sex. I hope you like the build-up just as much as the smut! <3 If you like it, don't forget to leave a like, reply, or reblog and tell me your thoughts! ((just as a reminder, apart for Sundays and Tuesdays, I'll be posting all the kinktober fics on AO3 exclusively, so check out my writing there - reiderwriter))

My requests are also back open now, so if you like my writing and have an idea, check out my request guidelines and drop me a message in my inbox! You can find the rest of my masterlist here :)

To say you were angry was an understatement. You were seething, the anger bubbling up inside of you and threatening to lash out at anyone who so much as crossed your path as you made your way down the crappy motel corridor. You'd only known Spencer Reid a week, but you could think of no one you despised more.

The FBI had always been a boys' club, you knew that. There were some goddamn strong women in your field office, of course, but you were outnumbered 10 to 1. Which was why you were so determined to do well on the first case assigned to you as lead Agent. The first week of the case, you'd made sure you were thorough. A body had been found in the park by a jogger, and you darted to the crime scene the moment you got the call. A woman in her early twenties, like you, had been raped, tortured, and then dumped here, her body posed in a demeaning way to make it seem as if she were performing a sexual act. Your entire body shuddered at the sight, but you couldn't let your coworkers see you weak so you powered through. Collecting evidence, getting an ID on the victim, interviewing potential witnesses, and yes, even breaking the news to the poor girl's family, you had been so attentive to every detail of the case and you felt you were making progress, your boss delivered a humbling blow.

"Another body has been discovered. I've invited the Behavioural Analysis Unit in from Quantico because you're in over your head." He'd told you, not even looking up at you from the file he was reading on his desk.

"What? I wasn't told about another body, why wasn't I notified?"

"I didn't think you needed to know, now that the BAU is coming in."

"So I'm off the case? That's it?"

"No, I want you to assist them in their investigation. Tell them everything you've gathered so far, get them situated in the office as best you can."

"Get them coffee when they want it? Rub their feet if they ask for it? This is bullshit, I was making progress, if you'd only have given me more time-"

"Agent, I suggest you walk out of this office right now and get your PMSing under control before I have to suspend you from fieldwork." You pressed your nails further into the beds on your palms then and bit back your tongue from replying, simply giving a terse nod and exiting the office.

It wasn't even an hour later before the new team arrived, and you offered a tense smile and welcome as you got them set up in their own office. The Unit Chief didn't seem too bad, but Aaron Hotchner couldn't exactly be described as the most welcoming of people, and you felt an instant camaraderie with JJ, the other agent who'd come into the office with him. There were more agents apparently, but they'd gone out into the field to check out the new victim and reinterview the family, something you weren't exactly happy about. But, if you were going to be their little bitch for the next week, you were at least thankful they were tolerable and polite.

"So here's everything I've got so far. I've been pretty thorough in my interrogations of potential witnesses, and there are no CCTV cameras in the general vicinity of the dump sites, so I don't think you'll find anything else there that'll aid in your profile."

" If you'd have been thorough you'd have found this though, right?" A new voice popped up from the door, and you felt yourself tense up under the sudden accusation. Looking up you saw he was holding up his phone, a picture of a strange marking on a tree lighting up the screen.

"Excuse me?"

"This was left on a tree roughly thirty feet from the first dump site. I called Rossi and Morgan and they found a similar marking near the second victim. It's a Mesopotamian symbol relating to the worship of prostitutes and sex workers to promote fertility." He spoke plainly, but all you could hear was the condescension in his tone, and your blood boiled with rage.

" Agent Y/L/N, I'm sorry about him, this is Doctor Spencer Reid, he's another member of our team." JJ introduced the man, sending him a warning glance, as if letting him know that he hadn't just put his foot in his mouth directly.

You looked at the man then, really focusing on him now instead of the pictures, and almost cursed out loud again. He was a jerk, but fuck was he attractive. Tousled hair, dark eyes, and a perfectly sculpted jaw, it was as if he were sent from hell directly to piss you off and tempt you. You pushed the attraction aside for the minute then, choosing to be the bigger person and introduce yourself.

"I'm Agent Y/N Y/L/N. And I'm sorry that I'm not an expert on Mesopotamian prostitutes, but I guess that's probably your specialty, right, Doctor?" You held out your hand for him to shake, but he just looked down at it.

"If you're referring to my doctorate, I actually didn't study classic civilizations. I hold PhDs in Math, Chemistry, and Engineering and additional BAs in Psychology, Philosophy, and Sociology. And I don't do handshakes." He glanced straight past you after that, walking back over to Hotch and filling him in on other things you must've overlooked during your brief time working the case.

You glared at his back, finally letting your hand drop to your side again as you let out an angry chuckle.

"Don't take it personally, Spencer is just… He’s He's not great with people. He'll warm up to you." JJ put a reassuring arm on your shoulder and you nodded. But inside you knew there was not one thing the man could do to reverse the bad opinion of him you'd just gained.

–X–

After the initial anger of having the case seeped out from beneath you wore off, you actually began enjoying your time with the BAU. You hadn't put much thought into profiling before, it usually being so far off your radar while you were working in the field office but you were actually coming to enjoy how they worked, and you'd learned a lot.

Your relationship with Spencer, however, only degraded.

Your hatred had reignited the moment you'd been joined by the rest of the BAU Team. Your boss has finally come down to greet them, and, almost as if making you pay for your earlier comments, had genuinely sent you on a coffee run for them. You could deal with the fact that the man had the most annoyingly complicated coffee order you'd ever heard of in the Bureau, but what you couldn't forgive were the sly comments you walked in on when you returned.

"Come on, Reid. That Agent is easy on the eyes, you should talk to her, get you a slice of that." You'd been introduced to Derek Morgan earlier and you'd instantly pegged him as a flirt, so this wasn't exactly shocking to you. What was a bit surprising was the other man's reply.

"If she's attractive I hadn't noticed. I've been too busy trying to clear up her mess with this case."

You walked in the door then, coffees in hand, and slammed his drink down on the table for him. You handed Morgan to him, double-checking that you'd got both of their orders right before shooting another glare at the man and walking away to find the rest of the team.

But not before hearing Morgan chastise Reid in another whisper: "God man, you gotta be nicer to the kid…"

To say that your working relationship had soured totally after your two personal encounters with the man was simply an untruth. You didn't have a working relationship, you had a working rivalry.

From then on, you'd slyly interrupt the man when he was speaking, telling him to cut his genius rambles in half, that you didn't have all day to sit around and wait for him to stutter his way through his theory while there was a murderer on the loose.

He didn't hold back either, constantly asking you questions he knew you didn't know the answers to, just to smile slyly down at you and make you admit that you weren't as good as him. It was getting so detrimental to the office atmosphere that you had to be genuinely separated after only three days, Hotchner bringing you into the field with him on multiple occasions and forcing Reid to stay behind with JJ to work on a geographical profile.

You'd been with Hotchner at a family interview, working with him to gain details of the second victim's actions and whereabouts leading up to her murder to establish a timeline when you got a call.

Excusing yourself from the room, you quickly picked up the call.

"This is Agent Y/L/N."

"Hotch isn't picking up his phone." That was all the explanation you got from the man on the other side of the phone, his voice instantly grating.

"Yes, I'd assume he isn't, Doctor Reid, because we are currently interviewing a bereaved mother and father and he put his phone on silent. Is there something you need?"

"I need to talk to Hotch."

"Well, you called me. What do you need?" You heard him breathe out a frustrated sigh on the other side of the line, and you rolled your eyes, slightly enjoying being this stubborn and getting under his skin.

"Just tell him we're ready to give the profile, okay?" He hung on you after that and you cursed him down the line, receiving nothing back but the empty beeps of the dial tone.

–X–

It didn't take long after delivering the profile to get your guy, but as he hadn't been in the middle of committing any felonies when you picked him up, you'd had to spend a few days in the interrogation rooms.

Hotch had taken a crack at him and gotten nowhere, and so had Rossi and Emily and Morgan. JJ had been the one to make the arrest, so she went in last and still came out with nothing much. He hadn't layered up yet, as they'd suspected he wouldn't, too egotistical to allow anyone else into the room that he thought he was going to talk himself out of.

"We're getting nowhere with this, Hotch. I think I have an idea that could get him to start talking." Reid said as you all stared at the man through the one-way glass.

"What, you think you can charge in there and get him to talk?" It was petty, but it'd been a stressful week, and he was used to this flow of conversation between the two of you.

"No, you are. Hotch, she fits his type, she's attractive, same build and coloring as the previous two victims. I think it'd work." You scoffed at his suggestion.

"Oh so now you think I'm attractive? I thought you hadn't noticed because you were, what, too busy cleaning up my mess?" You crossed your arms as he gave you an incredulous look, and you realized that he didn't think you'd heard him.

"Spencer's right, Y/N." Hotch nodded, looking between the two of you to see if he needed to pull you apart to keep you from fighting or to keep you from jumping each other. You personally weren't sure which you'd like most at that point, cursing yourself as you let your eyes trail down his body.

"It's going to excite him having you so close, you should pop a few of those buttons, too," Reid suggested looking down at your chest as you scoffed and crossed your arms.

"Oh you'd really like that," you mumbled under your breath, but a swift look from Hotch had you shutting your mouth again as he began to brief you.

Going in you felt a surge of pettiness seep through you. You were going to nail this guy, get him to talk about every little nasty thing he did to those girls, and prove to your boss that you could do this when every member of the BAU had tried and failed. But a small, dim, and annoying reminder at the back of your head whispered in your ear that you'd be pleasing Spencer then as well. Proving him right. You weren't sure if you wanted to succeed to hear him or your boss say "good job" to you after you finally succeeded, but when you imagined it with him, he was a whole lot closer, right in your ear, body pressed against yours.

You focused on your anger over your attraction and pushed into the room, ready to stare down a monster and escape unharmed.

–X–

It had worked, of course. It had taken a few hours of building rapport but you'd done it. You'd had him eating out the palm of your hand while he confessed to the three murders you knew about and an extra four that you didn't.

A day of retrieving bodies later and by 10 pm, the case was finally closed.

"Well done, kid, you really got him in that interview. That was some great work." Morgan nudged your elbow as he grabbed his duffle, exiting the makeshift office.

"Don't forget we're getting drinks at the cocktail bar in half an hour. Shower off that mud and change into a hot dress, Agent, and I'll buy you your first shot." Emily called back to you from the exit too, leaving you in a fit of giggles as you promised her you would.

Once they'd all gone, you started packing up your things ready to leave yourself when there was another knock at the door.

" Hey, I need to grab my bag." Reid stood in the door awkwardly, and your smile dropped into a politely neutral face as you nodded to him.

"Don't let me stop you, Doc."

"Spencer."He said, stepping a bit closer to you.

"What?"

"I want you to call me Spencer. You keep calling me Doctor or Doc, I want you to call me Spencer."

"No. Doctor Reid is just fine for me."

"And what if I want more?" He grabbed your wrist as you turned to go, using a bit too much force and leaving you stumbling into him, hitting his chest as you looked up at him, your noses almost touching with the proximity.

"Let me go," you growled, but his grip loosened and you didn't move an inch.

"What if I want more?" He asked again, a little more insistent this time, his eyes dark in the dim room, expression unreadable.

"Why should I care what you want, Doctor Reid?"

"Because I think you want it, too. Because I think that despite all the odds, you want me just as much as I want you."

Your anger burst out of you in a sarcastic laugh then at his presumptuous words.

"Despite all the odds? What odds are those Spencer? You treat me like shit, ignoring me, refusing to even shake my hand, and downplaying the hard fucking work I put in before you got here? God, you are so fucking narcissistic." You finally stepped away from him then, turning away to regain your composure.

"Me? I'm not the one who missed some vital fucking evidence in a murder investigation, Y/N, so I'm sorry I wasn't the most welcoming person, but God if we're talking egos, you should probably check yourself."

"Forget it, you're impossible. I really tried to be nice to you, but more fool me for making messes you had to clean up."

"Are you still stuck on that? Y/N, I'm sorry, but Derek just has a way of-" He stepped closer to you again and you could feel the oxygen being sucked from your lungs.

"Don't you dare blame this on Morgan. You're attracted to me and you fucking despise that, and it's none of Morgan’s fault. Now please, just get out of this fucking office and go back to your motel room." You practically hissed those last words at him, holding back the urge to scream in frustration. Your lips were so close now, as his chest heaved, hands clenched by his sides as he resisted the urge to grab you.

"Forgive me… for suggesting something so obviously repulsive to you." With that, he brushed past you and walked out, leaving you reeling at his almost confession, head light from the lack of air. He'd taken your breath with him as he left the room.

–X–

The promise of free shots had convinced you to get back out to the bar as promised, not letting Reid and his fickle moods control when and where you'd be enjoying yourself.

You finally showed up at the bar and were greeted by hugs from JJ and Emily, already one drink in as they immediately handed you a shot from the bar. Guiding you back to the table, you paused as you saw him there.

Morgan was sat at the table, happily chatting away with Reid, who'd since grown quiet, eyes meeting yours before leaving to rake down your frame. You resisted the urge to cover yourself, confidently standing tall as he devoured you with his eyes. Changing out of your work clothes, you'd decided that you needed some fun tonight, donning a short red dress, barely hitting the tops of your thighs, hugging your curves tightly, and pushing your chest up so it nearly spilled out completely. You'd completed the look with thigh-high black boots and a red lip, looking the absolute image of lust - or anger - personified.

"Whew mama, you look good, Y/N." Morgan greeted you, standing up to give you a kiss on the cheek. Reid still said nothing but kept his eyes trained on you as he took another sip of his drink.

"I was promised shots and dancing, I think I'm dressed pretty appropriately don't you think?" You smiled and giggled up at Morgan, letting your touch linger on him a little longer to see if it would spur Reid into action.

"Have I ever told you about my very good friend Penelope Garcia? I think you two would get along just fine."

The rest of the night continued in a similar vein. You'd stepped out onto the dance floor with Emily and JJ, letting whatever man wanted to sidle up close, begging one of them to be a distraction from the man whose eyes were boring into you from the other side of the room. It didn't work. Their hands were on your hips, guiding you to the sound of the music but in your head, all you saw was him, doing the same.

It didn't help that he was getting hit on constantly from his perch beside Morgan, and you watched with a bitter feeling at the bottom of your stomach as women tried, unsuccessfully, to get him to pay attention to them. After another frustrating invitation for a tryst with a local man, you excused yourself from the dance floor, finding Morgan in the bar, letting him know that you were calling it a night.

"Where's Reid?" You asked, trying and failing to sound casual as you glanced around the now crowded bar for signs of him.

"He left like ten minutes ago. Said he was tired and went back to the motel."

"Was he…" You didn't want to finish the question, not knowing which answer you'd prefer, but Morgan filled in the gaps himself with a wide grin.

"Alone? Yes, kid. Here, it's the address of the motel we're staying at and his room number." You hesitated before grabbing the paper and grabbing your stuff, practically running from the bar and hopping in the nearest taxi.

–X–

That's how you found yourself stomping down the corridor of the motel, pounding on his door at 1 a.m., unashamed in your brazen actions. He opened the door, slightly shocked to see you there, and you pushed your way inside and turned on him as you shut the door.

"What the fuck was all of that?" You demanded as soon as he turned back to you. His shirt was open now, jacket and tie discarded on the floor somewhere deeper into the room, but you forced yourself to look up into his eyes, away from the pale plains of his skin.

"What was what, Y/N?"

"You, staring at me like that the whole night and then just leaving."

"Did you want me to stay?"

"I want you to stop answering my questions with questions, Reid. This is bullshit, you can't act like a dick to me all week and then look at me like I'm a piece of meat you want to rip apart, for fucks sake."

"You made it very clear earlier tonight that you wanted no part of this, Y/N. Are you saying I should've done something else?"

"That's another fucking question, Spencer! If you don't start actually talking to me, I swear to god, I'll-" You ran a hand through your hair, and when you looked up again, he was closer than ever. You backed up into the wall, but he followed you, pressing a leg between your own. Slowly and with that condescending grin plastered across his face, he drawled out his next words.

"You'll what?"

Your lips crashed against his with the fury of your frustrations, a mess of teeth and tongue and biting anger as you surged forward into him.

With a rough push of your hips, he slammed you back into the wall, taking charge of the situation, coaxing his tongue into your mouth, battling you for control, and winning. Grabbing you by the neck he slowly pulled his lips away from yours, leaving you gasping for breath.

"Don't be such a brat, Y/N. When I ask you questions, it's because I want answers." You moaned as you tried to regain his lips, but he chuckled and kept you pinned.

"Tell me, baby, what should I have done earlier instead? Got down on my knees to beg your forgiveness, or thrown you over that desk and used you like a cheap little whore? I think I know which one you prefer."

You moaned at his words, but kept your mouth twisted in a grimace, choosing not to answer. He got tired of waiting, and, with a swiftness you didn't know he possessed, twisted you around so your hands were planted against the wall, your chest pushing against it too as he pulled your hips up and out, effectively baring your pantie-clad pussy to him as your dress pushed up and over your ass all by itself.

"So fucking slutty. You let all those men in that club touch you while you stared at me the entire time." He ran his hands across your ass massaging you underneath your underwear before pulling his hands away again and grabbing your hips. He pushed his clothed cock against you from behind and you moaned at how hard and big he felt already.

"Was this what you wanted, brat?"

"Go fuck yourself."

"I think you'd much prefer it if I fucked you, don't you think?" He turned you around again, lifting one of your legs up to wrap around him, the new angle pressing your core further into his cock.

"Open your mouth, now." Against your better judgment, your body reacted to him quickly, your tongue dropping out of your mouth as he ground his cock into your core, effectively dry-humping you. With a swift motion, he spat in your mouth, your eyes going wide as you instinctively shut your mouth and swallowed.

"Good girl," he stroked your hair, lifting you up and carrying you to the bed. His lips locked with yours as you tasted his spit on your lips, letting him take control and move you in any way he pleased.

"But you've been a brat," he said pulling away. "And brats need to be punished."

With that he forced you over his knee, pulling your panties down as he positioned your hips higher, your ass raised. He fisted one hand into your hair and began softly stroking your ass with the other.

"You're going to count for me, baby. If you lose count, we'll start again. With each number, I'll tell you what you did wrong, okay?"

"Fuck, yes, yes sir." With another soft touch, he pulled his hand up and bought it back again down sharply, letting it cup your ass as you hissed from the sting.

"O-One."

"That was for being a brat in the office. Being so confident you missed some vital evidence that was staring you right in the face."

He did it again, and you squirmed under his touch.

"Two."

"That was for teasing me in front of Hotch. Making me get hard right there in the office before you went to interrogate that creep."

"That made you hard?" You gasped out as he cracked out another slap to your ass. "Three."

"That was for talking. You need to stop fucking talking." He stroked your ass again, delivering a fourth, fifth, and sixth blow in quick succession as you felt yourself leak your arousal all over his lap.

"That was for dressing like a little whore tonight. That was for flirting with Morgan. That was for letting another man touch you. What do you have to say for yourself now, brat?" Your breaths stuttered out of you as you tried to compose yourself, confident that he'd finished your punishment now.

"G-Go…. FuckFuck yourself." He growled and threw you back on the bed, ripping your dress off over your head and letting his lips return to yours as he trailed his hand to between your legs, finally pushing two fingers inside of you as you moaned and writhed beneath him.

" I hate you," you moaned in his ear as his lips trailed down to your breasts.

"You have a funny way of showing it." Your orgasm was rapidly approaching, so close you could practically taste it. He sensed it as well, though, and pulled his fingers out of you before you could reach that bliss.

"You thought it would be that easy, brat?" he whispered in your ear with a low chuckle before flipping you over to your front and thrusting his fingers back into you from behind, causing another moan to rip from your throat, uncontrollably loud in the otherwise silence of the motel at night.

Unzipping his pants and freeing his cock, you felt the weight of it on your ass as he rubbed his precum against your now bright red asscheeks.

"You're going to look so pretty with my cum decorating your ass baby. It's going to make your ass feel better, too."

"You're disgusting," you spit at him, but your hips push harder into his dick, trying desperately to capture him inside of you and force him to use you.

"No more talking, bitch. Take my fingers." He pushed a hand into your mouth and you started twirling your tongue around them, using your distraction to finally violently thrust his dick all the way inside you. You screamed at the sudden filling, cumming around his cock in an instant, trying to milk him for all he was worth. But he clamped a hand down over your mouth so that all that fell from your face was escaped tears and muffled pleas for more.

"Gonna use you like this baby, gonna make you admit you love me."

His thrusts gained a steady pace as your brain emptied beneath him, desperate for more of the pleasure his body was supplying you with. He released your mouth then, content that all your energy seemed to be spent on pushing your ass back into his, listening to the wet, sloppy sounds of your activity.

"Do you like that, brat? You like me making you feel like this, huh?" He slapped your ass again as he thrust, and you moaned back with a nod.

"Yes, Spencer, don't stop… Don't stop." You moaned again, another orgasm rolling over your body, causing you to clench unconsciously around his cock.

"So good baby, you're responding so well to my cock." He trailed a hand underneath you to your clit and started rubbing it in time to his thrusts.

"One more for me. One more and I'll pull out, okay? Just one more."

"I can't, Spencer I can't do it.." You whined underneath him, face fully buried in the motel pillows. You were surprised he even heard you through the tears as the material.

"Yes you can, baby, look you're so close already, just do one more."

"I hate you," you moaned again, feeling your third and final orgasm wash over you, your eyes rolling back in your head as your body started twitching and didn't stop. You felt a small twitch from him too, as he finished thrusting inside of you, letting a little bit of his cum escape into you before pulling out and decorating your ass with his ejaculation.

He fell by the side of you and gasped desperately for a few minutes, before grabbing a hot wet towel from the bathroom and cleaning your ass off.

"Spencer…" you croak out eventually, regaining some clarity, but still not moving much from your spot in his bed.

"Spencer, I don't hate you."

"I know. I don't hate you either. Which is probably for the best."

"What? Why?"

"Hotch just requested your transfer to the Quantico Office so you could start training with the BAU. You did a good job this week, Y/N." Your eyes started watering again and you gently pushed away tears as he laughed at you, asking why you were crying.

"I'm not happy," you joked.

"I just realized that means I have to work with you more." You both laughed at that. You didn't hate each other exactly, but that didn't mean you could work together well either.

And you didn't want to if this was the outcome of your bickering and hatred.

[writerseclipse1]

lucky charm [max v.]

summary: max wins at the us grand prix (2021), and he can't help but insist you were his lucky charm.

warnings: making out, fluff.

word count: 0.7k

“…for the first time, on us soil, max verstappen wins the us grand prix!” cheers erupted from the fans and the redbull crew. you heard your father whoop, fisting the air in celebration.

all you could do was nod proudly, leaning against the wall with your arms crossed in front of your chest. you pushed yourself off of the wall, high fiving the crew and congratulating them on their amazing job during the race.

you all exited the pits a few minutes later, grouping up below the rostrum. checo waved to all the fans and took his place on the third podium step.

next up was lewis who, despite the rivalry between the two teams, he was your friend as well. he was one of the people who taught you how to drive a formula 1 car and actually be good at it.

and last, but certainly not the least to step onto the rostrum was max. you smirked, clapping along to the people beside you. he punched the air, grinning widely as he scanned the crowd, spotting you and winking discreetly. you only rolled your eyes and shook your head but clapped for him nonetheless.

he received his trophy from the one and only shaquille o’neal, the height gap between them despite max’s position on the top podium, making you snort. not long after their presentation of trophies, they started to drink and spray their champagne on each other, soaking their suits and no doubt their fireproofs.

after all the celebrations and the picture taking that led you to change your shirt, it was time for the interviews. max left for the interviews and you went to the red bull building, assessing the information gotten during the race, seeing what you needed to work on even if max drove without error. your typing on the keyboard of your father’s computer and the clicking of the mouse echoed in the room. 

“so this is where you’ve been,” max mused, leaning against the doorframe of your dad’s office. you ignored him with a smirk on your face. you kept checking the data, not even sparing him a glance. you heard his footsteps get closer but you paid it no mind, feeling his arms slither around your waist.

“don’t ignore me, schatje,” you felt his breath on your neck, nudging your neck with his nose. “appreciate me.”

“i swear, verstappen, if my father sees you here,” you whispered, abandoning your work and turning in his arms, wrapping your arms around his neck regardless of your recent words. “you’re gonna get fired, probably die too.”

“i’ll take my chances,” he mumbled, tilting his head and his eyes darting to your lips. “besides, if this makes us official, even if i die in the hands of my boss right after, it would be worth it.”

you chuckle, his lips gently pressing themselves on your own. his mouth was gentle, taking his time with you, his hands slowly roaming your waist and pushing you back into the desk. your hands took his cap off, one hand holding onto it while the other combed his locks.

you detached your lips from his, chuckling when you saw his cheeks all red. you adjusted the cap in your hands, placing it on your own head and he bit his lip, fixing your hair.

“keep it. ‘looks better on you.” he complimented, tilting your head up so he could steal another kiss. you laughed, massaging his cheek as he leaned into your touch.

“you ever notice that whenever you attend my races, i win,” he spoke up, making you hum. “and if you weren’t here, i lose. badly, might i add.”

“huh,” you comment, raising your eyebrows. “you’re right. i wasn’t in silverstone but i was there in italy, i wasn’t in azerbaijan, but i was in france. now, i wasn’t in monza, but i was here. cool.” you add, making him throw his head back, laughing.

“guess you could say that you are my lucky charm, liefje.” he suggested and you agreed, nodding your head. you two were too focused on each other that you didn’t notice a third party wander into the room.

“what the fuck is this?”

you froze and max gulped, his gaze moving to the door, his eyes widening.

“oh shit.”

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ a/n: fic look familiar? this is an old work from my old account @/theonly1outof-a-billion!