#hope to get this lil guy out soon though | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hannieehaee · 14 days

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HOT TO GO!

18+ / mdi

summary: moving into a quiet apartment complex you expected to find nothing but solace, not your most entertaining situationship to date OR the three times you kept it casual with your new neighbor vs the one time he made things serious.

content: neighbor!jungkook, strangers2lovers, situationship (kind of), fwb, jk's a lil bit of a himbo in this fic, afab reader, smut, three smut scenes lol, penetrative sex, dry humping, oral (f and m receiving), fingering, etc.

wc: 7.1k

a/n: this is honestly just a silly and unserious fic that's mostly smut lol i hope u guys enjoy it<3

masterlist | patreon

"Oh, wow, uh, hey."

"Hi?", you looked at the stranger in curiosity, though still very shocked by the adonis of a man who had suddenly knocked on your door.

He cleared his throat and shook his head as if rebuffing himself to speak again, "Fuck, okay, that was such an uncool first impression. What I meant to say was 'Welcome to the neighborhood,' but you just caught me off guard. Sorry."

"I caught you off guard? You're the one who knocked on my door."

"Yeah, not gonna elaborate on that," he chuckled sheepishly, extending his hand, "Hi, I'm Jungkook, your neighbor," he introduced himself.

You chuckled in return, letting his ambiguity slide as you briefly shook his hand, providing him with your name, "Hi, Jungkook. I'm new here, if that wasn't obvious."

"No, yeah, you can really tell the difference between you and the old lady who used to live here. She was- wait, fuck. Did she-"

"No, Jungkook, she's not dead. The landlord told me she just moved into some retirement home," you clarified.

"Thank god," the boy sighed in relief, "Me and Mrs. Louis go way back. She used to bake me cookies on Sundays."

"Oh really? Well, you won't be getting any cookies from me. Sorry," you joked.

Cocking his head to the side, he lifted his eyebrows, "We'll see about that."

"What does that even mean?"

"I can be very convincing."

Was he flirting? Through a cookie euphemism?

"Are you-"

"Anyways, if you need any help with moving in, let me know. Maybe coming over to help build some furniture?", he suggested, "I like to be on a friendly standing with all my neighbors," he smiled as he disregarded his prior flirting, almost as if it had never happened.

"I'm your only neighbor. There's only two apartments per floor," you recalled, still amused by his oddity.

"Exactly," he winked, and with that, he turned to leave, heading back to his own apartment, "See you around."

It was through that very short interaction that you first met your neighbor, Jungkook. Despite how odd he had seemed, he carried a charm that intrigued you (though his pretty appearance also drew you in).

Closing your door, you went back to what you had been doing previously, a smile of disbelief on your face as you tried to come up with some believable reason to scout him for help – as he had offered – just to see him again.

Unfortunately, most of your stuff had not arrived yet, so you truly had nothing you could possibly use as an excuse to get him to come into your apartment so soon. It was nice, though, to know that your new neighbor was as friendly as he was (and as attractive, might you add).

"Hey, neighbor."

"Oh, hi, Jungkook. Did I forget to tell you my name last time?", you wondered why he'd omit your name, unless you had been too distracted last time staring at him to remember.

The next time you saw Jungkook was a day later at the apartment complex's laundry room located at the basement of the building. From what you'd seen the few times you'd walked by it on your way to the elevator, no one really seemed to use it. No one except Jungkook, apparently. You'd also come to find out that this apartment complex seemed to be occupied by mostly elderly people, with you and Jungkook being some of the few exceptions.

Eyeing you up and down in a not very discreet way, his eyes landed back on your face before responding, "No, just got distracted, sorry," he chuckled similarly to how he'd done last time.

This was the second time you'd seemingly caught him off guard, but you weren't complaining. The thought of your presence taking him out of focus gave you a slight boost in confidence, especially considering how attractive he was.

You eyed him curiously, noticing he had no laundry with him nor was he using either of the four washing machines located in the room. As soon as he came in, he took a seat on top of the washing machine next to the one you were currently putting your clothes into. When you smiled at him questioningly, he had no reaction, simply smiling back.

"What are you doing?", you asked whilst continuing your prior task, almost paying no mind to him.

"Just hanging out," he responded simply, swinging his feet back and forth as they hovered due to the stature of the washing machine he was currently sitting on.

"What, with me?"

"Yup. Just trying to be neighborly, is all. Shouldn't be down here all alone," he reasoned, "Can I help you? I love doing laundry."

You scoffed at that, "Really? You love doing laundry? Also, I don't need a bodyguard," you hadn't taken offense to his comment, but you'd found it somewhat amusing. He clearly just wanted to spend time with you, which admittedly made you feel slightly bashful. However, there was no harm in making him work for it a little more.

With a huff, he got off the washing machine and leaned down to help you organize your laundry, dividing it between colors, "I'm known as somewhat of a laundry fairy", he nodded seriously.

"Oh, so you do other people's laundry, then?"

"Yep," he nodded, "It's a whole profession. I part-time as bodyguard too," he joked, continuing to shuffle through your clothes.

"The perfect man," you retorted back, sarcasm in your tone.

"Exactly. You could make really good use of me," he winked, finishing up his pile of clothes and moving onto yours, beginning to place them inside the washing machine.

"Are you asking me to use you?", you braved it and flirted back, turning to look up at him.

The air in the room was comfortable, yet it now had a hint of something more. What it was, you weren't sure. Although Jungkook had hinted at being attracted to you when you first met a day prior, you'd never had a flirtation move so quickly. It usually took a bit more conversation before getting to the more suggestive comments, but the pleased look on his face as he looked down at you made you too excited to backtrack.

"I'm surprised it took you this long to get that. Was my self-invite to your apartment yesterday not hint enough?", he followed along, putting down the article of clothing he had in his hands to take a small step towards you, now leaving a very small distance between you.

"Oh? Was that what that was? I think I'm gonna need you to be a bit more specific. Spell it out for me, maybe?", you tilted your head to the side teasingly, almost as if daring him.

"Aw," he placed his hand on his chest, as if hurt, "That's my bad, pretty. I'll be a little more forward from now on, okay?", he coo'd, leaning down and letting his nose nudge against your own lightly.

"So, are you? Or are you all talk?", you dared him, tilting your face upwards, almost meeting his lips.

With a muted grumble, he closed the gap, pulling you towards him with a pull from your waist. Humming against your lips, he pressed you up against him, practically molding you to him as he allowed the kiss to become heated. The air in the room became even heavier somehow, causing you to mute any outside forces that could possibly take you away from a constant chorus of Jungkook playing in your head.

The kiss had no time for hesitance or shy meetings of lips as it instantly occupied the otherwise silent room with wet sounds of tongues intertwining and almost inaudible moans shared between lips. The harsh surface of the washing machine behind you almost felt like nothing as Jungkook's lips continued to distract you while his arms lifted you to sit on it. Legs opening, you welcomed him to stand between them, pulling him in my his shirt to ensure not even one second of distance between you was allowed.

Your head tilted back almost on its own accord as his lips trailed down your neck, humming into your skin after every kiss and occasional nibble of skin.

"J-Jungkook ... What if someone sees?", your common sense finally made an appearance, though you made no move to stop him.

"No one uses the laundry room here, it's fine. We have the place to ourselves," he breathed out between kisses, making his way back up to your lips.

With a scarily practiced finesse, his tongue snuck its way into your mouth, easing yours into copying his movements. Your resolve wore down quickly after that, following along with every touch of his on your skin. Despite not being one for casual hookups, it was impossible for you to deny the immediate chemistry you'd had with your neighbor. Who would casual sex with your neighbor going to hurt anyway?

His lips soon took your mind away from any further thought on the manner, trailing down your neck while his hands came up to wander under your tank top, tracing your skin with his calloused fingertips as goosebumps began to form. With soft hands and a rough tongue, Jungkook had your brain emptying at a worrying speed, now becoming a shell of yourself with nothing but Jungkook in mind. Just some kisses and some hand action already had you as putty under him, what a shame.

"Can I take this off?", he murmured against your lips, hands itching under your shirt as it rode up due to his movements.

"Mhm," you conceded, your own hands going under his shirt and feeling up the muscular skin of his back.

With your consent, his hands trailed their way back out from under your shirt, reaching down to help you out of it. Underneath was a tiny piece of fabric you could barely call a bralette, doing a terrible job of hiding the goosebumps on your skin or the hardness of your nipples. His tatted hand went up to toy with a clothed breast, murmuring praise against your cheek as he angled his head to look down at your chest. His eyes trailed to yours, finding them empty of any thought and far too wanting of more of his touch.

"How about this?" he practically whispered, one hand on your breast while the other went to toy at the strap of your bralette that had fallen from your shoulder to the meatier part of your arm, fingering at it softly, almost as if teasing whether or not he'd pull it all the way down or not.

"Yes," you almost whimpered, needing the skin-to-skin touch on your chest. Your back was already arched towards his chest, your body pleading him for more without any further words necessary.

He sighed once the job was done, your chest now fully naked for him and the rest of you almost equally as nude. It was only a tiny pair of shorts with some teeny tiny panties underneath that prevented him from your full nudity. In the meantime, he was still fully clothed. But somehow you didn't mind. His touch on your body was enough to keep you satiated. Surely you'd have your turn to enjoy his own nudity later on.

A groan left him upon hastily removing your shorts, now able to feel the heat coming from between your legs through the offensively thin panties you had on. Dragging you from your thighs, he placed you on the edge of the washing machine as he himself pulled down his pants just enough to leave him with boxers and some beaten up tank top. With a huff, he began intermittently connecting your crotches, bumping his hardness against your heat with a grumble. The art of dry humping might've been lost among many, but you were thanking any higher power that Jungkook was not one of the many to disengage with it.

"You're so warm already," he sighed, face pushing its way to your neck, nosing at your scent, "'n smell so fucking good ..."

Your nails dug to the skin of his shoulders, obsessed with the drag of his cock against you. He was hitting that sensitive, swollen spot that bad you wanting to give him a key to your apartment just so he could come over and do it over and over again.

"So fucking soft n pretty," he mumbled, "God, can't believe I got such a pretty little neighbor all to myself," he rambled on and on, "Gonna make you cum like this, okay, gorgeous? Promise I'll give you more next time, just- fuck ... just caught me off guard again's all ..." all his words were slurred, clearly marking the approximation of an early orgasm. What might've been a turn off for many others had your own high approaching just as fast. A hunk of a man such as Jungkook losing himself to mere dry humping? Sign you up!

"Me too," you almost whined, mouth open as you practically drooled at the feeling of that size and girth, excitement growing within you.

"Yeah? God, so fucking good n perfect," the praise was never ending, greatly aiding your impending orgasm.

With one last groan of your name, Jungkook's hips sped up, now dragging you more harshly into him in desperation for his orgasm. It was only a few moments into his own orgasm that you came too, too stimulated from his extensive play with your chest earlier on and simply too wound up to not find release with someone as attractive as he was.

In other circumstances you would've been embarrassed at how easily your body reacted to his own, but Jungkook seemed just as affected, still panting at the exertion his high had taken from him.

"Sorry," he chuckled breathlessly a few moments later, wide boba eyes staring at you with a shy smile, "I don't usually welcome people to the neighborhood by jumping them like that, hah, I hope I didn't overstep," he needlessly apologized as he helped you clean up with nearby towels and aided you in redressing you and himself.

Giggling at him couldn't be helped — he was far too cute. He was the perfect mixture of cuteness and hotness that it made you frustrated if you thought about it for too long.

"Jungkook, I promise you that was a very appreciated welcome," you laughed as you patted his shoulder reassuringly, stepping down from the washing machine.

"Great," he nodded with a smile, though still a but shy, "Let me help you with your laundry now, then? I won't jump you again, I promise."

"Maybe for next time, then?", you attempted to flirt, high fiving yourself internally when you pulled a shy chuckle out of him.

Next time you saw Jungkook was back in your apartment.

Maybe you should've expected him to be on the other side of that door, specially considering you hadn't met anyone else since moving here, but you also hadn't expected him to be so continuously forward.

Within less than a week of being here, you'd met Jungkook, flirted with him, hooked up in the laundry room and proceeded to wash your clothes with his aid — as it turned out, he really was better than the average person at doing laundry. And now, you were curious as to what the next thing to come would be.

After a few knocks on your door, you resumed drying off your hair and walked over to the door, skin still damp and thin robe wrapped around you. Being almost nude, you decided to be smart and look through the peephole before admitting a stranger into your home. Looking through it, you found the one person you'd hoped to see every time you left the apartment; Jungkook.

Had it been anyone else, maybe you would've bothered to ask him for a few minutes in order to get dressed before attending to the door. However, seeing as Jungkook had already seen you almost fully nude, it seemed dumb to do so. That, plus the fact that you were pretty sure how today's visit would go.

"Hey," he said casually when the door was opened.

Donning yet another tank top, the contour of his muscles could be easily seen as he leaned against the frame of the door. A confident and suave smile was on his lips the moment his eyes did a once-over of your body, clearly taking notice of the singular layer of clothing you had on.

"Huh," he hummed, "You're making this too easy for me," he chuckled, letting himself in when you stepped aside to silently welcome him.

"Hello, Jungkook," you ignored him, closing the door behind him, "Are you here to help me unpack?", you questioned upon seeing him approach the few boxes located in your living room and eyeing their contents curiously.

"Yeah. Figured you were taking too long to invite me over, might as well invite myself," he said distractedly, focus all spent on a bunny figurine he found in your boxes, mumbling a quiet 'cute' to himself.

"Let me get dressed and then we can start," you said, beginning to walk to your room while he sat on the floor, beginning to open some boxed furniture you hadn't even bothered to eye since its arrival.

Already in the other room, you heard Jungkook call over before you could close your door, mentioning something about 'You'll end up undressed anyways, but okay,' causing you to chuckle to yourself.

It only took you a few minutes to moisturize and dress yourself in some comfortable loungewear, able to hear Jungkook's ruckus all the way from your room. Despite his slight awkwardness shining through sometimes, he seemed to be a very confident guy, so it made sense to you that he'd made himself at home almost immediately upon his arrival.

Heading back to your living room, you found him sat comfortably on the floor, boxed materials to build what appeared to be a bookshelf laid in front of him while he eyed a manual. Originally, he had implied that his intention to go visit you had been for another hookup, so it amused you that he had actually taken his own words literally and decided to help you out with your furniture.

As you took a seat next to him, you decided to voice out this thought to him, "Wow, you're actually going to help me unpack?" you asked amusedly, hands reaching out to copy the way in which he assembled some pieces together.

He shrugged, "It's the neighborly thing to do," he reasoned, "Plus, the sooner you're unpacked, the sooner we can do more fun stuff."

Despite it being said so casually, it was more than enough encouragement for you to put your mind to the task, knowing that the unexpected help of your hot neighbor was way better than the alternative of getting all your moving in duties done by yourself.

It took about two hours to get done with most of your unpacking, combined with putting together the few pieces of furniture you had bought and neglected to build. The last of it was found in your bedroom in the form of a few boxes of skincare and clothing you'd been too lazy to unbox, opting to instead use whatever you needed at the time and leaving the rest unpacked. Jungkook tutted at you disappointingly at this, lightheartedly scolding you for not simply organizing your stuff as soon as you moved in and revealing to you how organized he was himself.

"Is there any box you want me to stay away from?", he wondered as he rummaged through one of the various boxes you'd moved onto your bed to organize.

"Nope, what do you mean?", you wondered, pulling out a hair dryer and placing it in its rightful spot before walking back over to the bed.

"Well, for instance ..." he trailed off, pulling out a tiny piece of lace you'd forgotten was in the box labeled as 'clothes' Jungkook was currently going through. He gave you an awkward smirk, his mind seemingly battling between being smug at the thong in his hands and affected by the thought of you wearing such a garment.

Immediately, your eyes widened, a gasp trapped in your throat before you jumped at him to grab at the lace, only for him to pull it back with a laugh, now holding it above your reach. You continued to pull at him, letting out an annoyed 'Jungkook!' to express your annoyance, but still laughing at how childish he was behaving.

He let you take hold of the thong after a few more slaps to his hard chest, laughing at your frustration. To prevent your further attacks, he grabbed onto your wrists, deciding to hold you against him as you let go of the panties and paid mind to him instead. Far too casually, he leaned down and trapped you in a soft kiss, humming against your lips as his hands wrapped around your waist and your own went to his shoulders. You damned him in your mind, chastising yourself for how easily it was for you to become entranced by his touch.

"You knew what was in there, didn't you? Hmm? Seductress," he joked against your lips, though the tone of his voice didn't make you laugh, especially not when it was said in an airy whisper between open mouthed kisses.

"Shut up," you grumbled, pulling him closer, unwilling to let the kiss end.

With masterful expertise, Jungkook managed to lay you down on the space of the bed empty of boxes, hands going under your shirt to trace the soft skin of your back. His lips trailed down to your neck and reaching down to the space of your chest not covered by your tank top, grumbling against your skin.

"You smell so nice," he sighed, "So fucking soft too," he continued, not shy in feeling your skin and even breathing you in.

Tuned with you, he disconnected from you to eye you for permission to remove your shirt, dragging it away from your body after a nod of confirmation from you and proceeding to remove his own. Your hands imitated his own, also feeling up his toned body as you continued to kiss. Now leaning atop you, he ground his crotch against your own, groaning into your lips at the basic pleasure he received from it.

"How far do you wanna go?", he murmured as he ground into you, "I'll do whatever you want. I owe you, remember?", he continued, referring to your encounter at the laundry room where he promised to fuck you properly next time.

"Do whatever you want," you replied, looping your lips again, "Just- fuck, do anything," you practically pleaded.

Chuckling, he nodded, opting to lay you down properly, moving aside any boxes that were in the way so you could lay all the way back while he trailed his way down your body, tugging down the tiny shorts you'd opted for a few hours earlier. You sighed at the realization of what was to come, ashamed to admit you'd been wondering how that piercing would feel between your legs.

"So soft here too," he mumbled, kissing up your thighs distractedly, making his way up to that area between your legs that was calling his name, "Fuck, 'n smell so good," his nose practically pressed up against the very thin layer of cloth separating him from your cunt, shamelessly breathing you in as he dragged his nose to press into your clit before pulling away.

A mute whine was pulled out of you, making your thighs attempt to close without much thought, only to make his arms wrap around your legs and pull them in opposite directions in order to separate them. He took a quick moment to pull your underwear down your legs, immediately going back to wrap around your legs to keep a wide enough space for him to enjoy you.

He began tentatively, almost as if testing out how he would go about having you. It only took some encouraging mewls from you for him to really put his heart into it, diving in as his tongue delved into your cunt, moaning against you. He hummed and groaned into your cunt, especially so whenever your hands would pull at his overgrown mullet, pulling him even closer to you. Taking advantage of his large nose, he nosed at your clit while his tongue played with your cunt. Your mewls and the scratching against his scalp should've been more than enough indicator that he had you at the palm of his hand.

"Baby," he moaned against you, refusing to create any distance between you, "you taste so good, fuck," he cried out, as if he were the receiver of the pleasure. But then again, maybe he was — or at least that's the gist you got from the commotion happening under you as the bed bumped with every movement of Jungkook's hips humping against it.

"K-kook, fuck, right the- oh, fuck ... right there!", you cried when his fingers joined in on the equation, tongue focused on your clit while his fingers curled inside you to perfection.

It was embarrassing how soon you felt your orgasm approaching, but you didn't blame yourself, not when a 10 was on his knees, whimpering against your cunt and letting endless muffled praise leave his lips while his tongue refused to let out. You lost control of yourself at some point, unashamed in the way you pushed his face against you, closing your thighs around his head and ground into his face. This only caused a high pitched whine to leave Jungkook, following your silent instruction for more and giving in to you twice as hard.

"Cum, baby. Wanna taste, fuck, please," he pleaded, looking up at you for a quick moment, making your brain leave you entirely at the pretty eyes he was making up at you, practically begging for your orgasm to come.

If you were boneless and defeated before, you were more so now, losing yourself to your orgasm as the pretty boy continued to lick and suck at your release, humming as if he had just been provided the most satiating meal. The humping of his hips never stopped either, only accelerating upon your high and only halting when you'd gone down from it, insisting on pulling him up the bed to claim his lips, wanting to enjoy them while the arousal was still fresh on him.

"God, fuck, you're nasty," he chuckled breathlessly when your tongue quite literally attacked his mouth, insistent on tasting yourself on his lips. This was clearly not a complaint, but more like a happy realization, as Jungkook practically reached down your throat as he tongued at your mouth, providing you with your own taste and moaning endlessly as he did so.

"Did you cum?", you asked between kisses, eyebrows pinched with worry that you wouldn't get to play with him this time around either.

He chuckled, a bit embarrassed, "No, pretty. Almost, though. I can just finish myself off if you're tired or-"

"No!" you interrupted, not shy in reaching down to his still clothed cock, feeling the length through his clothed ad he shuddered, "Let me suck you off? Fair trade, right?", you suggested, wanting nothing more than that size inside you one way or another.

"Oh, you sure? I don't want to force you or anything-"

You interrupted again, gesturing at him to flip you over so he could be under you this time around, "No, Kook. Please? I really want it. Can I have it?", you decided to be a bit mean, playing up the begging under the assumption that a guy like Jungkook would probably enjoy it.

You were right.

"O-oh, okay, beautiful," he rasped, hands in a frenzy to undo his sweats so he could give you access to his dick, "Just, fuck, give me a second. I don't wanna cum right away," he blushed, giving you a sweet peck before leading you to your knees while he sat at the edge of the bed.

With an excited giggle, your hands joined his own to help him lower his pants and boxers just enough to give you access to his length — the same one that had dragged against you until completion just a few days prior. His groan at your touch was immediate, body physically shuddering when you wrapped your hand around it and eyed it with hunger. His hands laid on his thighs, fingers itching as he attempted to hold his reactions back.

"Can I?", you asked, leaning closer to it as your hand remained wrapped around it.

"Yes, just, fuck, don't laugh when I cum too soon," he warned with a whine.

Another giggle left you before finally lowering your head down to his own head, lips wrapping around it and suctioning meanly. With a hum, your tongue lightly licked at the tip, earning a mixture of a groan and a sigh from the man north of you. Your hand remained wrapped around his length, twisting while you tortured the tip with your mouth. To ensure you could really drive him crazy, your other hand joined in, playing at his balls and earning yet another sound of supplication from him.

"G-god, fuck, wait- Don't- Fuck, more, baby, please," he begged, hand shyly going to the back of your head to lightly encourage you to engulf him in your mouth.

"Want my mouth?", you asked as you let go of him, though still lightly licking at the sides of his dick, unwilling to stop teasing for as long as you could help it.

"C'mon, baby. I gave you my mouth, just- Oh, fuck, yes," he sighed when you decided to practically down the majority of his dick, enveloping as much as you could while using your hand to jerk off the small percentage of it that couldn't fit into your mouth.

You decided to show off as much as you could, taking him far enough to gag and pushing through it for as long as possible. The whines and whimpers coming from the man above you were more than enough reward for your efforts.

"F-fuck, you don't have to g-gag, baby, shit, don't force yourself," he panted out, barely able to get those words out without effort. This only encouraged you further, puffing out air from your nose in order to obtain as much oxygen as possible. You knew he wad almost at his end, so you used every asset available to you to break him. You took breaks to breathe every so often, but other than that, you were practically a machine attached to his cock.

"Okay, shit, fuck," he stammered out curses, "Gonna cum, pretty, w-where? In your mouth? Please? Fuck, let me cum in your mouth," he rambled while his hands made a mess of your hair as he attempted to keep it away from your face. His hips also began a slow and shy grind against your face — a barely visible movement but still completely present. It represented his lack of control as you blew his mind away, something which went straight to your core.

You nodded, humming against his dick knowing it'd cause a vibration that'd have him keening for his orgasm. And right you were, as his hands shamelessly pushed your head into his cock without a second thought, clearly too overcome with the pleasure of his orgasm to worry about gagging you with his cum. You, however, took it like a champ, reasoning that within some seconds you'd get to breathe properly again.

"G-god, baby, just like that ... C-cumming, shit" he cried, hips still pushing into your mouth. You wished you could see how his whiny demeanor manifested onto his face — those gorgeous features must've looked breathtaking when pleasure was all he felt.

Finally, you gasped out for air after having swallowed as much as you could manage, with some of it dripping past your lips. Jungkook let himself lay back on the bed to catch his breath while you remained on your knees catching yours.

This lasted very little when Jungkook suddenly decided to use his brute strength to drag you up on the bed, sitting your still wet middle on his flaccid self, pulling you in for yet another tongue-filled kiss. He hummed and moaned and whined as he licked every remnant of his essence from your mouth, causing a similar reaction from you.

After the fact, you shuffled yourself off him and made space on the bed to huddle up to his side, which he welcomed by cocooning you under his arm and pulling you flush against him. It was comfortable and silent for a few moments as you continued catching your breaths and letting the sweat on your bodies transpire — you also made a mental note to invite him to take a shower (with you, maybe).

"You moving in next door was not on my bingo card, but thank fucking god for that," he chuckled after a few moments of silence.

"Yeah? You didn't stalk your previous neighbors for a hookup?", you joked, receiving a devious squeeze of his strong arm in retaliation.

"Shut up," he tutted, "You like that I'm like a dog following you around."

Fair enough.

Silence then took over again, up until the two of you were rested enough and decided to get back to the task at hand — putting furniture together and unpacking anything that was left boxed (though you decided to leave any boxes that may contain panties away from his reach).

It was easy for you to fall into fun conversation with Jungkook, which only led to him staying over for far longer than anticipated, taking up your day and even ordering takeout for you to eat after getting all the grunt work out of the way. A shower was had, though you mutually agreed for no funny business (other than a good ten minutes of making out under the water, but that didn't count in your eyes). Since he lived right next door, he managed to extend his visit up until the last minute, entertaining you more than anything had in the past week of moving in.

One month into your new place and you decided the move was probably one of the best decisions you'd ever made. You'd come to find that Jungkook's old neighbor was not the only old lady living in the building, but that the neighborhood was mostly made up of old people (which, granted, Jungkook had warned you of in passing). That gave to a slightly boring home life, but you liked it better this way. Jungkook being your sole young neighbor was more than enough, specially with how often he went out of his way to seek you out.

After those first two hookups, no time for anything else was really had. This made you embarrassingly needy. The anticipation for finally having actual sex with Jungkook was too much too handle, specially when he'd still occasionally bump into you and catch you off guard with a kiss (which usually led to a make-out far too filthy for the public setting). You'd started your new job a week after moving and Jungkook was occupied by some reason or another, meaning that you'd only really see each other in passing. Although you'd text and keep up with each other, the frustration continued to build up.

The third time you were really able to get Jungkook alone was a little over a month after moving in.

You weren't particularly proud of how it is that you got him back in your apartment, but in your defense, you were ovulating that night and feeling particularly needy. Knowing that Jungkook was a bit of an unserious man, you knew that some pull from you and he'd put everything aside to come crawling. The thought itself made you feel powerful.

With a single 'accidental' text (maybe it was a lewd image, you'll never tell), you began to hear obnoxious knocking on your front door — within seconds of delivery, might you add. Excitedly, you walked over to the door, opening it to find a breathless Jungkook holding up his phone with your conversation pulled up, the incriminating picture taking up his screen.

"You're so mean to me," he managed to say before you pulled him in with a kiss, kicking the door behind you and turning around so he could press you up against the now closed door.

"Mean? I didn't do anything," you feigned between kisses, already lightheaded.

"I've been wanting to come over," he sighed into your lips, trailing down to your neck to catch his breath, "Just been so busy, fuck. If you wanted me so bad, you could've just come visit. I'd drop anything to have you," he continued, unable to unglue his lips from your skin. His hands mirrored his sentiment, grabbing at every curve with a desperation you hadn't seen from him before.

"I thought you were the one that was supposed to be chasing after me?", you joked with a breathless chuckle.

"Sometimes I need a little encouragement, baby. Need to know I'm not just bugging you," he replied as he undressed you almost as if it were second nature to him.

Walking you back into what he knew to be your room, he laid you down, now donning nothing but your panties. He soon after matched your nudity, stripping of his muscle tee and sweats, making his way on top of you as he'd done last time.

"Will you be mad if I fuck you?", he rasped, one hand at your boobs and another rubbing at your cunt through the thin layer covering it.

"You're an idiot," you deadpanned, "I'll be mad if you don't."

Needing no further confirmation, his hand slipped past your panties, rubbing circles on the puffiness of your clit while continuing to kiss you. This didn't last for long, simply being used as an aid to lubricate you with your own wetness as his fingers reached a little souther to smear your slick around while his thumb continued to play with the swollen bud.

Already unclothed, Jungkook took his hand away from you, resulting in a whine from your lips to his and moving his hand onto his own arousal. Jerking himself a few times, he stopped kissing you in favor of leaning back to look down at you while twisting his fist on his dick. After quickly fishing for a condom from his discarded pants, he went back to his previous position, rolling it in while you nagged at him to hurry.

Before actually entering you, of course he had to piss you off one last time by teasing your clit with the tip of his cock, groaning when he felt you flutter beneath him. One kick from you was enough for him to chuckle and finally enter you, groaning in unison with you at the feeling.

"Jesus Christ," you groaned when you felt him begin bottoming out, inch by inch filling you up enough to cause an unknown level of pleasurable pain. You hadn't stopped to think what that size would feel like inside you — or at least as much as he was able to get in.

Above you, Jungkook looked tortured, still and with a wincing look on his face as he waited for the green light to begin moving in and out of you. It took you a few moments longer, nimble fingers digging into the muscles of his arms before you finally nodded at him to move.

"Fuck," he groaned upon finally beginning to pick up a pace, biting his lip and his eyes almost rolled back.

"More," you urged, falling in love with the feeling of him immediately.

Your eyes were crossed, your fingers digging far too painfully into his skin, your legs wrapped around him like a vice, everything was far too intense far too quickly. He obeyed your plea immediately, making matters worse for you, having already been blowing your mind prior but now simply melting it.

"How do you feel this good?", he grunted. His arms reached your thighs, pulling you up a bit to hammer into you at a better angle, "Should've fucked you since that first day, shit. How'd I get such a pretty- fuck, such a pretty girl delivered right to my door?", he went on, sweat building on his skin.

The slapping of skin sped up with the proximity of Jungkook's orgasm, just as yours followed along. His hands were restless, attempting to hold you up while also thirsty to feel every possible inch of your body.

"Please tell me you're close, or else this is going to be really embarrassing for me," he muttered onto your skin.

With a chuckle, you confirmed your incoming high, whining when he finally let himself go and sped up in order to reach his own orgasm, now more relaxed knowing you were right with him.

He let out some uncharacteristically high moans as he filled up the condom, groaning and stilling once he was finally done. You joined him mere seconds later, arching your back and pressing your chest against his own as bliss encompassed you. Despite the sticky sweat covering you both, Jungkook let himself fall against you, pulling out and placing the condom aside momentarily so he could lay beside you while you caught your breath.

In the almost silent room, Jungkook nuzzled against you and kissed the sweaty skin he could reach, hands playing with your hair as he pressed you up against him.

"Would it be bad if I asked you out? Or should I have done that before seducing you in the laundry room?", he wondered out loud, leaving love bites on your neck.

You laughed at how random he could be, appreciating how he spoke his thoughts aloud most of the time, "You can ask me out, I won't bite. Unlike some people," you muttered the last part, giggling when he gave you a slightly harsher bite.

"You like it, don't lie," he muttered, suddenly getting up and dragging you with him despite your whine in negation, "C'mon, we're going to take a shower, have a quickie, and then I'm taking you out for some boba," he decided, using his inhuman strength to pull you up and drag you to your restroom.

"But-"

"C'mon, I've been wanting to ask you out since you moved in, I'm already late," he hushed you, carrying your basically limp body to the restroom with the promise of a fun night, something you did not have it in you (nor did you want to) deny.

to read short 1.6k word continuation (+ all other previously written bonus content) you can go join my jk monthly tier on patreon!

content: smut, afab reader, oral (f receiving), etc.

wc: 433 (teaser); 1619 (full drabble)

sneak peak:

"Are you ever going back to your apartment?", you murmured, though it was likely muffled by the large body wrapped around you.

"What, already tired of me?", asked Jungkook as he continued to nose at your skin, a habit you realized he had soon after making things official. He had a sensitive nose, he'd said once, always enjoying the cosmetic products that gave you that floral scent he adored.

After a month of officially dating, Jungkook had become the human manifestation of a leech. It was rare for him to leave tour side whenever you so happened to have free time and would take advantage of the proximity between your apartments.

Being frank, this was something you loved about him. Still in the honeymoon phase, there was nothing better than getting to see your boyfriend at any given time, especially when he was the one seeking you out. He made you feel wanted and like you were a necessity for him, almost as if he had an addiction to you.

That being said, the man just would not leave your apartment.

Now, this wasn't too much of a bother thus far. You liked it, in fact (at least for the most part). He was quite clean while also being laid back, which was a great combination to have in a person who was practically taking on the role of your roommate.

He did, however, prove to become a distraction when it came to your day to day life. You allowed yourself to indulge in his company too much, leading to a huge drop in your productivity.

But what could you do? He was addictive.

"You love having me around, don't lie to yourself," he continued, "What, tired of waking up to head?", he joked, hands making their way under your shirt to cheekily trace your skin.

"Waking up to head?," you asked incredulously, "You woke me up by tickling me, you menace."

He chuckled, adjusting himself on the bed so he could climb on top of you, knees settled on each side of you and hands slowly bringing your top up.

"Okay, fine. Maybe I've been a bad guest. Let me make it up to you?", he grinned, snaking his way down your body until his head was leveled with your stomach, kissing the skin he'd freed just moments prior.

"Better make it worth my while or else I'll start charging you rent for every hour you spend in here."

"I'll move in. Don't threaten me with a good time," he joked, knowing most of his time was spent here with you regardless.

...

find the 18+ continuation on patreon!

if you have trouble finding it on there, just let me know!!<3

#jungkook imagine #jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #jungkook scenario #jungkook x reader #bts imagine #bts imagines #bts scenario #bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts smut

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chososlilprincess · 9 months

Text

okay last LAST part of Virgin!Choso…part 4<3 (i will probably do scenarios w Choso as a virgin in the future tho but this is the end of this lil series) other parts here: part 1. part 2. part 3.

alright….rly hope u guys like it!!<33

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Virgin Choso, who wakes up in the morning, blinking his eyes, trying to get used to the sunlight coming in through the blinds.

You’re laying on his chest, your arms hugging him close, breathing softly. You’d fallen asleep quickly last night, fucked out from him eating you out. He smiles at the memory of you kissing him, and how you’d said yes to being his perfect little girlfriend. He starts rubbing your back, kissing your forehead softly before moving you, he’d needed to go to the bathroom for 30 minutes now, holding it in because he didnt want to wake you, he wanted to stay with you on his chest forever.

When he leaves his bathroom he stands in his boxers and a white t-shirt outside of his bedroom, he needs a cigarette, and he wants to let his princess sleep.

He goes to his balcony and pulls out a cig from the pack, putting it between his lips and lighting it. He’s really happy he realizes, and his heart is at ease, even though it’s still burning up from how much he loves the girl sleeping in his bed.

A minute later he hears the door to his bedroom open, and the pats of your feet on the floor, walking to him. You wrap your arms around his middle, nuzzling your face into his back.

Fuck. calm yourself Choso.

“come back to bed please,” you tell him in a small voice, hugging him closer.

His heart clenches, “of course,” he says, he could never deny you anything, And he takes your hand as you lead him back to his bed.

“Wanna show you how much i like you,” you say as you place urself in his lap, straddling him on his bed. You feel him twitching in his boxers. And when he looks at you again, his eyes are full of desperation.

“been wanting you,” he breathes out “so much and i…” he pulls you closer by your waist, wrapping his arms around you. “i touched myself…every night, thinking about your pretty face and…” he’s embarrassed to admit it and his cheeks flush.

“it’s okay…i did it too choso..” you say softly and caress his cheek.

you touched yourself thinking about him. fuck that did it for him.

“wanna be inside you…please i,” he buries his face in your neck, bucking his hips and you feel how hard he is. You’re driving him insane, sitting on his lap so pretty, with only your top and panties on. He wants to show you he’s yours, he wants you to tell him youre his.

“shhh i want you too…” you tell him and he nods,

You kiss him then, giving him little pecks around his mouth. And when you put your hand on his cock, he whines and grinds himself into you.

“wanna touch it…can i?” you say innocently and trace a finger up his cock, all the way to the tip. He whimpers, “please,” and rubs his head on your cheek.

As soon as you get his consent you put your hand down his boxers, pulling out his dick. Its so pretty. Long and thick, the tip leaking and red. And you eye the happy trail from his groin all the way to his belly button.

“look…my hand almost doesn’t fit around it…so big…” you say fascinated, studying his dick. He groans deeply, holding onto your waist. “baby i…” he’ll cum if you say shit like that, while looking so perfect on top of him.

You stroke him once slowly and he kisses you again, groaning into your mouth. it feels so good, so much better than when he’s doing it himself. He bucks up into your hand, fucking himself into it. He’s panting softly, and when you pull away his eyes are half lidded, he looks fucked out already.

“cant wait anymore please fuck,” he almost looks like hes gonna cry, looking down at your hand stroking him, “let me be inside you princess please,” he begs.

You take your hand away from his dick, and he sobs at the lack of contact. “tell me,” you say, and he knows what you mean.

“loved you ever since you smiled at me for the first time, i think about you…f-fuck i think about you all the time,” his face turns into one full of affection, “ive never done this before,” He says, and doesnt tell you that not only is he a Virgin, but he also had no clue about sex before Yuji told him. Back then something in his human heart wanted you so bad, and now all of him does.

“ive never felt this before,” he sniffles, “fuck please princess i can’t take it anymore,” he’s shaking now, trembling from his desire.

“shhh…take your clothes off,” you tell him and he obeys you, pulling off his t-shirt to reveal his toned chest, his body full of scars. He pulls off his boxers and you pull off your panties.

“lay down,”

He gets on the bed, And you admire him for a moment. He’s completely naked, big chest and strong arms on full display. His hard cock leaking and stiff on his stomach.

When you get on top of him he mewls in anticipation. You put your hands on his chest, placing your pussy on his length.

He grabs your thighs tightly as he groans. Youre so wet, all for him. It makes his heart swell with pride.

You grab him and place him to your wet hole, putting his tip inside. And hes so big, your little pussy struggling to take even just his tip. You whine out and he stops you before you can sink down on him more. hes breathing heavily, cheeks a light pink, “dont wanna hurt you…” he breathes out.

“i…i can take it, just…give me a minute,” you say and bite your lip tightly. And youre so fucking adorable, how youre struggling to take his big cock, but you want to make him happy so bad, wanna have him inside you so bad.

When you finally sink down fully on him, you both moan in unison. And Choso groans at the way he can see himself poking through your tummy.

You look at him, silently asking for permission to keep going, he nods eagerly. You lift your hips and start fucking yourself on him slowly, letting out the prettiest sounds hes ever heard, It feels so fucking good. Your cunt is so wet and warm. He loves this, he loves you. He whimpers and cries while you bounce on him, moving his hands to your waist.

“you’re so handsome Choso,” you say it softly to him, clenching down on his length. You think hes handsome.

Choso looses his mind.

“fuck baby i’m sorry,” He grabs your hips and flip you over so that you’re laying on your back underneath him, he slides into you again, “need to…fuck i need you,” he whines and he ruts into you fast and desperate.

You’re moaning so pretty now. he keeps going.

“mine…mine mine mine mine,” he breathes.

You look up at him with your pretty big eyes, letting out the cutest sound hes ever heard. And with that he reaches his high.

“fuck i love you i love you i love you,” he repeats it over and over as he fills you up with his hot cum, trembling and crying from how good he feels, while you cum around him too from the feeling of him finishing inside you.

He passes out on top of you, breathing heavily, careful not to crush you under him. You reach up and stroke his hair, calming him as he comes down from his high. He nuzzles his cheek into you, kissing you softly as he pulls out of you with a whimper.

He lays down next to you and cradle you to his chest, wrapping his arms around you and kissing the top of your head.

“i love being your boyfriend,” he says,

and you laugh, your body vibrating against him.

he looks at you with a smile, “what? whats funny?”

you stop to look at him again, “nothing,” you crawl on top of him then, laying flat on his chest, folding your arms and putting your head on your hands.

“fuck youre pretty,” he breathes, and you kiss him softly.

“And youre handsome…or maybe i shouldnt say that because you might go beast mode again,” you grin at him,

“shut up…” he mumbles, and you laugh even harder. “its okay…i liked it,” you say,

“say that youre mine,” you look at him and his face is serious,

“im yours Choso…”

You both fall asleep to the sound of eachothers heartbeat.

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

YIPPIEEE!! yeah i made reader say he went “beast mode” sue me. i was giggling bru😭😭 (she said it ironically dont worry)

taglist:

@adanfore @the1exiled @tojicvmslut @natriae @mynahx3 @arabellatreaty @himboelover @saturnlus-stuff @sircatchungus @ladygunheild @peregrine-nation @otomebebe @kyouenredxviolet @dellalyra @bloombb @mimiemie @sodoney

#choso x reader #jjk x reader #choso #jjk smut #choso fluff #choso kamo #choso kamo smut #choso kamo x reader #choso kamo x you #choso smut #jjk choso #jjk fanfic #choso fanfic #choso x you #kamo choso x reader

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reveluving · 10 months

Note

Ok, so Soap and shy wife. We all know he's the definition of sunshine/happy puppy and has the energy of an entire class of kindengarden. Imagine when they first meet the couple and he's all loud and jolly, and wife quietly shakes their hand and says "Nice to meet you" and he INSTANTLY quiets, because he's proud of his Darling to meet his friends/family, also because they're all wondering how she puts up with him🤣❤

LOSING MY MIND AT "they're all wondering how she puts up with him" BECAUSE THAT IS BASICALLY THEIR DYNAMIC 🤧💗💗

Includes: tooth-rotting fluff!

COD x shy!wife thots closed! Thank you, everyone, for your time & amazing minds! I sincerely hope I can do this again with y'all soon! 💌

Come & check out my COD m.list!

You just know this man does not shut up about you every time he meets up with his team for work.

And then, one day, he surprises them with a “she’d love y’all to come over one day.”

“Didn’t you say she’s a lil’ shy?” Kyle voiced out everyone’s thoughts, so to be offered not by the man himself but the meek lady in question was a little surprising, to say the least.

“She is, yeah, but she’s open t’meeting a few pals o’mine.” Johnny meant it to sound casual, but with his mates knowing him for a long time, it wasn’t hard to catch the hint of care in his voice.

And, well, it would be rude to decline a lady’s generous offer, now, would it?

Johnny’s hyped, no doubt, his friends—no, brothers, and his other half finally meeting in person. They didn’t even have to ask, just by the way he was tapping his fingers on the steering wheel or the way he hummed to the radio, likely a playlist the two of you shared.

And with the boys holding some sort of gift for you, just as a thank you for the invite, you greet them by the door as soon as your husband announces his and his friends’ arrival.

With Simon physically being the closest to you, you wiped your hands on your apron before holding your hand out. Simon nearly struggled with his strength, not expecting your lack of hesitation to greet him, out of all of them.

You introduced yourself, “It’s nice to finally meet you guys.”

Ah, such a sweet voice. So sweet that had Johnny not gone on and on about your shyness, they would’ve thought you were scared of them. But, you weren’t and the proud smile on Johnny’s face says it all.

Why wouldn’t he? With your warm smile and even willingness to shake Kyle and John’s hands as well. Albeit, you had a habit of looking down every once in a while, especially if they tried to show their respect, i.e. complimenting your cooking, the decor or you in general, it was hard not to find you endearing.

But God knows how you, of all people, manage to put up with his nonsense.

In the words of Johnny; “Opposites attract, after all.”

And seeing it now, to say Johnny was whipped…. Was putting it lightly.

It’s funny to see Johnny trying his best when it comes to lowering his gruff voice for you, even if you loved it just the way it is.

Though he has a lot of things to tell you, so much love to give you, you have his full attention the moment your lips part.

Each time you open your mouth, he closes his. As if fearing that one word from him would mean talking over you entirely, and he couldn’t bear the thought of that. The hearts in his eyes were tough to miss. He’s expressive, too, hanging on your every word like you were giving him a task when it was just you talking about how you learnt to make the lasagna you served for dinner.

‘SHUT UP, MY BABY HAS SOMETHING TO SAY’ type of beat, but it’s the man who’s saying it that has the loudest voice (and the gentlest heart).

But they’d be lying if they said they didn’t enjoy listening to the stories of how you met and how emo Johnny gets when the dates or outings don’t go his way, even though it all went well in the end.

Why wouldn’t they enjoy seeing his soul leave his body when you mentioned his baby pictures that his mother not only showed you but gave some to you as well?

“Johnny, c’mon, now, she’s a part of the family! She’ll need some photos o’you for when you move in together soon.” Says his mother, gifting you probably a stack of them, as if unfazed by the sight of you and Johnny covering your faces, the temperature of your body heat rising that even you feared you might pass out right then and there. He couldn’t even find the energy to stop his sisters from teasing him.

But besides allowing you to embarrass him a little, even if it wasn’t your intention, your home is another.

A small unit, located on the second floor. The candlelight colour, the cute indoor plants in each room, and the seats.

Oh, the seats.

John nearly passed out just moments after he sat on it.

Just by the way you maximized the apartment space, it’s no wonder Johnny always looked forward to returning home. Not necessarily the apartment, but to you.

Dare they say, the visit felt like a ‘cultural reset’ (is that what the kids are saying these days?). Largely because one; they were able to finally confirm that Mrs MacTavish is a real person and two; one cannot simply ignore the dynamic you and Johnny have. It may be eye-roll-worthy to some, but Johnny learns it isn’t something worth fighting about. So long he has you, those people can yap and nag about it all they want.

Bonus: John’s definitely the type of person to tell Laswell about it like it was some kind of a mission—like it was almost unbelievable to see you, well, you!

“M’tellin’ ya, Laswell. As soon as his wife had something t’say, he shuts up faster than when I tell him to.” He chuckled before taking a sip of his drink.

“Sounds like a keeper to me.”

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bbeoms · 3 months

Text

rugby!simon headcanons

hello, my sports hyperfixation this summer is rugby union, thus here i present you my rugby player simon riley brainrot! decided to write it cause why not???? someone needed to bring this idea to life. i hope you enjoy <3

fluff, suggestive, slight hurt/comfort

- plays as a forward (more specifically, second row/lock) so he’s always there during a scrum!

- and as we know, forwards are usually huge men 🤭 so 6’4 117kg simon is the perfect candidate

- you have to restrain yourself every time he’s in his kit cause have you seen how tight their jerseys and shorts are?????

- you can’t help but stare at how the fabric hugs his pecs and how the sleeves are lowkey cutting off circulation to his arms cause of how large his biceps are (and the way his tattoos peek out from the sleeves? chefs kiss)

- hikes up his shorts when he knows you’re watching and smirks when he catches you staring at the thick muscle of his thighs

- avoids wearing his kit around you when you’re ovulating cause he’s not sure he can control himself with the way you eye him like you’re ready to pounce

- (he learned his lesson after that one time you went to a match when you were ovulating. simon didn’t think it was possible, but you managed to milk him dry after you guys went home that night 💀 the hormones made you too feral until you managed to make him tap out lmao)

- anyone else become possessed by a succubus during ovulation?,,,,,, just me?,,,,, okay,,,,

- doesn’t usually wear a scrum cap during his matches

- but there was a couple of times he had to wear it (per the doctors recommendation) to protect stitches he had near his ear

- “ohmygod si you look like the end of a pencil ✏️”

- sulked at your teasing, he didn’t want to wear it either 😭

- you cooed and proceeded to shower his face with lil kisses until he forgave you

- felt his heart melt when you squished your cheek to his and took a selfie, your smile wide as you laugh at the way his blond strands were cutely sticking out of the cap (and how he still, looked like the end of a pencil)

- made it his lockscreen immediately

- being a rugby girlfriend isn’t always fun and games though

- it’s an extremely physical and dangerous sport and although you’d like to think simon is invincible, he’s still human

- it’s hard to believe but there are quite a number of players that are taller and heavier than him (you can’t say they have the same skill set though, simon is really good at his job)

- there’s always an underlying feeling of anxiety every time you watch him play

- injuries are a given

- split skin, bleeding ears and broken bloody noses are some of the more tame injuries you’ve seen simon get.

- simon coos at your tears and furrowed eyebrows whenever you tend to his injuries during rest days

- you don’t like seeing your man hurt!!!! :(((

- (okay but it is pretty hot when he gets all bloody in the face like in the first picture like hello??? lemme jump on you)

- straddling his lap while wiping the dried blood off his eyebrow

- “gimme a kiss”

- being cheeky and steals a kiss on your lips after you ignore his request

- reassures you that he’s alright and reminds you that he’s had worse injuries

- you give him a glare, silently telling him to not remind you of that time you thought he died on the pitch

- simon got hit with a high tackle, the fucker that was attempting to tackle him had his shoulder straight into simon’s neck (the guy got a red card deservingly) knocking simon back and motionless on the pitch

- you watched in horror as multiple bodies pile on top of him, not noticing that simon was out cold

- soon enough, the team’s medics were on field and stretching him away for treatment

- simon still feels your gentle touch on his face that day, thumb rubbing his cheek willing him to be okay

- he still remembers the look on your face despite being concussed. distraught, dried tears staining your cheeks.

- you were so scared, you didn’t know how bad his concussion was and what the aftermath of such injury would entail.

- he’d never felt such tenderness before

- he couldn’t believe that someone cared about him that much, didn’t think that he would ever find someone to love him like you do

- whispers i love you for the first time in his dazed state

- decides at that point that he won’t let you go, and has become a simp ever since <3

left to right pics: david pocock, tariq sims, chris robshaw (<- he would lowkey make a good simon riley imo)

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley fluff #cod fluff #call of duty #cod #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley headcanons #simon riley x you #ghost x you #rugby!simon #rugby au

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ham1lton · 5 months

Text

kiss me thru the phone!

pairings - logan sargeant x law student!reader (no faceclaim).

warnings - nothing <3

summary - oscar has a new number. no problem! until logan realises he hasn’t been texting his friend his breakdown but rather some random girl. well… let’s hope you have some good advice at least.

— part four of my 500 followers celebration ♡ —

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liked by yourbffname, classmate2 and 237 others.

yourusername: coffee, studying and taking candids of my bestie. isn’t she so pretty when she’s in the midst of a academic breakdown?

view all comments

yourbffname: fuck u!!! that picture is kinda cute tho. can’t even see my dark circles 😩

-> yourusername: you’re v gorgeous to me!!!

classmate2: those cookies look amazing 🤩 we need to go for some!!

-> yourusername: yess!!! we should. after tomorrow’s lecture okay for you?

-> classmate2: yes!! 🫶🏼

yourmum: keep up the good work honey!! proud of you!! make sure to drink water and take breaks :D

-> yourusername: ofc!!! can’t wait to come home and see you!

yourchildhoodfriend: can’t believe u got into harvard. rory gilmore wishes.

-> yourusername: you’ll always be the lane to my rory babe <33

-> yourchildhoodfriend: imy!! come home soon!!

-> yourusername: i will!! me and u and the arcade?

-> yourchildhoodfriend: it’s a date! 🥰

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liked by yourbffname, lilymhe and 348 others.

yourusername: england was great. shout out to auntie k! oh, i also met some dude. anyone recognise him?

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logansargeant: he kinda fine 😩😝😜

-> yourusername: he is… too bad he’s mine 🙄

-> logansargeant: when she claims u in public 🤤 >>

oscarpiastri: never seen him before… he a little close to the camera though. if i was you, i’d run.

-> yourusername: good idea. i already got my nikes on.

-> logansargeant: 🙄🙄🙄😒😒😒👎🏻‼️

lilymhe: lovely meeting you babe!!

-> yourusername: yes u too!! need to hang out again soon <3

-> lilymhe: we can ditch our bfs again 🤩

-> alex_albon: ????? NO 😰

yourbffname: girl… did you get the goods?

-> yourusername: the lewis hamilton signed cap?? ofc. think of it as a thank u for motivating me to even do this. <333

-> yourbffname: omg i could kiss u on the mouth but i won’t bc logan might kill me. that last pic a lil scary…

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author’s note: PLEASE ignore the shitty photoshop job on the text messages. the app is usually use to make these texts decided to stop working so i need to find a new one 🙄 also if u guys liked this… u should read my other logan fics — summer lovin’ and manifest it! 😜

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ellecdc · 3 months

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Poly!moonwater are the type to be relieved when plans to go out are cancelled. Rem will say loudly as he's talking on the phone- oh no, you can't make it? And reg and r will already be changing into comfy clothes and getting snacks and they'll all be cuddled together before the phone call even ends

mimi: *sends in thoughts/request* mimi: *waits 3 months for lexy to respond* sooorrrrryyyy for the wait! I loved this prompt and hoarded it until inspiration struck

poly!moonwater x fem!reader who loves cancelled plans

Regulus was crouched in front of you as he helped you slide your heels on when Remus’s phone started ringing.

“Hello?”

Regulus tapped your left foot to encourage you to lift it for him.

“Hey Prongs!”

You both paused in your actions and whipped your head towards your boyfriend to see him already looking at you.

“No, no. We haven’t left yet; we’re just at the door.”

Regulus slowly rose from his crouched position; helping you balance in your awkward one-heel-on stance.

“Oh really! The poor thing…” Remus cooed sympathetically in a manner both you and Regulus knew was mostly for show. “I’m sorry to hear he’s feeling poorly.”

You finally opted to put your shoed foot back onto the ground as your naked-foot leg began to ache in your flamingo stance.

“Blimey, no don’t worry at all, we’re totally fine to reschedule.”

And that was all it took for Regulus to crouch back down to undo the buckle of your heel as you all but ripped your jacket off of your shoulders.

“I hope the rest of you don’t catch it, too.”

Regulus hung both of your jackets up before pulling Remus’ off his shoulders too; you having long since fled further into the flat at the news of your newly free evening.

“No, Sirius is definitely the worst sick person.” Remus agreed as he bit back a chuckle watching you come sliding (literally) down the hardwood floors in your fuzzy socks (which he’s asked you not to do as you were going to hurt yourself) and what he recognized to be one of his old t-shirts.

“Well, you could just lock them both in Haz’s room until the flu has passed; save you and Lil’s the trouble.”

Regulus appeared around the corner then, donned in his own pyjamas before joining you in the kitchen.

“No you’re right.” Remus agreed, leaning against the doorframe to watch you and Reg in a practised sort of dance through the kitchen as you grabbed wine glasses and he grabbed the wine before quickly exchanging sides of the kitchen for him to grab bowls and you to grab snacks. “That would be cruel to poor Haz.”

You had the wine glasses in one hand and a bag of crisps in the other as you went to pass Remus in the doorway, pausing to lean up on your tiptoes for a kiss he quickly reciprocated.

“Alright, no worries. Yeah, no absolutely, not a problem at all. We’ll catch up soon; hope Haz feels better, give Lily our best! Okay, yup, alright, bye.”

Remus all but tossed his phone onto the kitchen counter, turning to beeline it to your bedroom in order to change into his own comfies before joining you and Reg in the living room.

You were already curled up in the corner of the sofa as you scrolled through movie options while Regulus poured a glass of wine, placing a kiss to your head as he handed it to you.

“Harry’s poorly; has a fever.” Remus explained as he pressed a kiss to Regulus' hair before settling next to you on the couch.

You both made sympathetic cooing sounds, though neither of you turned to look at him.

“Do you guys want Thai or Italian?” Regulus asked as he handed Remus a glass of wine with one hand and scrolled through his phone with the other.

You and Remus both answered Thai in unison as Regulus placed an order for delivery.

“We should do this more often.” You said with a content sigh as Remus cuddled up beside you.

“Yeah?” Remus said with a chuckle. “What? Stay in?”

“Cancel plans.” Regulus answered for you before sitting on the floor between you and Remus.

“Technically we didn’t cancel plans, James did.” Remus corrected.

You snorted into your wine glass. “Even better.”

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arminsumi · 7 months

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🔞 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐃𝐍𝐈 / 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : fem reader / Gojo Satoru

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : smut, breeding kink, pregnancy stuff

Maybe he's got a freaky sixth sense, or maybe there's some scientific studies to back it up; but Gojo can tell when you're ovulating. And it turns him on — of course it does. He has a bigger breeding kink than you do.

He comments a "Oh, you're ovulating." after sniffing you, which makes you do a double take, like he's insane. Because he is insane, he pays closer attention to your cycle than you do.

He researches positions that help conception, bends and pushes you into them, and fucks you deep.

"Baby, I know it's too deep but just keep taking it okay? I'm gonna get you pregnant this time."

He's so determined to give you his baby that he tries everything to increase the chances; staying inside you for 5 minutes after shooting his load in, having you rest with a pillow under your back so your hips are raised — "Gotta help my lil' guys swim." he acts like an idiot about it, but sweetly so. Nothing excites him more than the idea of being a dad, except the idea of fathering your children.

After sex, when the two of you are cleaning up, Satoru feels over and massages your tummy with a small smile on his face. He's lost in thought, hair all messy and face tired like he's run a mile, hopeful that this time he got you pregnant.

He'll pamper you like his queen, humming and going to the ends of the earth to get you anything you ask for. Really fawns over you when you're ovulating, and lays on the compliments thick while snuggling your neck and creeping his fingers up your thighs — pretty soon he'll sink them inside and stretch you out on them, preparing you for what he cutely calls "baby making" but is actually sweaty, nasty, kinky sex.

Satoru's going to push into you as deep as you allow him, and then some more just to test your limits, pinning your wrists down and whispering sultrily into your ear about how well you take him, how beautiful you sound, how good it feels to fuck your fertile pussy knowing he'll most definitely get you pregnant because his cum is perfect, thick and sticky and gooey and pungent, just like he is — the cocky bastard.

When his creampie makes you cum, A-spot pressured with his pulsing tip, he grins so wide that you scold him about it. "Stop grinning like a psychopath." you pant. He just responds with a stupid, "D'you feel pregnant?" as if it happens so fast. "Gee, I don't know, we should go again just to make sure — that was a joke, that was a joke! My legs are tired you bastard!" too late, he's flipping you over and slowly filling you up again.

Of course, he has to get a creampie in every day. Sometimes even a few times a day. Sometimes even at 4 AM when you swat him for being a horny idiot — it takes five minutes to give in because you can hear the need in his voice when he whines "Please?" and starts humping against you, "I've got so much for you." he says and though it sounds so sweet in his soft, bedroom voice it's hard to take him as innocent, because his boner is grinding hard and hot against you.

#🥡.takeout #gojo #gojo satoru #smut #gojo smut #jjk smut #satoru smut #gojo satoru smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader #mdni #tw: smut #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x you

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mrs-kmikaelson · 2 months

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What's in a Name?

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x reader Summary: 5 times you and Agent Hotchner questionably cross paths over the years, just for him to watch you walk away (+1 time you don't). Warnings: long asf, murder, violence, addiction, unhealthy coping mechanisms, corruption in government, allusions to abuse, one made-up case, hotch is a lil ooc (not rlly), and reader has grey morals (lmk if there's more) Eps incl: S1E21 (secrets and lies), S3E20 (lo-fi), S4E1 (mayhem) Words: 24.4K

Masterlist | Bonus (no.6)

a/n: this is the longest fic i have ever written. guys, one section is literally 10k words long— and i didn't notice!! it's too long for one part (there's a 1k block limit on tumblr) so the bonus is linked above and at the bottom. it took me... a while. so i hope u enjoy! might do a part 2. also i'm only on s4 of cm rn (even tho i know too much alr) so pls don't spoil. ly guys!!

1. The myth

Quantico, Virginia, 2004

The interrogation room was cold and your fingers felt frozen against the metal of the table, but you doubted it had anything to do with the fact that it was December. If anything, you'd bet good money that as soon as you stepped out of the room, the heat would return. You'd bet good money that a certain Agent Hotchner sitting across from you had fucked with the AC unit.

Nonetheless, you didn't show your discomfort, keeping a poker face.

Well, as much of a poker face that you could keep.

You had a smile on your face, a twinkle in your eye. While you preferred not to spend time in police stations, this really was turning out to be quite interesting.

Agent Hotchner didn't seem to hold the same opinion as you. The frown on his face was unmoving, his expression stone cold. High-strung, you thought, and then you wondered what crazy things he might've seen to make him that way.

You turn to the man sitting next to him (the boy really), and asked, "Does he ever smile?" You pointed to the man in question to emphasize your point, even though it was clear as day who you were referring to.

Spencer, as you'd learned his name was, looked somewhat flustered at your question, like he wasn't expecting you to speak to him, but he ignored you regardless. You took that as a no. "Ms. Y/L/N, you're known throughout the United States and many other European countries as 'The Angel of Death.'" Your smile widened at your nickname. "They say that, as soon as you contact someone, they're as good as dead."

"Oh? Is that what they say?" Your voice was sly and teasing.

Spencer ignored you yet again. Rude. "You send them a message through various online media, and then they mysteriously turn up deceased."

"Do they?" you drawled.

The stoic and silent Agent Hotchner took this as his cue to speak up. "As of late, your existence has been nothing more than a rumour, an urban legend amongst criminals and internet sleuths. A myth."

You hummed.

"But your recent attempt on Congressman Baylor has failed. You got sloppy," he deadpanned. "You went for a fish bigger than you could handle, and now the myth is likely headed for life without parole unless you tell me who you're working for."

You were silent for a moment as you held his stare, and he thought that finally, he was getting somewhere with you, but then you broke that silence with a giggle so bubbly it was almost hard to believe you were assassin.

"That's cute," you remarked.

He narrowed his eyes. "What's cute?"

You shrugged nonchalantly. "The fact that you think you can convict me."

It was Spencer this time that spoke up, his voice soft in comparison to the jagged edges of his partner's. Perhaps this job hadn't broken him yet, you thought. "Y/N, arrogance isn't gonna get you out of this."

You snorted. "No, trust me, this isn't arrogant. It's self-assured." You didn't give them a chance to get another thing in. "Tell me, what exactly has your technical analyst, Penelope Garcia, been able to dig up on me?" You saw slight alarm flare up in Agent Hotchner's eyes, surprise in Spencer's. "She's FBI, yeah, and you guys sure do like to play by the rules, but she isn't an agent like you, Hotchner. She must get impatient, bend the rules, perform some illegal activity that you don't question because it helps you with your case. That's why I'm a bit surprised that, even though she likely did run an illegal background on me, she didn't find my records. I mean, they're not that sealed. I bet I could unseal those bad boys right now."

He's lucky you didn't put money on that bet, because you would've won.

Aside from his eyes, no emotion other than irritation showed on his face. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh, you poor sweet things." Another chuckle left you. "Have you ever heard of this little thing called immunity?"

Hotch was quick to dispute. "No. You do not have immunity."

You contested, "Oh, yes, sweetheart, I do. And if you had checked my pockets for anything other than a pistol, then perhaps you'd have noticed this." Since they hadn't cuffed you, you reached into your back pocket easily and pulled out your badge, the words Central Intelligence Agency catching their eyes immediately.

Hotchner scoffed, the most emotion you'd seen from him since you met. "You're CIA?"

You cocked your head. "Y'know, for some of America's supposed best minds, I'm a little unimpressed."

Reid leaned forward in his seat. "You're—"

"Yes, I am. So your girl back at HQ seemed to miss a few details about me, and you have missed more than a few details about this case— if a case is even what you could call it." You stood up and rested your hands on the table, getting bored of this game already. "What you have, SSA Hotchner and Dr. Reid, is not a serial killer. I hope your victimology analysis picked this up already, but the quote-unquote victims you have are all bad people, people who have broken the law in irreparable ways. And when I say irreparable, I don't just mean Bill Clintoning it up with minors, despite many of them having done that. I mean selling government secrets, espionage, treason. Things that threaten national security, things that my bosses do not like. I'm sure you catch my drift, don't you?"

Before Agent Hotchner could respond, the door to the interrogation room was opening, and a smirk automatically arose on your face. About damn time.

A man who you instantly recognized as Jason Gideon stood in the doorway. You briefly met once, but you doubt he remembered you. His face was stern, too, and reluctance shined through his voice. "Hotch, the Secretary of Defense is here, and the DOD is demanding she be released."

You maintained Hotch's stare all the while Gideon spoke. The clench in his jaw was small, but you caught it. Something told you this man didn't like to be challenged—you'd keep that in mind.

Eventually, he nodded.

You grabbed your coat from behind your chair, stowed your badge away and flashed them your million-dollar smile. "Well, it was nice meeting you, boys. Let's do this again sometime, yeah?"

Then you were out the door, and Hotch thought that if he went forever without seeing you, it'd still be too soon.

And when Congressman Baylor was found dead a few hours later, he wasn't surprised.

2. Smile

Langley, Virginia, 2006

"I've got the personnel files all set up for you guys. Video, whatnot—it's all there in the conference room. Now if you have any questions, feel free to talk to my senior officers. This is Gina Sanchez, she's the Associate Director of Field Operations. And that guy up there is Kruger Spence, the Assistant Director of Operations. The lady with him is his second-in-command, Olivia Hopkins. And then there's, of course, my boss."

Gideon's brows went up. "Your boss?" he echoed. The rest of the team's confusion was just as palpable. When he was brought in by Bruno Hawks to assist the CIA in finding their mole, he assumed he was the one running point. As far as he was concerned, Hawks didn't even have a boss that'd be there.

"Yes, she's flown in from an assignment to help with this case." Right on cue, you walked out of an office, heels clicking on the floor and the same smile on your face that Hotch could remember from two years ago. "Meet Director Y/N Y/L/N; she's head of a CIA black ops initiative and envoy from the NSA."

Your voice was smug. "Oh, trust me, Bruno, we've met before." This time, Hotch couldn't conceal his scoff. He felt Elle glance at him in confusion—she's the only one who didn't know who you were. "Agent Gideon, it's a pleasure to meet you formally." He shook your hand, albeit unenthusiastically. "Agent Hotchner, I knew I'd be seeing you again." He rolled his eyes, making your smile widen, but out of his strong urge to be polite above all other things, he shook your hand, too, pulling away as fast as he could. "Dr. Reid." He nodded back to you, almost hesitant. You nodded to the rest of them individually. "You two I haven't met, but you must be Derek Morgan and Elle Greenaway. I wish we had more time for pleasantries, but lives are on the line, so I'd like to get moving ASAP."

With that, you swiftly turned and walked back to the office you'd made your own. You didn't often spend time at headquarters, but a mole in the Agency was enough to pull you away from the case you'd been working previously.

As you left, you heard Reid explain to Elle in a hushed tone, "That was The Angel of Death."

You stifled a chuckle. Let's see if Agent Hotchner's team was as good as they claimed to be.

❧

You and Hotch stood on either side of Bruno on the platform as he spoke to the entire office, Gideon off standing alone, seemingly in thought. "Now, we all know why BAU and Ms. Y/L/N are here. They have their job and we have ours. And we're down to the wire on this. Aaliyah Nadir risked everything, and now she and her children deserve our fullest attention. Let's find her."

They all walked off after Bruno dismissed them, all but Gina Sanchez. You glanced at her from the corner of your eye as she went to talk to Agent Gideon. You didn't hear their conversation, but you saw the hostility painted all over her face. Interesting.

After she left, Gideon made his way over to where you were standing, speaking quietly. "We think the agent who's tipping off Hassan may have had some kind of extreme event in their life."

"Something that distorted or redefined their belief system," Hotch added.

Bruno was quick to get defensive. Why, you weren't sure. "No, every agent undergoes regular psych evals. You know that. They're trained to cope with extreme events"

"Well, whatever turned this agent must not've been something you can train for," you cut in. You didn't miss the way Hotch glanced at you.

Bruno gestured outward with his hands. "Well, you're welcome to everything I have. Every op undertaken by these guys is on file."

You snickered a bit under your breath. Your ops certainly weren't "on file."

"What about the ones that aren't on file, like the wiretaps of the Saudi Embassy?" Hotch questioned.

"Those don't even exist," Bruno said. You didn't confirm nor deny that statement.

"How long has your department been running operations in Riyadh?" Hotch turned to Bruno, back straight and eyes sharp.

"We have a declared presence in Riyadh, monitoring US interests there. You know that. Now if that's all, I have an informant to save." You hummed as Bruno walked off, finding his attitude quite intriguing.

"And you, Agent Y/L/N?" You turned to face Gideon. "What do you think?"

You tilted your head. "Aren't you and Bruno friends? Why not ask him?" Because he had the same feeling you have.

He responded without missing a beat. "You don't have a belief system—this job is all you believe in."

This caused you to chuckle. He wasn't wrong. "Good profiling, Agent Gideon. And yes, I have my suspicions, but until further information is gathered, I'm not at liberty to discuss them. For everyone's safety." You gave one last glance to Agent Hotchner. "I look forward to see what your team has brought together."

❧

Not long after your talk with Hotch and Gideon, you stood with the latter and Agent Greenaway in a supply office where the body of Olivia Hopkins was lying dead.

Gideon turned to you expectantly. "It's your job to clean house. You do this?"

You scoffed. "If I wanted to kill a CIA senior officer, believe me, you wouldn't have thought it was a murder at all." You glanced around the room you were in. "And I certainly wouldn't have done it in a federal building."

He must've believed you because he ended his line of questioning there, turning back to Elle. "Have any other agents seen the body?" When she shook her head, he replied, "Good. We can use this to our advantage. Get the others."

You met up with the rest of the BAU in their designated conference room as Gideon quickly explained the situation. Your suspects filed into the room shortly after, each confused and annoyed. You analyzed their body language closely, standing next to Agent Hotchner.

"You're pulling us away from our assignments?" questioned Kruger. "There's a woman out there whose life depends on us."

Defensive. Self-centred. Rude. But not your guy.

Gina was the first to ask where Olivia was, which was either genuine or she was covering her ass.

Hotch was the one to answer. "Olivia Hopkins was murdered 10 minutes ago. Her neck was snapped."

"Just like John Summers," you drawled.

Kruger let out a scoff, but you kept your eyes on the other two as he spoke. "What are you talking about?" Gina looked spooked, but Bruno's expression was cold, even as he tried to imitate warmth. "You're lying. Where is she?"

"Right now, she's dead," you emphasized, not really caring to be sensitive.

Kruger looked at you like you'd just killed his dog. "Look, people don't just... get murdered inside the CIA."

Gina looked at him with betrayal in her eyes as if he were a traitor. Shifting blame.

Hawks spoke up. "I realize the enormity of this, but Hassan Nadir is still out there looking to kill his wife, and I need every agent on this." You tilted your head. Deflecting. He didn't even acknowledge that his own colleague, his responsibility, was dead.

Gina was the first to leave the room, deeply frazzled. Gideon followed after Hawks, but you didn't go with him. You stayed in the room with Hotch while the rest of his team filed out.

You weren't expecting him to talk to you, let alone ask for your opinion, but he did. "What are you thinking, Y/L/N?"

You hid your surprise, nodding to the door Gina and Kruger walked out of. "My money's not on her; it's not on Kruger, either."

He furrowed his brows, lowering his voice. "You think Bruno Hawks is the mole?"

You shrugged your shoulders. "Bruno's been leading this unit for all of, what, ten years? And he hasn't advanced at all? Someone like him must have higher ambitions, like leading the Agency one day, but that's not in his cards. Gina Sanchez and Kruger Spence have bright futures here; Hawks is already at the end of the line. So what's the next best thing in this city besides power?"

Realization dawned upon him. "Money."

"And by the looks of the old car he drives, that's something he's lacking, but something that he wants," you deduced, pausing. "But I'll let you continue your investigation."

He caught your hand just as you turned away, and you ignored the small spark that was sent through your body. His eyes were earnest and curious, but most of all you realized that they were beautiful. "Y/N, what's going to happen to the mole when we find them?"

You ignore the unfamiliar flutter you felt after he said your name for the first time, and it's then that you remember Hotch was a prosecutor. Before he was unit chief Agent Hotchner, he was just Aaron Hotchner, a man who valued balance and believed in justice. Even now, after climbing the ladder, he still didn't seem to understand that his own government was different.

In matters like these, the United States government didn't value justice.

They valued revenge.

But still, if not just to help him retain his faith in his country, you shrugged and told him, "The scales will be evened, Hotchner."

Then you pulled your wrist out of his light grip and walked away, and he couldn't tell if he wanted to know what you meant.

❧

Sanchez and Morgan were on their way to rescue Aaliyah and her children, and then you were made aware that Hassan was already there.

Bruno turned to Gideon. "Look, we can't arrest him. This is still a CIA matter. You do know that?" He then turned to you, like he was expecting to you to back him up.

You shook your head as Gideon said what you were thinking. "How are you going to explain this to the Saudi government?"

"Explain what?" he fired back. "This isn't happening."

You crossed your arms. "That's not how this works, Bruno. You don't just kill a Saudi diplomat and get away with it—that is how wars begin."

He scoffed at you. "Look who's talking. The Angel of Death, giving me a lecture on in-house cleaning."

You narrowed your eyes and stepped forward. "I don't know who the hell you think you're talking to right now, but you need to double back because, at the end of the day, what I. say. goes."

Bruno opened his mouth to argue, but Jason mediated, "Let's just get Aaliyah and her children back alive. We'll worry about Hassan's life after."

You gave Bruno one last hard stare before you turned back to the screen showing the Nadirs with Morgan and Gina outside. "Make the arrest, Morgan," Gideon called out. "It's FBI jurisdiction. You're in charge."

You listened to them over the comms. [FBI! Let the lady go and put the gun down. I said, put the gun down!]

The movement of heat on the screen told you that Hassan listened. [Diplomatic immunity, my friend], he said, and you chuckled.

[Uh-uh, you got it wrong, my friend. This container hasn't passed through customs. Officially, we're not on US soil. Summers was a smart man.]

Suddenly, you heard Gina's voice. [That he was.] Pause. [Drop the gun.]

The feed cut in and out as the figures moved out of the container. Confused, you called out, "Morgan, Sanchez, what's going on?"

Hawks turned to you and Gideon, and you wanted to wipe the smug look right off his face. "You two still certain that Gina isn't the mole?"

Gideon ignored him. "Morgan." No answer. "Morgan, what's going on?"

[Gideon, we got a situation here.]

You raised your voice. "Gina, don't do this. Do not do this."

"She doesn't take orders from you," Bruno snided.

You took another step forward to him. "Listen here, asshole—"

Gina cut in, [Bruno, what do you want me to do?]

"Gina, you put down that gun. That is an order—"

[Bruno?]

This made you turn to Bruno, and if you were in an animation, smoke must've been coming out of your ears. "Hawks, I swear to god, if you don't stand down, you will be endangering the security of this country—"

Bruno only responded to Gina. "You know what to do."

[Say it!]

"This is not your call. It is not your fucking call, Bruno."

He finally turned to you. "This is strictly in-house and you know it."

"I don't give a damn. It is still not. your. call."

"Finish him."

"Gina, don't you dare do this."

[You're going to cut the visual feed, right, Bruno?]

"Of course. Cut it now. Cut it," he ordered, and the feed was off before you could even protest.

And then you heard four gunshots.

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. White hot anger rushed through your veins in contrast to your normal playful demeanour. Meanwhile, Bruno turned to Gideon, saying, "I want to thank you, Jason, for your help."

You stayed quiet as Gideon responded, too angry to speak. "Why?" He paused, genuine disbelief evident in his tone. "Why'd you turn against everything you believe in?"

"What are you talking about?"

"When someone asks you how you feel about... losing one of your colleagues, the only human answer is 'I feel guilty,' isn't it?"

Bruno nodded and mocked, "But as you so brilliantly deduced, Kruger Spence is the guilty one." Following that statement, you watched as Elle walked up to where you three stood, a tiny paper in hand that she gave to him. Based on the ignorant smile that graced his face upon reading it, you could guess what it said. "Ridiculous," he deflected, tucking the paper into his jacket pocket. "Absurd."

That's when you snapped out of your anger-induced stupor. "No, Bruno." You shook your head. "The only thing that's absurd is how arrogant you are to believe that you're getting away with this."

Bruno pursed his lips, flashing you a sarcastic smile. "Unfortunately, with Hassan now dead, you have no proof."

"Oh, you son of a—"

Dr. Reid cut you off, announcing to everyone, "Actually, Hassan is alive and well. He's en route—that's all the proof we'll need." At this, you let out a chuckle. You certainly didn't need that proof, but it was nice to prove Hawks wrong before he was sent to where he deserved to be.

He clenched his jaw, stepping closer to Gideon instead of you, likely because he knew he couldn't shake you. "You are a fool if you think they're going to put me in prison with all that I know." He glanced at you and your lips quirked upward, because this was true.

"Why'd you have to kill Olivia?" Elle interrogated. She was straight to the point; you liked her.

"Economics," Gideon replied, staring straight at Bruno. "Olivia was looking into your financial records when you snapped her neck."

Elle scoffed under her breath. "So she knew your dirty little secret."

"Which one?" Bruno asked. "I have so many."

You stepped closer to the trio. "The one that involves you cashing out through Hassan, maybe buying a real Rolex instead of the fake you don so proudly."

You could see Bruno's façade cracking, his frustration leaking through. "Twenty-million from Hassan will go a very long way to help occupy my mind on a beach somewhere."

Gideon wasn't fazed. "The only beach you'll see is on a postcard I send you from my vacation. Let me have your gun."

Knowing there was no way out of this, Bruno did what he said willingly, but he still had to taunt. "You know, I think the consequences of what you're doing to me, my friend, are going to be a lot harder to live with than you think."

Jason stared at him without blinking, and he stared until Bruno walked out, escorted by agents left and right of him. You found it comical, that petty thieves were escorted to the back of police cars in chains, yet a man who nearly started a war could walk out freely.

Well, you supposed Bruno Hawks wouldn't be free for much longer.

And it was your job to see to that.

❧

You were packing up your things in your office when a knock sounded. You turned to see a raven-haired man in a suit standing there, a hand in his pocket. A grin came to your face. "Agent Hotchner," you greeted. "Congrats on solving the case."

He let out a chuckle that surprised you. Aaron Hotchner didn't look like a man who laughed often. "Yeah, well, thank you, but I have a feeling you knew from the beginning."

Your grin widened. "Ah, I just needed proof." You continued to pack your things. "And besides, I wanted to see what your team was capable of."

He hummed, and you thought he'd leave after that, but he stayed, looking around the room with a careful interest. "No pictures," he noted. "No personal artifacts. It's extremely clean in here—untouched, almost. How much time do you spend here?"

You fully turned to him after that, giving him your full attention. With comments like those, that must've been what he was after. You crossed your arms, but the smile never left your face. "Perceptive, Hotchner," you remarked. "Profiling me now?"

He shook his head. "Not profiling, just observing."

Now it was your turn to hum, looking him up and down. You found that you liked what you saw, visually, but the implications to what you saw weren't very fond. "Well, what I observe, is an accomplished man in a nice suit, but you don't wear that suit because you're unit chief, you wear it because you got used to it as a prosecutor and now it makes you feel on top of things... professional. You're stiff and stoic, but that's because you like to separate your work life from your home life. At home, with your wife and kid, you're lively and relaxed, but that's also to compensate for the fact that this job takes a lot out of you; you're not home often, and that puts a strain on your marriage, which is why you haven't called your wife once today." Your voice was soft as you delivered that final blow. Hotch looked both uncomfortable and, surprisingly, impressed. But thus far, nothing about Aaron Hotchner was what you were used to. "Tell me, Agent Hotchner, was I correct?"

Hotch lightly snorted, but he didn't answer. Instead, he took to staring right back at you. You'd been stared at by bad men, murderers, rapists, terrorists and the like, but for some reason, his stare bothered you. You turned back around and packed one last thing into your bag. Then you walked toward the door, stopping just before you made your exit like an invisible barrier was holding you back.

You patted his shoulder, telling him, "You should smile more, Hotchner. It'd suit you."

And then Aaron watched you leave for the second time in his life, except this time—for reasons he couldn't begin to fathom—he hoped he'd see you again.

3. The games we play

Washington, D.C., 2007

The air in Washington was always crisp. There was something different about it—like you could smell the power in the air, like you feel it. When you were home, in your apartment, it was suffocating. There was enough politics in this city that you could drown in it, politics you didn't care for. You saw enough of it as is.

Nevertheless, you weren't home often, so it wasn't too troublesome. Today, however, you were home, except you weren't here to rest.

You stepped out of your Mercedes as soon as you parked, locking the car and walking straight into the alleyway. Men in blue stood in your path, hands out. "Ma'am, this is a crime scene—"

You wordlessly held up your badge, effectively shutting him up. With red climbing up his neck, he nodded and lifted up the yellow tape for you.

When you made it past them, there was a woman in a red dress there. She'd be beautiful, you thought, if she weren't sprawled out dead on the ground. Her dress was so dark you almost couldn't see the blood stain.

But the blood pooled around her was a telltale.

Next to her body was a card with typed-out letters and numbers that appeared random.

But you knew better than that.

There was a woman taking photographs of the scene and a detective analyzing it. He was just as confused as those officers when you showed up. "Excuse me, who are you?"

You gave him a short smile. "Detective Walker, I wish we could've met under better circumstances. I'm Y/N Y/L/N." You held one hand out and simultaneously held up the other with your badge. "I've been instructed to take over this case."

He furrowed his brows. "I'm sorry, Ms. Y/L/N, but I've already alerted—"

"Detective Walker."

At that, you screwed your eyes shut and cursed under your breath. You recognized that voice—hell, you recognized the sound of his footsteps. And he was exactly what you didn't need.

Composing yourself, you spun around with your signature smile. "SSA Hotchner."

Hotch looked momentarily stunned at your being there, but that was quickly wiped away. "Y/N. What are you doing here?"

"Well, if you mean in the city, I live here. And if you mean at this scene, then that's because it's mine." You paused, letting that soak in. "This is my case."

Confusion was visible on his face. For a second, you thought it was cute. "No, this is a BAU case. Series of murders, victimizing high-level escorts—forgive me, but I don't see why this would require a CIA presence."

Of course, you don't, you thought, but for once, you didn't say what you were thinking. Instead, you explained, "I understand that 4 women have died in the past week, but believe me, Agent Hotchner, that is not the case I'm here to solve." When his brows knitted together, you elaborated, "These women are not the targets of these attacks."

"What do you mean?"

You sighed, pointing over to the woman's body. "See that card over there?"

"Yeah, it's the unsub's signature."

"No, it's more than that. It's not a way for him to get off; it's not something he does compulsively. It is a taunt," you stressed. "Those letters aren't random. They're part of a code."

"A code to what?"

"A code to an NSA file recording every single undercover operation the United States has in foreign countries." Like your words were a vacuum, they sucked anything lighthearted out of the atmosphere—if there was any to begin with—and left tension in their wake. "6 high-level analysts have parts of that code. I'm guessing that 4 of them are already dead." You glanced back at the dead body before looking back at Hotch. "The unsub isn't a serial killer, Agent Hotchner. He's a traitor with a mission to annihilate everything in his wake."

❧

After looking at the scene, you sent Detective Walker away, telling him it wasn't personal but this case was too sensitive to be worked by local police. They didn't have the clearance nor did they have the means to help. You asked him to send you all of his evidence, and he complied easily, but someone wasn't so easily persuaded.

"You're going to need help."

You snorted. "Thank you, but I think I'll do just fine without it." Just as you reached your car, Hotch grabbed your wrist.

You turned around, but before you could say anything, he spoke. "You could use my team, and you know it."

Your eyes ever so slightly narrowed. "All due respect, Agent Hotchner, but this is above your pay grade."

He held your stare for a few seconds until you saw his jaw tense. He glanced to the side before he exasperatedly muttered, "Please, Y/N." He looked up at you. "I want to help with this case."

Unknowingly, you straightened your back. Aaron Hotchner surprised you more and more each time you saw him. The corners of your lips curved upward, but something about your smile was more sincere. "You're not a man who says please much, are you?"

He rolled his eyes and neglected to answer. "Does that mean you'll accept our help?"

You paused. Was that what you meant? Your mouth didn't correspond with your brain as you replied, "I'm running point on this." Hotch's shoulders imperceptibly relaxed and he nodded. "I'll tell Detective Walker to send his stuff over to the BAU. I'll meet you there to brief your team." You turned away before you could see him nod a second time.

You don't know why you said yes, but you did. On the drive over, you told yourself it was because he was right, you could use some extra hands, and it helped that the BAU were good at what they did.

Yes, that's why I didn't send him away.

You didn't explore any other option.

❧

Hotch got to the BAU before you but waited for you to arrive before walking into the building. To make sure you got to the right place, you reasoned.

You went through the typical security procedure: removed your guns, walked through the metal detector, and showed your ID. In the elevator, you cracked a couple jokes that he didn't laugh at, asshole, but you nearly caught him slipping at one.

"This city's so damn power-hungry that even the serial killers would prefer a fucking computer code over sex. What a nerd. Hey, how often does that happen in your line of work, Hotchner?" You turned your head for his response when you saw his lips twitching.

You let out a dramatic gasp. "Agent. Hotchner. Are you..." you lowered your voice, a devious smile crawling to your lips. "smiling?"

His efforts to suppress his little smile failed after that. "Let's focus on the case, Y/L/N."

"Sureeee," you drawled. The elevator dinged and opened. "Better be careful, Agent. I might just start thinking you have a soul."

He shook his head at you and walked out of the elevator ahead of you so that you couldn't see him as a full smile graced his face. However, once you got to the conference, Hotch erased any sign of that smile and walked in full-stride.

You gave the room a cursory glance, duly noting that they must've spent a lot of time in here. You noticed immediately afterward that some faces were missing, and on the other hand, some new ones had appeared.

You followed Hotch to the front of the room in front of their TV.

"Everyone, this is Director Y/N Y/L/N from the CIA. She'll be leading this case—and as some of you may recall, she's already worked with us on an investigation about a year ago," he announced, subsequently gesturing around the table. "Y/N, this is SSA Emily Prentiss, SSA David Rossi, our communications liaison Jennifer Jareau, and our technical analyst Penelope Garcia."

You nodded, smiling at them. "It's nice to meet you all—"

"You're— you're her."

You turned to the blonde with pink highlights that'd cut you off, Penelope, and furrowed your brows. "I'm sorry?"

"Oh my god, you're her," she whispered, her eyes wide and her face awestruck. "You're The Angel of Death."

You held back a laugh. "That is what people to tend to call me, yes."

She opened and closed her mouth repeatedly before eventually blurting, "I— you're an icon. I've read some of your code before in snippets, and it's beautiful. And, I mean, when you can code like that and then do what you do, it's no wonder that the government would want you all to themselv—"

"Garcia." At Hotch's command, Penelope's mouth snapped shut and snickers were heard around the table. "We are here to work," he told her, trying to be serious, but you could hear the amusement hiding behind his tone.

"Yes— yes, Sir. Work. Working," she said, but her eyes remained trained on you even as she spoke.

Morgan laughed, swivelling his chair toward you. "Sorry, angel. She gets a little..." he twirled his finger next to his head, "Comicon-y whenever things involve computers."

This snapped her out of her trance and made her whip around to point her finger at him. "You better shut it, Morgan, before I show everyone those pictures of you at Comicon with me."

His smile dropped. "Babygirl, you wouldn't."

"Oh, yes, sugar, I would."

Hotch exasperatedly cut their very entertaining banter off. "Work."

"Morgan, you've been to Comicon?" Without even looking at him, you could hear the smirk in the man's words.

"Leave it, Rossi. You heard the bossman: we've got work," he changed the subject, but based on the fiery look being sent his way by Reid and the teasing one by Emily, you'd bet that this conversation wasn't over.

Hotch signalled for you to start, so you stepped forward, got a little more serious for his sake, and began, "The serial killer you've been phoned in on is not a serial killer. The women he's killed are unfortunately collateral damage to a much bigger problem." Behind you, pictures of the paper left next to the bodies appear on screen. "The unsub is going after high-level members of the NSA who have fragments of a specific code. He's been leaving those fragments at the crime scenes. So far, he has 4—there are only 2 more. Once he gets the last two, it'll only be a matter of time before he's able to unlock a classified file, detailing every undercover op we have or have had in other countries."

The room was quiet. Morgan was the first to question, "So, he's a whistleblower?"

"No, not necessarily. Given his M.O. and need to taunt us with these papers, his goal isn't to expose the government—it's only a stepping stone to what he truly wants, which is chaos."

Emily spoke up next. "Well, he's clearly a narcissist, and he's sadistic at that. Otherwise, he wouldn't have killed these women like this."

Dr. Reid nodded, keeping his eyes on the file in front of him. "Craves control, finds a way to manipulate the situation and mold it into what he wants it to be." He looked up, talking with his hands while explaining, "Narcissists are devoted to themselves and will further themselves in whatever way possible. They lack empathy and find enjoyment in causing others pain, stemming from their grandiose sense of self-importance. Nathan Leopold and Richard Loeb were drawn in and obsessed with Nietzsche's idea of Übermenschen, supermen who possessed such high intelligence that it put them above the law. They later confessed to the police that they sought to commit 'perfect crime.' This unsub is likely suffering from the same sense of entitlement."

Rossi tipped his pen at him, agreeing, "Yeah, he's arrogant and he believes he can get away with this, hence the taunting. All he wants is to feed his ego, but he hides behind the whistleblower façade to absolve himself of blame."

"And he's impatient," Derek added. "4 bodies in one week. We don't have much time before he strikes again."

"No, we don't," you said. The screen changed to display the pictures of two men. "The last two people with the code are Malik Hussein and Ethan Torrie. I believe he'll go after Ethan first; he's in D.C. for this big gala tonight. That's where the unsub will make his move."

Emily looked between you and Hotch, almost as if she was unsure who she was addressing her question to. "So what's our plan?"

You, too, glanced at Hotch before looking back at her, splaying your hands out in front of yourself. "Well, we only have one course of action: wait for the unsub to approach Ethan."

Unexpectedly, Hotch interrupted you, saying, "Y/N and I will go in undercover." What? You held yourself back from widening your eyes and whipping your head around. "The rest of you will be waiting for our signal. Garcia, can you get us on the guest-list?"

"Already on it, Sir."

He nodded, firing orders away, "Alright, Morgan and Prentiss, I want you both to go back to the crime scenes. Talk to the owners of the establishments, bartenders, doormen—anybody who could've seen the unsub leave the building with the victims. Garcia, consult with CCTV footage. Rossi and Reid, I want you looking at his M.O. and why he didn't leave the men there with the women. JJ, contact The Post and tell them not to run the latest murder; it's imperative we keep this and the unsub's true motives out of the press. Y/N and I will go over tonight's plan."

They all voiced their confirmations and, like clockwork, filed out of the room until it was just you and Hotch left standing. The air suddenly got heavier—with what, you had no idea.

It felt different, old and new all at the same time, like everything and nothing you'd ever felt before. You couldn't pinpoint it, couldn't describe it.

Growing bored of the silence, you raised a brow, repeating, "'Y/N and I will go undercover?'"

Hotch, who was in the middle of collecting his things, paused and raised a brow of his own, turning to face you. "Yes. Is there a problem?"

You looked him up and down, taking your time and not bothering to be subtle about it. After a moment, you responded, "No." A smirk slowly came to your face. "Let's go over that plan."

He maintained his stare for a few seconds, reminding you of when you met. Eventually, he nodded and got to it. All the while, your mind ran rampant—but not with the case.

Agent Hotchner continued to surprise you.

And you'd be sure to return the favour.

❧

After planning for hours, you and Hotch came up with a decent story. He'd be going as himself. You'd pretend you were his girlfriend, his tag-along for the party, with a fake identity. His presence would make sense, but if people found out Y/N Y/L/N was there, they'd start to wonder things that this plan couldn't afford.

Your name wasn't widely known, nor was your face, but at a party like this, you had to be careful.

That's what you explained to Hotch.

"I don't understand. Nobody knows who you are. Not even Garcia could figure out who you really were when we met." He furrowed his brows in confusion.

You sighed, "There's going to be a lot of powerful people there, Hotchner. Everybody knows The Angel of Death, but there are some big fish in Washington that know she's Y/N."

This seemed to confuse him more. You surmised that he didn't like not knowing things. "Why do you say it like that—say your name as if it's not your name?"

You gave him a look.

His eyes widened. And for the second time that day, you found yourself thinking that Aaron Hotchner was cute. "It's not your name?"

"Why do you think Penelope had such a hard time finding my credentials?" you inquired. You went on before he could answer. "I take it she didn't find my records at The Academy, either. She found that I went to Caltech, but she didn't find yearbook photos or my social media. She found that I grew up in Massachusetts, that my parents are dead, that I was born in '79. But otherwise, I'm a ghost, aren't I?" Your voice was somewhat playful.

Hotch didn't seem to find the humour in what you were saying.

"So everything about you is a lie." It wasn't a question.

Your eyes glinted with amusement. You leaned in to where he sat across from you on the other side of the table. If you didn't know any better, you'd say that Agent Hotchner stiffened. "'Nothing more than a rumour, an urban legend amongst criminals and internet sleuths. A myth,'" you whispered. "Does that sound familiar?"

He didn't respond.

"As you said, Agent Hotchner, I am a myth. I am not meant to exist. So find me another identity and show me that you're up for the task before this entire plan is derailed by a name."

Your memory was cut off by a knock at your door. You swiped your lipstick across your lips and they immediately quirked upward right after.

You took your time getting the door. Whether Agent Hotchner realized it or not—or rather, whether he was willing to admit it or not—this was a game. And you were nothing if not a damn good player.

Without knowing it, he started it when he picked you up off the street that day in '04. He moved another piece on the board when he walked into your office in '06. And then he asked to work on this case.

It didn't matter what he thought about you or what your name really was. All that mattered was the next move.

You opened the door and his eyes immediately widened on their own accord. They travelled down your body, tracing the outline of the red dress you'd picked out, finding the slit on the side. But this was all within a split-second.

In the blink of an eye, his eyes were back on yours. If you hadn't been paying attention, you would've missed it. He was hoping you did.

But you didn't.

You did, however, miss his ears going red when you turned around, leaving the door open as an invitation inside.

"You're wearing a suit," you noted, smirking. "How out of character for you."

You heard the door shut, and then footsteps behind you. "Funny, Y/N."

You chuckled. "Please, I know you think I'm hilarious."

He lightly shook his head as you stood in front of your mirror, putting on your earrings. He took that moment to look around your apartment, eyes scanning over your living room. No pictures anywhere, no plants or art. You had a couch, but no television. He glanced to the adjoining kitchen. There was an espresso machine, but he was willing to bet that if he checked your fridge, it'd be empty.

"You can stop trying to profile my apartment," you informed him, still adding the finishing touches to your outfit. "I don't stay here often."

"I can tell."

He watched as you picked up your heels then went to sit on the couch to put them on. He tried not to let his eyes wander, instead trying to look around the room some more, but even without having his eyes on you, he still couldn't get your picture out of his head.

Distractedly, he heard you absentmindedly ask, "Hey, whatever happened to Gideon and Greenaway?"

He looked at you to respond, seeing you get up. "Things with the job. Certain cases take more of a toll on others." He didn't explain that Elle spiralled or that Gideon lost everything he held dear. He preferred not to think about it.

You tilted your head. "Did things happen with you, too?"

He didn't answer, instead opting to suggest, "Let's go over the case one more time."

You nodded and let him get away with it.

Hotch schooled his expression. "You're Deirdre Carter. You're a CPA. We met years ago on a work conference but hit it off recently. We've been dating for five months."

"Dating," you repeat.

His brows furrowed. "Yes." He didn't understand why you were hung up on it until he saw you glance down at his hand. It's then that he realized he was still wearing his ring. "Oh."

Your voice got softer, and you didn't know if that was part of the game or not. "Look, Hotchner, you don't have to do this if you don't want to. I can do this solo."

"No—" he sighed, looking down at the ring he'd worn everyday for years on end. "I'm divorced. I guess I just wear it out of habit," he revealed.

"Oh."

He took it off and stuffed it in his jacket pocket. "Let's head out," he said. You nodded, leading him out.

And you didn't mention the ring again.

❧

Once you got to the building, you met Derek, who was in a secuirty uniform, at the front. He momentarily disabled the metal detector for you so that the guns on your thigh and in Hotch's boot weren't caught.

In the hall, the music played ceremoniously, an orchestra of jazz players working tirelessly to entertain D.C.'s wealthiest and most powerful. The President would be making an appearance later. You hoped to get this done and get out of here before that happened.

Your eyes found Torrie within a minute, subtly signalling his location to Hotch. He was by the bar, a redhead on his arm. The two of you went that way.

He ordered you drinks at the bar that he wouldn't drink, but as soon as your martini was in front of you, you were picking it up and taking a sip.

"What are you doing?" he hissed, talking through his teeth. "We don't drink on the job."

You smirked at him. "You don't drink on the job. I'm just keeping up appearances." You then took the olive and bit into it. For some reason, you enjoyed getting under Hotchner's skin.

He rolled his eyes at you, likely about to reprimand you again, but a voice in your ears stopped him. "Do the two of you have eyes on Torrie?"

Hotch turned to you and brought his hand to your face, cupping your cheek. To those surrounding you, he was just a man caressing his girlfriend—hell, the leap in your chest told you that you nearly bought it. But you knew he did this so that the mic hidden in his sleeve would be at your mouth. You held his stare, a sweet smile gracing your face as you replied to Rossi, "Yes. By the bar."

"Good. Prentiss is on the floor with the ambassador if you need her."

You leaned into Hotch, too, running your hands down his suit jacket while he glanced around for Emily. "Got it."

The next voice you heard was Garcia's. "Hello, my lovelies, I am watching you on camera. Hotch, to your left is the door through which you'll take our bad guy. It's being guarded by Reid and JJ as we speak."

You lowly thanked her, to which she stammered out a "you're welcome." Hotch took his hand away from your face and you removed yours from his chest, cursing the part of yourself that missed his touch.

If you weren't on a case, you'd have thought more about how pretty his eyes were.

The music suddenly changed, becoming a slow song. Your eyes darted behind Hotch to see Ethan and his date making their way to the dance floor. You downed the rest of your martini then grabbed onto his hand, wordlessly pulling him to the floor.

You felt him lightly tense when you put your hands around his neck. "Relax," you whispered. "Just go with it."

At that, he eased up, wrapping his hands around your waist. You moved to the beat of the song, taking control of your dance while he kept a close eye on Torrie. No one had approached them yet, you gathered.

The dance came easy to you, too easy, like it'd been rehearsed or like it was something you'd been doing all your life. Your feet moved synchronously like they had a mind of their own. You didn't have to think about it—it just happened.

It was funny, almost. The stiff and stoic Aaron Hotchner could dance. Your mind went back to when he smiled in the elevator earlier. It made you wonder what he was like before. Before he was a profiler or unit chief.

You know you were different before you were in this life, before you became Y/N.

You wondered what would've happened if you met back then, when you were just you and he was just him.

And just as soon as you started wondering, you no longer wanted to think about it. Instead, you asked him, "Did you ever think you and I would be dancing together like this when we met?"

He glanced down at you then looked away. "No." A ghost of a smirk came to his lips. "I thought I'd be putting you behind bars."

You chuckled. "I know. It was quite entertaining."

"To you, maybe." He glanced down at you again. "I don't like being blindsided."

"Oh, I know." When he glanced down at you this time, he saw your eyes twinkling. "That is precisely why it was so entertaining, Agent Hotchner."

He chuckled under his breath, and something in you fluttered. "You're something else, Y/L/N."

You hummed, murmuring, "And don't I know it?"

He was gonna say something else but then something in his expression changed. He was back to stoic, eyes hardening. You straightened your back and stopped dancing. "7 o'clock," he muttered.

You unwound your hands from his neck, turning around to see a man beelining at Torrie from across the room. But if you had your way, which you would, then he wouldn't make it to Ethan at all.

With Hotch hot on your heels, you headed his way, moving through the crowd effortlessly. Just before he was about to reach them, you inconspicuously unholstered your gun from your thigh and pressed it against his back, stopping him in his tracks.

Hotch caught up to you, standing to the side and obstructing the view. "Careful, friend. I wouldn't want to shoot you in front of all these people, but I will." As a warning, you clicked the safety off.

The man tensed as Hotch grabbed his arm. Your voice was sweet in comparison to your sour words. "Now, you're gonna follow him or I'm gonna pump you full of lead. Capisce?" Neither you nor Hotch waited for a response, leading him towards the side doors that Garcia had notified you of.

Upon getting there, Reid and JJ opened the doors without a word and closed them immediately after you'd gone through them.

As soon as the doors closed, the unsub twisted Hotch's arm, prompting him to yelp. Simultaneously, he knocked the gun out of your hand, sending it thudding across the floor.

He shoved you against the wall, knocking the wind out of your lungs. Meanwhile, Hotch threw a punch his way. A crack resounded through the hallway followed by the unsub growling. He threw a punch back that Hotch narrowly dodged, but in one quick motion, he pulled Hotch's tie, catching him off guard.

In a flash, he had Hotch in a chokehold, fighting for breath. You acted quickly, reaching for the knife sheathed on your thigh, running up behind the ubsub and holding it to his throat, causing him to go rigid.

"Let him go or I slit your fucking throat," you spat.

He didn't ease his hold, making you bring the knife closer, knicking him. "I said, let. him. go."

Begrudgingly, he let Hotch go, who was gasping for breath. You let him catch his bearings for a moment, but you had to alert him, "Hotchner, the cuffs."

He coughed but nodded, grabbing the cuffs from his pocket. You took them from him, shoving the unsub against the wall just as he did to you and pulling his arms behind him. You wrapped the cuffs around his wrists and tightened them until you heard him grunt.

"In case you didn't get the memo, you're under arrest, asshole."

Knowing this would never reach a courtroom, you didn't read him his rights or tell him what he was being arrested for. He knew.

Where he was going, he'd never forget it.

❧

You and Hotch stood to the side in an alley after you'd shoved the unsub into the back of a black sedan, watching the car drive off.

"I know that you're just itching to interrogate him," you commented, your voice echoing in the night. "But trust me, that's somebody else's job now." You felt Hotch's eyes on you, but you didn't look at him.

His stare burned into the side of your head. "That wasn't a cop car," he said.

"No," you finally looked back at him. "it wasn't."

"Who was driving that car?"

"A CIA agent."

"And where is he going now?"

"To pay for his crimes," you slowly answered, narrowing your eyes. "Stop worrying about it."

He stepped closer to you. "He should be doing that in a federal prison, with a sentence decided by a judge and a jury. The families of those analysts, those women— they deserve closure."

You shook your head, an incredulous laugh leaving you. "You still don't get it, do you?" Your voice was teasing, but your undertone was hard and serious. "A trial means telling a bunch of people, including civilians, about ops that are not meant to exist. It's just not gonna happen."

Hotch kept staring at you for what felt like forever but was really only a few seconds, giving you the urge to squirm under his gaze. For some reason, you didn't like the way he was looking at you. Finally, he looked away, exhaling, "It's not right, Y/N."

Somewhere, deep inside, you felt a pang. You touched his shoulder, softly telling him, "You should know better than anyone that the law isn't about right and wrong."

He still didn't look at you.

You sighed. "Thank you for your help, Agent Hotchner." You patted his shoulder one last time and then left the alley, walking through the door you came out of and, in doing so, you felt something change.

The game was over.

You just couldn't tell who won.

By the time Aaron had noticed this change, he tried to follow you, but when he opened the door only to see an empty hallway, he realized it was too late.

You were gone.

And he didn't know why that disappointed him so much.

4. Unpredictable

New York, New York, 2008

Whenever Aaron was in New York, he liked to pick up good coffee and eat good food. But as he stood over a dead man's corpse, he felt his appetite vanish.

He and his team stood at the crime scene, analyzing it. It was different, but he couldn't shake the feeling that everything about these murders were different. There was something off about them, and he couldn't figure out exactly what it was.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a black car pull up next to the yellow tape, the Mercedes logo glinting in the light. He furrowed his brows then shook his head, thinking better of it. Stop thinking about her.

"Uniforms are rounding up witnesses."

Detective Cooper and Brustin's arrival made him look away from the car and toward them instead. "Doesn't sound like anyone got a clean look," Cooper said.

Morgan looked up at the security camera that should've caught everything but in reality caught nothing useful. "It's over in a flash," he remarked. "He's probably gone before anyone even realizes what's happening."

Right beside him, Kate asked, "Is this what it felt during the Son of Sam?"

Just as Brustin was about to answer, a new voice sounded from behind them. "Son of Sam is the least of your worries." His breath hitched. They all turned around, and Hotch instantly realized that he was right: that car was yours—and now you stood right in front of him.

You gave him a glance but then your eyes were back on Kate. "What you should be focused on is another 9/11."

Kate lightly scoffed. "My apologies— who are you?"

"Y/N Y/L/N, CIA," you introduced yourself, flashing your badge. Recognition briefly flickered through her eyes. "And you must Kate Joyner, head of New York's field office." To be polite, you held out your hand, and she reluctantly shook it. "I'm here as the Agency's delegate, and I'll also be representing Homeland Security for the time being."

"Homeland Security?" You looked to Morgan. "It's nice to see you again, angel, but what does Homeland Security have to do here?"

You went to answer, but Joyner cut you off, "I'll ask the questions, Agent Morgan, thank you." Your eyes widened slightly in surprise, and a quick look at Derek told you that his did, too, but then Kate was looking at you again, waiting for you to answer.

Your mind was brought back to the situation at hand. You glanced at Hotch once more to see he was already looking at you, but then you looked away. "I have reason to believe that this guy is more than a serial killer. In fact, I have reason to believe this is more than one guy."

Kate crossed her arms. "What are you suggesting?"

Every time Hotch had seen you, no matter how serious the situation was, you were lighthearted, amused, knowing you'd come out on top. But this time, your voice was devoid of its usual playfulness as you disclosed to them a fact that changed their entire investigation.

"If I'm right, Agent Joyner, then we're dealing with terrorists."

❧

Once the initial shock from your revelation died down, you told them that you'd explain everything back at the field office. Unexpectedly, Morgan asked to ride back with you and you obliged, figuring his company wasn't too bad.

Hotch stared at you the entire time as you got in the car, and he continued to stare at you until you sped out of sight.

You didn't look back once.

"So, terrorism, huh?"

You glanced at Derek and smirked, finding that playful nature again. "I told you, I'd explain at the Bureau."

He shook his head at you, a similar smirk on his face, then he quizzed, "Hey, did Hotch happen to tell you why Joyner's giving me attitude?"

You furrowed your brows as you came to a stop light, turning toward him. "What makes you think I've talked to him?"

Derek snorted. "Please, every time I've seen the two of you together, you're all flirty—even when he was still with Haley."

"So what? I've flirted with Spencer before—doesn't mean I wanted to get into his pants," you defended.

His smirk widened. "I never said you wanted to get into the boss' pants."

"You insinuated it."

"Why, angel? Do you want to get into his pants?"

You deadpanned, "No, I do not." Despite yourself, you couldn't stop red from crawling to your cheeks.

"Yeah, keep telling yourself that." Right after, the light turned green, as if saving you from whatever this was. Then the teasing disappeared from Morgan's voice, replaced with curiosity. "Wait, so you're seriously telling me Hotch didn't call you?"

"Yes, Derek. That is exactly what I am telling you," you insisted, then you glanced back at him. "But to answer your question, Kate doesn't like you for the same reason she doesn't like me: power." He stared at you confusedly, so you elaborated, "Word on the steet is that the FBI wants to reassign her, and you're their star replacement."

"What?" Shock laced through his voice.

"What, are you telling me you actually didn't know?"

"No, I thought the Bureau was so proud of itself for stealing her away from Scotland Yard."

"Well, don't ask me to explain FBI politics to you. I'm in an entirely different organization, my guy."

Derek groaned in exasperation, making you laugh and forget about Hotch, even if it was only for a second.

❧

By the time you and Derek got to the field office, you were all business, unlike any time Hotch had ever seen you.

With the team gathered around you, you stood in front of the evidence board and started, "The unsubs' behaviour is questionable. They're disciplined, they're using countersurveillance. They take a quick shot then leave the scene immediately, not stopping to watch or enjoy the kill at all. There is nothing sexual about it, and that is because these killings are not the work of a serial killer. They're methodical. They look like mob hits at first glance, simulate gang initiations. They seem random, but they're not. The murders, just like the Death card you received, are a smoke screen."

Kate cut you off. "How can you be so sure?"

You suppressed your irritation at being interrupted and kept calm. Cooly, you explained, "Murders like these create panic— not just amongst the general population, but amongst law enforcement, as well; it is terror. It serves their greater goal." You gestured with your hands as you spoke. "The murders simulate a bombing. From there, they station someone to watch, gauge how long it takes police to respond."

Understanding flashed through Morgan's eyes. "At which point they bring in a second bomb."

"Exactly," you affirmed. "The goal is always to take out a first round of civilians, followed by a second wave of emergency responders. It's trial and error—it's how they practice. And if someone catches the shooter, that's fine because we just end up thinking we have a murderer; the cell is never compromised. And in creating such panic, they ensure the most urgent response time short of a bombing. It's by far the smartest way to plan for a terrorist attack."

You crossed your arms, giving them time to absorb your words. You didn't expect anyone to respond so soon, and you certainly didn't expect that person to be Hotch. "It's a theory, Y/N." His voice was soft, and that seemed to only add fuel to the fire.

You resisted the urge to scoff, sharply retorting, "Isn't any profile?"

He didn't answer. Perhaps that was the smartest choice; he didn't want to pick an argument with you, not now.

Hesistantly, Spencer spoke up, "I think— I think she's right." He walked behind you to the board, picking up a red marker and circling spots on the map before turning back around to face you. "I think they're targeting points of entry. All the murders have taken place near a bridge or tunnel."

"Holland Tunnel, Midtown Tunnel, Manhattan Bridge," Emily muttered.

"If bombs went off, emergency response would shut down any ability to get in or out of the city," JJ remarked. "It's— it's like people would be trapped on the island."

It looked like you had everyone convinced, even Hotch—despite his reluctance to believe you—but for some reason, Kate Joyner just couldn't let up. She crossed her arms. "I still fail to see how you came to the conclusion of multiple shooters."

Unbothered, you replied, "Having followers do the shootings would ensure they're willing to kill or be killed for their cause."

She countered, "But is there any evidence that that's the case?"

You narrowed your eyes, going to respond when someone's ringtone sounded. Derek picked up his phone and put it on speaker. You could almost thank whoever it was for stopping you from saying something you would or wouldn't regret.

"Talk to me, babygirl."

Penelope's voice came through the phone. "Okay, I have bad news then badder, connected news. What would you like me to start with?"

Derek glanced up at you, then at Hotch. "Gimme the bad news, Garcia."

"Alright, well, I was looking at the surveillance footage from the murders, specifically the most recent compared to the previous, and found something very, very off. I'll share my screen with you." Emily turned on the laptop on the table closest to all of you, and the footage immediately appeared. Silently, you watched the videos one after the other, and you had a feeling that Garcia was just about to vindicate you. "You guys see what I saw?"

"Well, he sprints off in one and walks calmly in the other. It's two entirely different demeanours," Morgan said.

"Exactly, my dove. So check it out, I did a digital perspective analysis rendering on all the shootings we have footage of. Now the first two were inconclusive, but again, in the last two, I found something très weird." Garcia did a freeze-frame, her analysis software appearing. "Your calm, walking type—he's about 6 foot 1." The screen changed to the other scene. "But your sprinter, he's like 5'9", 5'10" tops."

While the air in the office got colder, you stood there holding back the urge to smirk. You saw both Morgan and Hotch glance at you from the corner of your eye, but you only turned to Kate, seeing somewhat of a defeated expression on her face.

"Is this evidence enough for you, Agent Joyner?"

❧

That surveillance footage was enough confirmation for you, no matter what Joyner had to say about it. Following Garcia's revelation, you walked away from the team's makeshift conference room and walked into the bullpen, pulling out your phone and dialling Homeland Security.

You notified them of the situation at hand and that you were expecting something big soon, but not yet, telling them not to act without your say-so. It was of vital importance that you controlled the situation; you couldn't let the unsubs know you were onto them, so you couldn't make any moves just yet, either.

You hung up the phone, sighing. You hated cases like these. Being The Angel of Death was something you got used to; you could control that, but dealing with a cell like this wasn't just more challenging—it was unpredictable, and unpredictable was something you weren't quite fond of.

You turned around and nearly jumped out of your skin when you saw Hotch standing right behind you. Your hand slapped against your chest. "Holy shit, Hotchner, don't they teach you not to a sneak up on a girl in FBI school?"

Something almost like a smile came to his lips, the last thing you were expecting from him, especially at a time like this. "I'd hardly call that sneaking up on you. And according to you, you've been to 'FBI school,' so you should know."

You scoffed. "Regardless." Hotch's eyes remained on you, and the corners of his lips never went down. An uncomfortable silence then settled between you, despite the loud bustling in your surroundings.

You were hoping you could've gone this entire visit without speaking to him alone.

He must've noticed this, because his next words were, "You've been avoiding me."

You tensed ever so slightly. You'd been here all of five minutes, and he thought you were avoiding him. "I have not been avoiding you—"

"Yes, you have."

"We have bigger problems to deal with. Not everything is about you, Hotchner."

"Why are you avoiding me, Y/N?" You hated how his voice sounded, calm and soft. You hated the fact that he was even asking you this right now. You wanted him to be the stoic guy he always was. You didn't like this. And deep down, you knew that that was why you were avoiding him.

You didn't like the unpredictable.

And Aaron Hotchner was just that.

In lieu of responding, you dodged the question, biting back, "Why do you care?"

Hotch stilled as if you'd just hit him with the question of the century. It was then that he realized he didn't know. He couldn't answer you because he didn't have the answer himself.

He didn't know what he was going to say when he opened his mouth, and he supposed he never would, because a second later, a phone rang.

A sigh left his lips as he went to pick the phone up off some agent's desk, and you watched as the stoic man you knew returned. Yet, for some reason, you weren't as relieved as you thought you'd be.

"Hotchner." Kate chose that moment to walk out of her office while Morgan and Rossi came up from behind you. Hotch's voice became grave. "Does it look it could be one of our guys?"

Derek took the words right from your mouth. "What's going on?"

Hotch put down the phone. "We've got eyes on one of them," he answered. "He's on the subway platform at 59th and Lex."

"59th—? We could've been right there." He looked at Kate with an accusatory glare. The fury that lit up in his eyes and the way she refused to look back told you there was a conversation between them that you missed.

Over the phone, you heard Garcia let out a shaky breath, telling you all that the unsub shot the woman.

Kate paced. "Where the hell are the police?"

Meanwhile, you picked up another telephone from the adjacent desk. "This is Y/N Y/L/N with the CIA. We have a murder suspect on 59th and Lex, subway platform. Hurry."

You slammed the phone down as you heard Penelope fret, "God, he's getting away."

"Garcia, can you get eyes on him above ground?"

A few clicks were audible as she responded, "He's heading west on 59th Street."

Kate spoke up, stating what you already knew. "If he makes it to the park, we've lost him."

"We lost the visual," another woman said.

Derek scoffed while Rossi questioned, "Are the police on the scene?"

"Negative."

And just like that, without another word, it was clear to everyone in the room that you just lost your only suspect.

You pinched the bridge of your nose, cursing under your breath. Next to you, Derek made his frustrations much more known. "We could've had that guy," he snapped.

Kate finally looked at him. "Even if we were on that platform, odds are he would have moved onto someone isolated."

This didn't console him at all. "Maybe, but it was worth taking a shot—"

"I had every available man on the street."

Morgan stepped forward, seething. "And I suggested to you that you use this team." Realization came over you. Now you understood why he was so angry; Kate let her resentment of him get in the way of the case, and that decision may have just cost you a life.

Just as you thought Hotch couldn't get any more unpredictable, he scolded, "Morgan, second-guessing doesn't do us any good right now."

Your brows raised, but he didn't look at you, nor did he look at Derek.

"Hotch, we have a possible terrorist attack coming. How am I supposed to look these cops in the eye and tell them that we're actually here to help them?"

Hotch's reply was sharp. "We're here to present a profile. That's what we need to do."

Derek ignored him, pressing, "I said to put as express stops. 14th, 42nd, 59th— and that's exactly where they hit—"

"It's not your place to have this discussion." This time, Hotch did look at him, and his eyes were hard.

Immediately, you cut in, spitting out his name. "Agent Hotchner." Hotch's eyes went right to you. You stepped forward, firing, "We have six bodies. And right now, I have to call Homeland Security and tell them that we not only have another one, but we also just lost a valuable chance to find one of the perpetrators."

"Which is exactly why we need to stay focused."

"Focused?" Derek echoed. Then he took a step closer, standing eye to eye with his boss. "From where I'm standing, all your focus is on her."

Kate's head ducked down, and from there, it didn't take much for you to connect the dots. All of a sudden, it made sense why Derek had asked you about Kate earlier instead of going straight to Hotch.

And to think that, just a few moments ago, he'd been going after you.

With a tick in his jaw, Hotch commanded, "Take a walk. Now."

Derek stared at him for a split-second before walking off without another word.

"You know, I think I'm gonna take that walk with him," you muttered. And just like that, it was as if Hotch realized you were still there.

He went to say your name, but you were turning your back and walking away before he could even utter the first syllable.

Unpredictability. What a fickle thing.

You hated it.

❧

You found Derek at a nearby bar, the closest bar to the field office. Contrary to what you said to Hotch, you didn't come looking for him; he just so happened to find the same place you did.

Before you even pulled out the barstool, he was sighing. "I know. I was out of line."

You lightly snorted. "I'm not here to chastise you, Derek." He looked up at you, surprise flashing through his eyes. "I'm just here to drink." Right on cue, the bartender came up to you and asked you wanted to drink, to which you ordered brandy, neat.

When said drink arrived in front of you and you downed it in one go, it prompted him to ask, "Aren't you still on the job?"

A slight chuckle left you. "Morgan, I run an entire CIA ops division and then I also get asked to do things like this." You then deadpanned, "Trust me, I can hold my liquor."

He held his hands up in surrender, an amused expression on his face before something serious took it over, wiping the smile from his face. "I'm sorry about Joyner, by the way." When you look at him confused, he explained, "I didn't have to say that. Not in front of you."

You sighed. Not this again. "Derek, I have nothing going on with your boss. So whatever the deal is with him and Kate is absolutely none of my business." For some reason, the words stung coming out of your mouth, and you didn't like it one bit.

He left it alone and didn't press the issue further (thankfully). You glanced at the beer in front of him. You nodded toward it, stating, "You haven't touched that."

He glanced at it. "Guess I don't have the appetite for it right now."

You hummed. "Or you want to go back."

He let out a long, dramatic sigh, nearly making you laugh. "I have to apologize to her, don't I?" This time, when you nodded and he ran a hand over his bald head, you did laugh. "Fucking hell."

You sarcastically patted his shoulder. "Don't sweat it, sweetheart. I'll walk back with you."

"Sweetheart?" you heard him question as you stood up, putting enough money down for both of your drinks. "And now you're paying for me? You're threatening my manhood here, angel."

"Get over it, Morgan."

And as he let out a hearty laugh, you let yourself pretend that you didn't have a different agent on your mind entirely.

❧

Upon getting back to the office, you suddenly wished you'd had another drink as you were informed that there was not only another shooting, but Detective Cooper was shot after he and Prentiss chased after him.

Kate seemed to have taken Derek's suggestion and sent the team out on the streets in the hour and a half you were away. In that time, Prentiss and Cooper nearly got one of the shooters, but he was fast; he could've gotten away. Yet he stopped and shot Cooper, prompting Emily to fire a shot of her own.

Suicide by cop.

You hung up the phone, walking back into the room after telling Homeland that you'd be calling with another update soon. "Three shootings in one day," you said, catching everyone's attention. "They're ramping up to something."

Morgan held his phone up in the air and wiggled it. "Yeah, well, while you were on the phone, Garcia called. They hacked into at least one camera at every scene and have been watching from day one."

You cursed under your breath just as Kate called your name. "Y/N." You looked up at her in half-veiled surprise, seeing her standing with her arms crossed, a somewhat uncomfortable look on her face. "Aaron told me more about your position in the CIA, how you're more well-versed in situations such as these." It looked like she had a hard time getting the words out, despite the sincerity in her tone. "I'd like you to take the lead on this."

You were sure that the surprise must've shown on your face, courtesy of fatigue, but you quickly masked it and nodded. You took one deep breath, and then you dived in. "We need to hit the ground running." You turned to everyone individually as you gave them instructions. "Rossi, I'd like you to talk to the Commissioner. He'll be familiar with you." He nodded and left the room. "Derek, you brief Homeland Security, tell them I sent you. I want them to know we're expecting them to strike any minute now."

"You got it, angel."

You turned to Emily, who was already ahead of you. "I'll head to the hospital, check on Cooper, and brief Detective Brustin."

"Good. And Spencer—"

He (with a creepy accuracy) anticipated what you were going to say before you even said it. "JJ and I will talk to the Port Authority Police."

You nodded then realized that left only two people, unwelcome dread filling you. Out of a stubborn attempt to prove his earlier claim about avoiding him wrong, you looked to Hotch but still didn't meet his eyes. "Agent Hotchner, you and Kate should speak to the mayor. I have to make some calls to the DOD. We'll all meet back here as soon as possible. We are crunched for time, but the one advantage that we have is that they don't know we know they're watching."

Everyone who hadn't already left nodded and got to their tasks. Hotch looked like he wanted to stick around and say something to you, but as you said, the clock was ticking.

You called the DOD and briefly explained what Homeland Security had likely already spoken to them about, that you saw a terrorist event on the horizon. They told you that, luckily, the Deputy Secretary of Defense was in town, only ten, maybe twenty minutes away from where you were.

Quickly, you gathered your things and made your way out of the building. At the exit, however, you found exactly who you didn't want to see.

Hotch and Kate.

They hadn't left yet.

They stood outside the door, facing each other. He had his hand on her elbow, and he was saying something you couldn't make out. Whatever it was, it made her lips upturn.

You couldn't recognize the feeling that crawled through your veins at that moment. The green monster and you hadn't been acquainted in a while, but for some reason, she was showing up, making your body her home, and you hated it.

Shaking off whatever it was you were feeling, you pushed the door open. Hotch noticed you first. "Y/N," he said. He took his hand off her arm. A weight was lifted off your chest.

"Agent Hotchner," you greeted, promptly turning to the blonde and doing the same. "Agent Joyner. I've gotten word that the Deputy Secretary of Defense is in New York; I'm heading to see her."

Kate nodded. "Good. Aaron and I are on our way to the mayor's office now." She turned, starting to walk away, and then you realized she was heading in the same direction as your car.

Fuck. They parked next to you.

You started walking, too, Hotch now at your side. Kate was ahead of you guys. You're sure that Hotch could naturally walk faster than you, but he remained at your side. This is deliberate, you thought.

Your conversation from earlier hung in the air. With Kate gone, the tension between you was now palpable. But he wouldn't say anything, you assured yourself, not with her in earshot.

But perhaps you underestimated him. With every meeting, Aaron Hotchner continued to surprise you. He had become unpredictable to you.

Yet, the two of you would soon bear witness to just how unpredictable life could truly be.

Just as you were nearing your vehicles, Aaron opened his mouth to say something, but a loud boom cut him off.

Before either of you could register it, you were sent flying backward, shockwaves rippling through your body.

And then everything went black.

❧

New York City has never been so quiet, you thought, blinking your eyes open. And you've never been able to see the stars in this city, either, but tonight, you saw them just fine. Part of you wondered if you were dreaming.

No, not a dream. A hallucination.

There's been an accident.

The thought hit you like a ton of bricks as pain erupted in your side. A groan left you unwarranted. You went to touch it then hissed at the throbbing. There was no blood there, though, no wound, so it must've been the bones.

Nowhere else hurt—not that bad, at least. You tested yourself, trying to sit up. It hurt to do so, but you did it. And when you did, you were met with the sight of an SUV, up in flames.

No, not an accident. This was planned.

But it wasn't your car. It would've made sense if it were your car, if you were the direct target, but you weren't. Your mind ran a mile a minute. Why would they blow up a random SUV?

It's then that you remember it wasn't a random SUV. It was Hotch's.

Hotch and Kate.

They were with you.

With that realization, any and all intellectual thought escape your grasp. You shot upward, the pain becoming nonexistent as a surge of adrenaline flowed through your body. "Hotch!" you screamed. No answer. "Hotch! Kate!" No one answered. "Aaron!" You continued to cry his name but no one answered.

Tears you welled up in your eyes. It was lost on you that you hadn't cried in years. It was equally lost on you that this was the first time you'd ever said his name.

You spun around, letting go of a breath you didn't know you were holding when you spotted a man in a suit, standing there, just staring at the fire. You jogged over to him and called out his name, but he didn't move his head. You tried again. "Aaron." No response. "Aaron!"

Finally, he looked at you. A plethora of emotions could be seen on his face. Confusion. Anger. Fear. Then worry. "Y/N," he breathed. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine." That was a lie, but you could handle the pain well. You had good experience. "Are you?"

"Yes, I think so."

You took a quick moment to examine him, the cut by his brow, the blood by his ear; you think back to how he didn't respond to your calls. Concussion, you thought, and a ruptured ear drum.

You take ahold of his arm, gently but firmly, and slowly asked him, "Aaron, where's Kate?"

He blinked, glancing back at the wreck and then back at you. You watched him swallow. "I—"

"Hey! Are the two of you okay?"

Your eyes and his simultaneously snapped to the voice that'd just appeared, seeing a scrawny kid stand in front of you. Like a switch had been flipped, the abundance of emotions on his face dissipated into one.

Determination.

"What's your name?" he questioned.

The kid looked at him, confused. "What?"

Hotch repeated, "What's your name?"

As if he thought you two were crazy, he glanced between you warily. "Sam," he replied.

Hotch didn't look at him or acknowledge his name as he ordered, "Call 911."

"Yeah— yeah, I did."

"Call 911— tell that there's been an explosion."

"Sir, are you okay?" His eyes darted to you. "Ma'am, are you hurt?" Momentarily, he glanced down, his eyes catching the gun on your belt. He looked to Hotch, finding the same thing. Stunned, he looked back up. "Are you guys cops?"

Hotch's eyes were still on the fire. "Call 911. Tell them... that a— that a federal agent—" Without warning, he took off running towards the car, yelling, "Kate!"

"Hotch!" You went to follow him but the kid stopped you.

"Okay so you want me to say you're a federal agent?"

You turned around, eyes blazing. "Call 911. Tell them that there's been a car explosion, involving two FBI agents and one CIA officer." You barely finished your sentence before you were running after Hotch.

By the time you got to him, he was taking off his jacket, about to shield himself and run right into the car but you stopped him. "Aaron!"

His eyes darted to you then travelled behind you. The dread painted on his features mixed with relief, but you couldn't tell which emotion was stronger. You turned, following his line of sight, and saw Kate lying on the ground, a trail of blood leading to her body.

Without missing a beat, you both ran to her, her coughing becoming more audible as you got closer. Aaron got down immediately, and her first words were, "My purse. I can't find my purse."

He shushed her. "Don't move, don't move."

"Aaron, my purse."

Shock. She's in shock.

If only just to placate her, Hotch glanced around for it. "I don't think you had one," he said.

"I must've dropped it," she gasped, moving her head.

"Kate—" you cut in from above, "Kate, you need to stop trying to move."

She looked up at you, her eyes widening at whatever she saw. "Y/N. Y/N, what happened?"

You ran a hand through your hair. "I don't— I don't know. A bomb. An IED, I think." You glanced back at the car, your mind going back to the same race it was racing in before you found Aaron.

"An IED?" she echoed. "I have to get up."

"No. No, no, no. Lie down. Lie still. You need to lie still," he pleaded with her.

Suddenly, she caught your attention back. "Am I moving my legs?"

Hotch shushed her again at first, then he questioned, "What?"

Both of you glanced down at her legs at the same time. You resisted the urge to cup your mouth.

You were gonna be sick.

Weakly, she asked again, "Am I moving my legs?"

You didn't have the heart to answer her. From the looks of it, neither did Aaron, because he changed the subject. "I'm going to have to turn you and see where the blood is coming from," he said.

"Do it."

"Alright? Okay." He turned her while you focused on the sirens wailing in the distance, getting closer. The sound blended in with Kate's crying until it was all one and the same to you.

Police cars and ambulances soon pulled up just ahead of you, maybe a hundred yards away. You stood taller, yelling, "Officer down!" When they didn't come any closer, you flailed your arms. "Officer down! Here! There's an officer down!"

Kate's voice, ever so quiet, cut through the noise like a knife. "They're not coming." You turned to her, seeing her look at both of you defeatedly. "We told them not to. Remember?"

Your own words rang through your head. The goal is always to take out a first round of civilians, followed by a second wave of emergency responders.

The reality of the situation struck you. They weren't coming.

"The first wave of responders are the targets," she got out. "ESU orders are not— to let anyone in until the area is cleared."

"No." You shook your head. "I'm not taking that as an answer."

"Y/N—"

"We are getting you out of here, Kate, come hell or high water." Your previous aversion to her no longer mattered. She was lying on the ground covered in blood, unable to move her legs. All that mattered was getting her out.

Without wasting another second, you ran toward the barricade. ESU officer braced their rifles, but you had your badge ready as you stood a safe distance away from them. You were trying to think calmly, as calmly as you could. Your ribs stung as you held the badge up in the air.

The words were spoken in an erratic panic. "My name is Director Y/N Y/L/N, I'm a senior officer of the CIA. Behind me are SSAs Aaron Hotchner and Kate Joyner. She is injured— badly—"

A man stepped forward and cut you off cooly, "I understand that, ma'am, but I have orders not to let anyone in—"

You lost it. "Screw your orders! She can't fucking move!"

"Ma'am, my orders are what they are."

"Your orders are what they are," you repeated under your breath, a humourless chuckle escaping. "What's your name?"

He squared his shoulders. "It's Captain Warner, ma'am."

"Well, Captain Warner," you spat. "Allow me to re-introduce myself. My name is Director or Agent Y/L/N, not ma'am. Director. And I am quite familiar with your orders, Captain; I gave them. You are here because I made the call that put you here. And, so help me God, if you don't listen to this order, I will make the call that relieves you of your position."

Warner didn't appear to be shaken, but you could see the cloud of doubt floating in his eyes. You'd think that anyone would grapple for their job, but Warner was being difficult. "I apologize, Director, but I can't do that."

Your nostrils flared. You were just about to continue telling him off when an awfully familiar voice sounded, asking for someone in charge. Your eyes widened. "Derek!"

Derek's head snapped your way. "Holy shit. Y/N!" He came running towards you but was stopped by the same officers that kept you from crossing the barricade, holding up their guns.

"This area is restricted," he said.

He held up his badge. "I'm Agent Morgan, FBI. That's my friend—"

"This area is restricted," Warner repeated, barely looking at him. "I will take care of your friend. Now go back to the Federal Building. There are evac marshaling spots. Check in and make sure they know where you are."

Morgan held his ground, stepping in front of Warner and retaliating, "I am not about to do that."

"Get out of my face or I'll have you bodily removed, Agent."

"Derek." You caught his attention. "Hotch and Kate are down there."

He spun around. "That's my boss down there!"

"My orders are what they are."

You scoffed at the recycled statement while Derek argued, "I don't give a damn what your orders are!"

"I get it, Agent, but we've been told by you" he gave you a glance "'Responders are the targets.' So, until the blast site is cleared, no one goes in."

Morgan looked back at you then back at the Captain with a renewed resolution, trying a different approach. "You're Marine Corps, right?" Warner didn't respond, looking down. "Right?"

"Please. Go back to the marshaling point."

"I'm not doing it." He pointed to the site. "I'm not just going to let my man lie down there like that."

As if on cue, Hotch screamed, "Someone! Damnit, we're here!" You nearly flinched at the sheer pain in his voice, and Derek certainly didn't look unaffected, either.

"'Never leave a man behind.' You do remember that, don't you?"

Hotch kept screaming as Morgan and Warner stared each other down. It seemed that he must've gotten to him, because within just a moment, he said, "Go."

Derek didn't waste another second, immediately running to you and grabbing onto your shoulders. "Y/N, are you alright?"

"I'm fine! I'm fine, it's Kate."

He nodded and then took off following with you trailing closely behind, but not before you gave Captain Warner a pointed glare.

When you got to Hotch, the kid was back, seemingly tending to Kate as Morgan explained, "They're not letting any ambulances down here until they clear the scene." He glanced at the kid like he just noticed he was there. "Kid, you've gotta get behind the barricades. Let's go." The kid didn't move. "Go!"

"Go, Sam." At Hotch's word, the kid got up and ran, but your attention was focused solely on Kate, checking her vitals.

"Talk to me. Can we carry her?" Morgan barely gave him time to respond. "Hotch, can we carry her?"

"No, I tried. Morgan—" he paused, intaking a shaky breath, "she's going to bleed to death if we don't get her out of here. We've got to do something."

Derek's phone ringing cut off whatever he was going to say. He picked it up immediately. "Garcia, I got Hotch and Y/N, but listen to me, you got to get somebody down here right away. You hear me? Right now." You didn't hear what Garcia said next, but it caused his head to snap up. "What? You're absolutely sure?" He glanced at you then to the kid who you realized never left.

The kid held his hands out like he was asking what you were waiting for, causing you to tilt your head, confused.

Morgan hung up the phone and then his next words shocked you. "Hotch. The kid. He's the bomber."

Your eyes went wide before instantly going to Hotch. "Are you okay to stay here?" you asked.

He didn't even think about it. "Go."

With that, you and Morgan took off running. The kid bolted, leaving you to chase after him.

Despite the heels on your feet (that luckily weren't stilettos) and obvious bruise to your side, you couldn't feel pain. All you feel was the pure adrenaline pumping through your veins. You hadn't been so ready to fight in ages. The anger coursing through your body was unparalleled.

This kid wasn't getting away with this, and you'd make sure of it.

You chased the kid down the street, Morgan ahead of you. An ambulance passed you while you ran, and you prayed it'd be heading Hotch's way.

You kept chasing after the kid, turning a corner and he was gone, but Morgan was already heading down the stairs for the subway, so you knew he was down there.

You ran down the stairs, skipping steps as you went, following Morgan's lead and pulling out your gun. Civilians filled the station, evacuating. "Out of the way!" you screamed, pushing past them.

"Move! Where'd he go? Where?" Some pointed straight ahead, so you kept running.

You got down to where the subway was, but by now, it was empty. You came to a stop next to Morgan, holding up your gun.

"Show your face, you son of a bitch!"

No one showed. You nodded to the train and panted, "Morgan, I'll take the back. You take the front."

Heaving, he nodded, going for the front. You entered the train with your gun held high, pointing it on either side of the door. You walked through the cart slowly, checking beheind yourself periodically to ensure the kid wouldn't sneak up on you.

You pushed open the door to the next cart warily. It was just as empty as the previous one. You went for the next cart. Nothing again. You met Morgan in the middle. "Nothing," you said.

"Me neither. But there's a door at the front. I'm thinking he could've hopped through there," he told you.

You nodded and followed him there, accepting his help and jumping down. Carefully, with your gun and flashlight in hand, you walked on the tracks, avoiding the power supply. You shouted, "We know you're in here, kid. Show your fucking face, you coward!"

A noise sounded, making you turn around to check it while Morgan continued forward. "You've got nowhere to run, man. You hear me? There's nothing down here for you."

"Is that all you see?" At the sound of the kid's voice, you spun around, moving your flashlight around. "Huh? Darkness?"

You caught up to Morgan, and then the kid showed himself. Your flashlight revealed his shoes lying on the ground while he slowly walked on the rail, balancing himself like this was a game. You cocked your gun. "You listen to me, you little shit. This is not a fucking game. Get your ass off the tracks and put your hands on top of your fucking head. Do it now."

When he failed to listen to you, Derek yelled, "Do it now!"

The kid did as you said, but not to listen to you. It was to mock you. "You will lose in the end," he said.

Derek moved forward. "Shut up. Shut your mouth."

"You wanna know why?" He continued on like he'd never said a word. "Because you fear what we embrace."

Before you could do anything, he took one foot off the track and put it on the third rail. "Get off the— no! No, no!" Derek and you were forced backward as the light blinded your eyes. Without even lifting your eyes up, you knew undoubtedly that the kid was dead.

He just killed himself right in front you.

"Damnit." You reached to run a hand through your hair but you were stopped by the stabbing pain in your ribs, suddenly reappearing. You hissed, "Ah, shit."

"Y/N?" Within a blink, Derek was in front of you. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

"I'm fi— fuck." Your knees buckled, but Morgan caught you, holding onto by your waist. When that caused another hiss, he switched his hold to your arms.

"I think you might've broken some ribs. How the hell didn't you notice this before?"

"I— it didn't feel this bad before."

Morgan cursed under his breath. "Your adrenaline is wearing off. We need to get you to a hospital."

"No, I'm o—" a sharp stab cut you off, making you grunt. "Fine. But what about Kate?"

"We both saw that ambulance drive their way," he reasoned. "They're gonna be okay. Look, if we get back and they're still there, we can stay, alright?"

You thought over his proposal and eventually relented and let him lead you off the tracks, giving in to the pain. You just hoped that he was right, that they were okay.

Please let them be okay.

❧

You arrived at the hospital in record time, passing through the streets like light work. After receiving confirmation that Hotch and Kate were at Saint Barclays, he drove the two of you there, too, insisting that a doctor see you despite your equal insistence that you were fine.

Now, you sat on an ER bed. You had a few cuts here and there but nothing too deep; you were given sutures for one cut across your cheek. The doctor wasn't looking at you right now; she was looking at your chart, giving you time to glance around the triage room.

You weren't a big fan of hospitals, never were. They were never a source of good news, and every hospital you stepped into smelled the same, like bleach and chemicals. When you were younger, you were convinced that this was to cover up the smell of death.

That wasn't too far off.

The doctor pulled you out of your revierie, snapping the chart shut. "So, Ms. Y/L/N, I've ruled out the possibility of a collapsed lung, but you've broken 4 of your left true ribs," she informed you. "From what your partner has told me, you've over-exerted yourself, and thus exacerbated the issue."

"I'm a CIA officer and had to chase a suspect," was the only explanation you offered.

She deadpanned. "I understand that, Ms. Y/L/N, but you've just made your healing process ten time harder."

You gave her a short smile. "I've been through worse."

She looked at you for a few more seconds before she sighed, re-opening the chart book. "I can prescribe you some medication for the pain."

You declined perhaps a bit too quickly. "No, that's alright."

Slowly, she looked up at you, her eyes questioning. "No? Why not? I can imagine you're in a great deal of pain right now."

At her inquiry, you were reminded of someone else's interrogative questions. Hotch's voice filled your head, Why do you say it like that—say your name as if it's not your name?

Your mind travelled back to a time you weren't Y/N. There was a girl with a different name who wore your face, a girl you separated yourself from entirely. She didn't grow up thinking she'd have a future in law enforcement—she didn't even think she'd have a future at all.

She hung around the wrong crowd and picked up bad habits, habits like oxycodone and amphetamines. But you weren't her anymore.

You were 7 years sober.

You'd rather not explain all of this to the attending in front of you—you'd rather not explain it to anyone. Instead, you just said, "I have a high pain tolerance. I can handle it."

She stared at you warily, but otherwise, there wasn't much she could do but accept your decision. "I'd advise against that, but it is your choice."

You pursed your lips into what you hoped was a small smile. "It is."

She kept her persistent stare until she eventually gave up, leaving the makeshift room. You didn't wait long before you left, too, jumping off the table and pushing back the curtain. You walked through the halls in search of the tan-skinned man you came in with, avoiding looking anywhere but ahead of you.

Hospitals were unpredictacle.

You didn't like that.

You turned a corner, and as if you just had good luck, Derek was there, already walking your way.

He raised a brow at you. "You all good, angel?"

You fell into step beside him, letting him lead the way to wherever you were going and flashing him a flirtatious smile. "Never been better, muscles." It wasn't a total lie; the pain had mostly subsided, and you'd felt worse in your life.

Morgan didn't bat an eyelash. "Well, that's good because we need to get moving. The team's on the way."

At the mention of the BAU, your thoughts were re-directed. Without stopping, you glanced over at Derek and gave him a quick once-over. He seemed normal: he was flirting with you, no signs of dejection. So Hotch must've been alright. Still, though, you felt compelled to ask, "Hotchner and Joyner. Are they okay?"

If Derek noticed the small blip in your voice, he didn't say anything. You weren't sure if you even noticed it, either. "Hotch is fine, back to barking orders and being a drill sergeant. Kate's in surgery, though."

You couldn't explain the wave of calm that came over you at that moment. You couldn't explain why you even cared.

But you did.

You nodded in response and changed subjects. "Has anything happened since the first blast?"

"No. Nothing."

An exasperated sigh left you. "That doesn't make any sense. Something should've happened by now." You ran a hand through your hair, your gears turning. "I mean, why go through all this trouble just to hit a single SUV with a few agents? Why not wait until we were in our cars?"

"I don't know," he replied. "What I'm still stuck on is why the kid would stay knowing we'd figure him out."

"Yeah, why would he stay—" suddenly, you halted in your tracks, cutting yourself off as memories rushed to the forefront of your brain.

[Thank you for your input, Ms. Y/L/N. The Secretary of Defense is unavailable at the moment, so the Deputy Secretary will be fielding all defense matters for the moment. She happens to be in town, and she'd like to be briefed in person, if that's alright.]

Yes, I can do that. Just send me an address.

Then you heard the voices of Secret Service agents in your head: I'm sorry, but this hospital is on strict bypass.

"What? What is it?" Derek's voice shook you out of your reverie. You looked up to see him standing in front of you, a worried expression on his face. You would've laughed if it weren't so serious. He probably thought you had a concussion—and while you didn't, what you were going to say was worse than that.

"Derek," you started.

Your tone must've scared him because he stepped closer. "What?"

You paused, mulling over the details in your head. Secret Service was here. Someone important was in the building, someone like the Secretary of Defense. And that bomber just so happened to stick around until an ambulance showed up, taking Hotch and Kate straight here.

Sam didn't wait until you were cars, and that wasn't a careless mistake. It wasn't because he was so excited that he couldn't wait. It was because that blast wasn't meant to kill you, not on impact.

It was meant to take you here.

When you made up your mind, you took a step closer to him and lowered your voice, not wanting to attract panic in spite of the fact that it'd happen, anyway. Your voice was rigid.

"I think there's a bomb in this hospital."

❧

After quickly explaining your theory to Derek, you parted ways; he went to go find the team while you took off to find the head of that Secret Service detail.

Any uneasiness you felt being in this hospital increased a tenfold, no longer because of the fact that it was a hospital but because it could blow any minute now. You knew you weren't scared, though—and maybe you should've been, but this was the job.

You found the SS soon enough, calling out to them, "Hey, men in black!"

Your volume turned heads, including theirs. The bald man stood up from where he was leaned over on a counter and greeted you first, leading you to believe he was in charge. "Ms. Y/L/N." So he knew who you were. That made this a lot easier.

You didn't waste any time. "The Secretary of Defense is in this hospital, isn't he?"

"Ma'am, I know you're high up on the ladder, but—"

You cut him off briskly, "There is a bomb in this building, and it's rigged to assassinate the Secretary."

The agent whose name you didn't ask for stiffened but adapted quickly, ordering the agents behind him to hit the alarms all without looking away from you. "Where is it?" he then questioned.

"The ambulance my colleague drove in, I believe." The word colleague tasted wrong on your tongue, but you didn't have the time to dwell on it. "Is it already in the basement?"

"Yes."

"Okay, then you need to evac the building. You need to get the Secretary and everybody else out of here right now."

"We can't do that," he answered. "He's undergoing surgery as we speak."

You were sure that the next words to leave your mouth would be curses, but before you could even get them out, a band of rushed footsteps became audible from behind you. It didn't take you long to recognize who they belonged to.

The footsteps stopped where you were. You glanced to see the team surrounding you, Derek on your left and Hotch on your right. So he was alright. You held back a sigh of relief and kept your eyes off him, directing all your focus to the task at hand.

Silently, Morgan handed you a Kevlar vest. You nodded to him in thanks and put it on while Hotch hurriedly interrogated, "The paramedic I came in with—do you have eyes on him?"

The Secret Service Agent briefly glanced at you, to which you nodded, prompting him to turn over a computer playing a live feed.

"Is that a cell in his hands?"

Rossi pressed onto a mic on his chest. "Garcia, can you remote access the grid I'm in and jam all the frequencies?" She said something you couldn't hear and then he added, tone clipped, "There's a bomb in the basement of this building."

Garcia worked quickly, disrupting the satellite feeds in your location within seconds. You could tell she did this by paramedic's actions on the screen. "Look. He's coming back," Prentiss said. "He's going to detonate the bomb manually if he has to."

"Where did Morgan go?" At Hotch's abrupt words, you turned to your left but Derek was no longer there. He'd snuck off while you were paying attention to the feed, and you had no doubt as to where.

His appearance on the computer screen confirmed your suspicions. You sighed, before tiredly voicing, "He went to find the ambulance."

Hotch's voice was incredulous. "Alone?"

Rossi didn't share Hotch's surprise. "Let's head down."

You were off before he even finished the sentence, trusting the Secret Service agents to do their jobs well enough while you all did yours. You removed your gun from your holster, holding it up and jogging through the now empty hallways with tunnel vision.

You barely noticed the others behind you until Hotch somehow got ahead of you. "He's going to the basement," he called out.

You think it was Emily that replied. "Stairs."

You pushed the door to the stairwell open and Hotch entered quickly, scanning the area with his gun as he moved. It was eerily silent, the only sound being the alarms in the distance and your footsteps rapidly hitting the stairs as you took them two at a time.

None of you said a word.

By the time you reached the basement, the alarm was non-existent. Your loud footsteps became quieted, soundless with the precision only people like you could have. You could hear a pin drop.

At the end of the hallway, you wordlessly split into two groups: you with Hotch and Rossi, and Prentiss with Reid.

Hotch led the way while you and Rossi covered him. Your bomber was sitting criss-crossed against the netted gate, gun tossed on the ground with a cellphone in one hand and a knife in the other. Fuck.

You could only pray that Morgan got out before that signal came back online.

You had your gun in the air, even though you knew what was gonna happen. You all did.

Rossi's voice cut through the air. "FBI."

The bomber didn't flinch, staring at the ground with a lifeless look in his eyes. He was a dead man.

He raised the knife to his neck—and if you weren't with FBI agents right now, you would've shot his shaking hand and knocked that knife straight to the ground. You would've forced him to take accountability—perhaps not in a courtroom, but in a place that would still enforce a semblance of justice.

But you were with FBI agents. And Hotch reminded you of this as he spoke up, "Put it down. It's over."

Yes, it was. Because the coward slit his throat thereafter, and the knife clattered to the ground.

Slowly, you lowered your guns. You holstered yours, and then you were walking away. You didn't spare the body another glance. It wasn't a life lost.

Either way, he would've died. It just shouldn't have been on his terms.

Emily was behind you. She flipped her phone open and then you heard a sigh of relief. "Garcia just messaged me," she told you. "Morgan's okay."

Spencer and Rossi let out their own sighs while you muttered a small "Thank God" under your breath. You hadn't known Derek Morgan for long, but he was good, and he felt like a friend.

You didn't have many of those.

You got back to the floor you were on in little time, and everyone parted ways, likely going to rest. The night was over—this was over. You, on the other hand, still had some administrative work to do, starting with checking on the Secretary of Defense.

But before you did anything, you stood there. You stood there and watched the team trickle out of the area, everyone but Hotch. He was still down there.

You went to glance back to see if he was coming up but then thought better of it, choosing to walk away instead.

He's fine, you thought. He was fine.

And so were you.

❧

You got off the phone with the DOD, your last in a long line of phone calls, telling them that the threat had been eliminated as far as you were concerned. You would've been out of that hospital ASAP, but they asked you to stay there until the new Secret Service detail arrived, and you couldn't really say no.

The lack of action suddenly made you more aware of your surroundings. Your senses returned to you; the smell of bleach became more pungent, and the fluorescent lights seemed to just bounce off the white tile.

With nothing else to focus on, the pain in your side returned, too, but you were good at handling pain. It hurt to breathe, but the alternative was relapsing, and you'd come too far for that.

Normally, when you were craving drugs or just stressed, you'd find a drink. It wasn't the best coping mechanism, but it worked. Alcohol wasn't strong enough to hook you; it was just enough to sate you, to take your mind off the pills.

However, you were in a hospital, and none of that was around. So you went looking for the next best thing: coffee.

You found a mini coffee bar in a nearby waiting room, right next to a vending machine. It was one of the automatic ones that took capsules. The selection was pretty shitty, but you weren't exactly expecting premium Italian coffee, so you plopped a pod into the machine, anyway.

You waited for your coffee to brew in silence, listening to the sound of the machine whirring. The PA dinged in the background and footsteps were muffled. You had a habit of listening for those, for footsteps. Most times, like now, if you weren't preoccupied, you could detect them right away.

You sensed Hotch when he was 5 feet away. You could recognize his footsteps so easily, but that was the habit.

You told yourself it was the job.

Without turning around, you quietly greeted, "Agent Hotchner."

He returned your greeting, grabbing a styrofoam cup and going to stand next to you. "Y/N." His voice was as saccharine as the sugar you poured into your coffee.

You hated that, and you hated what it implied.

The case was over. The threat was defeated. And now you were alone together with a conversation unfinished, a conversation you'd much rather not have.

To think that, when you last saw Hotch in Virginia, you were all for the game, the chase. But now it felt like the roles were reversed. This was different. He shouldn't be talking to me.

But he was.

"Yo—"

You cut him off, "How's Kate?" Low blow, Y/N. The breath of air he sucked in made you look up from the creamer to his face. His eyes were no longer on you; they were on the machine as it poured his coffee, but you understood. You could taste apology on your lips before you even said the words. "I'm sorry."

Hotch nodded, grabbing his coffee from the tray when it was finished brewing. "She wasn't in pain," he said. That's all there was to say, really. She wasn't in pain when she died, nor was she in pain when you found her.

Kate Joyner was dead the second that blast hit.

But you spoke none of this. You went to grab your cup, intending to walk away, but Hotch stopped you, placing his hand on your arm before you could fully turn away. You stopped yourself from intaking a sharp breath.

"You're avoiding me."

He said it so plainly, like you were talking about a case or the weather, like this was normal, like the two of you didn't see each other every other year at most, like you weren't you and he wasn't him. It made you want to screw your eyes shut, but you didn't. As if to prove a point, you turned yourself toward him fully, facing him head on.

"I'm not."

"You are."

Your eyes narrowed. "I'm not an unsub, Hotchner. I'm not gonna fold to this interrogation tactic."

"I met you as an unsub," he retorted.

"But I wasn't." You let out a little scoff, half amused, half annoyed. "How would you know if I was avoiding you? You didn't know me then, and you don't know me now."

"But I want to."

Whatever reply you were expecting, it wasn't that. Your breath got caught in your throat. His voice was still so soft, a harsh contrast to the cuts littered across his face. He took a step closer to you. "I want to know you."

You blinked once in shock, almost like you were checking if you were hallucinating, but when your eyes opened, he was still there. When you blinked a second time, it was in realization.

He's just been told Kate's dead, and now whatever pain meds they gave him are kicking in.

Reality slapped you across the face. You took a step back, slowly shaking your head. "You don't want to know me, Hotchner."

He took another step forward. "I do."

Another step back. "You don't." You shook your head again, emphasizing your point. "You really don't."

"Y/N—"

The shrill sound of your ringtone cut him off, and you'd never been so grateful. You picked it up immediately. "Y/L/N." The lady on the other end got to it quick; all you had to do was agree. "Okay, I'll be there momentarily. Thanks."

You hung up your cell, snapping it shut. You gave Hotch a glance before you were looking away, letting your eyes wander everywhere else. "That was the DOD. Secret Service is here. I have to go check out with them." You didn't let him get a word in. "I'll see you around, Agent Hotchner."

And then, just like every other time Aaron Hotchner had ever been in your proximity, you were leaving. In his grasp one second, in the mist in the next.

He watched you walk away wordlessly, not knowing when he'd see you again, words he was going to say dying on his lips.

And then you were gone.

He let out a long sigh, and then looked to his coffee on the mini table, spotting a similar one right next to it.

You left your coffee there, he realized.

With all the other things you left, too.

5. The gavel and the gun

Southbridge, Virginia, 2008

You didn't find yourself down in Virginia too often, not unless you were on business, but Derek assured you that tonight was about everything but that.

"I'm breaking you out of your shell, angel," he said, making a turn on Curtis Drive. "You need to get out more."

You snorted. "One, I don't have a shell. Two, I am literally out so much that my apartment collects dust, and three," you held up a third finger, despite his close attention to the road, "that's bullshit. You just want me to score you some hot chicks."

He let out a burly laugh, something you'd gotten used to after hanging out with him. "Baby, I don't need you to pick anyone up for me. I can do that all on my own."

"What, are you afraid that I'll steal all your girls, Morgan?"

His reply was swift. "Couldn't do that if you tried, Y/N/N. You're still hung up on Hotch."

Your jaw nearly fell, but you were used to this banter you had. You quipped back, "Please, the only one hung up on anyone here is you. You want Garcia."

He choked on his own spit, making you throw your head back and laugh. He didn't see that one coming.

You caught onto Derek's feelings for Garcia early on, but they became especially prominent when he was buzzed one night and told you she was the one on call with him when he drove that ambulance into the field.

That was six months ago. And now, you were in Derek Morgan's car, trying to coax him into asking out a woman with whom he violated many HR regulations.

Derek clearly didn't have a response which only made you laugh harder. You patted his back while he recovered. "Caaaaareful, muscles. I don't want to die on my way to a bar. I'm literally in the CIA—that would be so heavily anti-climactic."

The only thing he heard in that sentence was his nickname, snapping out of his stupor. "Okay, this 'muscles' thing is starting to feel less like a compliment and more condescending."

You huffed out a little chuckle as he put the car in park. "And 'angel' isn't?"

He furrowed his brows, opening his door. "You love that name."

You copied his movements, getting out of the car before pointedly looking at him. "Yeah, when the words 'of death' follow it."

He snorted. "Cryptic." He held his arm out for you, to which you obliged, wrapping yours in his before walking into the estabishment with him.

You would've responded and teased him further had you not been cut off by an oddly familiar voice. "Morgan!" Your head snapped to a table where not only the object of your teasing stood, but all of their crime-fighting friends. From afar, you watched Penelope's eyes widen behind her glasses. Then she squealed, "And Y/N!"

To her credit, she did look just the slightest bit embarrassed when people turned to stare at her.

She still wasn't used to you. And God, was that comical.

A smirk crawled onto your face as you walked to their table, glancing at Derek and recalling your earlier quip. "Ooh, careful, Morgan. Your girl's a fan. I might just take her."

For a guy that nearly died in the car at the mention of her, he didn't seem all that startled. In fact, a smirk of his own graced his face. "I doubt you'll be focused on Penelope tonight, angel."

Your brows pinched together, but before you could question what he meant, you reached the table. JJ and Emily greeted you with wide smiles, the latter pulling you in for a hug that was surprising but not unwelcome. Garcia followed right behind her, hesitantly wrapping her arms around you. You cleared this hesitancy by embracing her tightly. Goodness, she's precious.

Over her shoulder, you mouthed to Morgan, Don't fuck it up.

When you let her go, Rossi tipped his glass at you while Reid just gave you an awkward wave. For his benefit, you resisted the urge to laugh.

You spun back around to flash a smug smile at Morgan, eager for him to see that you weren't fazed by this little surprise he so clearly wanted to jar you with, but then your eyes locked with a darker pair and you realized, oh. They weren't the surprise.

He was.

"Y/N."

What was this feeling? Winded? Was it— breathless? You couldn't describe it; you'd only felt it a few times in life, and you didn't know why you felt it right now. Eventually, you realized you had to answer.

"Hotchner."

You were going to fucking strangle Derek Morgan.

❧

If it wasn't considered rude and you weren't surrounded by a horde of profilers, you would've been texting Derek furiously. It didn't help that the only spot left at the table was next to the man you'd be texting about.

Derek was fun to party with—you went out with him all the time—but whenever he invited you out with the rest of the BAU, you politely declined and came up with whatever excuse was available. Clearly, he caught on to the reason.

You've been avoiding me.

And maybe that was true.

A gasp broke you out of your thoughts. You looked over to see Penelope jumping out of her seat. "Oh, my god, I love this song. Derek, get up right now, we're going to dance," she all but demanded.

It's then that you noticed that JJ and Emily had already beat them to the dance floor, and Spencer was being talked up by some girl at the bar.

No— "Alright, alright, calm down, mama, I'm coming." You glared daggers at him as he flashed you a sly grin, then he wrapped an arm around Penelope and left. He left you alone with Hotch and Rossi.

At least Rossi's still here— "You know, I think I'm going to get another drink." You're kidding.

Apparently, he was not kidding. Rossi got up, and you could've sworn you saw him wink at Hotch before he left for the bar.

And then there were two.

Fuck.

Now that the others were all gone, you felt his proximity much more prominently. If you moved just the slightest bit, your knees would touch. You hated that the thought even crossed your mind.

But you couldn't leave. If you left, then it'd be obvious that you were, in fact, avoiding him, and you didn't want it to be obvious. It shouldn't have been obvious because there was nothing there to avoid; the two of you were nothing, so you had no reason to avoid him.

You were nothing.

Even if, for a second, you might've felt something.

"What's wrong?" His voice cut into the tension like it was butter. But the question didn't sound like concern; if you didn't know any better, you'd say it was almost teasing.

You finally looked at him, turning your head and realizing he was closer than you thought. Close enough to see the specks of green in his eyes and the locks of hair falling over his face. Close enough that you could push those locks back if you wanted to. And you wanted to.

But you didn't.

You schooled your expression and raised a brow, causing him to elaborate, "You were much more flirtatious when we didn't know each other."

Of course, I was, is what you wanted to say. Of course, you were; that was before whatever happened in D.C., before you danced with him and before you let him down. Before reality came knocking and showed him that you were polar opposites, that he was a man of the gavel and you were a woman of the gun. Before he confronted you. Before he told you that he wanted to know you.

So, of course. Of course, I was. Because what the hell was I supposed to do with that?

That's what you wanted to say, but you didn't. Instead, you countered, "Why do you assume something's wrong? Maybe I've just lost interest in our game."

Hotch looked at you like he knew that was a load of bull. He looked you up and down like he could see right through you, and you hated that, because if he looked hard enough, he just might. You thought, for a second, he'd drop it, but then he came back harder. "Is that because you're not winning?"

Taken aback, you laughed to hide how astounded you were, looking away as you deflected, "You must've been one hell of a lawyer, Agent Hotchner."

He let you re-route the conversation, humming. "I was good at my field," he admitted, pausing briefly. "I actually got my nickname while I was working at the DA's office, Hotch."

"Oh?" you uttered, disinterest shining through your voice that you hoped he'd pick up on.

"Yeah. And now it's what everybody calls me." Another pause. "Everybody but you."

You turned back to him. Clearly, that's what he wanted from you with that statement. He was looking at you expectantly, waiting on you for something—you just didn't know what. "You dwell on what I call you?"

He shrugged like he was unbothered. "It's just an observation. You refer to everyone using their first name, even Kate. At one point, I think you even said our names consecutively. Agent Hotchner and then Kate."

Shit, you didn't remember that, but he was probably right. It must've been a blip, you must not have been paying attention. Still, you shrugged right back at him. "I don't put that much thought into it."

He continued like you'd never said anything. "You said my name after the blast." You stiffened. "Repeatedly. And then, once we were in the hospital, you were back to formality."

You forced a smile onto your face in attempts to mask the discomfort. "So?" you said. Like you weren't affected. Like you weren't surprised that he noticed or equally surprised that he was calling you out on it.

"So," he repeated. "What's holding you back from saying my name?"

Damnit, he had you. He had you, and he knew it. You knew he knew it based on the fire in his eyes, fire with intent to burn.

But you had more.

You had walked through fire; you were forged in fire, so this was a challenge you'd accept.

You leaned in closer, just until your mouth was next to his ear. He inhaled sharply. Good. Slowly, you breathed, "What's in a name... Hotchner?"

When you leaned back, you were met with a thrown-off-Hotch, but you didn't stick around to savour the image. You hopped off your barstool and left the table, opting to go dance with Emily and JJ as opposed to let him have the last word.

If you had it your way, he wouldn't get another word in for the rest of the night.

If only you could always have it your way.

❧

You danced with the girls the rest of the night, Hotch forgotten. The others were elsewhere, off on their own. They were good company, and it was nice to hang out with other women. Eventually, the dancing wore them out and they decided it was time to head out, making sure to exchange numbers with you and add you to their group chat before they bid you farewell.

Something told you they were a little more than friends, but you weren't sure if they even knew that.

Alone, you decided to get off the dance floor, making your way over to the bar to text Derek. It was getting late; the bar would close soon, and you wanted to head home. But when you opened your phone, you already had a message from him—timestamped an hour ago. Furrowing your brows, you clicked on it.

Sorry, angel, but Pen opened a window for me and I had to take it.

If you know what I mean ;)

Please don't kill me. I'll send a car for you when you're ready.

Audibly, you groaned, closing your eyes in exhaustion. Of course, he shot his shot with Garcia on the night he's meant to drive you home. And you couldn't even be that mad about it.

You sighed, accepting it and going to open your Uber app when a voice queried from behind you, "Are you alright?"

Fuckkkkkk, you were really hoping he left by now. Reluctantly, you turned around, facing Hotch. "Yeah, Derek was my ride home, but he um," you paused, wiping a hand across your face, "he got lucky."

"With Garcia?"

You laughed at how transparent it was and how quick he, their boss, was to get it. "Yeah, so I'm just gonna catch an Uber home."

"Don't be ridiculous; I'll drive you home." You were shocked at how quickly he shot you down, looking up at him to see he was being totally serious.

"No, you are being ridiculous. I live all the way in Washington."

He shrugged his shoulders like it was nothing, like you were friends and his offer was normal. "I live in Arlington—it's not out of the way. Besides, would you rather pay for an hour-long car ride or have me drive you for free?"

Honestly, you'd rather do many things besides let Hotch drive you home for an hour, so you excused, "I'm good for the money."

He rolled his eyes. "It's 1AM, Y/N; I'm not gonna let you take an Uber home." He nodded to the exit. "Come on, let's go."

Now you rolled your eyes. He'd made up his mind, despite your disapproval. Yet you still glanced down at your phone, debating it. You supposed that he was better than a total stranger, and it was only an hour.

Maybe you were tired and your judgement was impaired, but for some reason, you obliged. "Fine."

You didn't know if it was a trick of light, but for a second there, it looked like Hotch's lips quirked upward.

For a second.

❧

The car ride was silent if not for the music drumming lowly in the background. You didn't crack any jokes or say anything playful or innapropriate; you were a silence filler, you hated silence, but you'd rather sit in silence than talk to Aaron Hotchner any longer than you had to.

His presence was already pushing it.

If Hotch noticed how quiet you were, which he likely did, then he didn't comment on it. You were sure that he was profiling you silently, though, the same way you were silently profiling him.

He wasn't driving his official government vehicle, but it was still a black SUV. Not a Tahoe, though; it was an Escalade. It wasn't too proud or boastful but it wasn't too unassuming, either. Expensive but not too much of a head-turner.

A glance to the back displayed a car seat. You suspected that his son was with his ex-wife, since he was here at one in the morning and not at home. He was a stable father, and you could tell.

You knew what instability looked like.

The CD he had in when you got into the car was the White Album, Beatles. That, you could've guessed easily. It fit.

The car was clean. It smelled like peppermint and his cologne. If you opened the glove box, you'd probably find a gun. He carried two on his person while working, so he probably had one in here and then another at his place.

Prepared.

But what neither of you were prepared for was the sudden downpour of rain.

Hotch turned on his windshield wipers, then you saw a flash of white followed by a loud clap of thunder. He cursed under his breath, and you then cursed yourself for finding it attractive. "It's a storm."

"I can see that."

He ignored your quip. "Well, we're already in Arlington. My apartment is two minutes away—we could stop there until it's clear."

You held back a sigh. Regardless of your feelings, it was unsafe to drive in this weather. That's why you agreed. "Okay."

He wasn't lying about being two minutes away. With in no time, you were in front of his complex. Running inside barely did anything; you were drenched after being outside for maybe ten seconds.

The thunder was loud and continuous; the only place you didn't hear it was in the elevator. Then it returned once you were out, walking through the halls to his apartment.

You were on your phone while he unlocked the door, checking the weather app. This time you couldn't repress the sigh that left you. "Forecast says this storm's going all night."

"Oh." He opened the door, holding it open for you. "Well, you can stay the night." What? "I'll drive you home first thing in the morning."

"Um—"

He gestured to his living room, suggesting, "I'll take the couch. You can have the bed." Well, it wasn't really a suggestion, and you didn't have much of a choice, either.

So you nodded. He said something about going to change and fetch you clothes, and then you were alone in Aaron Hotchner's foyer.

You. In his apartment.

You thought back to when you met him, in an interrogation room as he accused you of being a serial killer. And you were a killer, just not that kind. Yet, now, he willingly had you, a gun for the government, in his apartment. This was the same Aaron Hotchner who prosecuted criminals, who hunted down evil, and believed in justice and court of law. The same Aaron Hotchner who frowned upon your unseriousness and grey morals. And he was also the same Aaron Hotchner that stood next to you in a hospital waiting room and told you he wanted to know you.

God, it was ironic. Him wanting to know you. You didn't know if he understood what that meant, what that entailed.

He was the gavel, and you were the gun.

And that was that.

He walked back into the room after a good three minutes, changed into attire more informal than you'd ever seen him. He wore a button-down and jeans to the bar, but you didn't imagine you'd ever see him in sweats.

"Bathroom's on the left," he told you, pointing to it. "Feel free to use the shower. I left some clothes on the bed for you, and if you need anything, I'll be out here."

You nodded, saying a quiet "thanks" before you walked past him to his room. You'd skip the shower; you didn't have any underwear for that.

Closing the door, you took a moment to scan his room. Bed in the middle, navy blue sheets. Window facing the door, dark red curtains covering them. There was a closet to the side, likely filled with suits, then a dresser across from the bed for ties and everything else.

There were two nightstands on either side of the bed, a frame on one. When you got closer, you saw it was a picture of a little boy with a grin so wide that it brought a smile to your face.

On the bed, Hotch left you a pair of grey jogging pants and a worn blue hoodie with George Washington University painted on in chipped white in the middle. You changed out of your wet dress, and all hesitation for wearing Hotch's clothes went out the door the second you put on his hoodie.

The sweatpants were just as comfortable, despite having to pull the drawstrings immensely far. You could fall asleep like this no problem, but then just as you went for the bed, the light cut out, drowning you in darkness.

You're kidding me.

There was a knock on the bedroom door soon after. You weren't sure if you could find it without stumbling or knocking something over, so you just shouted, "Come in."

Hotch's head poked in, illuminating the room with the flashlight on his phone. "It's the whole neighbourhood. Do you want a candle?"

Yes, I do. You had a thing about sleeping in the dark, but like hell if you were gonna tell him that. A CIA agent, afraid of the dark—you weren't telling anybody that. "No, I'm good, but um," why am I stammering? "Could I get some water, please?"

"Yes, of course." Hotch was quick to leave the room for what you requested, and you were quick to follow him. He was the one with the flashlight.

His kitchen was barely visible, but you caught a glimpse of a few drawings on the fridge. When he lit a candle and placed it on the counter, you saw the the drawings were finger paintings, one of a whole child's hand. Again, you couldn't stop the corners of your lips from curving upwards.

Aaron Hotchner. You'd seen the prosecutor, the profiler, the unit chief, and now the father.

"Here." Hotch's voice cut through your thoughts as he handed you a glass of water. You didn't even hear when he turned the tap on.

You wordlessly took the water, thanking him with a nod. He stood there as you took a sip, watching you with a gaze that felt scrutinizing but probably wasn't. He was good at hiding what he was thinking, but you could still tell that he was thinking, nonetheless.

In a split-second decision, you lost the battle with yourself not to engage in conversation. "What? Did you poison this?"

He ignored you, like always, and questioned, "Are you afraid of the dark?"

You just barely stopped yourself from choking, masking your cough with a chuckle. "What?" How the fuck did he guess that?

Vaguely, he added, "You seem like the type."

"Oh, 'I seem like the type?'" you echoed. "Is that your normal-person way of saying 'it fits with my profile?'"

He shrugged. "More or less."

Another chuckle left you, this time unforced. You were wondering if he was drinking before you and Derek showed up. This confidence and nonchalance was new, but amusing. Maybe you had one too many drinks, too, or maybe something about this version of Aaron was drawing you in, but you indulged him. "Okay, Hotchner. Give me my profile."

He paused, looking at you like he was debating if you really meant it but you saw the moment he made up his mind, decision flashing through his eyes. He gave you a once-over, but not because he needed to; you had a feeling this profile had been brewing for a while now.

"You're a control freak," he started. "This doesn't just shine through in your work—it also appears in your day-to-day life, like your overwhelming need to fill silence or dislike for the dark. This comes from a period of your life when you weren't in control, and now you have to control every situation you encounter. You come off as easygoing, but in reality, you're closed off. You hide behind jokes and arrogance because you don't want people to know the real you, but every once in a while, she reveals herself. She cares, but you can't have that be used against you, so you pretend you don't. You don't have many friends because that opens doors, and you are afraid of what is behind them. That is why, even as you stand in my kitchen, wearing my clothes, you still refuse to say my name. It's a defense mechanism, a way for you to create distance because, as much as you deny it, you feel something."

Somewhere in his explanation, he got closer to you. He never broke eye contact, not once. He stared at you like you were a puzzle he was waiting to solve, and he had too many pieces. You suddenly wished you'd never asked.

You intook a deep breath. "Ho—"

He cut you off, voice now just above a whisper. "What are you hiding from, Y/N?"

What am I hiding from?

Your eyes involuntarily darted down to his lips, and he caught it. He took another step closer, and you let him. What am I hiding from?

Your breath was shaky as Hotch leaned down, resting his forehead against yours. One movement and your lips would touch. You wondered what it'd feel like. To kiss him. To stop hiding.

What are you hiding from, Y/N?

You leaned in, and then just before your lips met his, the lights turned back on.

Just like that, you pulled away, the sound of your racing heart concealed by the sound of the heater kicking back on. "I should— I should get back to bed now." You kept your eyes on the tile.

"Y/N—"

"Um, thank you for the water—"

"Y/N."

Finally, you looked up at him, concern and confusion swimming in his eyes, and you understood it. One second, you were on the verge of kissing, and now you were on the verge of tears. You didn't understand it, either.

But this, whatever it was, it couldn't happen. This was a lapse of your judgement. He was Aaron Hotchner, the prosecutor, the profiler, the unit chief, and the father: the gavel. You were Y/N Y/L/N, the hacker, the director, the addict, and the killer: the gun.

This wasn't gonna happen.

So you loaded a round into the chamber, put your finger on the trigger, and took the safety off. Then you aimed it at yourself and fired, "You're a good man, Aaron." Too good for me.

You think he was too shocked by his own name, and that's why he let you walk away.

And as you closed his bedroom door, you had a feeling that it wasn't the only door you just closed.

6. A lie is the truth (link)

taglist: @flow33didontsmoke

extra a/n: guys i'm so mad ab this block limit and how this can't be one part but wtv!!

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euovennia · 2 years

Note

headcanons for simon being the mom/dad friend to reader and her just eating that shit up? like yeah, that giant intimidating guy wearing a skull mask is my best friend. he’s really cute right? (he is)

anon your brain is huge and i love it, thank you for such a gorgeous request! just want you to know that your second request will be up sometime soon, i just wanted to split them! thank you again for requesting, i hope you enjoy <3

pt. 2

fair warning to anyone reading, this is my first time writing headcanons (more like a short story with bullet points because my oh my i got carried away) so please don't shoot! anyway, i've got some ideas rolling around in my head so just jump into it:

let's get one thing straight

becoming friends with a man like simon is not an easy task

while you may be somewhat quick consider him a friend because you're both skilled enough to have made to the 141, it takes a lot longer for him to also consider you a friend

the process of getting him to this point is an arduous journey and some people (probably gaz and rudy bc i can see these two being equally terrified of this man) will not hesitate to tell you to cut your losses and leave him alone

i reckon simon is the type to verbally tell you this himself

and maybe for a bit you do leave him alone

but then one day you see him sitting alone in the commons area with what you deem to be the saddest plate of dinner ever and you just crack

cue you sliding into the seat in front of him with your tupperware full of homecooked food you'd stashed away the night before

naturally he gets frustrated and a maybe a lil annoyed so he goes to leave

but then you slide your tupperware of food over to him and his movements just kinda stop as he stares at you with his typical ghost stare

think 👁️👁️

he'll push the container back toward you causing you to push it back toward him

it becomes an almost vicious cycle before he finally snaps and spits out something like, "what's your fuckin' problem?"

to most he's a scary man with an even scarier voice so that would've been where most people drew the line (let's face it though, most people probably wouldn't have sat with him in the first place)

but all you can focus on is the piss poor excuse of a meal he'd retrieved from the mess hall so you just push it back toward him one final time with a simple, "eat."

he'll narrow his eyes and straighten his posture in an attempt to scare you off but when that doesn't work he'll tell you something along the lines of, "i'm spitting it out if it's shite"

he does not spit it out

from that day on, you'll seek him out with two tupperware containers filled with whatever you'd cooked up the night before and offer it to him

the first few times he's hesitant to accept simply because he doesn't wanna get used to the unusually kind gesture but it eventually gets to a point where he just stops getting a plate from the mess hall and instead waits around for you to feed him

these small dinners you share make it nearly impossible for simon to avoid your talking

he almost debates getting up and leaving a few times but then he remembers he'd be eating soggy meat and vegetables if it weren't for you so he decides to entertain it

and to the surprise of absolutely no one he eventually starts warming up to you, even throwing in a few comments and sarcastic quips of his own

and after a long while of having these dinners with you, he decides he likes it – he likes hearing you talk, whether it be about how you and gaz hid price's hat somewhere on base and blamed it on soap or what the latest celebrity gossip is

so what does he do?

he tries to block you out

it doesn't work because you're a stubborn little shit and refuse to let him fall back into his bubble of solitude and self pity

and he eventually realizes this so he just kinda accepts it after a while (more like a week)

and the two of you become quite chummy

well

as chummy as one can be with a person as closed off as ghost

instead you always being the one to seek him out come dinner time, he'll be the one to start finding you

it's a surprise

a delightful one

but still a surprise

his short, clipped responses will morph into longer, more thought out ones as your friendship continues to develop and you can't help but notice just how smart he really is

despite his everything that's happened to him in the past, he's actually quite in tune with the emotions of other people; his observational skills are off the charts

so you'll eventually start asking him for advice on anything and everything, even if it's not something that pertains directly to you because his wisdom outside the battle field is something to truly behold

it's amazing what can be solved without heavy loads of artillery and violence!

anyway

simon quickly becomes very used to this dynamic

you two having dinner, talking about everything and nothing all at once and while he may never verbalize it, he truly does appreciate it

he'd convinced himself long ago that his life was just cursed and that the people he loved and held closest to him were always destined for terrible things so he just closed himself off

he put on the mask and became ghost whereas simon was kept tucked away in a place no one even bothered to try and discover

but then you stumbled your way into his heart with your homemade food and endless chatter and he can't help but indulge himself

maybe having a friend isn't all that bad

and so the dinners/mini therapy sessions continue

until one day you don't show up

while he is a bit disappointed, simon decides to let it go because you've had dinner with him for god knows how long now

you probably just wanted a day to yourself and he understands that so he doesn't pry

even when he barely force himself to finish the sludge smacked onto his plate from the mess hall – how was he so comfortable eating that for so long?

but you don't show up the next day

or the next

and by the fourth day simon is just downright angry

and a little sad and worried

but mostly angry

who do you think you are to waltz in his life, make yourself cozy in his extremely tight knit circle, and then just leave him high and dry with no goodbye? (wow that rhymed)

if you're gonna ditch him like this then he's gonna make sure you sit through the awkward pain of saying it to his face

he spends an embarrassing amount of time looking for you before he even thinks to check your room

he walks up to your door, fully prepared to slam that door open and confront you

but then he hears you fall into a particularly nasty coughing fit paired with a muffled groan of agony and suddenly it just clicks

you got yourself sick

tempted as he is to simply walk away, he knows deep in his heart he can't do that to you

which is why you open up your door to see ghost awkwardly standing there with a tray of hot soup, water, and some medicine

you nearly cry in your haze of sickness

you'd spend the past four days miserably rotting away in your bed and to suddenly have simon by your side offering you soup and medicine? it was almost too much

ever since that day there had been a gradual shift in your friendship

it started with you two coordinating who would bring dinner on which days

but then it turned into simon being the one to bring dinner nearly everyday

which then evolved into him finding you throughout the day and offering small snacks and drinks

but he's a busy man and he can't do this every day so he'll settle for sending a simple message of, "you doing ok?"

and most times you say yes

but on the off chance you say no he'll take a few minutes to message you back and forth until you feel at least a little better (no this is not achieved by him sending you bad dad jokes, he would never do such a thing!)

but eventually the man just gets so tired of constantly going around base trying to find you that he'll simply just start to linger around you whenever he's free

gruff words of assurance and friendly pats on the shoulder become a staple for the masked man

when the team becomes privy to the newly formed friendship between the two of you, it's almost scary

imagine this 6'4 beefy mountain of a man hanging around someone half his size just chilling

i reached the character block limit how awkward anyway

it's odd and you know it is so you'll play into it

like that time you loudly asked ghost to grab the blanket from your room while you two were sitting on the couch in the common area while the rest of the team filed in

and him immediately going to grab it while the team are completely gobsmacked when he promptly returns with your blanket in hand

cue soap asking ghost the same thing a few days later and only receiving a glare in return along with a stern, "i'm not your maid, johnny."

then he just walks away leaving soap to feel like an idiot

it becomes apparent very quickly that simon has a favorite and that favorite is you

especially when he's the one to sweep you up into a quick hug with a quick pat on your head after the team completes yet another mission

you make it a point to squeeze onto simon just a tad tighter when you see soap looking over in complete bewilderment

seriously, how did you tame the legendary ghost?

and honestly?

you're not quite sure yourself

you just soak it in because you'd be a fool not to

maybe one day you'll ask him yourself

maybe you won't

doesn't matter either way because at the end of the day you're the only one who can proudly call ghost your best friend

even if he doesn't refer to you as the same

he totally does he just never says it out loud because he's secretly terrified you don't feel the same

regardless

you two are very much attached at the hip

what with you constantly getting yourself into trouble all around base and ghost not wanting you piss off the wrong person

he is very much your guard dog and you make it everyone's problem

soap went too hard on you during your sparring session? ghost is already glaring at him

gaz won't stop bugging you when you're actually trying to get your work done? ghost is pushing him out the door

price is about to lecture you for something gaz and soap framed you for? ghost is quick to rat them out

it's sweet really, the friendship you have

it warms your heart thinking about it

and it warms his too

even if he won't admit it

he's just grateful you didn't give up on him even when he wanted you to

because he's found that, sometimes, it's nice to have a friend

and he's glad it's you

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borathae · 5 months

Text

↳ Full Art

"You both had a stressful day and relax with a warm bath. Soon the tension gets too much and you decide to do something about it."

Pairing: husband!Yoongi x f.Reader

Genre: married life!AU, Slice of Life Smut

Warnings: switch!Yoongi, switch!Reader, sharing of a bath, making out, lots of touches, nipple play for both, neck kisses, grinding, some dirty talk, praise, he keeps calling her beautiful :'), lotus position, cumming too soon (f. receiving), hair pulling (m. receiving), rimjob with him bend over the edge, handjob, he is just a devoted hubby who loves his wifey oh so much, she loves him just as much <3

Wordcount: 3.6k

a/n: boongles won the poll. you besties have spoken and i am here to deliver <3 i love this lil dude so much, you guys :(🤍 ps: i'm sorry for the delay, life got all too much and i didn't have the energy to finish it in time :(

Yoongi is relaxing in the bathtub when you disturb his precious peace.

“There you are.”

Yoongi peels one eye open, watching you undress without saying anything. You are talking as you get more and more naked, blind to his rather annoyed state.

“I literally had the weirdest day ever. First the bus driver refused my cash so I had to call a cab instead, then I went to work and nothing happened but then at lunch, I went to Nukim and my card declined. I had to run to the nearest ATM to get more money and broke my heel on the way back. So with one broken shoe and lots of embarrassment I had to continue working and now I’m cold because it’s really windy all of a sudden and I didn’t bring a coat. Oh wow, the water’s so nice. Mhm.”

And you are inside the bath, facing him.

He is still looking at you with only one eye, tapping his fingers on the edge of the tub. You finally let the situation sink in. He has a glass of whisky by his side and the candles burning. His favourite album to relax to is running in the background.

“Did you wanna be alone?”

“No, go ahead. I was just trying to catch a quiet hour”, he says sarcastically.

“I am so sorry. God, I didn’t think. I can leave again if you want me to.”

He dismisses you with a shake of his head, peeling himself off his comfortable position to kiss your cheek.

“Stay. It’s fine.”

“Really? I wouldn’t want to ruin your Me Time.”

“It’s fine. You’re already in the water now. I hope you don’t mind me being quiet though.”

“No, go ahead. Some quiet will do me well too.”

Yoongi relaxes again, picking up his glass of whiskey to take a sip. He enjoys it on his tongue, then swallows it with his eyes closing and his head falling back. He keeps both arms under water, relaxing his facial muscles.

You settle back as well, closing your eyes with a sigh. You feel comfortable in relaxing because you know that Yoongi was honest with you. He doesn’t mind that you are here because if he was, he would have told you. You had him telling you to leave him alone a few times in the past, so if he had minded he would have told you. He is honest like that, just as you are always honest with him. It’s what makes your marriage so nice and healthy.

You finish his relaxation album in silence and then Yoongi breaks it by moving around. You open your eyes. He is using his phone, bending over the edge of the bathtub this way. You try not, but still stare. He is sticking out his butt, giving view to his part most private. It looks so pretty and pink. You get glimpses of his balls as well. The warm water made them just as pink. You really want to run your tongue over him.

Yoongi settles back down after picking out the next album, meeting your eyes.

“Oop”, you let out, looking to the side quickly.

“Did you just ogle me?”

“No?” you lie with a nervous chuckle.

Yoongi cocks up his brow.

“Maybe”, you confess, lowering your head, “sorry, I couldn’t resist.”

“You’re so dirty sometimes”, he mumbles and relaxes again, closing his eyes.

Now that this conversation is over, you need a few moments to relax as well. You don’t have dirty thoughts per say, but you still don’t want to settle back anymore. The twenty minutes of silence you shared before were already enough to bring you down and now you are craving conversation. But you know better than to disturb him. So you are left gawking at him and wishing for time to pass quicker.

You stay like this for four songs and then Yoongi sits up to drink. He meets your eyes, covering his chest.

“Why are you staring so much?” he whines.

“Sorry, I don’t know. I guess I got bored.”

“And staring at me is fun?”

“Immensely actually. You’re really pretty.”

He scoffs and looks away, reaching for his whiskey. He settles back, drinking it with his eyes racing over your face. He swallows, sits up and gets close. Like this, your thighs are touching and he can run his hand down your waist.

“Your eyes are gonna get stuck if you stare that much”, he whispers with a playful gleam in his eyes.

“No, they won’t”, you chuckle, “you doofus.”

He chuckles lazily and sips his whiskey. You look at his lips as he does it. He swallows, licks his lips, enjoying the attention with a fluttering pulse.

“Do you want a sip?”

You nod your head.

Yoongi hands you his glass, staring at your lips as you drink from it. You swallow, following it up with a grimace. He laughs, brushing the back of his hand down your cheek.

“You’re cute.”

“It’s good, it’s just strong.”

“Mhm yeah definitely. I felt like it today. Work was stressful.”

“I already figured. Do you want to rant?”

“Nothing happened. It was just really stressful and left me with a headache.”

“Oh no, I’m sorry. Do you want me to massage you?”

He dismisses you with a shake of his head, “it’s already gone. It was strong when I came home, but it’s gone now.”

“I’m glad”, you say and rub his arms.

Yoongi finishes his whiskey, putting his glass aside before returning to you. He places both hands on your waist, kneading it gently.

“Your day was weird, you said?”

“Yeah, really weird. So many annoying things happen.”

“Mhm, they sound annoying. Do you still have your shoes?”

“Yeah, they’re broken by the door. I thought maybe you could take a look at them.”

“I’ll take a look at them.”

“Thank you so much, honey.”

“Of course.”

“Did you have dinner already?”

“Not yet, I wasn’t hungry. You?”

“No, I thought maybe we could cook together. You know, with it being Friday and us having no work tomorrow.”

He smiles with his eyes, nodding his head, “I’d like that”, he says and looks at your lips. He rubs the side of your neck, gazing oh so longingly.

The attention makes your heart race. You touch his shoulders, waiting for him to make the next move.

“You’re so beautiful”, he speaks softly, caressing your cheek just once before returning to your neck.

“Oh wow.” Your heart flutters. “You’re so beautiful too, my honey.”

His eyes soften more.

“May I?” he asks.

“What do you want to do?”

“Kiss you.”

“Oh. Yeah, you can kiss me.”

Yoongi leans in, getting lost in the kiss with you. He tastes of whiskey at first, but soon you have it kissed away and only his taste remains. This is so nice to both of you. The water is still warm, the music is relaxing, the touches you share are placed so perfectly right. It couldn’t get any better than this.

He feels so good under your fingertips. His skin is so soft, his body so warm. You can’t get enough of exploring him, tingling like crazy because he can’t seem to get enough of you either.

Your bodies draw closer as the minutes pass. When you started out, your middles were far apart, by now they are melted together. His thighs are under yours, his hands are either kneading your waist or lingering under your breasts. Neither he nor you have acted on the sudden closeness, but you can’t deny that it is starting to enchant you just a little.

You hope that Yoongi feels the same, giving him a silent signal by brushing your fingers over his nipples. He purrs deeply, pulling your hips closer in a way that grinds your heat against him. His big hand cups your breast afterwards, finally kneading it the way you wanted him to. He took the hint, communicating his own feelings with just a touch.

You and he feel the same. No words are needed, just skilled touches and needy sounds. You keep your own fingers busy with his nipples, pinching and massaging them as you and he fall into a tongue kiss. His purrs become more and more. He is so sexy in the way he shows his enjoyment. You can’t get enough of all the deep, throaty sounds he makes when you are feeling him up just right.

You answer him with your own needy noises, driving him just a little wild with them. He loves your sounds. They’re better than any kind of music ever could be. He breaks the tongue kiss to kiss your neck instead. He craves more of your noises and neck kisses always do the trick. This evening is no different. With just the first devoted kiss to your skin, you sigh his name, giving him better access by rolling your head to the side. Yoongi lets his breath swirl over your skin as he kisses you, rolling his hips against you slowly as his hands feel up your torso and his lips place kisses all the way from your ear to your shoulder.

He changes sides when your breath begins hitching in your throat and your fingers keep sliding down his tummy only to stop when they remember that you don’t have permission to touch yet. He won’t give it to you yet, wanting to bask in you a little longer. Kisses to your neck, feeling your torso and grinding against your warmth is all that he needs, while you are meant to enjoy it because you are his goddess and he is there to shower you in bliss.

He is happy to share this bath with you. His initial distaste of having his silence disturbed ceased to exist the moment you and he shared quiet and he became utterly excited to have you with him. Yoongi really likes baths with you. They are both relaxing and sometimes lead to good, intimate sex. He can really calm down from a stressful day like this, finding great happiness in it because he can make you feel good as well.

He straightens up, breaking the string of saliva connecting him with your marked neck by licking his lips. He soothes the hickeys with rubs of his thumb, gazing at you.

“Feels good”, you get out breathily, barely keeping your eyes open.

“Feels good?” he makes sure.

You nod your head, whimpering.

His eyes soften, he cradles your cheek.

“You’re beautiful”, he whispers, making you shiver with just his words. So he does it again, he praises you, “you’re so fucking beautiful.”

You melt into him, burying your hands in his hair to pull him into a kiss. Yoongi moans, giving you access to his mouth instantly. You know just to kiss him to scramble his mind and get him purring just for you. The heat between your legs increases, the speed of your grinds does as well. Soon it is almost unbearable to handle and the kiss breaks with needy mewls from both of you.

“I really need to-”

“Just do it, I want it”, Yoongi interrupts you, tugging at your hips.

This is all you needed. You climb atop his lap and sink him into you, tilting his head back with a tug to his hair so you could taste his initial moan. He always gets noisy when he sinks inside. Tonight’s no different. He has his eyes barely open, taking what you give him with parted lips. He bottoms out soon enough, whispering a quiet “fuck” as his hands dimple your buttocks.

“Mine”, you whisper, picking up a needy rhythm.

Yoongi rolls his eyes back and closes them completely, choking out a breathy “yours”.

“Say it again.”

“Yours…all yours…”

“Fuck Yoongi, I’m obsessed with you”, you moan and drop your forehead against his’, chasing the ecstasy of being with him in needy grinds. Like this, his cock is so deep and because you never bounce on him, he also never stops rubbing against your favourite spot. His tummy puts pressure on your clit, adding electric bliss to the connection. Fuck, he’s got you charged. Everything about this feels so fucking good.

Yoongi groans, dragging them out until he has to gasp for new air. The tug on his hair is addictive, tasting your shaky breaths on his lips is making him dizzy. He is yours. He really fucking is. No one has ever gotten and will ever get him as hard as you get him. He’s addicted with every second, looking forward to the next one the moment the last passed. He wishes for this to never stop. He loves to love you in such ways.

His hands are on your hips, helping you move as much as they are trying to keep you moving. He would pass out if you stopped right now. It feels so good that missing out on even one second would be torture. The bath warmed you up so much that your soft walls are burning in the best way possible. Not even the hottest bath water could warm him up as much as you can.

“Feels so good”, he chokes out.

“Yeah, feels so good”, you agree breathlessly.

He shivers, “oh god, I missed you”, he chokes out with his voice just slightly pitched.

“Yoongi”, you croak, suddenly losing every kind of composure as his sappy confession throws you over a surprise edge, “fuck, oh god.”

Yoongi opens his eyes, holding his breath.

“Are you?”

“Yes”, you scrunch your face, hiding it in his shoulder a second later, “you fucking sap, urgh.”

Yoongi chuckles, helping you ride it out with gentle guidance. He really didn’t expect you to climax so soon, but he doesn’t dislike it. It turns him on so good to know that he can make you lose control so soon.

“You’re the sap”, he teases, earning himself a nudge to his chest the moment your high died down.

“You’re awful, fuck”, you get out as you catch your breath.

“Why?” he laughs.

“Cause you made me lose control.”

“So?”

“Brat”, you say and sink into him, “fuck, that just fucked me. Wow.”

“Mhm, I could feel it”, he says, sliding his hands to your ass to squeeze it, “was it nice for you?”

“Yeah, so nice.”

“I’m glad to hear that, my honey. Uhm. Can I maybe have one too?”

“Mhm, you’re so sexy”, you purr, peeling yourself off of him despite your dizzy head, “I want you to bend over the edge. Okay?”

He gulps, nodding his head obediently.

“Good boy”, you praise, slipping off his cock. “Go on.”

Yoongi scrambles to his knees and bends over the edge, arching his back.

“You know why I want you like this, don’t you?” you ask him, rubbing his hips as you place yourself behind him. His butt looks so yummy. You can’t wait to dig in.

“Yeah”, he sighs, resting his head on the edge in preparation. He already has his eyes closed and you haven’t even started yet.

“And that’s okay with you?” you make sure just in case.

“Yeah, so okay.”

“You drive me insane, seriously.”

With his clear consent, you finally lean down, swirling your tongue down his spine until you have his hole under it. You swerve past it just to rile him up, kissing and licking the back of his thighs until your tongue naturally feels his balls under it.

“Mhm, my honey”, you purr, sucking on his tender skin while your hands massage his hips.

“Nice”, he sighs, feeling warm all over. He loves your mouth on him. He really does. You always tease him, saying that he likes it a little too much, but Yoongi won’t let it faze him. He does love it a little too much, but how couldn’t he? When you are so skilled in everything you do.

“Mhm, so nice. So fucking nice”, you whisper between your adoration. You nuzzle into him, giving his balls a little kiss before you finally incorporate your tongue as well. You want to trace every inch of them with the tip of your tongue. He deserves it for being the cutest.

Yoongi shivers, finding it just a little bit more difficult to breathe. He has really sensitive balls and your tongue tickles in the kind of way where he wants to tense up because otherwise it’s too difficult to handle.

“You’ve got the prettiest balls, my honey”, you lull, sighing happily as you guide your tongue up to his taint.

One flick. Two flicks. You move further up with the third flick, swirling your tongue around his hole without touching it.

Yoongi can’t help but squirm and keen a giggle.

“Heh”, you let out, smiling against him, “needy?”

“Needy, yeah.” He sticks his butt out more. “Please.”

“You’re such a delight, fuck”, you purr and finally give him what you denied him for way too long. You press your tongue to his hole, exploring it in circular motions.

Yoongi moans loudly and presses back onto you, feeling a whole body shiver course through him. The short moment where he was outside the water and you licked him everywhere but his hole, cooled him down so much that your tongue feels like addictive fire on his rim now that he finally has it.

“Good?”

“Good, good, yeah good. Ah-ahmm.”

You purr and hum deliciously, tracing his rim with just your tip. His noises encourage you so fucking much. He tastes a hundred times yummier when he’s that vocal.

“Good, so good. Ah, ah aah…”

This is better than you had imagined it to be. He is so goddamn yummy. Every inch of him and especially on his pretty rim. You break away to rile him up with your words. Make him needy again, take it away so he whines.

He whines. Of course he does.

“I've wanted to do this to you ever since I first watched you bend over.”

Yoongi mewls, sticking his butt closer to your face. If you don’t return soon, he will start cursing.

“You’ve got the yummiest butt, my honey”, you purr, burying yourself back in his peach. You moan throatily, flicking your tongue up and down his hole in sync with your hand slipping to his front. You pick up his cock, jerking it off quickly.

“Fuck, ah…fuck”, Yoongi moans, wheezing for air as you make his legs twitch and shake. He expected anything but this and it’s ruining him.

“Like it?” you ask, swirling your tongue quickly.

“Yeah, like it”, he mewls, fucking back onto your tongue as much as he fucks your fist. He won’t last long like this. It is already amazing enough to have you eat his ass, a handjob on top of that is way too fucking powerful for poor, little Yoongi.

“Like it too, you taste so good. Fuck, Yoongi.”

You put pressure on his rim. It gives up embarrassingly fast, allowing your tongue to wiggle inside the first inch. It’s not enough to graze his prostate, it’s not even enough to really fill him, but it still gives him a gentle stretch and Yoongi loves that. He keens your name, thanking you even when he is so utterly out of breath. His cock is twitching in your hand. Your touch is sending constant hot electricity down his legs.

Encouraged by his noises, you keep the rhythm going, feeling on ecstasy yourself. To think that there were times in your marriage where butts were a no-no-zone. That you and he really went years without exploring this area. Oh, you missed out on so much fun.

You increase the skill, wanting him to catch up on all the fun he missed out. You might have started off late, but you are hellbent on making up for it. He needs his ass ate as if it was your last fucking meal. You slurp, you growl, you suck and feast loudly. And he is shivering over and over again, hearing his pulse in his ears.

“Holy fuck, it feels so good. How are you doing that?” he moans, trembling when you purr into him and pick up speed.

You can do even better. This is what you are trying to tell him right now. You will outdo yourself even if it steals your air and makes your arm beg for a break. You will get him to a point of complete loss of control, where he can only shake and writhe and wail your name. You will and you are.

And Yoongi falls into his most natural state: moaning your name repeatedly until the only vowels his brain knows are yours.

It takes Yoongi seven more strokes and then he announces his orgasm with a pitched moan, followed with whole body shakes and graphic curses about how good it feels. You moan with him, helping him ride it out with skilled touches and your tongue pumping in and out of him. You keep it going until he begins fleeing, doing so with shaky gasps for air.

“No, no more. No more.”

“Mhhm, My yummy peach”, you lull, soothing him with kisses up his spine and your hands rubbing his tummy.

“You’re insane, seriously”, he pants, resting his forehead on the edge of the bathtub while his hands tangle over it. He is still twitching occasionally, recovering oh so very slowly.

You snicker, “yeah, most definitely and you like that I am.”

He scoffs, chuckling deeply, “fuck, I can’t even deny it.”

“Gosh Yoongi”, you back hug him, nuzzling your cheek against his upper back, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

He straightens up and turns, hugging you against his chest. You melt with him, humming contently.

“What a way to de-stress”, he says, “wow, I’m done for.”

“Yeah, what a way”, you agree with a smile.

“Sooo, what’s for dinner?” he asks jokingly, making you laugh.

“I mean, I already started with dessert so whatever you want.”

He laughs.

“Don’t say that”, he whines.

“Why?”

“Cause, I’m shy”, he mumbles with an obvious pout.

“Gosh, you cutie you.”

628 notes · View notes

stnexus · 10 months

Text

a slip of the tongue…!

jason todd x fem!black!reader

MINORS DNI, NSFW, 18+

summary: stressful days and sleepless nights, jason has a remedy for that one. just don’t give him any attitude, that’s all he asks.

cw: minor little heated argument (reader literally just has a lil freak out moment), a few mentions of jason’s scars, reader is stressed, insomnia (?), reader thinks jason’s mad for a second but that gets cleared up quick, nsfw, squeaky bed frame(?), praise kink, overstimulation, dumbification, dacryphillia, oral (f!receiving), squirting, creampie, mating press, missionary, cowgirl, this one kinda sensual you guys (i need this man so bad. tonight…we FEAST.)

names used (?): baby, pretty, pretty girl, beautiful, beautiful girl, good girl, daddy (used in moderation you guys)

word count: 3.5k+ (yet i was struggling to write my 1.2k final essay. THIS IS 12 FUCKING PAGES.)

A slam of the front door was all that rang throughout the house, the pitch black darkness was like a cold greeting. One that you had gotten used to when you would come home from work late in the evening. With Jason on his patrol and the house void of anyone else, you were left to your own devices. Something that you sometimes wish was not the case.

Dropping your keys on to the side table of your Gotham apartment, you pushed your heels off and kicked them out of the way of the front door. Flipping the light switch up and to the on position soon after. As your bare feet connected with the cold wood flooring of the apartment, it seemed to ground you just a bit.

This week at work had been hell, your boss had been working you so much you felt like if you blinked within his line of sight he would scold you for goofing off. So here you were. Sore feet, skirt and blouse cladded body tired as ever. Stripping yourself of your clothes one by one you held the pile of clothing in your arms until you reached your room, gliding through it to the connected bathroom.

Dropping the clothing in the hamper in the bathroom, you glanced at yourself in the mirror above the sink. Your eyes were glazed over from your tiredness, your pretty brown skin was beginning to lack its glow, and the bags under your eyes were getting heavier by the minute. Stressed wasn’t even the word needed to explain your state of being.

Another sigh fell from your lips, and a yawn followed soon after as you made your way to the shower. grabbing your pink bonnet off the sink where you had left it, you gathered your braids and tucked them into the bonnet, the band laying snug on your forehead. you hoped that the water that would soon come beating down against your skin could help you become less stressed.

your shower was therapeutic, but not enough to fully ease your mind. no, what you needed and wanted was jason. you had missed him all day — knowing your home would be empty when you arrived home due to him needing to tend to important matters. as you climbed into bed, dressed in pajamas that consisted of an old shirt and shorts, the squeak of the old bed frame that needed to be replaced welcomed you.

i need to remind jason to help me pick out another bed frame next weekend. your thoughts rang.

grabbing at his pillow on his side of the bed, you pulled it towards you. his scent seemingly pulls you out of the brain fog you were currently in, just slightly. but it is still not enough. soon you would realize even attempting to fall asleep was futile. even though your eyelids were heavy and begged for rest.

you tossed and turned for hours, huffing out a frustrated sigh many times into the dark bedroom. peeling your eyes open you peered at the alarm clock that read ten minutes to five in the morning. it dawned on you that it had been almost six hours that you had been fighting to fall asleep.

shaking your head as you grumbled, you stretched your limbs as you pulled yourself from the bed. your bonnet slipped off in the process, but you paid it no attention. trudging out of the room to make way to the kitchen. grabbing a cup from the cupboard, you pulled the fridge open as you grabbed the bottle of juice and opened it. beginning to pour it, that's when you heard it—

it was the sound of familiar heavy boots hitting the wooden floors of your apartment. even though happiness played at the edge of your mind, your face barely portrayed it. you slightly jumped as your eyes met his own as he stood in the entrance of the kitchen. jason’s arrival was quiet, surely because he was confused about who was in your kitchen this time of morning. seeing as you were usually asleep.

“what’re you doing up, baby?”

his question flowed through the air as he began to close the gap between you two. his helmet was nowhere to be seen, most likely tucked away somewhere in your apartment.

“couldn’t sleep,” your words came out rougher than you had intended. there was a beat of silence but it washed away as jason spoke again. his brows furrowed for a minute then relaxed as he rubbed a hand over his face, fingers running over his scars for a mere second.

“so, before i forget, bruce wants the whole family to come over for dinner saturday,” he informed as he backed away slowly, sitting at your dinner table as he pulled off his boots. “said he’s not taking no for an answer.”

“jason, i don’t know—” you tried to inject, though he had not seemed to notice.

“i’m sure alfred will probably be cooking almost all day tomorrow, in preparation. everyone eats like they’ve never seen food before—”

“jason, fuck, i already have enough on my plate right now. my boss is up my ass every time i walk into the office. i’m up to my neck in paperwork, all because he decided to spontaneously lay off two of my coworkers. i haven’t been able to sleep one bit, even though i’m tired. on top of that, i have to work on saturday. i don’t have the time to worry about a fucking dinner at bruce’s house.”

the kitchen filled with silence as you stood in front of the fridge. jason’s eyes taking in your current state as he sat still after your outburst. your braids cascaded down your back, but the few that slipped over your shoulder to frame your face made him aware of the bags that began to form. you looked overwhelmed, stressed even. he was too wrapped up in his own thoughts to realize at first — which usually doesn’t happen.

“…you do seem tired, baby. i’m sorry i didn’t notice,” jason broke the silence. “how about we go to the room, i know exactly what you need to get to sleep.”

“no, jay i’m sorry– ”

“it’s nothing to be sorry for, baby. i’m not angry,” jason ensured as he stood and walked over to you. grabbing at your free hand and pulling you towards him, taking the cup of juice from your hand. your head laid on his chest momentarily. “how about you go to the room? clothes off for me by the time i get in there, pretty girl.”

the weakening bed frame squeaks once again as you drop onto the mattress, jason grabs onto your ankle and dragged you closer to him as he got on the bed soon after. grabbing softly at your face, he slightly squished your cheeks together as he leaned down towards you to plant a peck on your lips that drifted into a heated kiss. without words, he pulled away, placing slow, open-mouth kisses down your neck — one of his hands grabbing at one of your breasts as he tweaked and played at your nipple.

you felt completely vulnerable with how he was completely dressed; having quickly showered in the guest bathroom to give you some space. jason had dressed in a simple black shirt and gray sweatpants. his scent flooding your senses

“ you feel so soft, baby,” jason complimented, “ ‘could play with this pretty body all day, every day.”

his words pulled a moan from your lips. reaching out to brush your hand over his hair you let out a small gasp as his lips wrapped around the nipple he had just toyed with. your hand tightened just a little around his hair, a flurry of black and whitened strands peaking through your finger as your acrylics ran over his scalp. his tongue dragging soft circles around the hardened bud at that moment. pulling away after almost two minutes, jason placed a kiss right above your nipple — then repeated his earlier actions with your neglected nipple.

“pretty fucking tits,” jason grunts, eyes darkening as he looks up at you with your nipple between his lip, “such a beautiful girl.”

“shit— thank you, daddy,” you let out as his hand snaked between you two. pushing your thighs that parted to accommodate him apart even more. feeling his rough fingertips part your slick folds in a teasing manner, you whined for some sort of friction and lifted your hips at his actions. to which jason listened as he sat his palm right above your cunt, thumb dipping downward to rub tight and heavy-handed little circles over your clit.

“ ‘s that feel good, pretty girl?”

“y—yeah,” you stutter out.

“you know all i wanna do is make you feel good, right?”

“yeah, you make me feel so good, jay”

“so the next time you feel overwhelmed,” jason began as he began to lay kisses down your torso, stopping just below your navel, “don’t bring that attitude to me. just talk to me, ‘ya understand?”

“yes, f—fuck, i’m sorry daddy,”

locking eyes with you, jason licked a long stripe over your cunt. his tongue caressing your attentive clit. he did it a few more times before wrapping his lips around your hardened bud, taking harsh sucks at it as if he were trying to pull an orgasm from you.

“ ‘taste so fuckin’ good,” jason spoke as his eyelids became heavy with lust, “nothin’ to be sorry ‘bout baby.”

feeling his hands drag over your inner thighs your hips seemed to move on their own as you attempted to grind against him. only for jason to let out a moan around your clit, hands now close enough to feel a thick finger prodding at your slit. sliding in slowly as his eyes trained on your face. the drag of his finger in and out of you was mind numbing as he found your most vulnerable spot within mere seconds — feeling you clench around him in approval of his actions.

“ ‘you gonna cum all over daddy’s face?”

“yes…!”

your dragged-out and whined confession was followed by almost immediate proof. the walls of your cunt clench around jason as he adds a second finger, tongue still dragging over your clit. a sheen of your cream decorating his fingers as you came crashing down.

“that’s it, baby, let it out,” jason spoke as softly as he could. lapping at every bit of your essence he could take in as if he would be ripped away at any second. though, your release did not stop him. his fingers continued to work you open as he pulled his mouth away from your cunt. watching as you clenched around his fingers repeatedly from the lack of a break. adding a third finger, jason listened to the moan you squeaked out in response.

he was so attentive towards you, so it had not shocked him when you declared that you were on the verge of cumming yet again. instead, he buried his tongue between your folds once again. his tongue heavy and wide as he parted your cunt. licking and kissing at your clit as if he were making out without it.

“j—jay don’t stop,” you begged as your hips chased after his tongue.

“mhm,” he hummed in agreeance, the vibrations from his response knocking you over the edge. the last moan you drew out hitched in your throat and slowly progressed into a slight whine. your thighs closing around his head, to which jason used his free hand to open them once more.

“there you fucking go, good girl,” jason groaned out a praise, laying a single kiss on your clit before he sat up from his position on the bed. bending down towards you to plant a messy kiss on your lips, allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue. as he pulled back you took in his disheveled look as he took in your somewhat dazed look from reaching your high twice. watching as he pulled his shirt off, you were greeted by the scar that spanned across his chest and abdomen.

“that was just two,” jason spoke, “i want to see you cum until you can’t think.”

it was something you knew he would follow through with. especially when he laid you back down, spreading your legs once more as he tugged his sweats and boxers off in one go, getting you to wrap around his waist. with his knees digging into the mattress he slid his cock back and forth between your sticky folds, groaning as his tip met your clit and caused you to twitch due to sensitivity. wasting no time, he lined up his tip with your entrance. sliding in gently, he placed a hand between your breast, slightly pushing you into the mattress, while his other hand gripped your hip.

you could feel him filling you inch by inch, stretching you out as he pushed himself into you. your mouth slightly agape as he reached the hilt and left you with a moment to adjust.

“you’re so tight,” he slurred out, “ ‘thought i opened you up enough with my fingers, baby. loosen up for me.”

“i’m trying, jay— fuck, ‘feels like you’re in my stomach,” you replied in shaky voice. which only caused jason to grin in response.

“you poor thing, you can take it. i know you can.”

pulling his hips away from your own he swings them downward onto you, repeatedly. drawing — in his own words — the prettiest sound from your lips. his own moans and grunts slipped through at times, his sounds making you feel just as good as his actions.

“oh shit, you feel so good daddy,” you swore as your fingers found a purchase wrapped around the hand pushing you into the mattress, the scars decorating them lying just beneath your fingertips. his strokes were sensual and deep — like he planned on driving you crazy. if he wanted you to think of nothing else but him he was definitely on the right track.

“yeah…? i want you to show me how good it feels. cum for me,” jason stated as his hand reach up at your cheeks, “you know what i want. let me see you cream all over me again.”

“jason you’re so nasty,” you forced out as his hip persisted. you were growing a bit embarrassed at how you were squeezing at jason’s cock, his stamina surely helped him wade off his release.

“i know you ain’t complaining,” he said with a huffed out laugh. a few swears falling from his lips as he pushed the feeling of wanting to cum far down his list of priorities.

“i—i’m not, shit, i’m cumming…!”

“cumming so good you’re trying to milk me i swear,” jason groaned out as he watched the layer of your sticky orgasm cover his cock, “fuck— not yet though, ‘gotta make sure i take all that stress away.”

it felt like he had already done so, with the way your mind became fuzzy as you surged through your third release. jason’s hips barely skipping a beat as he fucked you through it, prolonging the feeling of ecstasy. your words were starting to fail you as he pulled you down the mattress and stood to his full height at the foot of the bed. he raised one of your legs over his shoulder, the other following soon after as he pulled you into a mating press.

grabbing at his forearms that he planted firmly on each side of you, you swore you could feel him everywhere as he pushed himself into you again. the feeling starting to become overwhelming as tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. kissing at your brown cheeks he stilled for a moment as his eyes softened.

“you’re so fucking beautiful,” jason spoke as his lips met yours again, “i’m so lucky to have such a hardworking, intelligent girl.”

amidst him praising you, he began to move. feeling as though he was trying to dig you out in the current position.

“ ‘l—love you,” was all you seemed to let out as your words drifted off into useless babbling. his hips hitting the back of your thighs with each thrust as he planted a kiss on one of your legs.

“you know i love you too, baby.”

the room seemed to grow hotter as the bed frame below you squeaked at jason’s well paced thrusts. the little hair that began to grow in on his happy trail becoming covered in your slick as he rubbed against your clit with each thrust.

this time you were unable to even form the words to warn him of what was to come. you felt a tightness in your lower stomach that seemed to get worse with each movement from him. but this one felt different. the constant rubbing against your sensitive cunt in combination to him stretching you out was like he was trying to break you.

“that’s it, i know. i know, baby,” jason cooes as he reads your face, “all you need is to be fucked out. make a mess for me.”

you swore you saw stars as you gripped at jason’s arms. surely leaving impressions of your acrylics on his skin as you came. spurts of clear fluid bouncing off his abdomen as he continued to push himself in and out.

“f—fuck, i need you to do that one more time.”

it was not long before you found yourself on top of him, bouncing as good as you could with how tired you were becoming. pushing his cock into your overly spent cunt, he had let you sink down at your own pace. it took everything in him to hold himself back but tonight was not about him. jason wanted to live up to his earlier statements: all he wants to do is make you feel good.

he watched as your bouncing started to become sloppy, your legs weak from the many times you had cum before. reaching his hands out, he intertwined his fingers with your own as he took in your fucked out state.

“need me to help you, pretty girl?”

“y—yes please,”

that was all it took for him to pull you towards him. your head falling onto the white pillows beside his head, your face right next to his. taking a second to place your hands behind your back, he held your wrist together with one hand as he grabbed at your waist with the other. your knees stayed planted onto the mattress as he positioned himself. fucking up into you, his own hips pushing you up and down. the bedframe squealing under his continuous movements seemed to encourage him even more.

“ ‘treat me so good, daddy,” your whines were broken and tired. he was sure you would sleep nice and good when you two were done. but for now a chuckle left his mouth.

“you deserve it,” jason spoke in between his own breathy moans, “you work so hard, fuck— yeaaa… squeeze me just like that. you are worth everything, baby.”

the tears that had been playing at your eyes since he had you at the edge of the bed seemed to fall at the ringing of his words in your ears. feeling your heartbeat quicken and your stomach tighten you forced yourself to make sense through your nonsense rambling.

“ ‘wanna kiss, jay.”

to which he didn’t complain. his hips never faltered as he turned his head towards you, connecting your lips once again. groaning as he felt you gripping around his cock as if he were attempting to leave your soaked cunt.

“want me to fill you up?” he questioned in between the kiss. a question you tried your best to answer but only forced out a mumble of mhm, yea.

it didn’t take long, as you reached your peak, squirting once more as it dripped down jason’s balls. his lips were still on yours as his hips stuttered, moments later flooding your cunt with ropes of white cum. despite not looking down, you could feel his cum leaking from between your legs as you gushed around him. only for him to fuck back up into you a few more times before slowly pulled himself from your pussy.

“how do you feel, baby?” he questioned as he let your hands go. the hand that was on your waist moving to remove a braid from your vision as it had begun to slip as he adjusted himself under you. he had put his body flat against the mattress and allowed you too just lay on him in your fucked out state.

“tired,” you replied as much as your worn out body would allow you.

“how about we go pee, then when we get back we can both sleep all you want? i don’t have to handle patrol tomorrow, Dick’s got it covered.”

“mhm…i’d like that.”

“thought so. and don’t worry, i’ll handle that boss of yours, go ahead and call off for Saturday,” jason smiled fondly as he grabbed at your body. gearing up to pick you up and help you to the bathroom.

#𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨:#jason todd x black!reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #jason todd comfort #jason todd fluff #jason todd x reader #jason todd smut #jason todd #jason todd x reader smut #red hood x black!reader #red hood x you #red hood comfort #red hood fluff #red hood x reader #red hood smut #the red hood #red hood #red hood x y/n

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genshin-obsessed · 8 months

Note

Could I request Childe, Cyno, Tighnari and Gorou with an s/o that sleeps with her cats?

Sure! Thanks for the request! I hope you like it! 💕

❀ Childe

Mmm he gets a little jealous. It’s silly, yes! But the thing is he can’t join you!

The cats use you as a personal bed, right? If he gets on the bed with you, the cats are gonna wake up!

Then you’re gonna wake up! And he’s gonna feel bad! You’re also gonna whine a little and that just makes his heart hurt.

Sometimes though, he will sneak into the bed. Cats wake up and look at him all mad, he just sticks his tongue out at them.

❀ Gorou

Ooh… he don’t like it. Ok, why the cats? Why are they all over you? Why are they on the bed? WHY IS THAT ONE ON HIS PILLOW!?!

Gorou doesn’t hate your cats. He doesn’t! He just… you’re his, ok? The cats are taking over.

When you wake up from naps, sometimes you’ll see he’s pouting. His ears are down, his tail twitches every now and then.

Just give him smooches, he’ll be all better soon.

❀ Cyno

Uhh cats, huh? He doesn’t hate them- he actually likes the cats.

Thing is… they’re always sleeping with you. Like around you. The poor guy can’t get close. So usually, he’ll sleep near you.

He will wake up with a cat sleeping on his chest- potentially your head on his chest.

He thinks they’re cute. You’re cute. You’re all cute, it’s annoying. Sometimes he’ll just watch with a little fond smile. Like… cats sleeping is already cute. You + sleeping cats is just… ugh. Picturesque.

❀ Tighnari

The cats like him too much. They like his tail a lot too. He thinks you guys sleeping all in a huddle is so cute but come on… let him in.

Tighnari often walks into the bedroom or on your couch just to see you knocked out with the cats sleeping either around you or on you.

One of your cats has your legs hostage. The other sleeps on your stomach or arms. Then there’s a cat by your face. Where the hell is Tighnari supposed to go?

Ah but you’re all so adorable. He takes photos- he does. They’re all in a safe lil folder. They’re so many too at this point.

#childe x reader #gorou x reader #cyno x reader #tighnari x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin childe #genshin gorou #genshin cyno #genshin tighnari #🖊─ pocky’s writings

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harryslittlefreakk · 7 months

Text

after the storm

summary: y/n wakes up in her sworn enemies bed, with a city-wide storm keeping her trapped there. in the time that she’s stuck with harry, can they overcome their differences and build a friendship? 🫢🤷

warnings: smut (oral f receiving, unprotected unrealistic shower sex) some angst, typical enemies to lovers

wordcount: 6.6k

a/n: you guys who likes my lil graphic? its diy!! i’ve been slowly working on story for a long time now so i hope you all enjoy! 🤭

my masterlist is here 💓 love u all

₊ ⊹ ₊ ✧ ・ 🍒・✧₊ ⊹ ₊

The headache pounding behind your eyes was the first thing you noticed that morning. Shortly followed by the realisation that you weren’t in your pyjamas, or your bed, and there was a man snoring next to you.

You didn’t even remember coming home with anyone, let alone someone who looked so attractive, albeit from the view you had of the back of his head. There was something familiar about the bedroom, though you couldn’t put your finger on what. The clothes folded on the dresser were the same as every other man’s, the lingering scent of woody aftershave new and yet so familiar. Perhaps it was the memory of whoever you’d met last night, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that you knew this man.

You needed to explore, the leftover alcohol in your system urging you to get out of bed and figure out whose bed you’d woken up in.

It didn’t take much detective work, however, because as soon as you sat down on the toilet, the man in question barged into the bathroom. “Oh, morning.”

No way. No fucking way. “What are you doing here?”

“This is where I live.”

“Why am I here?”

“Why do you think?” he smirked.

Harry fucking Styles. Your sworn enemy, the worst man you’d ever met, the worst man you would ever meet. And you were wearing his clothes, after sleeping in his bed. Your skin itched just thinking about it.

“Fuck off,” you growled, throwing the toilet paper at his stupid, sleep-clouded face.

“Nothing I haven’t seen before,” he laughed, staring down between your legs as he closed the bathroom door. All you could do was let out a hoarse scream. How had an innocent Friday night turned into this?

You looked yourself over in the mirror when you were done, Harry’s t-shirt hanging loose on your body. You kicked the door open, glaring at his reflection as you splashed water over your face. “How do I get to the station?”

He shoved his phone in front of you, a severe weather warning flashing up on the screen. Public transport was down, taxis and delivery drivers ground to a halt as the rain and hail pounded the pavements.

“Brilliant. I’ll walk then,” you sneered, barging past him. “Just wait it out,” Harry told you, running a hand through his hair.

“No, I can walk.” What did he not understand about this being the last place you’d ever choose to be?

“You can’t.”

“Watch me.”

Realistically, you knew you couldn’t make the 45 minute walk across town in this weather. You hadn’t even taken a coat out with you, and borrowing clothes off Harry just meant you’d either have to see him again, or hang on to his clothing. Neither was appealing to you at all at this moment in time. Still, you were prepared to risk hypothermia if it meant getting away. The idea of being trapped with anyone while deathly hungover was horrible, but with Harry it became your own personal hell.

He followed you to his bedroom, watching from the doorway as you shoved your belongings back into your tiny shoulder bag. “My fucking phones dead,” you groaned, throwing your head back.

“Just wait until the rain eases off. I’ll drive you to the station later.”

“I don’t want to be here, Harry. What do you not understand about that?” Just the way he was watching you was making your blood boil. You weren’t even an angry or spiteful person, but somehow Harry triggered some red hot rage that usually lay dormant deep inside of you.

He was opening and closing his mouth, scarily similar to a fish. One of the deep sea weirdo ones, with extra fins and holes for eyes. His eyebrows knitted together as he searched desperately inside his dim brain for something to say.

“We didn’t sleep together,” he mumbled.

“What?”

“We didn’t sleep together,” he repeated.

You froze, not quite sure how to respond. You hadn’t slept together. Half of you wanted to thank every God in existence, the other half wanted to punch Harry right in his smug face. “Then why the hell did you make me think we did?!”

He shrugged, tiny hints of regret showing on his face. If you were less pissed off right now, you’d consider this a miracle. “Was funny five minutes ago.”

You glared at him, incredulous. “You swear we didn’t?”

“Promise. Look, jus’ let me shower and then I’ll stay in here out of your way. Don’t even have to talk to me for the rest of the day.”

Finally, you nodded, resigned to your fate. “Fine.”

“There’s a charger next to the sofa,” he told you, slipping past you to grab some clean clothes from the dresser. “So you can tell your boyfriend you’re here.”

“Idiot,” you groaned as you walked away, slamming the door shut behind you.

₊ ⊹ ₊ ✧ ・ 🍒・✧₊ ⊹ ₊

You hated to say it, but Harry’s apartment was actually nice. Much nicer than yours. You had no idea what he did for work, but it must have been something good if he could afford a place like this. There was a skylight over the sofa, practically putting you in a trance as you watched the rain drumming against the glass.

You’d been flopped on the beige sofa for what felt like years, your hangover slowly easing off but your current situation not getting any easier. Why, out of all the places you could’ve been stranded, did you end up here? You’d been racking your brains for hours, and as far as you could remember, Harry wasn’t even at the bar. If he had been, he would’ve come over. He’d stopped hanging around your group so much once you’d started bickering, he was irritatingly respectful of your space. But whenever you saw each other, neither of you could resist the temptation of a little sparring match to spice up the night.

You were so deep in thought that you hadn’t even noticed the lights turn off, the tv suddenly flicking to a black screen. It was the deep rumble of thunder that bought you crashing down to Earth, a tiny whimper slipping out when you heard it. Rain and hail were little more than an inconvenience, but you drew the line at a thunderstorm. You’d loved them when you were younger, glued to the windows with your dad as you watched the lightning illuminate the sky. But something changed one day, a new fear set in after a nightmare. You were sitting on top of a hill, a picnic laid out in front of you, when the clouds suddenly turned bright orange and lightning started striking the houses below you. You’d watched in horror as every strike set fire to the roofs, the entire neighbourhood going up in flames and getting closer and closer to you. Then you woke up in a cold sweat as the lightning came nearer, the next strike sure to take you out had you not bolted upright in bed.

“Harry,” you called out as loud as you could manage. You might not like him, but you’d rather have his company than sit through a thunderstorm alone.

When he trudged into the room, you were sitting upright on the sofa, the blanket pulled over your head. “What are y’doing?” he asked, yanking the blanket off of you. “Don’t like thunder,” you told him, squeezing your eyes shut as it boomed overhead again.

“Did the power go out?”

You nodded, watching from squinted eyes as Harry searched across the kitchen counters for something. He walked back over to you with a lighter, and started to light the candles scattered across the room. “Wanna watch something?” he asked you, pointing to his collection of dvds. “You pick,” you told him, too terrified to even comment on why he still owned dvds in 2024. You’d have to save that for later.

He picked one, pushing it into the tv’s dvd player before coming to sit beside you and setting it up. You glanced over at him, your current proximity making your heart race more than the thunder and lightning could ever. You had some sort of problem when it came to men acting as saviours. You were too into rom-coms, too romantic to not develop a sudden and unexplainable mini crush on your knight in shining armour. And clearly, now you had gone a little bit mental.

A clap of thunder shook the room again, and you smacked a hand down on Harry’s arm, your nails digging into the skin. “Harry,” you whimpered. He put his hand on top of yours, grounding you slightly. “It’s okay,” he smiled. “Did no one ever tell you it’s just God rearranging the furniture?”

You loosened your grip as the thunder passed, desperately trying to get a hold of yourself. “No. And besides, that doesn’t help. A reason for the loud noise doesn’t make the loud noise any less scary,” you told him, brows knitted as you looked between your hand and his face. He was about to shoot something back, but lightning illuminated the room, your expression changing quickly back to one of fear.

Harry threw himself down on the sofa behind you, tugging at the hem of your (his) t-shirt. “Come here,” he beckoned, pressing play on whatever dvd he’d chosen. “Why?”

“Because it’ll take your mind off the storm.”

“No.” He was holding out his arms to you. Clearly he’d had a funny turn and was expecting you to snuggle with him. Sleeping in the same bed against your free will was one thing, but actually choosing to cuddle with Harry was something you’d have to bring up with your therapist later. And yet, the offer was somehow tempting. But you couldn’t control your face, and somewhat-accidentally sent Harry a scathing look.

“Fine. Enjoy the storm then,” he grumbled, standing up to stalk back to his room. You stayed silent as he left, waiting until his bedroom door slammed shut to throw the blanket back over your head.

Only, a few minutes later he was back. You could feel his stare burning through the blanket, and he was standing there like a giant dork when you peeked out. “What if I’m scared and I need a hug?”, he asked.

You couldn’t help but laugh. You couldn’t deny Harry was funny, even when you were bickering and snapping back and forth, he’d always make you laugh. And that was more infuriating, because why are you laughing at his jokes when you’re supposed to be annoyed? “Fine. But only because you’re scared.”

You leaned back into his arms, and he was right. It was a welcome distraction. Instead of thinking about the storm and anticipating the next rumble of thunder, you were actually quite content. Although one thing was playing on your mind. “Harry, why do you have the notebook on dvd?”

You craned your neck to look back at him, shifting slightly in his arms so you could see his face. “S’my favourite,” he shrugged sheepishly. “And what time will your boyfriend be home?,” you mumbled, recoiling when he jabbed a pointed finger at the tip of your nose. “Quiet please,” he told you. You turned your attention back to the tv, settling back into Harry’s body.

He was comfortable. That was one more thing to add to your list of irritatingly good qualities about him. He was a good cuddler, caring, funny.. it seemed like that list was growing longer with each minute you spent with him. You pulled his arm tighter around you as thunder crashed overhead, softer this time. “Getting further away now,” Harry whispered, his thumb stroking the fabric of your shirt as if you’d laid this way a thousand times before.

Your eyes were growing heavy, your heart beating in time with each gentle movement of Harry’s thumb. You were too warm, too comfy.

And then a loud vibration practically shook the sofa under you. “Fuck. Sorry,” Harry said, darting to shut off his phone. You rubbed your eyes, still groggy and disorientated. Naps always made you feel all weird and out of sync. You turned around slowly to lay on your back, glancing up at Harry in your peripheral vision. “Missed the whole movie,” he told you, eyebrows raised as he nodded toward the tv. The power was back on, the lights bright against the layer of fog clouding your eyes. “Gonna call them back,” Harry murmured, holding up his phone as he climbed over you.

You were perched on the edge of the windowsill when Harry came back into the room, watching the raindrops drip down the glass. He went into his fancy little wine fridge, pulling out a bottle of red. He held it up to you, eyebrows raised as he silently asked if you wanted any. You nodded before turning your attention back to the rain. The thunderstorm had passed now, the skies finally beginning to lighten up despite the heavy rain. Harry came to join you with two big glasses, as if he’d poured as much wine as he could fit into them.

“Why do you hate me so much?”

Thinking back, you didn’t actually know where it all started. Harry was nice enough the first time you’d met, then somehow rude and arrogant the next. He was the cousin of one of your friends, and started to worm his way into your group when he moved to the area. He was harmless, but he knew he was a pretty boy. Every night out was spoiled by him lingering by the bar, flashing his dimpled grin at any girl who caught his eye. He’d buy her a drink, then leave hand in hand with her, always looking back to see if you’d noticed his exit. Everything he did made you roll your eyes, every glance at your legs when you wore a mini skirt, every time he tried to snake an arm around your shoulders as you laughed with the group.

“You’re arrogant.” Proven by the fact that only arrogant people would ask why they’re disliked.

“No one else has ever told me that.”

“Maybe they’re not as truthful as I am.”

He laughed at this, swilling the wine around his glass. You watched as it stained the sides red, the blood colour dimmed under the grey skies. “If I were that bad, y’wouldn’t be here.”

“I’m not here by choice.”

“No, I mean you wouldn’t have ended up here at all.”

“What do you mean?”

Harry’s eyes were squinted when he looked back at you, some kind of secrecy flashing across his pupils. “Let’s call a truce,” he told you, holding out his free hand for you to shake. “Just for however long this storm lasts, you have to play nice.”

“I am playing nice. You’re the one who played tricks on me.”

Harry sighed, running his hand through his hair when you didn’t reach out to take it. Your gaze was fixed on the window, seemingly uninterested in what Harry was trying to offer. Truthfully, a truce sounded nice to you. You were wasting so much energy on acting indifferent to him. But with the way he looked after you during the worst part of the storm, the way he held in the giggles you knew he wanted to let out as you cowered in fear of the thunder, you were scared you might actually end up liking him. The horror. The last thing you ever wanted to find out was that you’d wasted years hating him, mentally criticising his every move, just to find out he’s a good guy after all.

“Raindrop race,” he said suddenly.

“Hm?”

“We do a raindrop race,” his head nudged toward the window. “If I win, we call a truce. If you win, you decide if you want a truce or not.” Harry had his usual silly, toothy grin spreading across his cheeks. There was something annoyingly cute about his smile, the way his eyes crinkled and his dimples carved deep into the skin. “Fine,” you laughed.

“Okay, pick yours. This is mine,” he pointed to a tiny droplet near the top of the window. Your eyes gazed over the drops near Harry’s, before settling on one just to the right of his. After Harry yelled “go!”, you followed yours with a pointed finger, trailing down the surface of the window as you spurred your little raindrop on. You didn’t actually care who won, but you were far too competitive to let him win.

They were neck and neck, Harry’s tiny raindrop somehow collecting water from those around it to become almost the same size as yours, and surprisingly just as fast. There were little childlike giggles tumbling past his lips, his free hand balled into a fist as he cheered his raindrop on.

Yours took over suddenly, surging forward before it came to rest on the windowsill. You couldn’t hold in your laughter, watching Harry’s face fall in disbelief. “Looks like I get to decide our fate,” you teased, a smirk resting on your lips.

Harry chuckled, his eyes searching your face for any sign of what you might do. “Truce please,” he encouraged, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Fine. Since you asked so nicely,” you grinned, holding out a hand for him to shake. Harry took it, bowing his head to you before hopping off the windowsill and padding into the kitchen. “Last of our supplies,” he told you, holding up one final bottle of wine and a bag of crisps. “Best make it count then,” you laughed, downing the last sip left in your glass.

Harry went back to the sofa, and you trailed after him, plopping down on the corner. “Tell me something about you,” he said, throwing an arm over the back of the sofa. “I don’t know. You know me,” you shrugged, turning a little to face him. “Fine. What was your first impression of me?”

You shrugged again, gaze falling to the wine glass in your hands. “Thought you were funny. Seemed nice enough,” you told him. Harry laughed, a bitter kind of chuckle. “So where did it all go wrong?”

“Harry, even you have to admit that you were a douche.”

“How?”

“How?!” You couldn’t believe he was asking how. “You’d saunter around the bars, always scouting for which girl you’d take home next. You didn’t even greet me the next time you came out because you spotted a girl behind me.”

“Sounds like you’re jealous.”

You scoffed. “Not fucking jealous. It’s gross.”

He held up a hand, faux-stern expression on his face. “Truce! We have a truce. Don’t wanna break it already.” He had a point. You’d called a truce not even ten minutes ago, and you were already getting riled up again. “You started it,” you mumbled, always reduced to the mindset of a child when you bickered with Harry.

“Don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything,” he smirked, miming zipping his lips. You turned away from him, deciding it was better to sit in silence and try to calm down than risk getting into a full blown row with him when you couldn’t even leave.

After a while, Harry set his wine glass down on the coffee table, getting your attention. “You really don’t remember how you got here?” he asked.

“No, Harry.” Honestly, you didn’t. The last thing you could recall was stealing a cigarette from someone on the street outside the bar, and then a freaky flash forward to waking up next to Harry.

“I was walking past O’Connells and you were on the street alone. All your friends had left and you couldn’t get a taxi, they kept refusing you because you were drunk,” he started explaining, setting his near-empty wine glass down on the coffee table. You were finally paying full attention to him now, an ear turned towards the sound of his voice as if he was telling the most compelling story of all time. “I don’t know where you live, you kind of stopped making sense. So I brought you here,” he shrugged. “Sorry.”

You took a moment to fully digest his words, his kindness to you a tough pill to swallow. The tears that formed on your lower eyelashes were unstoppable, regret bubbling up through you. You’d been a dick the entire day, and while it was a little bit deserved after he made you think you’d slept with him, all he’d done since was show you kindness and care. “Don’t have to be sorry Harry. I’m sorry,” you whispered, pulling your glass up to try and hide the blush creeping up your cheeks. He placed a gentle hand on your knee, his touch warm on your bare legs. You hated wearing trousers indoors, a t-shirt, panties and socks the only way you were ever comfortable. Yet now you felt too exposed, too vulnerable in front of Harry. “It’s okay,” he told you, his tiny smile laced with tenderness. “Thank you,” you said, your voice soft and shaky. “For looking after me,” you finished, finally drawing your eyes up to meet Harry’s.

He moved a little closer, bringing his arms up to wrap you in a hug. Only as he started to embrace you, you felt something change in the air. The wine had made your brain fuzzy, your senses heightened and yet muddled. You were struck with an overwhelming desire to kiss Harry, to make it right between the two of you, and that’s what you did. You turned your head just a little, closing the distance between you tentatively, waiting to gage his reaction. But he pulled back quickly, his arms dropping limply into his lap.

“Oh God. I’m sorry,” you mumbled, scurrying across the room before you could do anything to embarrass yourself further. You leaned back against the breakfast bar, eyes fixed on the rain drumming against the window. All you could do was replay the way his lips peeled away from yours, the full body cringe making you want to curl up in a ball and scream.

You could feel Harry’s eyes on you, his gaze silently trailing across your body. You looked back at him, eyes meeting amongst the almost palpable energy clouding the air. And then he was striding over to you, wrapping a strong arm under your hips and lifting you onto the countertop. He paused for a minute, an unsatisfied yearning in his eyes. He reached out with a gentle hand, pushing some hairs from your face as the other snaked around your waist. And then his lips were on yours, slow at first as if trying to taste and explore you. But with every lick of his tongue the kiss deepened, his movements becoming more urgent and passionate. Harry’s hands were roaming across your body, trailing goosebumps over every curve. The heat was intoxicating, the burn almost physical as you wrapped an arm around Harry’s neck, drawing him closer to you.

Your legs were tight around his hips, pulling his centre close to your core. It was electric, so much being spoken through silent mouths. Every touch, every flick of his tongue had you melting into Harry, the walls you’d built up crashing down around you. “Should’ve done that a long time ago,” he drawled as he pulled away, running his thumb along your swollen, wine-stained bottom lip. You nodded in agreement, still dazed from the way he kissed.

He grabbed a hold of the hem of your t-shirt, eyes locked on yours as he waited for you to tell him to stop. When nothing came, he pulled it off of you, throwing it to the floor behind him. You watched the way his eyes darkened as they trailed over you, the goosebumps that dotted your skin disappearing under the heat of his gaze. “Want to know why I act that way with you?” Harry asked, still surveying the sight before him. He rolled your nipple between his thumb and forefinger when you didn’t respond, his free hand pulling your chin upwards to look him in the eye. You nodded again, totally silenced by the way he was looking at you. His lips found your collarbone, kissing and suckling at the skin. “Because,” he murmured against you, pausing to lick a warm circle around your nipple.

“I,” he suckled at the bud, teeth grazing your sensitive skin.

“Wanted,” he was moving lower now, one hand caressing your other breast as he licked down your ribcage.

“You.” He sunk down in front of you, mouth lingering right at the waistband of your panties, eyes fixed on yours. Your chest was heaving as he bought a hand up to it and pushed you back, the marble countertop cold against your skin.

You closed your eyes, overwhelmed by the intensity of Harry’s gaze. His fingers traced slow circles on your stomach, igniting a heat inside of you that melted away any other feeling. You were totally powerless, totally at his mercy as he peeled off your panties, eyes never leaving your face.

“Couldn’t handle this sweet pussy not being mine,” Harry told you, voice husky as he ran a light finger through your glistening folds. His hot breath against your entrance had you squirming, his lips so close and yet not close enough. He was admiring you, almost salivating - until you suddenly snapped your legs shut. “I haven’t showered,” you whispered, suddenly hyper aware of how unclean you felt. “Don’t care,” Harry said, pushing a hand between your knees to open you up for him again. “Just means you’ll taste sweeter f’me,” he groaned, finally making contact with your pussy.

His thumb brushed over your clit, replaced instantly by his mouth. He suckled at it, the sudden sensation drawing an almost carnal moan out of you.

His tongue swirled around your entrance, collecting your juices on his tongue as he moaned into you. Your hands tangled themselves in his curls, the burn of your fingernails digging into his scalp only spurring him on. True to his word, he was licking and lapping at your folds as if they held the sweetest nectar.

You were dripping for him, dripping on him, the lower half of his face coated in your juices. It was the wine, you told yourself, and the forced closeness to him. Not him, not the fact that he was giving you the best head of your life.

“Waited so fucking long for this,” he murmured against your skin, moving to kiss and nibble around your inner thighs as his thumb rubbed over your clit. You were squirming under him, your legs heavy on his shoulders. “Yeah?” you panted, fingers pulling harshly on his hair as his mouth suddenly moved back to your pussy.

“All mine now though,” Harry smirked, his words vibrating into your centre. “All your- fuck,” you cried out, unable to control yourself as he slipped a finger into you, his tongue still working at your core. He added another, then another, filling you until you were bucking into his mouth. He found your g-spot with ease, his lips curling into a satisfied smirk as he watched you writhe and moan.

“I’m-” you started, cut off by a ripple of pleasure moving through you.

Harry released your clit from his mouth with a pop, his fingers unrelentingly thrusting into you as his mouth snaked up your body. “You’re what?” he grinned, his face only inches from yours.

“I’m gonna-”. This time Harry cut you off with another kiss, your juices warm on his tongue as it danced around your mouth. You wouldn’t pair pussy juices with red wine, but on Harry’s tongue they tasted heavenly.

He pulled away, eyes dark as he watched you squirm and buck under him. “Gotta say it for me,” Harry told you. You felt like you were buzzing, hot pleasure vibrating every part of your lower body. “I’m gonna come,” you cried out, the ball of heat in your core threatening to explode.

As soon as you said it, Harry’s lips crashed to your neck, suckling and biting at the soft skin. It was the final bit of stimulation you needed, your pussy clenching around his fingers as you finally reached your high. “Good girl,” he repeated, working you through your orgasm until your back collapsed down, flush to the countertop.

You were panting and heaving as Harry pulled you to sit up, hissing as the cold of the stone hit your clit. You wrapped an arm around his shoulders, your body threatening to crumble if you didn’t support yourself.

“Come on,” Harry whispered, lifting you up. He carried you over to the sofa, resting you on his lap as he sat down. “You okay?” he asked as you stayed silent, totally numbed by the strength of your orgasm. You just stared at the identical triplets of him in your vision, trying to focus on the real one before you. His eyes were raking over your features, your puffy fucked-out eyes and swollen wine tinted pout. Your cheeks were pinked up to match your lips, tiny beads of sweat on the bridge of your nose.

“Thanks,” you whispered, a tiny smile crinkling the corners of your eyes. “For the orgasm.”

“Anytime,” Harry laughed, running a hand up your back. “M’glad we’re friends now,” he told you, moving you over to sit next to him.

“Do you do that with all your friends?” you giggled, swatting at his thigh.

“Oh yeah. Welcome to the club,” he teased. You rolled your eyes, but the two of you settled into a comfortable silence.

“D’you want a shower?” Harry asked eventually, breaking the quiet. You turned back to face him, still dizzy as your eyes tried to focus on his face. “Desperately,” you groaned. “But I’m still a bit wobbly.”

Harry laughed, pushing your messy hair from your face. “M’gonna have one then,” he smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before standing up.

You listened out for the sound of the shower turning on, but Harry’s footsteps had stopped just outside of his living room door. You looked over to him as he stood frozen in the doorway. “What was that asshole’s name?” he asked, staring up at the ceiling as he tried to remember.

“Who?”

“Your boyfriend.”

“Harry, seriously. I’m naked right now and you want to me to think about my ex?” You rolled your eyes at him.

He shrugged, “can’t remember his name.”

“Jamie. Why are you even talking about him?”

“Because you could’ve had this a long time ago if you hadn’t showed up with him.”

You grabbed one of the cushions, launching it in his direction. He strode over to you, picking you up and flinging you over his shoulder as you shrieked. His hand landed a heavy blow on your ass, raucous laughs blending together in the silence of the night.

Harry set you down in the bathroom, pushing the door shut behind you. “Throwing isn’t playing nice,” he tutted, leaning around the shower screen to turn it on. “So now you have to be punished.”

“Oooh,” you teased. “What’s my punishment, a shower? Or are you going to drown me?”

“Y’have to shower with me. While m’all sexy and naked.”

“That’s not a punishment,” you frowned, watching as he stepped under the water. Harry had always had a decent body, but he’d gotten pretty jacked up since you saw him last. If anything, showering with him was a reward.

“Mm, but you have to keep those hands off me, you horndog,” he smirked.

You rolled your eyes, following him into the shower. He side stepped past you to let you under the water, trying his hardest to avoid your touch. “I’m not going to molest you,” you told him. “Going to have to touch once or twice since we’re in a tiny box.”

“Fine. Just no feeling me up,” he shrugged, mockingly shielding his cock from you.

“Was it worth it?” you asked Harry as you stepped away from the water, passing the soap to him. “Was what worth it?”

“All the fighting, all your jealousy,” you poked your tongue out at him. “Now you’ve finally got in my pants, was it worth it?”

Harry stepped up behind you, his warm breath against your neck sending a shiver down your spine. “How am I supposed to answer that, sweet girl?” he drawled, pulling you around to face him.

You stepped back, pressing yourself into the cold tiles. Harry stayed close to you, his wandering hands finding a home on your hips. “Can’t say it was the easiest chase, can’t say I really enjoyed it,” his fingertips were trailing up your body again, his thumb pushing past your parted lips. His face hardened at the sight, imagining something other than his digits between your pout. “Would do it all again though.”

You bit down on his thumb, grinning as he pulled it from between your lips with a yelp. “You don’t have to fight me for three years just to sleep with me Harry. Could always just ask,” you smirked, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

“Is that right?”

You nodded, watching as his eyes moved over your face. “Or get down on your knees and beg me. Either works,” you shrugged. He chuckled, shaking his head at you.

Harry stayed silent as he lathered up the soap between his palms, hungry eyes fixed on you. “Turn around,” he finally told you, putting the beige bar back in the shower tray. He pulled you back into him, his length solid against your ass. His wandering hands finally put themselves to use, rubbing the soap across your body. He paused at your sternum before one hand wrapped around your throat, the other cupping the curve of your breast. Your breath caught, a tiny moan echoing around your mouth as he squeezed lightly, his cock twitching against your skin.

He took his hand from your breast, reaching between your bodies to push his cock between the tops of your thighs. His tip brushed your sensitive clit, your teeth clenching as electricity surged through you. “Can I please fuck your pretty little cunt?” Harry growled, using his free hand to wash the soap from your body. He was throbbing at your core, his cock likely painfully hard by now. “Please, Harry,” you whimpered.

He grunted at your neck, pushing your upper body forwards until his cock lined up with your entrance. He was nudging into you, your pussy dripping and ready to welcome his girth. You’d never needed more like this before, though you’d never felt as good as Harry had made you feel. He released his hold on your throat, one hand lowering to circle your clit as the other splayed across your lower belly, his fingertips digging into the plushy skin.

Your hips rut into his hand, a cry tumbling from your lips as the quick movement forced his girth into your tightness. Your already shaky legs could’ve buckled right there, your body barely able to hold itself up around Harry’s cock splitting you wide open. It took Harry by surprise too, a shaky moan echoing off the walls as he bottomed out inside of you, the extra lubrication from the water pushing him deep into your core. “Fucking hell,” he groaned, stilling as he caught his breath. “Y’okay?”

You moved a hand down to hold onto his wrist, silenced yet again by his cock. “More,” you whined, pussy throbbing as he started to fuck into you hard. You’d skipped the slow, figuring each other out sex. It was as if you already knew what the other needed. Harry was fucking you, his thick red tip tearing you apart as you both raced for another orgasm, each thrust sending you closer to Heaven. The steam and the sounds of the water pounding the shower floor clouds your mind, unable to feel anything except the fullness Harry’s cock gave you.

You were getting close, the burn in your core spreading down the tops of your thighs, before Harry suddenly pulled out. Just as you were about to question him, Harry spun you around. “Want to see your face when you cum f’me,” he panted, sliding one arm under you to lift you against the tiled wall. He slipped back into you with ease, the new angle forcing his cock into places you’d never even known you could feel so much pleasure in.

Your hand tugged at his wrist, pulling his fingers back up to your neck. Harry let out a dry chuckle, his fingers wrapping back around your throat with ease as he slammed into you.

He was a fucking vision. His wet curls hanging down into his eyes, the shine of the water on his tattooed body. Just the sight of him staring at you with those hungry eyes was enough to have you gasping and panting. “Harry, I’m-” you started, a loud moan cutting you off.

He picked up his pace, hips snapping into yours with the deafening slap of skin on skin. “Not yet,” Harry grunted. “Gonna cum w’me.”

Your walls were already tightening around his shaft, hips bucking into him uncontrollably. You bit down hard on your lower lip, nails digging half-moon shapes into the thick muscle of his shoulders. “I can’t,” you whimpered, throwing your head down onto him. “You can, and you will,” he told you, removing his hand from your throat and instead using it to pull your chin up to meet his eye.

You nodded, face contorting as you tried desperately to ignore the fire coursing through you. “Please, Harry,” you whined. Your walls were clamped around his girth, his thrusts losing their rhythm as he got closer. “Come,” he commanded, wrapping his free arm under you as his legs started to shake. You howled as you finally let go, the stars in your vision exploding like fireworks. The tiny shower cubicle was suddenly full of carnal moans and cries, Harry’s lips spitting out your name over and over and over again as he shot ribbons of white-hot come into you.

You stayed in that position for a few minutes, before Harry slowly let you down onto the floor. He held you up as your legs shook, a light hand brushing over the finger marks left on your throat.

“Are you still on birth control?”

“No. Should I not be holding my legs up right about now?” you asked, watching as his eyes went wide.

Harry pulled his arm from under you, ready to let you collapse on the floor in his panic. He screwed his face up tight, a quiet “fuck, fuck, fuck,” mumbled under his breath.

“Relax, I am. Sorry.” you told him, a tiny smirk playing on your lips. He reached out and pinched your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, grinning as you yelped and smacked his hand away. “Serves you right, bastard.”

He re-washed between your legs quickly, a gentle hand washing away the remains of your juices pooled between your thighs. “Better?” he asked, reaching behind you to turn the water off. “Mhm, just need a good sleep now,” you told Harry. “Oh yes, need to go to bed and think about the beautiful friendship we’ve ruined,” he smirked, handing you a towel.

You dried yourself off before following him to the bedroom, pulling on the clean t-shirt Harry handed you. He was humming a silly tune as he ruffled his hair in the mirror, watching your reflection expectedly. “Used to annoy you when I hummed,” he said, climbing onto the bed to join you.

“Still annoys me plenty,” you told him, pulling the duvet over your legs as you settled back into the pillows. “Just too fucked out to care right now.”

part two ??

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